A Courier for Kivotos

by Unknown Sixth

I'd been many things in my travels. Courier, prospector, trader, mechanic, assassin, lobotomite... you name it. But I never expected to become the teacher of a bunch of bulletproof, trigger-happy angels in a city untainted by the horrors of the Wasteland.

18. The Visitor

You'd think that after getting shot in the head and being left to rot, you'd be one of two things.

A - you'd be happy you're alive; so happy that you made a beeline for the nearest casino to get absolutely plastered while trying your hand at the games of chance. After all, what were a few dice rolls in comparison to surviving two miraculously ill-placed bullets to the brain?

Or B - you'd be pissed off beyond belief, to the point where you'd be chomping at the bit to get back at the bastard who crossed you.

In the Mojave Wasteland, where, unless you lived in an intact Vault or on the Strip, death lurked around virtually every corner, these reactions were to be expected. Life was too unpredictable, too short to be sweating over every minute detail. It was only logical that one would defer to base instincts like the fight or flight response.

Looking back on how I took it, however, I think Maria must've jumbled more things in my noggin than Doc Mitchell was able to patch up.

It's not that I wasn't angry; I wanted to kick Benny's shit in for leaving me six feet under in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. But notions of revenge weren't quite what motivated me to track the man down halfway across the desert.

See, I grew up near the frontier. While I was never particularly bright or strong or quick among my peers, I had one thing going for me: resourcefulness. I was resourceful enough to make a decent living as a prospector picking apart salvage, fixing it up as best I could, then selling it off for some quick caps. Might not sound like much, but prospecting takes surprisingly good discretion; you need to have an eye for value as well as an eye for danger. Both were qualities that I'm confident have never left me, and I attribute much of my past and current success to that fact.

However, I couldn't subsist on such a lifestyle indefinitely; there was only so long until the metaphorical well would run dry as the local pre-War ruins frequented by prospectors for the past century ran out of sellable salvage. As a result, the remaining sites where one could make good caps were ones that nobody wanted to delve into, be it for fear of Wasteland creatures, hostile factions, radiation, or something equally hazardous. Prospecting was thus not a reliable means of supporting oneself in the long-term unless one was willing to wade into raider territory or Deathclaw nests or the like.

I, like many a prospector before me, dreamed of happening upon some proverbial pre-War goldmine and striking it rich. But ultimately my sense of self-preservation took precedence over my wishes to get rich quick, and I searched for something that would get me as much money and as far away from home as possible without getting me killed in the process.

A traveling prospector was initially my go-to. But if local prospects were unsustainable, there was no telling how successful I'd be in the rest of the Wasteland. And so, in my search for something more stable, I came across a job, one which afforded me certain legal protections and perks as long as I was in NCR territory, which encompassed much of the more civilized parts of the Wasteland.

I chose to apply under the Mojave Express as a courier. The wages were reasonable, my wanderlust would be sated, and as a bonus, I could make some money prospecting on the side without totally risking my hide. After all, 'As long as you stick to the main roads and mind your own business, you'll be safe,' the Mojave Express advised us couriers. Thanks to the NCR's growing presence on the west coast, I actually believed this for a hot minute.

What a crock of shit.

When I woke up after my own burial, I began to see things through a different lens. Because facing death along with the prospect that your life is about to end without having accomplished a damned thing… well, it changes you. Makes you wonder what exactly you've been living for all this time. All the struggles of my past life suddenly seemed so distant as I was confronted with the uncomfortable reality that we lived in a place where anyone could be murdered at any moment's notice, anywhere, without any rhyme or reason.

I was never big on the grandiose ideal of saving the Wasteland or any such nonsense. 'Live for yourself first' was the predominating mentality of the average Wastelander. But nearly losing my own life got me thinking as to how we can make things better for the common folk so that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't have to suffer the same fate - the same feelings of terror and helplessness - that I did on that night.

In spite of the fact that I wanted nothing to do with the Mojave's politics, these sentiments would eventually push me into becoming involved in the conflict that would decide the fate of New Vegas. But the reason why I pursued Benny was a bit more unusual.

I wanted to know why.

