Chapter XXVIII:

The Hunt for Frankenstein

A pair of small machines bitterly fought between each other. The prize? The right to wield an ancient human instrument salvaged from the wreckage of the Old World. Their green eyes glowed with vibrant intensity. Those eyes were a rare sight indeed lately.

Amos watched them from across the road. They had yet to notice his presence. Initially intending to kill them and move on, he took an interest in their bickering.

A sliver of brass was held between their rugged, iron clutches. It was tugged back and forth between the greedy duo. Each one wanting it. Neither willing to part with it. Amos wondered if they even knew what a saxophone was. What it sounded like. Or did they just want it because it was shiny?

And shiny it very much was. Somehow, after 10,000 years, it still sparkled. Perfectly usable from what he could tell. It roused archaic memories. A particular squadmate came to mind. Not as a fellow Legionnaire, but as a human. Such a distant and downright foreign time that was.

One of the machines slipped and landed face-first into a deep puddle. The instrument was sent flying. It landed on the asphalt at Amos' feet with a worrying clatter. The two machines looked his way, finally noticing the darkly dressed ghost. They nervously moved away.

"Who…" a fearful automaton's droning voice sounded off. "Who a-are you?"

Amos ignored the robots. He was too concerned with the more important element of this whole debacle. He picked up the saxophone and examined it for any damage. Miraculously, he found not a scratch on it.

"You have the shape of an android."

"…But you're no… an…droid."

Their words fell to the wayside. Another voice was heard from the depths of his mind. A distinctly human one. Curious recollections stirred. Memories thought wiped from existence sprouted to audible life.

"Ya like jazz, Rookie? Come sit down. I got some tunes to soothe those ears in these desperate times."

Now, he remembered. Jubal owned one. He owned many instruments. His love of music possessed him to amass an impressive collection. However, only one did he know how to play. Amos saw flashes of his teammate expertly working the keys along with the tubular device, producing soundscapes as though they came naturally.

Salty lips graced the mouthpiece. Amos mimicked fuzzy memories from his tragically brief life as a carbon-based lifeform.

"Give it a shot, Rook. I'll show you a few notes before we head out."

With a long exhale, the saxophone bellowed. Not at all like the gentle, melancholic songs Jubal crafted back in the old days. Amos leaned away from the instrument. Images of his comrade operating it came to mind. He made it look so easy. Amos tried again.

The results were the same. A terrible howl erupted out into the desolate cityscape. He tried thrice more. Kept experimenting. No matter what he tried, he failed to produce any semblance of a note. The salty soldier was not discouraged.

There was a peculiar presence in the air. A coldness at his side. As he stared down the brass spine of the instrument, he felt as though he were standing shoulder to shoulder with a certain someone. He could hear the faintest of echoes. Ghostly music muffled under those brightly colored headphones Jubal always wore.

It reached a point at which Amos had to stop playing just to check and reassure himself that Jubal was not actually there with him. He was met with nothing but an empty rain and abyssal darkness. In truth, he was not entirely alone. He turned to the opposite side of the road.

Those two machines appeared to have dropped their feud. They stood side by side, fixated on him. Four glowing orbs of viridian light studied him oh so carefully. Patiently waiting for him to resume his attempts with the saxophone. They clearly did not care whether or not he was producing real music. It was the sound that intrigued them.

"You," the machine on the right spoke out. Automated words that were barely audible over crackling thunder. "Are you… human? A real, live human?"

"He must be. Only a human knows how to make those sounds."

Fleeting rage came and went. That horrible word again. He gritted his teeth but soon softened his stance. He did not have it in him to tear those two apart. He dropped his shoulders, staring down at the instrument held within his demonic talons. Hands distinctly inhuman. He shook his head, denying their excitable claims. His helmet rocked back and forth upon the crown of his head.

Amos resumed his toying with his newfound hobby. He livened that lonely street corner with the solitary whaling of a single saxophone. His audience of two watched on. Utterly transfixed by the noises crafted by the brass tube and the humanoid pillar of salt toying with it.

He kept playing until a certain voice found its way into his thoughts. "Stop toying around! Come to me. There is much to discuss."

Amos marched on much to the dismay of the two machines. Their pleas for him to return and resume his practice were deafened by the Dragon's orders.

