"This is completely unacceptable, commander Elion! Such a situation should not have been possible at all! Your last report made it clear that all activity in the colonies were monitored, and yet something like THIS manages to slip your attention?! What have you to say for yourself?!"

Perhaps it was the anger over this possible crisis, or maybe a lapse of memory due to age, but at that moment, it seemed the head of Gjallarhorn's Regulatory Bureau, Hannibal Liber, forgot that he was currently shouting and making demands to one of the most powerful men in the entire Solar System, head of a fleet greater than any other in both the private sector and Gjallarhorn itself, and with enough authority to bring down punishment even on his head.

Thankfully for the IRB's leader, Rustal Elion was a very patient man. So instead of ordering Hannibal quiet or raising his voice, the head of the Arianrhod Fleet merely remained quiet and allowed the near-senior to put out whatever grievances he had been holding while he himself remained tranquil and poised upon his chair, watching the monitor in front of him with an almost bored expression.

Once the section head was finished, Rustal leaned back on his seat and placed his arms over the chair's arms. "While I understand your frustrations, Lord Liber, there has not been any proof so far of this incident having originated from the colonies," spoke the master of the Elion Family, his voice perfectly level and controlled as he regarded Hannibal's twitching brow and grit teeth. "It is just as likely that the perpetrator could be based on Earth, Mars or even the Outer Sphere of Jupiter. Has the Regulatory Bureau not started their investigation yet of the event?"

The question seemed to be enough to, at the very least, lower some of Liber's anger, the man's jaw loosening and his brows softening just enough to let him seem somewhat more professional. "… We have yet to find any trace of the transmission's origin point. Intel gathering has stalled, and our probes into the Ariadne network have come up with no data trail. Whatever encryption this… Individual has utilized is unlike anything we've encountered thus far."

With a knowing hum as a reply, Rustal reached for one of the tablets laying upon his desk and brought it to his eye-level, the man quickly scanning over the information his agents had delivered not two hours ago. "The reaction at the colonies has been tame, equally so on Earth itself. Security forces have been deployed to staunch any possible movements or uprising, and moles have already begun seeking possible pipelines and leads."

"So have we. There has been talk of Ollerus involvement to root out a possible internal element, but for now the rest of the Seven Stars are holding them back. They claim we can't cause confusion within the ranks and should instead keep an image of order and control. A response is already being prepared as we speak."

"Very well. Once any information presents itself, I will see that it is delivered to you. I expect the same in return, of course."

"… Very well."

With a very stiff nod, Hannibal logged off, finally allowing Rustal the silence and peace his office was supposed to provide. Taking one last glance at the datapad still in his hand, the Arianrhod commander placed it back on the table, then turned his gaze to the metallic ceiling of the room, his thoughts running a mile a minute as he thought about possible courses of action both he and Gjallarhorn could take.

Still, he couldn't shake the small flame of excitement that burned deep in his chest, nor the grin that split his face. It was quite rare, after all, to have someone so blatantly defy Gjallarhorn… Or the entire world all at once.

It had been a good day indeed, once that transmission began…

xOx

"Allow me to begin my allotted time by first assuaging the fears of all of those who are watching this transmission. Though I am aware that my attire and appearance are frightening, understand that they are for my own protection. After all, when one decides to face the world, their identity is the greatest secret to be kept. It allows them to freely speak out, without fear of reprisal from those that remain atop the pillars that uphold their power."

"What in the world…"

"Lord Rustal, this is…"

Rustal, however, did not offer his newest protégés a reply. He instead kept his eyes firmly upon the viewscreen of his office, watching as the cloaked figure continued to speak and wave their hands gently atop the table set in front of them, even as the echo of steps thundered down the hall alongside the panicked words of aides and officers alike.

Watched, and stared at those fantastical golden eyes that, for some reason, felt aimed directly at him.

"But nevertheless, allow me to move to the motive of my intrusion, the reason that I come forward to disrupt your routines and lives with my words and actions. That reason and motive are, of course, a simple one. I promised wisdom to all, and wisdom it is that I shall grant."

"Three hundred and twenty three years ago, the world was reorganized into a new banner of order and peace, earned by the shedding of blood both innocent and militant on the conflict that all to this day call the Calamity War. Humanity faced extinction, and through the hands of an order of warriors that dared challenge the apocalypse, it was allowed to rise from the ashes. That order would come to be known as the scions of peace and protectors of humanity's worlds. I speak, of course, of the organization known as Gjallarhorn. With their guiding hand and words, Earth was split into four, Mars soon followed, and the colonies were raised into the heavens so humanity could rebuild and regrow."