Perhaps it was because the situation became personal once he and his Great Khans tried to murder me. Maybe I wanted to know why this man would go to such lengths to track down a courier for a simple gambling chip. Or maybe I had residual brain damage. Regardless of the reason, however, the bottom line was that I became embroiled in a situation far above my pay grade for the simple reason that I was curious.

The problematic thing was that this didn't stop with Benny.

Nobody forced me to follow the radio broadcast which promised riches and allure of the Sierra Madre. Nobody held a gun up to my head, telling me to volunteer to accompany Jed Masterson on his unknowing last expedition. Nobody made me approach that damned satellite. And nobody led me to follow a history-obsessed madman who wouldn't stop rambling on about some goddamned Bear and Bull into a deathtrap that made the rest of the Wasteland seem like paradise in comparison.

Nobody but myself.

In the wake of my own burial, I was left with an almost pathological need to explore and leave no stone unturned. I knew this was far from normal; I've entertained the idea that this may simply be a manifestation of my trauma from that night in Goodsprings. By seeking to conquer the unknown, I was subconsciously trying to compensate for my fear of losing control of my surroundings, like how I did that one night.

…Or not. What do I know? I'm just a courier, not a psychologist. Not a real one, at any rate.

That aside, in what was perhaps a cruel twist of irony, this compulsion to explore, to uncover, to learn, drew me into the very situations I much would rather have avoided from the start.

Like this one. Stranded in God-knows-where, as a teacher because God-knows-why, discussing literal magic with God-knows-what.

Black Suit called me a seeker. And while that may or may not be responsible for me stumbling into Kivotos, he was right nonetheless. I had to get to the bottom of this.

"Mystics are, simply put, crystallizations of the sublime," Black Suit continued.

"Sublime?" I repeated. "That's the source of the unusual things in this city?"

"Yes, though Mystics comprise merely one side of the coin that is the sublime." Black Suit tilted his head. "In regard to your students, it would indeed be more apt to say that their power is derived from their Mystics."

"So, these Mystics are where haloes come from?"

"Not quite." He shook his head. "Haloes are their Mystics. Or rather, they are reflections of one's Mystery. Though these are intangible, Mystics may, in some cases, give rise to other, more corporeal phenotypes."

"Like animal ears and horns?" I guessed.

"Precisely," he said, sounding as pleased as someone describing their favorite hobby to a layman.

Taking a moment to internalize this information, I paused. I was under the assumption that their power came from their haloes. If what Black Suit was saying was true, then haloes were actually visual representations of a student's inner power. In hindsight, this made sense; haloes were incorporeal objects which served no primary purpose, at least as far as I was aware. They were handy in telling whether a student was conscious or not - and in Arona's case, gauging her emotions - but other than that, they were simply aesthetic. The prospect of a halo serving as a power source was unlikely to begin with.

So, then what was the source of one's Mystic?

My first thought was that it may be derived from an organ or some other biological construct. However, this was also unlikely - anatomy books I consulted in Abydos library suggested that the average student's anatomy was consistent with that of normal humans of similar age… minus physically impossible hair and eye colors.

Black Suit seemed to be suggesting that Mystics came from within, but with no biological basis, how could this be the case? Could this really be an example of magic at work?

Saving the headache of the inner workings for later, I let the topic be for now.

"You mentioned Mystics as being only one side of the sublime," I said. "What about the other?"

"That…" He gave a low chuckle. "...would be Terror."

"Terror?"

"Indeed. Compared to Mystics, it could be said that Terror is the more natural manifestation of the sublime, in addition to being more powerful."

"Hold on. If Terror is the more natural state, then why is Kivotos populated by Mystics and not the other way around?"

"An excellent question," he said contemplatively. "Evidence suggests that that was actually the case at some point. Despite the efforts of this land's previous masters, however, control of the land soon fell under the yoke of the scions of the Forgotten Gods, and this power dynamic has only become more disproportionate with time. Thus, Mystics continue to reign supreme."

"Forgotten… Gods?" I repeated. "As in, the capital G God? The one that Trinity worships?"

"Not quite. I am referring to different divinities entirely."

"Which are?"

"Come now, Courier." Black Suit let loose an eerie chuckle. "I'd have expected you would be familiar with them; after all, you see them every day, do you not?"