~O~

"And then… there were none!"

With that, Devola concluded a chilling story. Popola gave her a well-earned round of applause. Pod 153 clicked her claws together to mimic the gesture. 9S was the last to join in. His eyes were sealed. A blissful smile was plastered on his face. His head rested against Popola's thigh as though her leg were a pillow. The layers of grass and flowers beneath him offered much in the way of comfort.

The sensation of her slender fingers idly toying with his locks was a peaceful one. He was on the verge of falling asleep when the chatter of those around him piqued his interest.

"Pod 153 to Unit Devola. Question: is this antidote based on real occurrences?"

"Nah! Vampires ain't real," Devola laughed. "It's just some stupid story I made up. The mountain I mentioned was more like a hill. It was a nice place at the top. The locals nearby hated us just as much as everyone here does. Popola and I'd go up there to clear our heads sometimes. There was a cherry orchard up there! It was our favorite spot, so I made up some dumb rumor about vampires living there to keep everyone else away."

Popola giggled knowingly at the ancient memories. "They truly believed it too. I think that was the settlement we stayed at the longest."

9S's softly chimed in, drawing Popola's attention down to her lap. "And this was in the Kingdom of Night, you said?"

"That's right," confirmed Devola. "We spent a lot of time there. Left ages ago."

"We should go there," declared 9S.

"Is that where you want to go," asked Popola. "Once this is all over? Of course, we can't leave until that monster is slain."

"Easy," 9S said with a confident smirk.

Devola cackled aloud at the remark.

At the far end of the cave, the once stationary elevator came to life. Everyone turned in time to see it rise off the ground and depart to the surface. What would normally be an eerie sight was collectively dismissed as nothing. 9S merely closed his eyes again while Devola was quick to turn away from the elevator as soon as she pinpointed the source of all the racket.

"Looks like Amos is back," said Popola.

She watched as the elevator reached the top. It then began its descent. The elevator returned to the ground floor and the doors opened. A dark figure emerged from the darkness.

What exited the elevator, however, was not a salt-infused super-soldier created by the vile will of malignant gods. Nor was it 2B come for a second futile attempt to convince 9S to leave his lovers behind for her sake. It was instead, probably the last person any of them expected to see. A smiling face that 9S all but forgot existed until then.

"Emil!?"

The spherical weapon of ancient origin yelped in surprise. His entire cart nearly flipped over. He failed to notice that he was not alone in this cave until his name was shouted from afar. 9S stood up above the field of glowing moonflowers.

"9S!? Is that you!?"

"Dammit," Devola muttered under his breath. 9S looked down at her just in time to see her grinding her teeth out of unadulterated frustration. "I thought this place was a nice hideout. Seems like everyone and their brother knows about it."

9S let her complaints fall into the background. Both of the twins remained seated initially, likely well hidden from Emil's sight.

"What are you doing here, Emil?"

"I could ask you that same question. You realize 2B's been turning this whole city upside down looking for you, right? She was worried sick about you."

9S nodded, half-interested. "Yeah, yeah. I already talked to her."

Emil scanned the cave in search of the B-type in question. "You did!? That's a relief. Where is she now?"

"Gone. She's probably at Anemone's camp."

Emil was left more baffled by that than he was about finding 9S in this cave in the first place. "I'm sorry? She just left? But she was so desperate to find you. Shouldn't you two be…"

"I'm doing my own thing now. We've gone our separate ways."

"I see. Well, it's none of my business what you…"

The smiling weapon of old trailed off. Movement on either side of 9S caught his attention. Two slender figures emerged from the flowers and stood upright. A pair of identical red-headed androids. Matching clothes, matching flowers embedded in their locks akin to 9S's, and matching faces.

They were awfully familiar. Emil had no idea where he had seen those faces before but he knew full well that he had indeed come across them at one point or another. A couple of red-haired sisters. Twins, in fact. Where had he seen such a thing before?

"Nines," the straight-haired woman said calmly. "Is this a friend of yours?"

A sense of unease possessed Emil. Her voice was as recognizable as her face. It was starting to bother him to the point of being unbearable. "Who are they," he pondered to himself.

"This is Emil. I met him once or twice before."