"And yet, as the centuries began to pass, the eternal peace earned by a tide of blood has given way to control maintained by foundations of corpses and suffering. Even now, Mars continues to suffer, the colonies shout and scream for freedom they had long been promised, and in the darkness of space, scum and villainy destroy lives in their eternal search for riches. All of this occurs under the touted watchful eye of Gjallarhorn, who seems ignorant or complacent to the rot that surrounds them."

As the figure continued to speak, images began to appear around them. Pictures showing the protests in the streets of Mars and the colonies, of starving abandoned children lying on the streets, or of their dead bodies laid beside one another in body bags yet to be closed, of transport ships ravaged by pirate assaults. There were videos too, showing all manners of news coverage of these events, or amateur ones from civilian cameras that had somehow recorded these events. After a long moment of silence from the figure, a wave of their hand made the images and videos vanish, once more leaving them alone within the room.

"How did this all come to be? Who are we to blame? Certainly, much of it lies at the feet of our glorious watchdogs sitting upon their ivory tower, raining dogma and fire in equal measures while their wealth and power grows. Where once people had the freedom to object, to think, speak and act as you saw fit, now these actions are held as against the law. But I understand why it came to be so. After all, the memories that the Calamity War engrained into the collective minds of our rebuilding civilization. War, terror, death and destruction, all of it wrought forth by human hands. It is logical that the masses would seek one to guide them away from the path leading to end. But in the end, the ignorance born from their deprivation of knowledge drove the world into the cesspit it now resides upon."

"But this shall not stand. Those who forget their past are doomed to repeat it, and those who do not know their own history will never understand their present. So to all, I offer a simple solution, one that shall open dozens of doors to all. From this day onward, I will partake in transmissions such as these, offering knowledge to any that wish to partake in it, be they Earth-born, colony-born or Martian. I shall open databases where history shall be laid bare, for all to see, hear and read, and allow any to hear the stories that Gjallarhorn have long sealed away to justify their reign."

"But I'm afraid that is all time I shall have for today. Nevertheless, I part with one last message to you all: the words of an old scholar, from a time long forgotten, and on which I base my mission and goal."

And with that ominous declaration, the image of the cloaked figure disappeared, being replaced instead with a black screen marked with a strange, rune-like symbol in the background… Before words began appearing on the screen, as if typed in a keyboard by someone.

Even without the events of 300 years ago, I think man would still be a creature that fears the dark. He doesn't face that fear, he averts his eyes from it and acts as if he doesn't have any memories of the past.

But, 300 years is both a long time and yet, a short time. Man's fear has withered, and even time itself tries to wither the desire to know the truth. Is it a crime to try and learn the truth? Is it a sin to search for those things which you fear? My purpose is this world is knowledge, and the dissemination of it. And it is I who is to restore the fruits of my labor to the entire world.

Fear… It is something vital to us puny creatures. The instant man stops fearing is the instant the species reaches a dead end, only to sink to pitiable lows, only to sit and wait apathetically for extinction!

Humans who lose the ability to think become creatures whose existence has no value!

Wake up! Don't be afraid of knowledge!

Think! You humans who are split into many worlds! Unless you want the gulf between humans to expand into oblivion, you must THINK!

…

Signed…

Schwarzwald

xOx

Even two days after the transmission had been made, Rustal still found himself thinking of who exactly this mysterious figure could be. The young Kujan had been naturally dumbfounded by the figure's accusations and declarations, while Julieta had merely expressed her desire to bring this individual to justice in his name. They had been the expected responses, and Rustal saw no need to try and dissuade them. After all, single-minded zealotry or devotion could perhaps discover clues or answers that more thorough methods might end up missing.

Still, it was only a matter of time before the debacle was laid to rest. For three hundred years Gjallarhorn had maintained peace and order in the Solar System, and for three hundred more that would remain. The common people could complain, but in the end the masses always bent the knee when their comforts were threatened to be taken, especially when calculated shows of authority were utilized for maximum effect.

Knowledge, after all, meant nothing if one didn't have the power to act upon it.

When a look at the clock upon his table confirmed that his private time was over, Rustal Elion rose from his seat and exited his office back towards the bridge of his Skipjack-class battleship, his pace and posture as calm and professional as ever… Yet his thoughts still strayed one last time to the newest opponent to enter the stage.

Solomon… I shall accept this challenge, then. Whenever you are… I hope you are ready.

-O-

"A-Are you… Sure of your choice, miss?"