"Every day? What do you-" I paused as it clicked in my head. "...No. You can't really be suggesting…"

Black Suit's smile merely deepened.

My throat became dry, and I was reminded about how much I really, really missed alcohol.

Not only was this man claiming that magic was the source of the paradoxical things in this city, but he also claimed that gods exist. Gods. Plural.

And these students, many of whom barely even knew how to maintain a gun and struggled with basic algebra, were supposed to be the living embodiments of their power.

The scientist in me desperately wanted to immediately dismiss his words as quackery, and wave off the existence of students as some experiment with FEV gone awry. But in the absence of any evidence supporting the latter, I couldn't call bullshit on his claims any more than I could claim that Kivotos was as weird as it was thanks to SCIENCE!

After all, I was the one who had been whisked away to a fantastical, technologically advanced world without any reasonable explanation. My mere presence here insinuated that there was something else pulling the strings around here, and I wasn't sure our understanding of science as we knew it would suffice to explain it.

"...Okay," I finally said, backpedaling on the topic. "And why should I believe a word you say? For all I know you could be spouting a bunch of nonsense to get your kicks."

Black Suit shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Believe what you will, Courier. But rest assured that I have spoken no falsehoods. In the spirit of cooperation, candidness is key, no?"

"...What do you want from me? Truly?"

"Before, I spoke of there being adults similar to us residing in Kivotos. There are a few such individuals who have banded together under a common purpose - the pursuit of knowledge," he explained. "These adults' reasons for doing so may vary, but they have an unspoken agreement to not interfere with one another's business if they can help it. That organization is called Gematria, and it is one to which I belong." He nodded at me. "What I want from this meeting is simple; I want you to join Gematria."

"You want me to join you," I repeated flatly. "Did you forget how I messed up your plans here in Abydos? You even said as much when we first spoke."

"Indeed." Black Suit's smile faded somewhat. "You represent the greatest obstacle to my plans, yes, but at the same time…" The man rested his hands flat against his desk. "...We stand to gain the most by working together."

"And what do you think I have to offer?" I asked. "You know I don't completely buy your spiel about Mystics. What would I possibly contribute to your organization?"

"You are a recent arrival to Kivotos, no? Let us examine your actions since coming here," Black Suit said. "Within mere hours of your arrival, you managed to placate a distraught population, spearhead the reclamation of a federal building where local police forces failed, and claim an artifact of immense power, using it to jumpstart the vital functions of the city. Soon, you found yourself in Abydos district, no doubt answering a request from its students, and within days, you managed to drive off an entire private military organization with but token support from other academies," he listed. "When you devote effort to a goal, you reach it on your own terms, regardless of your opposition. That is respectable; though we of Gematria consider ourselves researchers, that is precisely the sort of drive we covet. And while you may not be receptive toward the fundamentals of our research right now, you possess the inquisitiveness and the resources to meaningfully contribute to our operations. You need only be shown the way."

"So, what? You want me to just become a researcher like you?" I asked skeptically. "What's the endgame here?"

"Why, achieving a full understanding of Mystics and their inner workings, of course. As I said previously, our reasons for doing so may differ, but as long as we respect the boundaries we have set between ourselves, our differences matter little. Since you would be one of us, you would be able to reap the benefits of our findings as well." He smirked. "I'm sure a pragmatic individual such as yourself would be able to make great use of the undivided power of Mystics, would you not?"

"Undivided power…" I contemplated.

Being able to ascertain the secret behind students' uncanny abilities would indeed prove to be revolutionary if I was able to replicate it in the Wasteland. As the operation here in the desert has shown, a handful of students can decimate an army many times their size; triple that number of students and one might even be able to take the entire NCR if it came down to it. I didn't have much interest in being an absolute power like Mr. House or Caesar, but having that kind of force at Vegas' disposal…?

It would enable the complete eradication of certain dangerous Wasteland creatures and malevolent forces such as raiders, cannibals, and slavers. With a force that effective, people would finally play nice. By extension, it would also serve as a deterrent for otherwise troublesome factions, forever shifting the status quo in the entire Wasteland, not just the Mojave.

The implications were still daunting to think about, but I think it'd prove to be a net good for humanity.

"True, I can think of a few ways they could be useful," I admitted.