"That's right," Emil agreed, snapping back to reality. He tried his absolute best to brush aside this dark atmosphere that threatened to subsume his mind. "I showed this place to 9S. That hut over there belonged to a friend of mine. I was hoping to find 2B but I thought I'd drop by. I like to come here from time to time and clear my head."

He realized that he was rambling and swiftly switched gears. "Sorry, but I still haven't caught your names."

The straight-haired sister bowed her head. "My name is Popola."

"…I'm Devola."

Time slowed. Did he hear that correctly?

"I'm sorry," asked Emil. "I didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat yourselves?"

There was no way. There was simply no way he was hearing them correctly. Those names. They were a thing of the past. The names of two traitors long dead. He did not remember them well, but he most certainly remembered the important parts.

"I said my name is Popola."

"And I'm Devola!"

Fear. Panic. Utter dread. It all hit Emil like a tsunami of morbid recollection. He remembered those names all too well. Those awful twins. They should be dead. Mere phantasms of a bygone era yet here they were. Stood before him just as they were in that old conference room so many years ago.

"H-How!?"

Devola furrowed an annoyed brow at him. "How what?"

"You're… you're alive!?"

"I'm sorry," interjected Popola. She took a step forward, locking eyes with the peculiar newcomer. Her frown clashed against his eternal smile. "I don't believe we have met before. Do you know us from somewhere?"

This sort of thing was never a surprise to Popola. Their names were infamous. She started to focus less on the grinning automaton and more on making sure her sister did not immediately resort to her usual defensive habit of lashing out at strangers.

They genuinely seemed confused. Emil was left perplexed that the two traitors apparently had no memory of him. Suddenly, he switched his attention to 9S. The unwitting boy stood in between the sisters. He appeared visibly unaware of the mortal danger he was in. Without wishing to raise any alarms, Emil spoke more calmly, forcing himself to recollect his composure.

"Um… 9S? Can I talk to you outside for a bit? Privately?"

9S glanced at the twins for no other reason than to silently communicate his confusion to them. Nonetheless interested in what Emil had to say, he shrugged and nodded in agreement.

The two set off for the elevator without further debate.

Hammering rain forced the duo to remain inside the elevator long after reaching the surface. Together they watched the showers fall from the heavens. Roaring winds occasionally shifted direction, flinging all that rain directly onto them as if to prove how futile and meager their shelter was.

Emil kept trying to find the words that needed to be said. Eventually, 9S grew impatient.

"Emil? It's raining. Can we get this over with so we can go back inside?"

"Those twins," Emil blurted out. "How do you know them?"

"Devola and Popola? You met them before."

"I have. I don't think they remember me. But how in the world do you know who they are!?"

9S shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly at Emil's fearful pestering. "I met them at the Resistance Camp. They died awhile ago but I was able to repair them."

It never failed to be annoying or at best and enraging to hear someone give him a warning about those he chose to spend his time with. He was surprised that it was never brought up by 2B. He rolled his eyes, already knowing where this was going. He pounced on the issue long before Emil had a chance to bring it up.

"Look, I don't care what you have to say about them. Is this really all you wanted?"

"I…"

Emil had not the faintest clue where to begin. 9S likely had no idea how much danger he was in. "Those twins are dangerous, 9S! You have to listen to me. I knew them a long time ago! They're…"

9S rolled his eyes. His patience and usual upbeat nature was starting to falter. "Emil, I'm in no mood to have my time wasted. I already know people don't like them for whatever frivolous reasons. I don't care."

"The reasons aren't frivolous. Those twins are…"

"Whatever it is, I don't care! I'm not going to repeat myself and I won't stand here and listen to you bad mouth those closest to me."

"Close?"

A peculiar choice of words. There was more going on here than meets the eye. So much to unravel. Between pondering how and why those twins were still alive. Their apparent lack of memories as they failed to remember Emil. The mysterious reason for their hanging around 9S. It was all so overwhelming. Too much so. A cacophony of questions piled on the already growing sea of inquiries festering in Emil's head.

In the end, he could not be bothered. There was too much to worry about and no proper way to begin worrying about this plethora of problems. The myriad of questions Emil had would simply have to wait.

"Like I said," Emil announced. "I just came by to think for a bit. I learned a few things about my old friends. Well, one of them."

