Chapter XIII:

Torment

The trek to collect the remainder of No.9's memories wound up becoming far longer than intended. Choosing to drag the twins along merely for the sake of getting them away from the coast was the cause of this slow journey. The quickest route to their destination was directly through the ruins which 9S had already turned into a war zone. The prospect of one of them getting sniped by some random resistance fighter or torn apart by a provoked machine was enough to compel him to take a much longer yet far safer route.

Anticipation came to a boil as they marched against racing winds. Only two locations to visit remained for him to obtain everything needed to revive No.9. As Amos explained through his various gestures and charades, the place they currently sought was one No.9 spent considerable time in. That knowledge alone was enough to make the boy excited.

"Amos," 9S inquired. "Most of No.9's memories are located in that place, right?"

The soldier growled.

"Someone must be keeping track of them. Do I know this person?"

Amos shook his head.

"You think the Devola and Popola that helped No.9 are going to be there?"

Amos slowed his pace. He shrugged the question off. His dismissive body language left 9S somewhat disappointed.

"I wonder what they were like, and how they differ from…"

"Who cares?"

9S followed the frustrated voice. He peered back to find Devola glaring at him. She was covered in bandages after her encounter. 9S tried to avoid eye contact as doing so tended to fill him with immeasurable guilt. The boy immediately turned away from her.

"Is something wrong, Devola?"

Before she could reply, Popola interjected. "This is the fifth time you've brought them up. Can you not talk about something else for a change?"

She spoke no less sternly than her twin. 9S slowed his pace. The identical androids passed him by. Both of them stared harshly at the path ahead. As he fell behind, 153 floated over to him. She waited until the twins were further ahead before quietly addressing her concern.

9S signed upon noticing her approach. "What do you want?"

153 ignored his hostile tone. "This support unit wishes to inform you that I have discovered a conflict between Units Devola and Popola."

"You just now figured that out?"

"Through time spent with Unit Popola, I have found the cause of said schism."

9S rolled his eyes. "Mind your own damn business, pod."

He set off, fully prepared to leave her in the dust and carry on as if he heard nothing. 153 was nothing if not persistent. She floated around to his front, blocking his path.

"Units Devola and Popola are harboring dueling romantic interests in Unit 9S. For further verification, I would cite Unit Popola's diary."

His face flushed, though, he kept vigorous hold of his mute, unflinching frown. "And?"

153 was uncertain at first as to how to respond to such an unexpected reaction. "Unit 9S can address these issues with the twins and end their conflict."

"Yeah, I'll just do that, pod. I'll just make their situation worse by getting involved in something I have absolutely no business in. Wonderful idea."

The drone was left utterly baffled. She looked from side to side as if physically searching for an intangible path of logic that led 9S to this conclusion. "How is it not your business? You must understand… You are the core of their conflict. If Unit 9S were to intervene, it would spare them from future suffering."

9S had heard his fill of 153's illogical assessment. She must have been plotting something. It was the only explanation he could reach. The only reason she would be so persistent. The conclusion he reached naturally infuriated him.

He shoved her out of his way.

"Are you trying to turn them against me or something? Is that it!?"

"Negative," 153 stammered nervously. She was on the verge of further elaborating her argument when 9S cut her off.

"Keep your damn mouth shut! From here on out, I'm ordering you to not speak unless spoken to! Understood!?"

"Affirmative."

Nonchalantly, the boy carried on down the road. He did not need it explained to him. 9S already had a sneaking suspicion that this was the case. 153's only confirmed his theory.

For the remainder of the trip, 9S observed the twins. For whatever reason, the boy suddenly could scarcely tear his gaze away from them. The guilt stirred up by the sight of Devola's bandages did not help the matter.

Music echoed in an otherwise silent section of the ruins. Lights shined from the windows of a rundown structure. Likely a once lavish property, eons of neglect left the exterior about as dilapidated as everything else in the surrounding area.

The building did seem to be well lit, which offered the twins in particular some solace. They were both rather tired of relying on flashlights.

"Is this the place," asked 9S.

Amos snorted and gave a firm nod of his head.

"It's occupied," 9S muttered quietly. "And his memories are somewhere in there. I'm guessing whoever's inside knew No.9."

"Be careful," requested Popola.