"Then, do we have an agreement?" The man's eerie smile widened as he outstretched his hand for me to shake.

Staring at his gloved hand for a moment, I looked back at him. "That part about candidness - you meant it?"

"Of course."

"Then you won't mind if I ask you one more thing, right?"

Lowering his hand, Black Suit replied, "By all means."

"Why were you trying to make a contract with Hoshino?"

"...Ah, yes. Horus of Dawn." His previously cordial voice took on a clinical tone, as if he were a scientist examining a particularly fascinating specimen. "I have a great deal of interest in her Mystic."

"Why?"

"Simply put, because she possesses the strongest Mystic in this land," he answered.

"The strongest Mystic?" I said in slight disbelief as I remembered the constantly napping student who bore an ever present dopey smile. She was certainly tough, but I still wasn't sure about placing her on the same level as Wakamo or Hina. "Her?"

"I believe the true power of her divinity lies within a state of quiescence, but yes." Black Suit nodded. "My goal here is to awaken that potential through the evocation of Terror."

"You want to turn her Mystic into Terror…" I contemplated. "Is that reversible?"

"In all likelihood, no."

"In all likelihood?" I said. "You sound as if you yourself are not even sure what'll happen."

"Preliminary tests have shown us that shifting a Mystic into Terror is possible," the man replied. "We simply have yet to see whether it can be accomplished on a true Mystic."

"And if it can't? What'll happen to her?"

"The most likely course of events is that Horus' Mystic will fracture, leaving her debilitated, at best," Black Suit said plainly.

At best?

It didn't take much to imagine what would happen in the worst case scenario. Furthermore, his words confirmed what I was dreading once I saw where we were. A laboratory, situated in a remote location not even Kaiser is aware of.

"So, is that what this place is for? You want to take her apart, see what makes her tick?" I asked, keeping myself cool despite my rising urge to punch this man's head off. "Then put her back together, like some kind of twisted Frankenstein abomination?"

"Take apart?" Black Suit hummed. "It would be quite unfortunate if it came to that, but if physical alterations are necessary, so be it."

It was all coming together. Abydos' current weak state in addition to their isolation from other districts and the rest of the city made the district a perfect target to scoop up one of their students, away from prying eyes. Furthermore, Kaiser already had the perfect leverage on the remaining students in the form of their debt, which made entrapping their target a cinch. It was no wonder that Black Suit chose to partner with the corporation; Kaiser's goal was the land itself, so they couldn't care less about what happened to its residents once they were displaced. One student in exchange for their forgiveness of a debt they never expected to be paid in the first place. The choice was a no-brainer.

And even if the worst case scenario came to pass, if Hoshino died during the experiments? Who cares? It wasn't like anybody would miss her, right? Well, maybe her classmates would, but with their leadership gone it would be all the easier to… silence them.

Securing Hoshino as a guinea pig was his goal from the start, and with all the pieces laid out for him, all he had to do was set them in motion. Minimum effort for maximum payoff.

It was methodical, efficient, and utterly sickening.

"...What the hell is wrong with you?" I finally said, unable to hide the disgust in my voice.

"Oh?" Black Suit tilted his head questioningly. "What's the matter, Courier? I assure you, there would be no breach of Kivotos law in this scenario; the contract I offered her stipulated as much."

"Who gives a damn about the law?" I shot back. "Hoshino isn't an object. Nor is she a lab rat. She's a person. And peoples' lives aren't just something you play with and discard when they outlive their usefulness."

Black Suit was silent for a moment. After a moment, he frowned pensively as he adjusted his tie.

"I see," he said quietly. "I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to accept our methodologies without any pushback. You are the famous Sensei of Schale, after all."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Why, everything," he responded. "You are the bearer of the Shittim Chest, an artifact of immense power. Using the Chest as a proxy to gain control of the Sanctum Tower, you had the key to all the Mystics in the city within the palm of your hand. And for what?" His normally composed tone became one of genuine irritation. "So you could relinquish most of the control to those children, who are more likely to squander such authority than use it meaningfully as you would?"

Taking note of the Sanctum Tower's connection to the Mystics of the city for later, I found myself wondering how exactly Black Suit knew about the Shittim Chest and my arrangement with the General Student Council. That information wasn't exactly public; was Gematria watching the Sanctum Tower and Schale?