He lowered his smiling head. Emil had no clue what came over him, but he felt compelled to ask. He knew it would lead to nothing but he saw no harm in trying. "By any chance, have you seen a tall pale guy running around? Pale as a ghost? He wears a black uniform."

"Are you talking about Amos?"

The mention of that name caused Emil to freeze. By some psychotic stroke of luck, 9S knew it. Emil could scarcely believe his own metaphorical ears. "You know him!?"

9S nodded. "He's a friend of ours, but how do you know him?"

"Just happened on him out in the ruins awhile back. If you're such good friends then maybe you can help me."

The boy nonchalantly shrugged. "Depends."

Knowing this was the time for elaboration, Emil paced himself. He collected and condensed his racing thoughts, forming them into as concise an explanation as he could muster.

"Amos had all these files on my friends. The same friends I had a really… really long time ago. Files where he and some other people were recording their observations of us. He showed me the files and even let me have them. I was grateful and I read through them all. It was all fine until I got to the last file. It had a bunch of info on a friend of mine named Nier."

9S nodded along, confirming that he was still listening.

"On the last page was… oh, screw it! I'll just show you. The file is underneath a metal box in my cart. Pull it out and see for yourself."

He did as told. Digging through Emil's mobile storefront until he found what he presumed to be the desired file. A manila folder with a stack of documents inside. After showing it to Emil who confirmed it was indeed the one, 9S flipped through it. Once the last page was located, he read over a final passage aloud.

"Papa Bear is dead. And may that man of men rest in peace. As I said in my last report, large portions of the dolls are starting to decay and die off. He was one of them. Is this really where his story ends? I don't think that's right. I know I was told not to get involved. I'll take full responsibility once you guys get back. You'll understand when you see what I've done. If it actually works, of course. I've liberated his body. That daughter of his caught me at the grave. Wasn't too pleased about it but I dealt with her. I'm taking the corpse to the morgue at Black Site: Alchemilla. I'm also officially closing this file. All future records of this upcoming project will be stored in a separate folder. ~Amos

Subject: Nier

Type: Replicant

Fate: Death by degradation"

9S dropped the folder back into Emil's cart.

"Black Site: Alchemilla," Emil reiterated. "Do you know where that is? Has he ever taken you there?"

"No," admitted 9S. "I've never heard of that place."

"What's does black site mean?"

"I don't know. That's not a term we used at YoRHa. Why don't you just ask Amos? He gave you the file so he probably doesn't care if you find out or not."

Emil violently shook his head. "I tried. I went back to his hideout multiple times but he was never there. Do you know where he is?"

"Currently, no. It's been a couple days since I last saw him. He's been a rare sight for whatever reason. Is this the only time this name shows up? It's not in any other file he gave you?"

"No. I've only seen it here, and believe me, I went back over and checked everything. There's no other mentions of it. He had these files off hand back at his house or whatever that place was. The way it's worded here has got me thinking this is a completely different location."

"Why are you so worried about this," asked 9S. "Your friend is dead, right?"

"He took Nier's corpse and experimented on it," exclaimed Emil. "His body is at that place! That… Alchemilla. I have to find it! I need to know what Amos did to him. More than that, he deserves a proper burial. At the very least, can he not rest in peace!? You said you're friends with Amos. Can you help me? I know you and 2B already did more than enough for me in the past but if you can help me track down either the body or Amos, I promise I'll make it up to you somehow. Someway. I'll do anything! Just please!"

It was not out of any particular desire to help Emil that compelled 9S. Merely his own curiosity. A desire to, at the very least, explore an old Legion hideaway and learn more about their ancient faction.

Ultimately, it did not take much in the way of convincing. 9S nodded without further hesitation. Ideas on how to crack this mystery were already swarming his mind like a nest of agitated bees.

The first step to finding the missing cadaver, inevitably, was Amos' abode. Emil grew tired of his cart. He left it by the elevator and attached himself to the body of a random machine found during their excursion to the other side of town. Along the way, Emil mostly kept to himself. He listened to the light conversation between 9S and the sisters. He kept a paranoid eye on them the entire time. Beyond the occasional glance of equal suspicion or the rare, basic question by Popola here and there, the twins largely ignored Emil.