"Positive."

When Serena first walked into the high-class tailor in Chryse's more affluent economic part, the staff had expected little in terms of surprises. Maybe a few simple dresses, a few fancier models for special occasions, at most a business suit in case she had more masculine lean to her clothing.

Now, as they continued the finishing touches of the… Exotically designed suit she had just commissioned, they realized their expectations might have been too mundane.

The shirt and pants had been mostly normal, a dark-grey and black piece respectively, just loose enough that they hid her musculature beneath the cloth, though the request for a more military, cargo-like design for the pants had been somewhat unusual. But when it came time to prepare the coat, however, the staff quickly realized this was not the usual order.

Maybe it had been the request to allow ease of integration of Kevlar weave into the coat. Perhaps it was the large fur lining atop the shoulder and collar, or the many hidden pockets for storing "useful items", or even that it be "long enough to reassemble a cloak" and with several belt straps. Whichever of those it had been, the end result of their laborious work had been something that at the very least their client had been quite satisfied with, if the way she had been posing in front of the mirror was any indicator. Beside Serena laid a pair of boots she had arrived wearing, now removed so she could properly try the suit, while a coat hanger opposite of her held a selection of ties that she had gone through, with the current choice being a black one with red embroidering around it.

"I have to say, with how vague I ended up being, you all worked wonders with this," said Serena with genuine excitement as posed confidently in front of the mirror one last time, before turning back to the tailors, who were staring at her with varying levels of nervousness. "My compliments to the team, this is some amazing work."

"T-Thank you very much, miss," replied one of the tailors as he took a step forward and bowed slightly to her, before straightening his posture to look at Serena with a more apprehensive expression. "Is there… Anything else you'd wish to request?"

"Actually, there is. I'd like to leave some more clothes commissioned for later pick up, if that would be okay."

"Oh… Yes, of course, we can… Accommodate that."

"Perfect. I have the sketches and directions right here with me, but let's sort out payment first, shall we?"

A few moments to change out from her newly-made business clothes and back onto her A-Laws uniform, Serena was standing in front of the counter to both deliver the small notepad filled with sketches, and to swipe her recently acquired debit card to pay for the purchase. Once done, and with her clothes stashed into a briefcase helpfully provided by the store, Serena was out of the building and walking down the streets of Chryse towards her recently purchased car, a sleek model with bulletproof glass and armor, where one of her Machine Soldiers awaited as a sentry.

Truthfully, it would have been far safer to bring him to the store, but at the same time, the presence of a masked figure in a heavy coat and hood would have most likely made the staff very uncomfortable and would be cause for the authorities to be involved.

Besides, quantum brainwaves meant he was literally a thought away. So it was a somewhat moot point.

Once she approached the car, the M-Soldier slightly raised his head to register his commander's arrival, before walking around the car to stand guard as Serena placed her briefcase onto the trunk, which had already been filled with her previous purchases of the day.

Namely, the several pieces of body armor, personal arms and ammunition, all acquired through perfectly legal means. It paid to be prepared, of course.

With everything packed away, Serena entered the car and sat on the passenger's seat, while the M-Soldiers took the driver's and readied himself for the drive. "Back to HQ, make it quick but discreet, if you will."

"AFFIRMATIVE, MA'AM."

And so, with barely a purr of the engine, they were off, coasting through the city streets as they passed by pedestrians, other vehicles and even the occasional Gjallarhorn sentry post, while here and there one could see graffiti or posters clamoring for Martian independence or decrying the economic blocks of Earth, and street sweepers cleaned the trash left from whatever protest had happened recently.

Overall, it felt… Peaceful. Normal, even. Not unlike what life had been back home, on regular Earth.

And yet, Serena knew of the truth that slept just beneath the surface. After all, she had more than once visited the poorer parts of Chryse, and it had been disheartening. In every corner, in every street, there they were: starved men, women and children, all laying disheveled on the streets and in alleyways, begging for whatever money or scraps passersby could or would throw at them.

Many of them were eerily unmoving.

The buildings were either of poorer construction, or were outright shacks and ruins, their ramshackle state making clear that it was pure luck the dwellings were still standing. Stores were far more simplistic and rustic, with not a single excess good shop to be seen anywhere, bar the occasional bar or brothel where many girls in clothes that left very little to the imagination, and kept eyeing the passing civilians with almost predatory gazes.