"It is utterly paradoxical," he continued, shaking his head in apparent frustration. "You are receptive to Gematria's grand purpose as seekers of knowledge, yet you make concessions for the frivolous inhabitants of this city. You repeatedly intervene on behalf of Abydos, a failed district whose students offer you no conceivable recompense in return for your… charity. You admit that our study of Mystery would yield practical benefits, but you take issue with the fate of a single Mystic used to achieve this end. Are you truly so eager to hinder true progress in the name of preserving a single, inconsequential life?"

"Yes," I said without an ounce of hesitation.

"Why?" Infuriated by my quick response, the man clenched his fists as he raised his voice for the first time. "Tell me, Courier. What conclusions have you arrived at that would lead you to reject us?" Black Suit then scoffed. "Don't tell me you're doing it for something as trite as an adult's responsibility."

"It's not about responsibility."

"Then why-"

"Because it's wrong," I replied firmly. "Just because you're older, stronger, or smarter than someone else doesn't give you a blank check to exploit them, especially when they haven't done anything except try to live their lives in peace. That's not responsibility, that's called being a decent human being." I snarkily tacked on, "Though I guess you wouldn't understand the whole 'human being' bit, just by the looks of you."

"Hmph." Black Suit unclenched his fists and recomposed himself. "Are you truly qualified to make such a statement yourself, Courier?"

"What?"

"I consider myself something of an expert in otherworldly technology, you see. It is difficult to tell behind your current apparel, but I sense that you are closer to us in nature than you may acknowledge or even realize."

Closer to them? As in, an inhuman abomination like them?

I was already preparing a retort when I realized he may have a point. Taking into account all the augmentations made to my organs, skeleton, and connective tissue, my body mass was approximately one-fourth synthetic. I didn't know if that qualified me as a synth, but then again, I wasn't exactly about to go flaunting my cybernetics to the Brotherhood of Steel to find out. And even on the biological end, my DNA probably looked like spaghetti thanks to all the rads I've soaked up over the years, even with proper precautions like Rad-X and RadAway. Depending on what one defines as human, I'd likely lost my right to call myself one a long time ago.

And he could tell from just a glance, even through my Power Armor? Just who the hell were these Gematria people?

…Enough semantics.

Whether I'm human or not, I still have my moral compass. And by now I had a decent enough grasp on which direction Black Suit's was pointing.

While Black Suit was not outright malicious, he was willing to manipulate and exploit others to achieve his goals. However, this was only the case for those he perceived as vulnerable. For instance, you didn't see him in the streets of Gehenna or the outskirts of Hyakkiyako, trying to abduct other strong Mystics like Hina or Wakamo. That'd be suicide, especially if Black Suit was to be believed when he claimed he had no extraordinary physical abilities of his own. Instead, he chose the path of least resistance, taking advantage of Abydos' situation to achieve his goals without physical conflict. Additionally, he understood that I posed the biggest threat to his plans and, rather than try and eliminate me conventionally as Kaiser tried and failed to, sought instead to ally with me. He was an opportunist, through and through; though unlike Kaiser's PMC Director, this one was competent.

As for Gematria as a whole, if I were to infer that they held similar views to Black Suit, then it wouldn't be inaccurate to describe them as a group of inhuman researchers who experimented on whatever suited their fancy, without much in the way of morals to hold them back.

Now, where have I seen that before? I thought as memories of the floating brains of the Big Empty came to mind.

If these Gematria individuals were anything like the Think Tank, and if they were capable of even a fraction of the atrocities that those old brains were, then I couldn't leave this group to their own devices. Granted, I allowed the Think Tank to live, since their brilliant minds, fractured as they were, could prove beneficial to humanity with just the right guidance. It helped that the damage they could cause is largely restricted, owing to the existence of deterrents such as myself, Doctor Mobius, and the radar fence encapsulating the Big Empty. But if these Gematria people were roaming free throughout the city, it was only a matter of time before people got seriously hurt or worse. I'd be doing Kivotos a favor by disintegrating this guy and sweeping his ashes under the rug before that could happen.