A trek through the rain that was spent mostly in silence. That was until Devola looked Emil's way at the same time he was looking hers. She immediately narrowed her eyes at him. He averted his gaze but it was to no avail.

"What are you lookin' at?"

"I… I'm sorry! I was just checking our surroundings."

"Liar."

"Devola," Popola ordered. The initial warning did nothing to deter Devola. The ill-tempered sibling pressed the issue further.

"The hell are ya, anyway? Some sorta machine?"

"I'm just a merchant. I have stuff to sell if you want…"

"Do I look like I wanna buy anything!?"

Popola finally had her fill with her twin's hostility. She intervened once again, raising her voice. "Sister! That's enough!" She then shifted her attention to Emil. "Apologies for her. We're not accustomed to dealing with new people."

"…I understand."

In the past, Emil scarcely remembered the twins beyond that gruesome fight. As fuzzy as his recollections were, he did not recall Devola being so hostile in the past. She was far too aggressive.

They kept moving. Emil was more than ready to move on and forget that outburst ever happened. He made sure to keep his eyes forward from then on. Memories of that cold, black void were more than enough to convince him not to try their patience.

A broken-down wall was the signature landmark to assure the group that they were nearing their destination. After turning down a few alleyways, they arrived at a bunker hidden between a pair of skyscrapers that threatened to collapse at any moment. They seemed so unsteady, it was a miracle that the storm had not simply knocked them over yet.

"Here we are," announced 9S.

He took the lead inside. The usual lanterns were still lit in the halls. From a ceiling draped in cobwebs, they dangled. Little flames lit their way, allowing 153 and Devola to switch off their respective light sources.

They reached a sealed door marking the only room they had ever seen Amos occupy. Lights shined from underneath the door. 9S tried to open it only to find it locked. He knocked instead but no one answered.

The boy gave up and shrugged it off. "Maybe he's not here?"

"Should we wait for him to return," asked Popola. "I can't imagine where he ran off to."

"Now that I think about it," Devola chimed in. "He's been dipping in and out constantly as of late. What's he been up to?"

It almost seemed as though 9S knew a definite answer to that question. An answer he felt he desperately needed to remember. A piece of valuable information that Devola and Popola were long overdue to hear yet he could not remember to save his life. He eventually gave up on that futile recollection.

"Who knows when he'll be back? Let's just look around for now."

Popola gave him an odd look. "Are you sure we should be doing this? If he comes back and finds us digging through his stuff…"

"Just a quick look around. That's all it is."

Emil had no objections. So long as he found the answers he needed, he was willing to partake in just about any form of information gathering. As such, he was the first to start exploring.

One way or another, Emil would find that corpse.

The halls leading to Amos' room were all well lit but anywhere beyond that point was shrouded in total darkness. To cover more ground, the party split into two groups. Devola led 9S and Popola down one side of the complex while Pod 153 escorted Emil down another.

153's light graced yet another closed door deeper inside the ancient facility. Clawed into the surface was a single name. "Obidiah."

"I've seen that name mentioned before," said Emil. "In those files. He was one of Amos' friends. A sharpshooter of some kind."

"This may be the office of said individual," informed the pod. "Recommendation: proceed if possible and investigate for further clues."

Emil gave it a shot. He had nothing better to try. Surprisingly, the door opened without issue. He hesitantly stepped inside. There was an instant sense of eeriness that came over him. An air of pure malice lingered in the air like a ghost. He felt as though he should not be here. Emil pressed on regardless.

A table was positioned against the wall on his immediate right. Among a pile of old scalpels, knives, scissors, pliers, and an assortment of other suspicious tools, Emil found a piece of paper. "What's that?"

Pod 153 noticed the page and laid claim to it. She carefully hoisted it up and read aloud the ancient words scribbled upon it.

"Obi! We're all sick of the screaming. From now on, all interrogations are to be done at Alchemilla. Transport those Hamelin pigs to the Endurance Ward by Monday. Let me know if you need help with it. And before you go raising a stink, look on the bright side. This room is now, officially, your very own office! Now you can stop bitching at me over not having one.

~Ezekiel"

"There it is," exclaimed Emil. "There's that name again. Alchemilla. Does it not say how to get there?"