Her concern left 9S somewhat confused. He glinted her way, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Whoever lives here might recognize you. Amos is not a big fan of No.9 so maybe he's made other enemies for himself. Just watch your back."

9S nodded. He led the way up to the large doors that blocked their way. He grinned from ear to ear. Without hesitation, he threw them open and entered a massive, well-lit entrance hall.

The music softly graced their ears upon entry. It was still distant but they could hear it much clearer from the moment they took the first steps inside. Amber lights radiated from above. Old, framed portraits lined the walls. Nostalgic images of humans that exuded haunting auras. A red carpet covered the tiled floors. It practically beckoned for 9S to traverse it and lose himself deeper into this unfamiliar property.

Before them was a small machine that stood at a somewhat decrepit podium. The biped immediately waved at them and hopped over to greet them. The image of a black bow tie was painted on the machine's chest. A black hat adorned its spherical head.

"Welcome," the machine spoke in a predictably automated voice. "How may we help…?"

The automaton trailed off. It took immediate notice in 9S and his Legion friend.
"Oh, my… Amos! Nine! Wait right here!"

Without another word, the machine span around and bounced down the hall, shouting as it went. "Amos and Nine have returned to us!"

Amos did not appear particularly surprised by the reaction whereas 9S was left staring dumbfounded at the retreating machine. He turned back to face his cluster of unlikely companions.

"Guess you called it, Popola."

"I'm serious," she sternly warned. "Watch yourself! We do not know what sort of trouble No.9 caused in the past."

There was not much time for debate over the matter. That peculiar attendant returned soon after with a medium biped following close behind. The two rushed up to their familiar guests. The biped was dressed in roughly the same attire as the smaller machine. A mere hat and matching bow to signify some sort of civility. Likely two things they saw in the many paintings and photos of humans that decorated their walls and decided to emulate the style.

"At long last," the larger machine announced. He was strikingly well-spoken for a machine. "Welcome back, No.9. I see you have brought Amos along with you too. Slayer of humans, wandering souls, machines, aliens, and androids alike. It's good to see you're still kicking."

The unexpected praise caught Amos off guard, but he made no complaints. He cracked his knuckles and nodded pridefully.

"Defiant as ever, I see. A shame you have yet to visit us until now. You should really drop by more often."

The machine then turned back to face 9S. "And Nine. I honestly thought we'd never see you again."

9S smiled back confidently. He liked that. To be called by that name. It was a wonderful experience. An experience that would not go without ruination. Popola stepped up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"This is 9S," she corrected. "He and No.9 are not the same."

The machine took a step back in astonishment. At first, 9S assumed his surprise was a response to Popola's statement. That assumption swiftly proved incorrect.

"But… You… You're…"

Amos stepped up and shook his head at the machine. He then placed an index finger over his pale lips.

"What's going on," asked 9S.

"It's just that," the machine began. "You are Devola and Popola, are you not? The twin androids who so faithfully followed No.9 everywhere he went."

"Those are our names," Devola confirmed. "Don't wear 'em out. But no, we're not the same ones you knew. We never met this No.9 kid. So, instead, we faithfully follow 9S around, hoping he doesn't get himself killed."

9S turned to them for but a brief moment. He wanted to say something but lost the will to say it.

"Ah! That would make sense! Given how the twins I knew were…"

The machine was cut off by the sound of a loud, downright demonic growl. Amos stared him down intensely. His odd behavior was something that did not go unnoticed by his party of cybernetic followers.

"What's wrong, Amos," asked 9S.

"I see," the machine knowingly spoke. "I believe Amos would rather I not divulge the details about those two. If they're still alive, then I'd highly recommend you track them down if you can. Perhaps it is best if you meet them in person. See for yourself."

"I already intended to do that," 9S confirmed. "Amos is going to lead us to them after we finish up here. Uh, what can you tell me about them, though?"

The snazzy machine recollected himself. "Well, I… There is not much that I should say. I will admit, I'm surprised that you seem to get along with these two fairly well."

That comment took 9S off guard. He studied the machine. "What makes you say that? And just what makes you assume that?"

"I saw you actually look at them" the machine confirmed almost proudly. "Nine never did that sort of thing. In private conversation, he once admitted to me that he found them, mind you these were his words, not mine, utterly repulsive."