That being said…

Aside from the fact that, as far as I was aware, Black Suit technically hadn't done anything bad yet (other than be a massive creep), killing him would still leave the rest of Gematria for me to contend with. I knew precious little about Black Suit in the first place; I knew even less about his cohorts aside from the fact that they belonged to the same organization and were probably not human. Who knew what they would do if I decided to off this guy here and now?

Thus, until I knew what this Gematria was capable of, I had to bide my time and learn more about them. Then, once I'd learned enough, I had to decide if they were worth keeping alive… or if subtly taking them out was even feasible.

It's pointless trying to appeal to this guy's non-existent humanity, so time to shift gears.

"Okay, look." I sighed, changing the subject. "I don't give a damn if you conduct experiments. Really, I don't. If you own the joint, go wild."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I'm even willing to work with you and your group."

"So you will join us after all?" he asked interestedly.

"Not so fast. There's a couple things I wanna get out of the way before I'd even consider working with you."

"Conditions?" Black Suit mused. "Name them."

"Kaiser. I don't want you dealing with them."

"Kaiser?" he repeated. "Conflict of interests, I presume?"

"That, and they're not definitely gonna be happy with what I've done here in Abydos, so I'm expecting they'll seek to take me out of the equation in the future. Any deals you make with them will end up working against me."

He pondered on this for a moment. "...Problematic. Their performance here in Abydos was abysmal, I'll admit, but their influence across the city and their manpower has its uses."

"Well?" I said, feigning impatience.

"I will consider it," he said after a moment. "Was there something else?"

I nodded. "See, the biggest thing is, while I'm okay with you conducting experiments…" Rapping my fingers against the desk, I leaned forward. "...The students are off-limits as test subjects."

"Then we are at an impasse," Black Suit replied with a tone of disappointment. "If you insist on encroaching upon the bounds of my work, then I'm afraid that any professional relationship between us will be a short one."

"That's funny. Because as it so happens, you are encroaching upon the bounds of my work as well."

"...Explain."

"Did you forget what my job is here?" I asked. "As a teacher, I am contractually obligated to prioritize the well-being of the students of this city before anything else. So it goes without saying that if you try to harm one of the students, I will be forced to take you down by any means necessary." I shrugged. "If your work is important enough for you to throw caution to the wind, fine and dandy. Just know that you will make an enemy of me in the process. And you saw earlier what happens to my enemies, didn't you?"

"You are insinuating that your primary motive in defending these Mystics is not moral, but contractual?" he asked incredulously. "Preposterous. If your goal is personal gain, then why continue working for Schale and within the constraints of the General Student Council? Surely working with Gematria would be infinitely more lucrative than whatever meager salary you are issued as a teacher."

I won't deny that the pay is ass. On second thought, I haven't even been paid yet. When do I get paid?!

"That's not it," I replied, making a mental note to complain to the GSC about my pay another time. "They recognized that I had a specific skill set, and so I was hired to fill a void left by the General Student Council President. Without my help, the city would've fallen into complete anarchy within weeks."

"Certainly the General Student Council has the means to maintain order in your absence by now."

"Do you trust them to maintain order in the city without my help?"

"...I see your point," Black Suit admitted before his tone turned cold. "However, I fail to see where the issue of the city's leadership is Gematria's problem."

"Well, you see, it's quite simple," I replied. "Bullets hurt, don't they?"

"...What?"

"You're not a student or a synth or a weird animal hybrid thing. So you're not bulletproof. Am I right?"

Perplexed by my words, he merely nodded.

"Then lawlessness in the city does not benefit you. I've seen anarchy firsthand; it's a clusterfuck of chaos, violence, and factions vying for territory. Since everyone in the city is armed in some capacity, that's just a recipe for disaster."

"In other words?"

"In other words, it's not somewhere you, as a noncombatant, wanna be. Problem is, the entire city will be in hot water if Schale were to go under. Nowhere would be safe." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Sure, this state of affairs might make it easier for you to acquire more test subjects, but is that really worth it if the threat to your personal safety is increased tenfold?"

"If the environment becomes too hostile, we can always just leave Kivotos."

"And invalidate all the work you've put into getting yourselves established here?" I argued. "Seems to me it'd just be easier for you if the status quo around here is maintained."

To this, he said nothing.