"Negative. This support unit has divulged all written details. Would you like to verify?"

Emil shook his head. Instead, he moved to the center of the room. The location was named once. Emil took it as a good sign. He saw no reason why he could not find other mentions of it in this very room.

The hints he had picked up on thus far managed to leave him more confused than when he had nothing but a name to go on. "Experiments? Interrogations? Screaming? I don't know much about the Legion but I know they were not nice people. So, what exactly were Amos and his friends doing here?"

"Unknown."

Emil left it at that. It was more of an answer than he expected. He moved behind a desk further to the back of the room. What could only be presumed as the place Obidiah spent most of his time. Stacks of papers and rotting clipboards festering with termites littered the entire room.

At the foot of the desk was a stack of boxes filled with yet more documents. It would take an eternity to thoroughly search this room alone. It appeared this group of soldiers did more note-taking than they did fighting in endless wars of extermination.

Emil groaned and got to work. Still fumbling to understand the proper controls of his new body, he struggled to grab a random page that caught his eye. After much effort, he managed to pick it up only to be disappointed by the text it contained.

This process was repeated several times. His mind was racing the entire time. The intimidating thought of being in such close proximity to Devola and Popola was a disquieting one. The assumptions he came to when thinking about what remained of his friend's body did not help. He was locked into a perpetual daze.

Knowing they were alone, Emil thought to at least try and address one issue to alleviate his focus. Pod 153 was far less intimidating than the rest of his freshly met companions. The fact that they were alone emboldened him.

"Hey. 153? What's the story with those twins if you don't mind me asking?"

"They have been traveling with Unit 9S and I since the onset of the storm," 153 casually admitted.

"But why? What's their relationship with you guys?"

153 answered this question as nonchalantly as she answered the last. "Both Units Devola and Popola are romantically involved with Unit 9S. Before that, Unit 9S repaired them by his own fruition."

Emil was left completely stunned. "WHAT!? They're… his girlfriends!?"

"Correct."

"I… I guess that explains why he was so defensive about them earlier."

Yet again, Emil had no idea where to begin. He almost regretted asking in the first place. This revelation only evoked a plethora of new questions.

Questions he no longer cared to ask.

Emil picked up the pace, forcing himself to focus on the task that was in front of him. A picture spilled out of a random box as he dug through it. Knowing it would offer no leads, Emil picked it up out of meager hope that his expectations would be miraculously subverted. More so than they already had been.

The image displayed what Emil assumed to be a man and woman though even that was not completely clear. A bright sun and vivid greenery filled the background. The man stood to the left, dressed in a militant uniform that was unlike Amos'. It was not the same black, digital camouflage, but rather, a beige color resembling the patterns of a desert environment. A metal tag dangled on a chain around his neck. The woman to his right intimately clung to his torso.

Both of their faces were marked out by dark splotches of ink. The black markings were too precise to be a mistake. It was a deliberate means to erase both of those faces from history. The photo evoked both joy and melancholy at the same time.

Sadness spawned from the fact that Emil knew full well it was an image of two humans. Amos' friend, Obidiah, likely being one of them. Two humans who truly existed at one point so long ago in the past. Filled with joy, perhaps love, yet it was all erased. Hidden forever behind two inky voids concealing the glee of better days.

Emil flipped the picture over. The other side was not entirely blank. A small box of text was hand-written inside the shape of a heart.

"I never know where your missions take you. Just promise that they'll always lead you back to me."

His time to admire this sliver of history was cut terribly short. Footsteps pounded down the hall outside the office. Devola barged in, flashlight shining erratically in search of the duo.

"Ya in here, 153!?"

Devola was about to bolt out of the room and check another but 153 spoke up. "Affirmative. Is there a problem?"

"I think we found something. Come on!"

A lead was indeed found. Not only a mere lead, but proper directions filed away in a dusty old cabinet. The group reunited and followed 153 who used her internal tools to locate the specific spot.

They were led to an eerie part of town. A place none of them had ventured to before. The storm was more gentle in that area. A mostly residential section of the old city that was left in a worse state of ruin than the rest of the region. Much of the city they were used to traversing had been rebuilt by androids only to later be destroyed again by alien machines. This small corner of the globe never received such treatment.