Amos' shuddering did not go unnoticed. 9S looked on, totally mortified by the remark. He glanced back to his Devola and Popola. They both lowered their heads in dejection. Popola's fingers slid off his shoulder, down his back, and returned to her side. His heart felt as though it were on the verge of sinking under the weight of crushing guilt. He thought of reminding them that his opinion was not the same as N0.9's but ultimately decided to change the subject. They likely did not need such an obvious fact explained to them.

"So, who are you," asked 9S. "What is this place and how do you know No.9?"

"My name is Id, old friend. This here is my establishment. It's a bank."

"A bank? You machines have a concept of saving currency, now?"

Id shook his head and let out an automated chuckle. "Nonsense. We do not deal in the safekeeping of coin. This is a bank of memories. As for No.9. We met a long time ago. It was his idea for me to start up this venture. He was also my first client as well as my favorite. But what of you? You most certainly look the part, but what is your relation with No.9?"

"I'm YoRHa Unit No.9 Type S. I'm the most recent iteration of the No.9 model. I've lost my own memories, but in turn, I have unearthed a few of No.9's that were in Amos' possession. I now want to find the rest of his memories. I intend to use them to resurrect No.9."

"That sounds like some proper necromancy, lad. But that won't stop me from helping. No.9 had most of his memories stored here just for you. Come. I shall explain on the way."

For a bank housing nothing but memories, the property was extremely lively. The group was led to an open chamber filled with various machines as well as the occasional android. Clusters of faceless nobodies huddled together in groups and socialized. Some of them even recognized 9S as well as his odd party.

Old statues sparsely decorated the chamber. Many were left in some degree of ruin whether it be a missing arm or head, but they still added flare to the bank's interior. They stepped out onto a balcony and looked out to the festivities below. A stage area at one side of the enormous hall elevated several instrument-wielding machines.

9S turned to Id. The machine gave him a gentlemanly nod. He found it strange how positively these machines acted around him. It was the exact opposite of his initial interactions with Amos. The fact made him all the more curious about the bizarre life that No.9 led.

"You said No.9 stored his memories here for me," 9S reminded the machine. "One of the files he left with Amos explained that he wanted me to find all of them. But why?"

"Ol' Nine was planning this out for quite some time with us," Id explained. "He had big plans to make YoRHa into his own project. It was still relatively new and experimental at the time. Nine was mortified after learning certain truths about himself and YoRHa as a whole. In his spare time, he occasionally helped me in setting this business up. As I already mentioned, he became our first customer. He wanted to leave behind all his memories in the event that he would ever need them again."

"And that's where I come in?"

"Exactly," Id confirmed. "He told me of his plans. Plans that would surely be the death of him, yet he claimed there would be further iterations of his model in the future. He also informed me that he would likely not retain any of the memories of his first life So, he set them all aside if any future version of himself would come looking to reclaim what was rightfully theirs."

9S smiled. More and more, 9S found himself looking up to No.9. He seemed like the perfect android. So intelligent that he would plan out all of this just to ensure those memories stayed alive. He was growing far too eager to see what those files had in store for him.

"And No.9 helped you set this bank up?"

"That he did, my boy! I was interested in the concept of recollection from the moment I broke free of the Network all those years ago. I met No.9 who had similar interests. All you see before us is the fruits of my labor as well as his brilliant suggestions. The results of a mutual desire to remember. There's nothing in the world more important than memories."

Hearing Id talk filled 9S with gratification. Finally, he found someone who shared his opinion on the matter. Programming, emotional responses, OS versions; all of it was useless without memories.

"I agree," 9S eagerly stated. He clenched his hands together in excitement. "Memories are what make us who we are. That's why I want them back. That's why I want his. So, that I can bring him back from the dead."

"Nine was the smartest android I knew," Id suddenly admitted solemnly. "Ingenious and practical. To a fault at times… He accounted for so many things when coming up with his schemes, yet I don't think his memories being used to revive him was something he anticipated. No matter, though. We will see to it that you have what is rightfully yours. It will take some time to gather everything. I also have other business to tend to at the moment…"

As eager as he was to collect what he came here to obtain, 9S was not at all upset from hearing this.

