A/N: So...it's been roughly a year since I last updated this story. Yep. That seems to be how things go now. Maintaining Fanfiction works as an adult is much harder than you might think, especially when writer's block becomes a factor, but you guys aren't here to read my excuses. You're here for the angst of these android characters, so let's get to that. I hope all of you are doing well, and since Thanksgiving is this week at the time of my posting this, Happy Thanksgiving to you all! Best wishes and God bless you guys. Enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: After a year...is it really necessary to explain that NieR: Automata is the property of Square Enix, Platinum Games, Yoko Taro, and that this is merely a Fanfiction made for entertainment purposes? Yeah, I didn't think so either.
Warnings: Angst. Aside from that, I can't think of anything else you guys need to be warned about with this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you all for your patience.
When assigned the role of captain for a new elite squadron of androids, communication was key for mission efficiency. However, though necessary to keep everyone on the same wavelength, I was never much of a talker.
After years of solitude where the only noise surrounding me consisted of chirping birds, rushing water, and the mangled cries of machines I eliminated...I really hate talking.
The amount of social activity I've had to endure within the last fifteen...make that sixteen...hours, has really put me on edge. It took most of my self-control to keep myself from demanding everyone yelling their feelings to the sky to shut up...namely 9S.
"Alert: Unit A2's blood pressure is at an abnormal level."
And this chatterbox of a Pod isn't helping me calm down either.
With my feet pounding painfully against the pavement, I stop a few paces outside of the Resistance Camp's entryway and take a moment to stare at the valley directly in front of me. Streams of running water cut through the small area, creating a tranquil melody that immediately soothes my anxiety.
"Alert: Unit A2's blood pressure has stabilized. Proposal: This Unit should reduce stressful encounters moving forward."
Sighing, I ignore 042 in favor of enjoying the breeze cooling my face from the sun's heat.
There's serenity in isolation. I don't have to explain myself, and I don't have to listen to anyone's screams but my own.
Of course, I stopped indulging in extreme outbursts of despair a long time ago.
"Pod..."
"Yes, A2."
"We need to find a place to go," I mutter, groaning upon shifting my weight from my left ankle to my right. "Needs to be somewhere fairly close, and if not...I'll need to find a moose or a boar to ride to prevent further damage to my legs."
"This pod does not recommend this course of action," 042 murmurs in his usual monotone. "The Resistance Camp is the only place where Unit A2 can receive adequate repairs."
"Do you think it's a good idea to stay with 9S here?"
The Pod is silent for a short moment.
"Negative. Unit 9S' hostility would prove cumbersome to Unit A2's recovery."
With another groan, I scratch the back of my head and gaze beyond the valley toward the City Ruins, looking for any signs of the usual wildlife.
"I'm glad to know you're as useful as ever."
042 waves his arms in what appears to be an expression of exasperation. "Sarcastic remarks will not aid Unit A2 with the problem at hand."
"Neither will your insistence on talking…"
"Number 2!"
Mindful of the stiffness in my ankles, I turn around to face Anemone as she emerges from the Resistance Camp with an apologetic frown plastered on her face.
"I'm sorry about what happened back there," she begins, placing a hand on her hip. "9S... He was out of line."
My only response is to shrug.
Anemone's gaze narrows on my knees. "The repairs to your joints are still incomplete. You really shouldn't..."
"I'll be fine," I cut in, motioning at 042 as a way of saying I wouldn't be alone in the machine wilderness, although the solitude would have been appreciated, if only for the fact that I would actually be able to think without something ranting at me every thirty seconds.
Anemone glances at the Pod then back at me.
"I definitely don't like this," she admits, her voice full of concern. "But if you say you'll be fine...I just have to trust that you will be."
Offering a small smile and a nod, I start to move away.
"One thing..."
I halt in my footsteps.
"What is it?"
"I haven't heard from Pascal in a while," Anemone answers, pensive. "And I can't reach him using the original frequency he gave me. I'm starting to think something happened to him too."
My shoulders sink at her words. "She has no idea how right she is..."
"Anyway," she continues, unaware of the turmoil spinning in my head. "If it isn't too much trouble, could you stop by his village and see if he's alright?"
"..."
My hesitation makes Anemone's frown deepen.
"Number 2?"
"Sorry," I reply quickly, maybe too quickly. "It... won't be a problem for me to check the area."
Anemone's expression immediately shifts from one of worry to relief. "Great! I really appreciate this. Pascal has been an invaluable ally over the last few months. Not having his assistance would be devastating, especially now with so many machines disconnected from the network."
042 pivots in my direction, obviously wondering if he should mention what happened to the machine village, but I quickly give him a sharp glare. It was the easiest way to tell him to either keep quiet or face an introduction to the concept of pain.