It was untouched. The haunted remains of human presence still lingered in the air. An unsettling mist rolled into the area. The lack of cyclonic winds allowed it to manifest and linger like a ghost wandering around a forsaken graveyard after dark.

The largest building for several square blocks stood in their sights. It loomed over them with an imposing aura. Every window and glass door was boarded up. A metal gate and rusted, wrought iron fence lined the old property.

Pale walls stretched upward for about four stories. At the front, overlooking the blocked-off entrance was an old sign. A red cross was painted on a rotting mesh. The name once inscribed next to the cross of the ancient facility had long since been erased. Forever lost to an eon of erosion.

"This must be the place," said Devola.

Emil glinted her way. "Are we sure this is it? It just looks like some old ruin. I was expecting something a little more…"

"Obvious," asked Popola. "I think Amos and his friends would be keen to hide their operations rather than flaunt them openly. Either way, I'm afraid there is only one way to find out."

"Right… Thanks for helping me get this far. You guys have already done enough. If you want to turn back, that's fine."

"I wanna know what went on here," said 9S. "If nothing else, I want to learn more about Amos."

Emil nodded in agreement. He wished to be out of the twins' presence but the building before them was somehow far more intimidating than them. He made no further gripes over not being left alone in such a place.

With a single swing of Skald's Song, the chain locks wrapped around the front gate were severed. Sliced clean in two. The group proceeded up to the entrance. A pair of twin doors were barricaded shut by a wall of wooden planks nailed to the door frame.

"But why hide in a hospital," asked Emil. "Of all places. This is where humans went to treat their wounds and diseases. Why would the Legion choose this as a base of operations?"

Devola stepped past him, ignoring his impossible to answer questions. She yanked Cruel Oath free from her hip and stabbed it in between a pair of wooden boards. Emil flinched at the abrupt motion. With a swift jerk of the golden blade, she pried them apart. She repeated the process until a sizable hole was created. She then shined her flashlight inside.

"This place is a total dump," Devola groaned. "All clear. Ugh! Let's get this over with."

Sensing the frustration behind her words, Emil apologetically bowed his orb of a head. "Thanks again for helping me get here. It means a lot."

Keeping on the twins' good side became a top priority for Emil. At least for as long as he needed to travel with this oddity of a party. He did not want a repeat of last time.

One by one, they entered the hole Devola pried open. A desolate waiting room lay before them. Rows of identical chairs covered in debris and fallen planks of wood were scattered throughout. Ancient cobwebs dangled from the ceiling like fluffy curtains. Layers of dust were rustled with every step they took.

Pod 153 took to probing the immediate area with her light source while Devola set her sights on the front desk at the other end of the chamber. She spotted a lone paper turned yellow after having been exposed to the open air for so long. It was stamped to the edge of the desk, beckoning all who entered to read it.

She tore it from its spot, flinching when she felt part of it crumble to dust. Most of the text remained intact. She twirled around and read the message aloud.

"Mission statement! This hospital is to be re-purposed by orders of the Prince. Our goal is to find effective methods of maximizing our lethality in the coming war effort. For this reason, the hospital has been divided up into two wards. The first and second floors are the Endurance Ward. The third and fourth are to be dubbed the Psychological Ward. See the respective lobbies on floors two and three for more information. ~Ezekiel."

"So," Emil stammered. "This place was used to torture people?"

"Sounds like it," Devola coldly remarked, concealing her emotions well. "All the more reason to hurry this up. I don't wanna be in a place like this."

"What exactly are we looking for," asked Popola.

Emil shook himself. A physical manifestation of his growing sense of unease. "I don't know, exactly. I guess I just need to find a clue about my friend's body. That file said something about a morgue. I guess we should try to find that."

Perturbed, Devola cocked an eyebrow at Emil. "A morgue!? That's where all the dead are gonna be stored!"

"Fitting," said 9S. "We are looking for a corpse after all."

Devola folded her arms, resentfully glaring at him. "And how do we get there?"

"Analysis," proclaimed 153. "A morgue would normally be kept out of the way of the other facilities. Recommendation: search for access to the building's basement. It will more than likely house the morgue."

"Wonderful," growled Devola.

Her gritted teeth made her displeasure all the more obvious. She would rather be anywhere else than in this haunted domain.