Id stepped up to the ledge of the balcony and extended his iron hands out to the bustling party below. "As you can see, we are more than just a simple bank these days. In these trying times, it is important to come together. This is the Festhall. Feel free to have some fun. Create new memories! I will return as soon as I…"

"Take your time," said 9S.

"I will leave you to it, then," Id concluded before marching off. "I shall meet with you again later."

9S nodded before turning his attention to his red-haired companions. Suddenly, he took Devola's left hand as well as Popola's right into his own. The duo became flustered by the unexpected contact.

"Guess we have some free time," 9S remarked, beaming at the twins with uncharacteristic joy.

The abrupt shift in character baffled both siblings.

"You okay, 9S," asked Popola.

"No," 9S truthfully admitted. His smile refused to fade. The answer he gave was far more concerning than his abrupt shift in behavior, but he gave them no time to contemplate it. "Now, let's go take a look around!"

He pulled them forward, though, he remained mindful of the wounds recently inflicted on Devola. The consequences of his little experiment. He strengthened his false smile. The boy tried his very best to emulate the few disassociated memories that remained of his old self. He wound up drawing more influence from 4S than he did from the 9S that came before him.

As such, it was a predictably forced display.

"Uh," Devola stammered. "Who are you and what have ya done with Nines?"

Her gaze was still painfully distant. Green eyes were left wide with apprehension. She kept a constant watch on the ceiling as if expecting something to fall from the vents and attack her. Along the way from the coast, Devola took to an unnerving habit of whipping out her flashlight at the first sight of a dark corner. Just more evidence of her worsening mental state. An issue that he could blame on no one but himself.

"Very funny," 9S muttered. "You two have suffered a lot recently. I want you to have some fun while we have the chance."

"Fun!? Did you hit your head or something," Devola bluntly asked. "You're being oddly sweet all of a sudden. Don't take this the wrong way, but it's kinda spooky."

Popola grimaced at her twin. "There's no need to act so cautiously, dearest sister. That attitude doesn't help anyone."

"What attitude!? I'm not complaining! I'm just saying that…"

"Come on! This way," 9S interrupted, lest yet another argument break out. He pulled them away and toward the first shiny object to capture his attention.

The trio traveled off at a rather quick pace. Amos watched them leave but made no effort to follow. He chose instead to fold his arms and silently walk off to explore the Festhall on his own accord. That act left 153 all alone on that solitary stretch of balcony.

"…This support unit shall…"

She trailed off. 153 remembered the order 9S imparted on her. Saying anything was pointless regardless of any dismissive order.

No one was listening. None of them were even within earshot of her.

A wall of paintings soon caught 9S's scarlet eye. One portrait, in particular, drew his attention. With the twins in tow, he strolled up to it.

"Look at that."

The painting depicted a man with hair as white as his own. A black strap covered one eye while leaving his left exposed. It almost reminded 9S of the standard YoRHa visor. A large, leather pauldron guarded his muscular frame. His expression was stern as if the image captured him in a state of forever staring down an opponent.

9S recognized that unflinching face. It took him a few moments but he soon recalled the wall of pictures in Amos' den. That man was among the targets. All of those pictures were either marked out in red or left blank, yet that man's mug had but a small question mark drawn in a corner of the frame. What that was to signify was unclear to 9S. He could only guess.

"Destroyer," Devola murmured. "Destroyer of what?"

"Huh," inquired 9S.

"The caption."

Devola pointed to a small golden plate embedded in the painting's frame. Surely enough, the phrase "The Destroyer" was etched into the metal. 9S glanced between the name and the face. He most certainly looked the part of one who could deal much destruction, though, he found himself asking the same question.

"Likely just something these machines made up," Popola explained.

9S shook his head. "I don't know. I've seen this man before. He was real. I saw a photo of him on Amos' wall. The picture was really old so I have no idea when he lived or what happened to him, but he must have been real."

Given that Amos was known by the various residents and workers of this establishment, it was not hard for 9S to figure out where the inspiration for such a painting came from. He grew bored after spending a few minutes admiring it. Deeming it high time to move on, 9S pulled the twins away.

The three moved about the Festhall and examined every vase, photograph, and painting. 9S's initially forced cheerfulness gradually transmuted into something more genuine. The tension between Devola and Popola died down. Popola's mood, in particular, lifted the more she ventured through the chamber.