"Bottom line: Schale is essential to Kivotos, so I can't just quit and join you. But at the same time, I can't exactly do my job if students start disappearing. Get it?"

"...Then what would you have me do, Courier?" Black Suit asked, weighing his options. "You are asking me to abandon my most promising project when I am so close to a breakthrough?"

"If not abandon it, then at least postpone it," I said. "Who knows? Maybe we could find a way to complete your research without putting anyone at risk."

"How optimistic of you," he said dryly, obviously still displeased with the turn of events.

"Do you really have much choice?" I asked. "Look at it this way: Abydos is effectively out of your reach. Even if I'm not there to protect them, they've got connections now. Friends. And powerful ones, at that. You won't find it so easy to pull a fast one on them again. Not anytime soon, anyway."

"..."

"Besides, you said yourself that Mystics are not your only topic of research, didn't you? It's not like you don't have anything else to devote your time to," I persuaded.

"..."

ED-E's quiet hovering was the only sound in the room for a few minutes as the man fell into a contemplative silence.

"Hm. Very well," Black Suit reluctantly spoke as he came to a decision, the simplistic features on his face neutral. "I will suspend my claim to Horus' Mystic for now."

"Good," I replied simply, concealing the relief I felt upon hearing his words. That bought me some time to sort things out with Gematria.

"However," he continued. "While I am amenable to halting my business with Kaiser, I cannot promise that the other members of Gematria will do the same. You will simply have to ask them yourself if you have qualms with who they choose to associate with."

Frowning, I said, "Fair."

"Furthermore, whether I sever ties with Kaiser completely will depend entirely on you, Courier," Black Suit said, his grin returning. "If you prove yourself helpful to our organization, I will follow through accordingly. Consequently, I expect you to attend our next meeting so we may discuss how you may be of help."

"Name the time and place."

"I cannot, for I do not know," Black Suit replied matter-of-factly. "Gematria values its secrecy above all else. When we have determined an optimal location and date, one of our members will seek you out. You are, after all, not hard to find."

It was then I decided that Schale could use some automated defenses. Maybe a sentry gun or ten.

"Any name or personal identifier so I know who to look out for?" I asked, fishing for more info.

"You will know them when you see them."

I resisted the urge to groan aloud. Ulysses would have a field day with this guy, given how goddamned vague they both like to be.

Black Suit slowly stood up, and I cautiously did the same.

"In the meantime, Gematria will be watching your career with great interest." With a simple nod and one last adjustment of his tie, Black Suit made to leave. "Until we meet again… Courier."

Following him out and queueing up V.A.T.S. one last time, I watched in painstakingly slow motion as he turned his back to me and began to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction I had entered.

One last chance to kill him. A well-placed axe to the back would do the trick, especially considering his visible lack of armor.

After a moment of contemplation, I exhaled and disengaged V.A.T.S. as Black Suit disappeared down the hallway. If these Gematria people were outsiders like me, then it was likely they had some tricks up their sleeve. And I knew better than anyone how reckless it would be to piss off an unknown faction if I could help it.

I just hoped I wouldn't regret this decision later on.

Wordlessly, I began to exit the complex while ED-E diligently followed. All the while, my mind was elsewhere, replaying my conversation with Black Suit over and over again.

Mystics, Terror, gods, magic…

Just what have I gotten myself into?

Before I knew it, I found myself at the sliding metal door through which I had entered. The door opened, and in the sparse lighting around the facility I immediately made out more than twenty haloes several meters away.

"Oh, there he is," Hoshino said, stifling a yawn. "Yo, Sensei! Over here!"

"With eight and a half minutes to spare, no less," Yuuka commented, putting away her phone. "Any longer and your students would've broken in there to find you."

"Mn." Shiroko nodded. "Haruka, you can put away the thermite."

"No thermite?" Haruka said, then slipped the breaching charges she held into her pocket. "Oh… okay…"

"Aw. I kinda wanted to use those…" Mutsuki pouted and kicked a rock.

"Sensei. Good to see you're okay," Hina greeted, adopting a smile of relief before it turned to one of apprehension. "...You are okay, right?"