Disheartening did not even come close to describing. Her entire life, Serena had watched sci-fi shows, both Gundam and non-Gundam, and all of them had made her look up to the stars in wonder, thinking about all the possible things humanity could achieve one day. Other planets out there, that humans had only seen through pictures and videos, and that one day they may end up colonizing… And now, here she was, standing upon the soil of Mars earlier than anyone in her world would get the chance to, and a future so distant that civilization had expanded beyond Earth and halfway across the Solar System, with technology she could only have dreamed of seeing in real life… Only to be met with ignorance, fear and oppression. Hope had given way to decay, and those with power to change were content with letting everything rot just so they could keep their thrones for a moment more.

It made Serena sick of her stomach. To see an entire planet and its people abandoned by fellow humans to wither and die, having their livelihoods drained away to finance a system that saw no problem with the suffering of people whose only crime was to be born… It only strengthened her resolve over the path she had taken. And thankfully, that led her train of thought towards far less negative directions. Mainly, of her life up until now.

In the end, her first three months in this new world had been quite chaotic. After all, forging an entire life for yourself when you literally didn't exist until something tossed you into the world wasn't an easy task, nor one done half-heartedly: hacking databases, creating a plausible and retroactive paper trail for your existence up to your birth, setting up safeguards and collecting intel on your situation and possible enemies… Serena had honestly lost count of how many hours she had spent plugged onto both the Type-B Veda and the Valefor, but it had been enough that she could swear her chair was now molded to her contour. But in the end, it had been worth it: she now had a plausible paper trail and "history" that if any background checks were made, she could fool whoever was investigating her, or at least delay them enough.

Throughout it, Serena also ended up confirming the date of her arrival: Post Disaster, March of the year 322. That meant that currently, Serena had around a year or so to properly set up her plans into motion before Kudelia made her trip to Earth, and things started going downhill. But if she wanted to help Tekkadan, she'd need resources and allies, enough to challenge an interplanetary feudal police force. The latter was an on-going process.

The former had been shockingly easy to set up. And once more, it was all thanks to B-Veda.

The paperwork had been the easiest part: forge up a document trail that made it seem like she had started the process of opening a company, but not far enough that authorities would question its validity. From there, simply go through the legal means the rest of the way to cover up your tracks, and close out the paper trail.

As for funds… Well, Serena was sure those bank accounts wouldn't miss the money.

She hadn't been greedy, obviously, and her targets had been far and many so as to keep suspicion away from her, not to mention plenty of signal bouncing and encrypting just to be sure, but when you find out a shipping company is stealing from their employees and you help expose them to the local authorities… Well, a "commission" feels well-earned. Repeat as needed, until she had enough saved up to properly start financing her operations, both legal and illegal. Whatever she couldn't stash away, she invested, provided the company background checked out and their activities were clean. Naturally, that cut down on a lot of options, but you take what you can get, after all.

Still, the hassle finally paid off: in two months, Jormungandr Security Solutions was off the ground and slowly building up its assets: an office building and a warehouse adjacent to it, purchased at a modest fee, a few armored cars, and extra weapons and equipment were only some of the things Serena had bought for the company, alongside all the renovations and upgrades to security.

Of course, missions would be carried out by the Machine Soldiers, though that did mean the jobs she took would have to be small scale, or only one at a time. With only twenty-four M-Soldiers to work with, Serena had to be smart with their deployment: Eight had been left behind in the compound as a security force, alongside six automatons and twelve Haros to make sure both her old Nest and the Valefor were kept in good condition. Everything else had been covertly shipped into Chryse during the cover of night and re-activated inside the building, meaning that the JSS office was now home to twenty-eight hyper-energetic ball Ais, sixteen android soldiers, and four hexagonal pillars that told the Laws of Robotics to go fuck themselves.

… Oh, and the skeleton employee crew she had hired. Staffing an entire company just with robots was, as a matter of fact, extremely unfeasible. Plus, if a company inspection agent or (heaven forbid) Gjallarhorn came knocking to inspect the place, she couldn't show an empty warehouse with no employees. That would make the alarms start ringing, and if there's one thing she didn't need, it was suspicion on her. So, to stave off the questions, she put out a general search for applicants with an offer of a good salary, okay-ish hours and a few base benefits, a far more generous package than most companies would offer. But most importantly of all, she needed trust from these people. Because one way or another, even if they didn't find out about the android murder machines or the illegal automatons, they would catch sight of the Haros and Karels servicing the place and the vehicles, and that would mean having them keep quiet about the whole thing.

In the end, she didn't hire the best of the best, not by a margin. But the ones she did hire from the pool were people Serena could tell were kindhearted and trustworthy.