Thankfully, Anemone doesn't take note of the exchange between us. Instead her gaze returns to the entryway of the Resistance Camp in contemplation before focusing her attention on me again.
"Just send me a message through the transporter terminal in Pascal's village whenever you get an update," she says, smiling. "And... try to keep in touch with me, okay?"
Though not keen on extensive chattering, Anemone and I share a history neither of us will ever forget. We're the last of the forces who took on the machines in Mt. Kuala. Though that mission was a debilitating failure, we managed to survive long enough to see the end of this war.
What that means for me… I don't know.
But Anemone has found purpose here with the Resistance forces she leads. With them rallying behind her, I have no doubt she'll lead this world into a future where androids and machines disconnected from what remains of the dismantled network can live peacefully.
2B would have wanted to be part of that effort.
Such a thing is impossible for me after so many years of fighting the entire world, but staying updated from afar is a fair compromise between me and the combat model 9S still seeks to avenge.
At some point he will come after me, ready for a fight, and for that I…
"Number 2?"
"Huh? Oh. Sure," I agree distractedly while moving to take a seat along the edge of the road. Doing so alleviates the mounting pressure in my ankles.
"Something else on your mind?"
"2B's sword," I reply, fixing my eyes on the stream and the tiny fish swimming within the clear waters. "I don't have it anymore. Did you...ever see it when you rescued me?"
"No. I didn't spot it at all."
"I see..."
Silence envelops us for a moment, allowing me space to enjoy the serenity of nature surrounding us.
"Number 2..."
"Hmm?"
"Be careful out there."
Nodding, I raise one of my knees to my chest. The movement hurts a little.
"Take care of 9S for me," I say, echoing 2B's own wishes. "The Resistance Camp is all he has to lean on, whether he knows it or not. Don't hold a grudge against him for my sake."
A melodious laugh reaches my ears. "Why hold a grudge when I can put him to work?"
I allow myself to smile at her comment, but don't say anything in response to it. Don't need to.
"See you around. I'll be expecting a transmission from you soon."
Anemone retreats then, her footfalls bouncing off the pavement until they fade into nothingness.
For a while I remain seated outside the Resistance Camp as 042 resumes the diagnostic check he didn't finish earlier. According to him, my right ankle is in the worst shape, its probability of malfunctioning or snapping off altogether around 51%. It was the one joint the maintenance team working on me hadn't touched yet. On top of that, the internal structure of my left knee has corroded over the years. Apparently, it was worse before the repairs began, but the synthetic muscle connecting the metal joints together has worn down to a point where they're scraping against each other.
And yeah, that hurts...a lot.
But physical discomfort isn't new for me. This body has been beaten and battered more times than I care to count. I'm capable of managing field repairs in an emergency...although I've nearly killed myself on several occasions trying to fix something I had no business messing with.
Either way, I'm still here.
"Query: What are you going to do now, Unit A2?"
Moving slowly, I get back up on my feet.
"I'm going to Pascal's village."
My story wasn't made with happily ever after in mind.
With a sharpened blade and a grim resolve to fulfill my duty, I seal this fate in the blood of the boy I love.
Over and over his heart shatters in my hands like glass. Liquid shards of crimson splatter against my feet. Pain and shock sparkle in eyes that match mine, and a strangled breath catches in a wordless question.
At no point have I ever answered his pleas for reasons.
Even if I could apologize for it all…he will never forgive my sins.
The ritual of betrayal was best done in silence. I learned that after a while.
Words, whether of love or hate, only heighten the agony of this vicious cycle.
I never thought it would end.
But somewhere between the brutal battles in the City Ruins and the loss of the Bunker, everything changed.
Everything is ending…for me…
All that's left is a final message in the flight unit I left behind.
Limping through the weak current lapping at my ankles, 042 alerts me to what I've already become keenly aware of. My internal systems are infected by an incurable and aggressive logic virus. Ten minutes. That's all I have left.
With each step through the tunnel, my internal systems skitter in and out of focus. Once out on the barren streets of the City Ruins, enemy units flock toward me, striking out angrily with mangled cries reverberating through my audio channels. 042 protects me as best he can with melee shield programs, but some strikes still come through, drawing blood from the surface of my skin.
The light sting of cuts is nothing compared to how heavy my entire body feels.
Virtuous Contract, my most precious weapon, remains locked in my hand even though I no longer have the strength to lift it beyond a few feeble attempts at defense.
If I had any pride left inside of me, I would have felt embarrassed at this weakness, this frailty.
But all I can think about...is him.
This is what he felt every time I betrayed him.
...
Each breath I take is laborious, yet I keep moving, prolonging what's inevitable.
...
I won't be able to come back from this death.
Despite knowing that...I feel...
...
I need to see 9S again. One more time...
...
But I won't see him. The virus is spreading too fast.
…
Perhaps it's better this way.