Devola merely tagged along. She smiled occasionally, but that thousand-yard stare was still ever-present. The fact that she was able to speak coherently again was taken by 9S as a good sign, but the look in her eyes still troubled him.

All went well for quite some time. 9S was in the midst of escorting them to a rustic vase some distance away. An object he only spotted by sheer chance. On their little trek, Popola asked a certain question. A question that caused 9S to freeze in sheer terror.

"9S? Why did you repair us?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Devola and Popola nearly walked past him before the two of them realized that their silver-haired friend had stopped leading them about.

"Something wrong," Devola softly inquired.

9S released their hands from his grasp. He backed away as though he were trying to clear distance from a rabid animal.

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden," asked Popola. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Uh."

9S forced himself to smile. "I, uh… I just saw you lying there and thought I'd repair you. Anyway, that vase over there looks really old! Let's get a closer look."

"That is such a sorry excuse for a lie," murmured Devola.

Her straight-haired sister nodded. "Right. I just don't believe that. There must be a better reason. You're obsessed with memories, yet you would not need to resurrect us if that was all you sought. So, why?"

9S shrunk away as if to shield himself. Fear began to swell.

"No reason," he snapped. "I just did it! What of it!?"

"Nine?"

The voice of a certain machine cut him off. 9S immediately turned around to find Id standing before him.

"There you are," the machine announced. "Hope I did not interrupt anything. All of the memories you need are ready to be claimed."

"Great," 9S sighed in exacerbation. He was on the verge of sprinting away from the twins when he felt a pair of hands grasp hold of his shoulders. He glanced back. Devola held on to his right side whereas Popola held firmly on his left.

"Go on ahead," Popola muttered. "For now, I will not pressure you any further."

Devola picked up where her twin trailed off. "But we'll be expecting an answer from you soon. And don't try to lie next time. You're terrible at it."

9S was led to a quieter location within the complex. Not every hall was decorated or particularly well lit. As they traveled through a quieter area of Id's bank, a compelling question plagued 9S's thoughts. A question that needed to be asked.

"Id?"

The machine came to a stop. "Yes, my boy?"

"Let's say you have memories," 9S explained. "Memories that should be your own, and you can recall them reasonably well. But what if you can't connect any emotion to them?"

"Memories without emotional weight, you say? Never heard of that happening."

"I have memories of my previous self but I can't make any connection to them. They feel like they belong to someone else. I question if those memories are truly mine, or if my pod just dumped them there while reviving me. Am I actually 9S or someone else just wearing his skin?"

Id bowed his head apologetically. "That is a question I know not the answer to. Now, allow me to propose a different question to you. What does it matter?"

"Huh?"

"Your eyes may have changed colors but you still look like Nine. You respond to the name. You, yourself can perceive emotion and form new memories, can you not?"

The boy nodded.

"Then I fail to see what difference it makes. Even if you aren't 9S, then I'm afraid there is not much you can do about it. So, I would advise you not to worry about it."

9S had no response. After a moment of silence, they carried on.

Along the way, 9S found his pod. He spotted 153 hovering by herself at the end of a narrow corridor. The ominous sight of a malfunctioning light flickering above her was still fresh in his mind. She repeatedly pounded her fist against her other arm.

That was the second time he found her inflicting damage upon herself. 9S made no effort to intervene. He spent a minute or two watching her with perturbed guilt. Id inquired if she was merely malfunctioning. The idea never crossed 9S's mind but he had a hard time believing such a simple explanation.

The two moved on and ventured to a locked chamber. Id accessed the door and led 9S inside. Metal containers lined each wall. At the center of the room was an old, dust-covered table. Sat atop the surface was a small container. A lone storage chip laid to the chest's side.

"The memories you seek are in that box," Id remarked, pointing to the chest on the table. "That chip next to it was a memory left behind by the twins you knew in the past. They wanted me to impart it to you."

9S stepped forward and opened the box. A pile of storage chips filled the container. Collectively, there must have been years worth of data stored in them. He then looked to the lone chip left outside of the box. He picked it up. It drew his curiosity far more than the others. A memory left for him by a completely different Devola and Popola. A pair that knew No.9 just as Amos did. He wanted to view its contents right then and there.

"Do you have any means of viewing this file?"