Not metaphorically, of course. She had literally dug through their lives before they even stepped foot into the interview, and sifted through every bit on information to make sure there was nothing to worry about, and all of them came up clean.

It helped that their backstories were all very similar: regular folks who had their jobs compromised by the ever-shifting economy of Mars, and who had never gotten through a bad scrape with the law or Gjallarhorn. And after days of screening and testing, she had herself a work team: two janitors, three cooks, a personal assistant, an accountant and a small engineering team, the last of which were the only ones with access to the hangar where maintenance happened. All in all, a very small and tight-knit operation, but a working one, nonetheless.

"APPROACHING HOME BASE, NO PURSUERS," suddenly reported the Machine Soldier driving the car, drawing Serena away from her long reminiscing and into the fact that yes, they really were approaching her company's building, with its proud insignia displayed for all to see: a stylized drawing of the serpent Jormungandr eating its own tail to form a circle, and inside the circle, a rune representing a vegvísir. Simple, stylish, pretty dang cool…

And a middle finger towards Gjallarhorn.

Absolutely perfect.

With expected perfection, the M-Soldier drove the car into the security checkpoint for the garage, the door opening and closing behind the vehicle with almost nary a sound. Once it fully closed, both lights and security turrets came alive, the machineguns swiveling to aim at their car while the built-in ID software confirmed that both the car and occupants were supposed to be here. With the information confirmed, a chime sound rang, and a female voice announced through a PA system to the checkpoint:

Identity confirmed. Welcome back, boss.

"Heh… Glad I programmed that," chuckled Serena as the elevator inside the checkpoint lowered her car a few meters into the ground, revealing the garage itself.

Money hadn't been spared when designing the rest and repair area for their vehicles, and it certainly showed on the appearance of the place: metal walls and ceiling, polished concrete floor, plenty of tools and equipment, and enough space to easily fit their eight escort cars and two APCs comfortably, with enough room for the repair team to walk around, such as they were doing now. Both teams, as it turned out.

And truth be told, Serena had to admit that the sight of young men and women walking around and helping a horde of ball-shaped robot piloting slightly bigger robots would forever be supremely adorable. Both Haros and humans worked in tandem smoothly, performing maintenance or carrying tools to whoever needed them while a few orders and replies were shouted across the hangar to whoever needed to hear them.

The fact that two automatons were being used as mobile benches and toolboxes was only icing in the cake.

Once the car had been parked, Serena waited for the Machine Soldier to climb out and open the door for her, before calmly stepping out of the vehicle with just enough flair to be noticed by the work crews, who all turned towards her and began waving. "Hello there, peons!" she greeted loudly, one hand in her hip as she around her car towards the trunk and popped it open, withdrawing her bag of clothes and another of weapons from within it.

"Heyo, boss!"

"Welcome back, boss!"

"Welcome back! Welcome back!"

"Shopping get everything you want, chief?"

"You bet I did, no more looking like shit for work! From now on, your chief is stylish and packing heat! It's not gonna be just hearts being slain out there!"

The chorus of laughs she got in return for her comment was all the confirmation she needed that the team indeed was in high spirits, just as she expected. The old adage of "keep your people well fed, and they shall work well" stroke true yet again, and with any luck it'd continue to hit home. "Alright, if you're done and haven't gone to your lunch break yet, go do it after wrapping up. Don't want nobody missing meals for their work, got it?"

"Yes, boss!"

"'Atta boys."

With her orders given, Serena moved to the back of the garage alongside the M-Soldier and onto the access elevator, the door clicking softly when it closed before the box began humming as it ascended back into the main office building. Once it had fully reached the top, the doors slid open with a small ping… Revealing another set of doors, these ones far thicker-looking and made of gun-metal grey plating, and which after a quick retinal scan of Serena's eye also slid open, revealing a small corridor lined with four security turrets on swivel mounts, all of which turned to face the newcomers as they walked from the elevator down to the door at the other end, that opened to the inner halls of the main building.

With her only company being a semi-mindless robot soldier, the walk through the building was silent and uneventful, save Serena passing by the janitors and giving them a wave and a greeting, until the M-Soldier left her to return to its post, leaving Serena to finish the walk to her office by herself.

A minute later, Serena stepped into the waiting room for her office, occupied by only one other person: Nadia Nerena, her personal assistant. The moment Serena walked through the door and into the waiting room, Nadia peered up from her computer and gave her boss a carefully measured look over the rim of her oval-shaped glasses, before calmly adjusting them with one finger. "You are late, ma'am."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Turns out the fitting took a lot longer than they expected," replied Serena with a carefree wave as she paced around the room towards the door of her office, her assistant's stare becoming noticeably flatter, until she stopped right at the doorframe of the door and looked back at Nadia with a smile. "If it's any consolation, the paperwork's done and sent, and I'm clearing the budget for you to call that sushi place you like so much."