…
What right do I have to any final wishes when I have been responsible for taking everything away from him, the one I love most, again and again and again?
…
Even so...whether I have a right to a final wish or not…
…
I want...
…
I want 9S with me.
…
I need to see him…
…
…One last time…
…
But my story wasn't made with happily ever after in mind.
…
...
...
...A2...
My visual sensors glow crimson, but I can see the YoRHa deserter taking down the other infected combat models. She stares at me, her gaze cold, but not with malice.
...
She's...a reflection of me...what I could have been if I had been daring enough to break the cycle of my own volition.
But I would have lived the cycle for eternity to remain with 9S.
...
He'll...be better off without me...won't he?
...
No. Someone...
...
S-someone...needs to...l-look...after...h-him.
...
...
...
"Take care of everyone for me."
I c-can't m-maintain my...
...
breathing...
...
anymore...
...
My thoughts are...
...
dissolving...
...
...
...
9...S...
...
...
...
...
...
"Take care...of the future...A2."
Several hours later, the YoRHa fugitive formerly known as Attacker Number 2, arrives at the charred remains of the pacifist machine village riding on the back of a large boar with the Tactical Support Unit, 042, hovering in the air above her. Unit A2 was no worse for wear physically, but her temperament was taking a significant dive due to a sudden memory surge from a portion of 2B's data, which had merged with her own consciousness data during the battle against Hegel in the Desert region. Before that moment, had she lost contact with 2B's primary weapon, Virtuous Contract, that data would have been completely inaccessible.
However, that battle and the campaign to rescue 9S within the Tower further cemented 2B's will on her predecessor. Though different models with wildly different life experiences, the basic personality profile of units 2E and A2 are the same, not that A2 would ever want to admit such a thing.
She was her own person and no amount of shared data would change that.
Regardless of 2B's wishes, 9S wasn't her responsibility and she didn't want to spend what little energy she had dwelling on their tragic history or her part in it.
"Unit A2?"
"Don't talk to me right now," she growls irritably, gently patting the boar's neck as a signal for it to lower itself to the ground. The animal complies with a low grunt, allowing the former fugitive to carefully climb off, but her right ankle screams in protest the instant she puts any weight on it, eliciting a sharp hiss from her lips.
042 stays silent, but somehow, A2 feels the Pod's concern radiating from its buzzing ventilators.
"I'm fine," she groans, lightly slapping the boars backside so that it'll leave the area.
"Proposal: Unit A2 should take some time to rest."
"How long did it take you to come up with that brilliant idea?" she asks, wincing as she begins to walk up the bridge and into the village itself.
The Pod doesn't give a response, which suits A2 just fine. She hadn't said much of anything since their quest to reach the village started, and now that they were here, the last thing she wants to do is engage in inane chatter.
She needs the silence to better gather her thoughts anyway.
"It still smells like smoke here," she muses inwardly, narrowing her ice-blue gaze on a machine corpse near the slide she'd helped build for the machine children. She can still see the blackened sky, feel the heat of the flames eating away at the small homes the machine's had once lived in, and hear the mechanical wails of horror accompanying feral noises of a vicious, bloodthirsty feast.
Though Androids aren't typically capable of vomiting, A2 feels something akin to nausea at the memories.
I asked you to take care of everyone for me.
The older YoRHa model closes her eyes upon hearing the faint hum of 2B's voice in her head.
Leave me alone. I did everything I could. It wasn't enough. That's how it goes sometimes.
A hollow, bitter laugh echoes inside A2's head.
"Alert: Abnormal vitals detected within Unit A2."
"Didn't I tell you not to talk to me right now?"
The Pod's ventilators let out another low hum, but this time the Attacker model is certain it's with annoyance rather than concern.
Eventually, after a few seconds of deep breathing, A2 opens her eyes to continue examining the ruined village. The fires hadn't destroyed the overall structure of the place, which was a good sign all things considered, but an eerie fog lingers, serving as a permanent reminder of what occurred.
As if she even needed that with dried stains of oil and coolant coating the surface of the wood beneath her feet and intact machine bodies with irreparably damaged cores strewn about everywhere.
Big sis! Bis sis! Play with us!
Inhaling and exhaling shakily, A2 ignores the image of the machine children's lifeless bodies in the factory and moves toward the out of order terminal.
"Pod. Do you think you can repair this?"
"Affirmative, but I do not have the necessary materials to conduct such repairs."
"Of course you don't."
042 hovers closer to her. "Query: Unit A2 seems troubled by the state of the machine village. Is there any emotional support this Pod can provide?"
A2 growls lowly unable to answer the Pod's question. For so long she had only seen machines as empty husks bent on destruction and chaos, but this village contrasted that well-ingrained idea, and whether she wants to acknowledge it or not, her time running errands for Pascal and the villagers drastically altered her perspective.