"No, sir," Id answered. "We keep the memories, but we try to keep them private. The clients will bring their own means of viewing their files if they need to."

The thought of asking his pod did not sit well with him. The sight of her self-inflicted beatings was enough to dissuade him from bothering her at that point. Still impatient, 9S decided to view it himself.

Absorbing a memory of No.9's was one thing. No.9 was an almost identical model to himself. Claiming the memories of androids that had absolutely no relations to him was a different story. He swallowed his apprehension and went through with his newfound plan.

"Wait," Id exclaimed after seeing the way 9S motioned the chip toward the back of his head. "What are you doing!?"

Without a word of warning, 9S installed the memory directly into his own OS.

Pain was the first sensation to greet 9S. The experience was almost alien. A concept that had eluded the boy until then.

He almost forgot what pain felt like.

That pain was not his own. It belonged to someone else. The same person this stolen memory belonged to, no doubt. Regardless, 9S could feel it as though it were his own.

He could not move. 9S could only remain stagnant as he viewed the world through the perspective of an entirely different pair of eyes.

Popola's left side remained forever drowned in a constant sea of agony. It was impossible to gain a sense of where her left arm or leg was. That half of her body was always in perpetual pain. Her internal wiring and artificial organs were subject to the same soul-crushing torment. Each time she moved, she could sense the equivalent of a thousand needles digging into her spleen.

Her sister marched rather close to her. On her left, Popola could hear Devola's agonizing breaths.

"We're almost there, sister," Popola informed with an exacerbated sigh.

As 9S remained frozen and given no other option but to suffer and watch, he looked for Devola. His only window into the past was through Popola's view and she made no effort to look anywhere but down. He wanted to get a proper look at the two of them if only to see if he could locate the source of their discomfort. Popola's refusal to look up ensured such a thing would not happen.

The girl dragged her heels across a boiling desert. Each step was a challenge for her. Every movement she made sent wave after wave of wretched pain pulsating throughout her body.

"Not much further. I promise."

A false promise. The duo kept marching through the sands for what seemed like an eternity. The pain did not relent. It only worsened. It stacked upon her to an unimaginable degree.

As the two scaled one of the massive dunes in their way, Popola felt herself grow weak. Vertigo sank in and she suddenly fell face-first into the sand. She could feel her sister be inadvertently pulled down with her.

Popola let out a soft sigh. She covered her forehead with her right hand. A migraine was starting to set in.

"Sister? Are you okay?"

"As 'fine' as I'll ever be."

She scanned the ground in front of her. Shifting sand moved between her fingers. As gentle a caress as it was, it still evoked a sharp stinging sensation.

Everything hurt.

How Popola managed to endure such torture was beyond 9S. He felt every horrid sensation that plagued her and it was enough to drive him mad.

9S continued to observe it all as he held back the urge to scream. He prayed for an end to this memory but it did not come as quickly as he would have liked. Each agony-filled step Popola took was in turn felt by him.

It was not a memory he was intended to absorb. That much became obvious, yet nothing could undo what was already done. He had no choice but to remember. To continue observing the past through her eyes.

"Is this really n-necessary," asked Devola.

They kept moving. Their goal remained at the back of Popola's mind. "It is. We will never see him again after this. We have to say goodbye."

"Why," 9S asked aloud. He forgot that what he was viewing was nothing more than a memory. A recollection of events that had already come and gone.

When he heard no response from Popola, Devola, or anyone for that matter, it angered him. It goaded him into questioning their actions more vigorously. "Why bother? Just stop moving! It HURTS!"

The twins practically waded through the sands. Unexplained discomfort and consistent internal pain reduced their movements to a crawl. Popola had an odd feeling of balance to her. She moved in an award fashion. Her left side seemed to be weighed down by something unseen.
Soon enough, Popola fell once more into the sand. For the first time, she looked up. There atop a particularly large dune sat her goal. Their mutual goal.

"Nine," she called out.

9S fidgeted at the sight of him. He could feel Popola's excitement. The pain was still very much there, but she suddenly had something far more important to focus on. A means of distracting her from whatever injury or blight left her in such a tumultuous state. 9S had an identical sensation. He mirrored the emotions he perceived in Popola. A very unpleasant experience. Nonetheless, he smiled at the sight of his former self.