Her response was, of course, to merely stare. Serena had learned that that was just how things worked with Nadia: professionalism always, no room for humor at work, always treat things seriously. It was commendable, in a way.

Still wouldn't stop her from throwing a few ribs and jabs at her assistant, no sir.

So, satisfied with the end of their interaction, Serena slid into her office and calmly closed the door behind herself, letting out a satisfied sigh of relief…

The next moment, her posture straightened, and her expression hardened, the woman swiftly stepping toward her chair as her eyes flared into golden nebulas. With a quick thought, Serena linked herself with the small terminal hidden inside her desk and sent a command to Veda, who in response quickly triggered all the security measures of the office: electronic scramblers, sound mufflers, door locks… In scant seconds, her office became an almost impenetrable electronic fortress, safeguarded by what was probably one of the most powerful computers in the Solar System. "Alright, Veda, open the Lesser Key. It's time to get to work."

Once Serena had walked around her desk, several monitors unfolded from within the back wall of the office, all of them with streams of data flowing wildly through them. To an untrained person, the text would be mere gibberish, nothing more than like those cheesy movie computer screens to simulate hacking or what not. In actuality, the code actually had meaning: all of it was Veda's written language, one of the ways it could "speak" to Serena.

And yet again, all because of her Innovation.

Suck on that, Blue Stars. Who's the shitty Innovator now?!

With the connection established and with Veda plugged into her brain, Serena let the information flow into her mind, numbers and codes becoming solid images hovering all around her field of view and ready to display Veda's collected data and results. "Okay, let's start with the more urgent stuff. What's the results on the scouting of Gjallarhorn?" asked Serena, her arms crossed and her gaze drifting from one projected screen to another as she reorganized them into a more practical order. The moment the words left her mouth, Veda started displaying dozens of different reports, all of them on the same subject: Veda's many, many probing missions into Gjallarhorn's systems and network. And all of them showed the same result.

"No luck, huh… Tch. Well, figures that a military network would be harder to crack than that…" grumbled Serena as she read through all of the reports, each one detailing one of Veda's attempts at worming its way onto the organization's computers, all of them which were met with resistance that made it obvious Veda would have left traces if it had forced its way through. "Alright, keep our probes running, and see if you can find anything exposed. With any luck, we'll find a breach in their armor. Sacrifice some of the companies we're piggybacking on if you need, just make sure you're not caught."

When her statement was answered with an affirmative signal, Serena waved her hand and dismissed the screens, replacing them instead with new blank ones, only far fewer in number. "Alright, next. Teiwaz and GN Trading, show me," she called out, and once more Veda complied, filling the screens with data it had siphoned. Only this time, to her pleasure, the results had been far more promising, made clear by the many ledgers, shipping manifests and documents Veda had been able to filch from their servers. There was also some ancillary paperwork pertaining to a few minor deals between both groups, but nothing too grandiose or world-changing, so at the very least McMurdo and Nobliss weren't in cahoots yet, but the legal paperwork would be helpful in figuring out where the dirty money went to. "Well, would you look at that… You sure the data's clean and real?"

Another question, another affirmation, followed by graphs and reports of scans and dissections performed on all the data collected, all of it coming clean. Granted, with how mundane the data looked at first glance, it would have been more surprising if it had been boobytrapped somehow, but nevertheless… It paid to be cautious. "Alright, run it through a check one more time, then start compiling. Oh, and put some worms and trojans inside their systems. If we can catch the legal stuff, then we're bound to snag ourselves some of the illegal trail sooner or later, and I want to get all the dirt that fat fuck Nobliss has going on."

"Now, Kudelia."

In all honesty, this had been the move Serena had been most hesitant to perform. After all, tapping a company or organization so you could gather up criminal evidence was one thing. Illegal, yes, but the moral quandary was far easier to solve. However, tapping a civilian's personal computer was another matter altogether, especially when it was the computer of a political activist that had yet to become a legal adult that Serena was breaking into.