2B's experiences amplify her sorrow…
And not just for Pascal and his village.
There's an ache in her chest from the vitriol 9S flung her way.
On some level, she knows feeling any sense of hurt from it is illogical. YoRHa assassins chased her from place to place for years. She killed scores of her own kind just to survive, including 2B and 9S at different points in her wandering.
Hatred for what she was is a given, and 9S' rant today wasn't the worst she'd heard from YoRHa operatives by a long shot. She knew what it meant to lose comrades. She knew what it meant to face betrayal over and over again by a cause you were willing to sacrifice everything for.
9S' reaction, considering everything he had already been through, was completely normal and justified in her mind.
And yet…the intensity of his hatred cuts through her entire being.
It's annoying how 2B's emotions bleed into her consciousness even without Virtuous Contract in hand. She's the one hurting from 9S' anguish, so much so that A2 can't think straight past it or her own grief for being made to push forward again.
Thin trials of water slowly run down her cheeks the more she stands there, thinking and thinking and thinking in an endless loop of pain.
"What am I even doing here?"
"Hey! Hello up there!"
A2 gasps. She recognizes the voice calling her.
Pod 042 hums lowly, hovering toward the nearby ladder. The former fugitive follows wordlessly, and soon her eyes find the familiar shape of a friendly machine.
"Pascal..."
"Welcome traveler!" The machine draws closer to the ladder as A2 slowly climbs down. She isn't sure what to say in response to the greeting, so she keeps silent and motions for 042 to exchange pleasantries on her behalf.
"Greetings," the Pod states, waving its mechanical arms. "I am Tactical Support Unit 042. This is my assigned unit, YoRHa Attacker Number 2, commonly referred to as A2."
"Pleasure to meet you," the familiar machine exclaims, sounding delighted. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you two hear about my shop from someone? I actually had a visitor not too long ago. I'd say right before that strange tower collapsed."
A2 raises an eyebrow at this.
"Negative. We are here on official business from the Android Resistance…"
"Wait Pod," she interrupts, holding up a hand to stop 042 from saying anything else. "What did you visitor look like, Pascal?"
"He was a little shorter than you…and he also called me Pascal." The machine pauses, chuckling lightly. "Truth be told, I've taken a liking to the name. Seems to suit me."
A2 offers a somber smile. "So 9S came here to check on Pascal at one point…and found him like this…"
"But anyway, you mentioned having business from the Android Resistance?"
"Affirmative," 042 announces, taking the lead in the conversation again. "The leader of the Resistance forces would like to commence in resource exchanges with the machine lifeform known as Pascal."
Pascal claps his mechanical hands together. "Splendid! I just knew word of my shop would get around, but unfortunately I am a little low on items at present. Scavenging for parts from all this junk around here is quite a lot to do for one machine." He pauses, stretching one of his arms toward the dismantled village. "I'm also trying to repair this place some. It's quiet and peaceful here, so I'm hoping to make it my residence."
A2's expression sours a little. Despite the memory wipe, Pascal was essentially starting his village over. Would the remaining machines join him? Would more machine children learn fear and repeat the same tragedy all over again?
"Unit A2 can assist you with scavenging…"
Lost as she was in thought, the rogue android immediately scowls upon hearing her pod volunteer her services.
"What?"
"The Machine Lifeform known as Pascal has vocalized a need for assistance," 042 explains, turning toward her. "As a YoRHa Unit, you are more than capable of gathering materials."
"Did you forget that I can barely walk?"
Pascal perks up at this while marching closer to A2's side. "Are you in need of repairs? I recently acquired some staunching gel from the remains of some Androids in the forest. I think those help with Android injuries, yes?"
"Affirmative. Remains from machine parts could also assist Unit A2."
"Perfect!" Pascal exclaims, blinking at A2 in a friendly manner. "If you're willing to assist me in gathering items for fixing up this dump, I'll happily offer my assistance to your cause. With the war finally over, there's no reason why we can't help each other, right?"
A2 felt completely left out of the conversation as 042 finalized the negotiations on the arrangement. It seemed, for the time being, they would be staying in the machine village, helping Pascal rebuild what he didn't remember losing in the first place.
Explaining this to Anemone later was going to be a pain.
But for now...she at least had something to keep her wandering mind busy.
A/N: And that my friends is the end of this chapter. I hope all of you enjoyed it. I have started work on the next chapter and I have a general outline for this story, so hopefully I can update it a little faster for those of you who are still interested, but no promises on when this will get updated again. Life is crazy. Stuff happens. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading. Also, I do have a YouTube channel if any of you get antsy about updates. I recently sang a cover of Weight of the World on there. My channel name is Lillymu961 if any of you are interested in that. Best wishes and God bless you all. Happy Thanksgiving!