No.9 sat upon that mound of sand, facing the horizon. Even at the sound of her desperate voice, he did not bother looking their way. Popola noticed this behavior but ignored it. He never faced them. That was par for the course.

"Face me," 9S demanded in a fit of wrath. He did not share Popola's acceptance. The torment endured on this recollected journey only fueled his anger. "We traveled halfway across this desert just to find you! Look at me! FACE ME, YOU SWINE!"

"Hey, there," No.9 called back. He waved and slightly angled his head to the left, but never truly looked back. "Come to say goodbye?"

Popola forced herself upright. She rushed up the dune until she reached the top. She took one last longing look at the silver-haired android. He did not return the gesture. He merely smiled almost playfully as he looked on to the vast stretches of sand with lively curiosity.

"Yes! Yes, we did," the twins exclaimed in unison.

"Amos is going to look after Skald's Song and those memories after all," said Popola. "The rest will remain with Id and us, of course."

"That's good to hear," No.9 said with relief. "I was worried this would've all been for nothing after that dumb brute turned on me. This plan doesn't work unless he's there to help me regain all of these memories in the future. I'm leaving soon. I trust everything to all of you. Make sure to stay alive until my future self can find what I left for him."

"We will," the twins spoke. United, they mustered the courage to follow up. "We love you!"

No response.

Popola wanted to say more but failed to think of anything. She traversed the desert and ruins alike just to speak with him one last time. She thought of everything she would like to discuss along the way, but it suddenly all left her mind. He had yet to die and the girl was already swept away under a devastating wave of grief.

9S, by extension, was assaulted by her grief. It infuriated him, although, that rage was quickly killed off when a thought cropped up in his clouded head. A thought that he brushed off due to its uncomfortable nature.

Surely he treated 'his' Devola and Popola with more care. He thought back to the more recent interactions he had with them. The warped experiment on the roof was the first to come to mind.

A mistake that brought an abominable presence into the world only for it to descend upon and almost kill one of them. He recalled the way he so eagerly shrugged off 153's suggestions. His impulse to remain detached from a feud sparked by his mere presence suddenly did not seem like the most humane option.

Abruptly, No.9 faced them. He turned around and stared them both down with a cruel, sadistic smile.

A smirk that sent chills down 9S's spine.

"Have I given them that look before," he asked himself fearfully.

Popola took an apprehensive step back.

With that predatory grin still plastered on his face, No.9 finally replied.

"Since you came all this way just to tell me that, I'd like to make you two a promise…"

The memory then reached its abrupt end.

9S awoke from that nightmarish memory. Id loomed over him. For an expressionless machine, he conveyed his concern extremely well.

"Welcome back. You had me worried. I would not recommend doing that in the future. Not ever."

"Lesson learned," 9S muttered.

He ran his fingers through his hair. Guilt plagued him with renewed intensity. Better treatment of the twins was most certainly in order. He was eager to see them again if only to know their whereabouts.

As 9S stood up, he took hold of the chest containing just about every memory he would need to resurrect No.9. The first time he eyed the box, he did so with coveting greed. The second time around, his attitude took a somewhat skeptical turn. Regardless, he got what he came for and nothing was going to stop him from achieving his goal. It was time to leave. Just as he was preparing to say his goodbye and give a much owed "thanks," 9S was cut off.

"No.9 only wanted you to watch over his memories, you know," 9S coldly admitted. "He didn't care about this bank or you for that matter."

"I'm aware. It matters not because I benefited just as he did. Towards the end, especially, No.9 was driving truly mad by whatever he uncovered. I still remember him before the madness took him. That's how I choose to remember him."

Id briefly grew quiet. "You plan to visit the twins after this correct? And by twins, I mean the pair that No.9 knew."

"That's the plan."

"Where exactly are they?"

9S thought back to the map Amos showed him. "I think it's a good ways north of here."

"That's all I need to hear," Id stated. "I think I know where he's planning on taking you and I must warn you, sir. If you can avoid this part of your journey, then do so. No.9 left one last cache of memories with those twins if I recall correctly. He wanted to keep certain files away from the others for whatever reason. That being said, you should have more than you need to properly revive him. There's no need to go out that way."

9S furrowed a concerned brow at the machine. "Extra files or not, I need to see them. I need to at least apologize for how No.9 treated them."