On one hand, doing so would make it easier for Serena to contact Kudelia and set up whatever schemes she needed, plus it'd let her keep track of whatever backdoor deals the young girl's father could be running, or even keep an eye on Kudelia herself and Fumitan. On the other hand… Well, Serena didn't look forward at all to the possible scenario that was the young Bernstein finding out about her surveillance and demanding answers. Worse case scenario, it would destroy Kudelia's trust…

But in the end, the decision had been made: tasteful or not, Serena needed eyes and ears on Kudelia's life so she could put the plan in motion. So surveillance now, and let the pieces fall where they may in the future.

Still, when the results came up, Serena didn't know if she should have been disappointed or relieved: nothing other than research for her half-metal deregulation plans, schedule keeping, Earth information and information on Human Debris… And a few accesses onto Solomon's website.

… It was somewhat adorable, really.

But nevertheless, everything was clean. Same with Fumitan's computer, as it turned out. Either she used a personal device separate from the house's network, or her orders were being passed physically instead. Either way, it seemed to be too early to go peeping…

Maybe an M-Soldier to keep watch…

…

Yeah, no.

In any event, besides Kudelia and Fumitan, the parents' computers had also showed up clean. Nothing other than business and personal things. No mention of Gjallarhorn or anything, not even encoded or hidden.

"Fine, nothing of note… Still, keep an eye on her. I don't trust Nobliss or Coral to sit on their laurels for a whole year, and I'd rather be prepared for this."

Once Veda had confirmed her order and closed the windows, Serena heaved out a heavy sigh and threw herself onto her chair, furiously trying to rub away the migraines from her temples. "Dammit… You'd think I'd have gotten used to the damn link… Alright, fine, let's wrap this up already. Give me the dossiers, show me who we found."

Of course, the most sensitive was left for last.

Now, Serena wasn't a Gundam nut, far from it. While she knew the mainstream media and more famous entries of the franchise and some of the extra additions to the UC, like Advent of Zeta or Moon Gundam, she didn't know everything. A fellow player once tried to tell her about all the Gundam Wing side stories and what his custom Heavy Arms was based on, only to forget everything the person had said ten minutes later.

One work she did know, however, was the Iron-Blooded Orphans manga side story, called Gekko. And that story featured more than one Gundam Frame, many of them in the hands of good people.

… Well, "good" people.

And while her prodding that revealed that Tanto Tempo was not existent nor had it ever did exist, she still held out hope that the characters themselves were out there somewhere.

…

Ping.

So it was that Serena's eyes widened when not one, not two, but eight dossiers opened, with pictures of people she knew, by all accounts, should not exist… But that she was immensely thankful.

At that moment, the pain caused by the headache was forgotten by Serena, as the relief and euphoria began overwhelming her senses, and with such strength that she was forced to sit down onto her chair so she wouldn't drop onto the ground.

It was... Impossible. Improbable that they should exist in such a disparate situation. From just the sparse intel Veda had managed to gather, it showed that history was wildly different from what Serena remembered it to be. For all intents and purposes, they shouldn't be here.

But they were. Whatever their past had been, how changed and how different it was from the Diver's expectations, the eight dossiers proved these people lived in Sol alongside her, that they were all part of this insane, twisted world.

And that meant that Solomon could call upon them.

"… Alright, Veda. Start calling… We got a grimoire to fill."

-O-

A week later…

"Dinner's served, come get it!"

There wasn't really a need for Liarina to make the call for dinner. With only her, Volco, Nanao and Argi living aboard the Biscoe-class cruiser, if it was time for a meal, then the four would be together in the same room, especially since Nanao would be with her to cook. Still, it felt right to give the two people she could consider her erstwhile friends a call for a meal.

Even if one of those people were a servant-slash-employee, and the other a stray dog of an assassin that had chanced into their lives.

And so, in they came into the room, Volco carrying a briefcase and walking with his usual limp, and Argi with his common slow and steady steps, both moving towards the two women as Liarina filled bowls with soup and set them down onto the trays filled with the rest of the food while Nanao took two trays and carried them to the table. "Good morning, young masters," greeted the maid to the two young men, a serene smile in her face as she set down the food trays in the table just as Volco and Argi sat down, before stepping back with a twirl to pick up the other two. "I hope you've rested well enough for today."

"Not nearly enough…" slurred back Argi as he rubbed his eyes with his left hand, the mechanical right one already reaching for his spoon. "Maintenance on the Astaroth took way too long…"

"Only because you don't know what you're doing," quickly replied Volco, his cane and the briefcase already set to the side as he too took a seat. "You should put more effort into reading the Astaroth's manual and guidelines, then you wouldn't look like a monkey toying with an engine, stray dog."

"I told you to use my name, you bastard! Argi, my name is Argi!"