Id shook his head. The metal components scraped together, producing the usual unpleasant sounds of a machine's movements. "A noble gesture. No.9 never did care much for them and I doubt they ever truly realized that. It was tragic to watch, but old friend, that area is dangerous. I would be surprised if they still lived there, or if they live at all."

"Why? What's out that way?"

"It is a dark place," Id warned. "An evil place. That whole section of the ruins is overrun with androids infected by the Logic Virus. They gather in that zone for some sinister reason or another. There's likely not a single sane soul left in those parts. I imagine with the recent fall of YoRHa, their numbers have only grown."

9S folded his arms. "And now I'm wondering when Amos was going to tell us about this."

"He likely is unaware," said Id. "These are recent developments. Around two years is when they started moving into the area. It was once about as lively as the rest of the ruins. Now, it is nothing more than a playground for the undead and the damned."

"Nothing new for us," 9S reassured. "Anything else I should know about the location?"

"You'll know the area long before you enter it. Nothing lives out there, so it will be quieter than usual. You will likely see the barricades other local machines and androids alike have worked together to build. Once you enter, refrain from making loud noises. Also, keep any use of light sources down to a minimum. Both things tend to attract those rabid flesh-eaters. I imagine all this thunder and lightning has riled them up."

"Thanks for all your help," 9S said with a formal bow. He had to swallow considerable pride to give thanks to a machine lifeform of all things, but Id definitely earned 9S's respect.

"And thanks for holding on to these memories."

Id nodded proudly yet followed up with an uneasy shudder. "Only doing my job. Good luck out there. Where you're going… You and your friends will need it."

9S stepped back out into the Festhall. He shambled like a corpse through the crowds of machines and androids. All of whom discussed their memories or various other topics that went in one ear and out his other.

It did not take long for 9S to find his friends. The twins sat with Amos at a table some distance away. Devola and Popola did not attempt to interact with one another. Yet another problem that needed to be dealt with.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed 153 approach him. She stopped nearby and silently waited, anticipating an order from him. Dents and rather deep scratches lined her arms. Injuries that 9S knew could not have come from him. He was rough with her at times, but he could not imagine any of their more violent interactions leaving damage like that. Those markings must have been self-inflicted.

With a defeated sigh, 9S addressed his silenced pod. "I'm resending the order I gave you earlier. As of now, it no longer applies."

"I can speak freely again?"

"Yeah, yeah. I may have overreacted back then. Just a tad. Sorry."

"Apology accepted!"

Her excitable tone caught 9S off guard. She seemed oddly eager to accept such a weak apology. It was almost suspicious. He glared at her but relented.

"However," he added sternly. "I have another order that won't be canceled anytime soon."

He eyed the scars and dents that littered her tiny arms. "Whatever you're doing to yourself. I demand you stop it at once. Understood?"

153 kept quiet at first.

"Understood!?"

"…Affirmative."

9S turned his attention back to his bizarre party as they sat around that table. He took out his sword and held it up. The boy saw his reflection glaring back at him from within that massive emerald.

"Do you still intend to do nothing," 153 inquired after a moment of silence.

"Huh?"

"About Units Devola and Popola. Prediction: Tensions between the sisters will continue to rise. Eventually, they will confront you about it. Unit 9S cannot remain detached from the situation forever."

"You're making predictions, now? I wanted a pod, not a damn crystal ball," 9S snarled.

153 kept the conversation focused, lest 9S dodge it altogether. "Whether rightfully or wrongfully, it is apparent that Units Devola and Popola desire more from their relationship with you. Does Unit 9S simply not wish for the same?"

"Maybe a little," 9S admitted with a sorrowful grin. "As I told that worm, 4S, those two are the only ones who've made my mission to remember bearable. I can't say for certain when it began, but I think I feel the same for them."

"All the more reason Unit 9S to explain this to them and end to their turmoil."

9S cut her off with a sarcastic laugh. "I don't think that's how it'll play out, pod. My meddling will just make the situation worse for everyone."

The android hesitated and admired the shimmering of the gemstone embedded in his blade. He turned the weapon around to get a look at the identical stone on the other side.

Viewing that memory may have caused him to question certain decisions, but it was not enough to evoke the sort of courage needed to carry out his pod's little suggestion.

"It's none of my business."