Before things could go further, however, both Argi and Volco found themselves struck on the face by wet dish towels, which were quickly followed by Liarina sitting down with a huff and an annoyed glare aimed at the two men. "Pipe it down, both of you! Dinner's supposed to be peaceful, so stop acting like children!" As the two pulled the towels from their face to reveal their annoyed and embarrassed expressions, Nanao finally joined the trio upon the table, a cup of tea held daintily in her hand.

"I concur with the young mistress, young masters. Let us keep animosities away, and have our meal in peace and tranquility, shall we?"

And so, with mumbled grunts of confirmation, they all returned to silence as they ate their meal, the only noise being the sound of silverware against plates and bowls. Five minutes later, however, it seemed Liarina was starting to regret her decision, considering the way she began to fidget and squirm on her seat, her spoon clicking faintly against the edge of her bowl, until finally it became too much for her to bear, and she turned her attention to Volco with renewed cheer. "So, Volco! Have you… Found any results in your search?"

"… No… No, I haven't."

His tone wasn't angry or confrontational, but she could tell the young Warren was frustrated, especially when his brow furrowed and his eyes squinted just slightly, a tell-tale sign that he was accessing the Memory Chip inside his brain. "I've gone through all the intel we've had, and every database I could get access to, and even then I couldn't find anything on this 'Solomon'." Carefully, Volco pushed aside his bowl to open space in front of him, which he quickly occupied with the briefcase he took from the floor and set down atop the table, and when opened was revealed to hold a small laptop. "I also accessed their offered database, and while the information posted there was somewhat basic in terms of broadness… It is surprisingly meticulous, on the level of high-end schools, and seems to have more content currently locked."

"So what, this dude's some kind of Gjallarhorn traitor or rich kid?" asked Argi absent-mindedly as he poked and prodded at a piece of beef still inside his soup. "That's the only way they could get all that intel, isn't it?"

Liarina's response to that statement, however, was to shake her head. "It doesn't make sense, though… If they were someone so high-profile, they would have been found faster, right? But Gjallarhorn hasn't announced anything to the public…"

"Perhaps a new look at this database might offer a new clue to their goal or identity, young masters," finally spoke up Nanao, her tea cup long emptied and left upon the table. "Young master Warren, do you still have access to it on your device?"

"Of course."

With a few taps at the keyboard, Volco released the safety lock in the laptop, allowing the screen to spring to life as his companions rose from their seats and walked around the table to stand behind him and watch Volco work. With the secured browser open and his security programs running, Volco typed the address of the database onto the address bar…

Then the screen went black.

For a moment, none of them moved, merely staring at their reflection on the dead screen, until finally a strange rune flashed across it, before the laptop came alive once more. Only instead of its normal screen, to the surprise and horror of all four, what met their sight was the masked visage of Solomon standing to their full height in an empty black room, their shining golden eyes peering directly at the camera… Or at the gathered four.

"Greetings," spoke the figure, swiping one hand before taking a bow. "I believe you know my name already, so I shall spare you all of introductions."

"Y-You're… Solomon? But… H-How—"

"Worry not, miss Morugaton. I mean no harm nor hostility to neither you, nor to mister Warren or miss Narolina. However, I do have a message to deliver… But most specifically to you, mister Argi Mirage."

At hearing his name called out, the ex-assassin gently pushed Liarina out of the way and glared daggers at the screen, his mechanical hand creaking from how hard it was tightened. "You… What do you want with me?"

"Nothing truly outrageous, I assure you… I merely wish to extend an invitation."

"Invitation?"

"Indeed. I'd like you to join my Ars Goetia… You, and your Gundam."

~O~

Oh look, this didn't take long at all!

Now, I know I promised a Call of Soul chapter next, but as it turns out I wasn't in the zone for Yu-Gi-Oh writing.

What I was in the zone for, however, was IBO, and thus this came to be. And as you can see, we're expanding the reach of canon c:

Granted, I will not be using everything from Gekko. Primarily because the scans I found only go as far as chapter 14, and to find out more on the plot I'd have to start playing through the Cross Rays stages covering Gekko, and those take fucking forever. But we will use plenty of characters from there, plus a few original ones, with one such original having just debuted right at the start.

I'd like to apologize once more for the delay, thank you folks for your patience, and to thank Xomniac for putting up with my incessant badgering of questions regarding the story and ideas. At the very least I can say the layout is ready, and we just have to go through it.

But for now, let's fill that bronze jar with demons, shall we? c:

Next published work will be the next Call of Soul chapter, then Titanomachy finally again. Let's fucking go, folks!