With a long day of fighting and negotiating out of the way, I was more than okay. Taking one step forward, I began, "Never felt better-"

Suddenly, my HUD went dark and I lost control of the servomotors in my armor's limbs as the electric core ran out of juice. Unfortunately, the abrupt loss of control coupled with my forward momentum caused me to lose my balance, and I fell on my face with a metallic thud.

"Ow."

From the students' perspective, it must've looked like I just up and keeled over, if the gasps and screams of horror were any clue.

"Oh, no! Sensei!" Nonomi gasped as everyone ran to my side. "You did get injured after all?!"

"I need to get a look at his condition, stat!" Ayane frantically said as she looked for a way to pry off my armor. "Uh… where should I even start…?"

"Can opener!" Serika blurted out. "Does anyone have a can opener?!"

"We have thermite," Mutsuki suggested as Haruka held up the breaching charges.

"I said a can opener, not a MOAB!"

"Will you pipe down?" I said, raising my voice so they can hear me without the helmet's speaker system. With a small grunt of effort, I moved the armor's servomotors using my own [Strength], and pushed myself to my feet. Moving in unpowered Power Armor was like carrying a Brahmin on your back, but I could make it back to the school readily enough if I wasn't being shot at. Probably wouldn't win in a marathon against Shiroko, though. "See? I'm fine."

"You're fine?" Aru asked in concern. "Then why did you fall over?"

"Ran out of batteries."

"Batteries?" Serika said unsurely. "I'm all for being eco-friendly, but you should maybe try a power source that won't poop out on you like that."

"Working on it." Man, I missed nuclear energy. "And please put away the syringe, Serina. You're starting to freak me out."

With a creepily happy smile and a nod, Serina put away the comically large syringe she held in both arms. Wait, where did she even get that thing?

It was then I decided that Schale could use twenty sentry guns. Forget Gematria, they had nothing on Serina.

The misunderstanding cleared up, the group began to head west, where Yuuka had already arranged an extraction point.

"Here, Sensei. Let me help," Arona said as she funneled power into the electric core, and I immediately noticed the difference in ease of movement as my HUD powered back up. Five percent core charge would be more than enough. I whispered my thanks to her so I wouldn't look like a loon talking to myself.

Shiroko tugged at my gauntlet, smiling, her friends tagging along at our side.

"Let's go home, Sensei."

---

"So, here's the last of the cookware and utensils… Let's see, did I miss anything…?"

"This should be everything I need. Thank you very much, Nonomi-san," Fuuka politely said.

"Don't mention it!" Nonomi replied. "Actually, I feel kind of bad. This is probably a lot less than you're used to working with, after all…"

"That's certainly true…" Fuuka hummed. "But Gehenna's cafeteria serves hundreds, if not thousands of students every day. I don't think comparing the two is fair to Abydos."

"When you put it that way, making food for around twenty people is probably a cakewalk in comparison, huh?" Nonomi tittered. "Still, if you need help, just let me know, okay?"

"Will do!" Fuuka said, then paused. "Well, since you're offering, I could use some help preparing the meat while I braise the vegetables…"

Nonomi beamed in delight, and the two disappeared into the kitchen, chatting animatedly about their favorite ingredients and cooking methods.

"I don't know how she does it," Serika remarked. "The rest of us are absolutely bushed, but Nonomi-senpai looks like she could go for round two."

"She's faking it," Shiroko said without looking up from her task of field stripping her weapon, setting down its parts onto the table. "There's no way she wouldn't be fatigued after marching several kilometers with a heavy weapon. Doesn't matter how good you are."

"Still impressive, considering Nonomi-senpai doesn't stick to a strict workout regimen like you," Ayane commented, then frowned. "Oh, and please mind your table manners, Shiroko-senpai."

"Huh?"

"Cleaning your firearm on the dining table, remember? It's impolite."

Shiroko glanced at Ayane, then at the table and her own soiled hands. After a moment, she shrugged. "I'll clean up after myself."

Ayane sighed. "We've been over this. That's not the point…"

"It's fine."

"Hoshino-senpai, please tell her…" Ayane turned to her upperclassman. "...Hoshino-senpai?"

"Uhe…" Hoshino half-lucidly mumbled, her head resting face down on the table.

"If Hoshino-senpai's your go-to example for table manners, then you're barking up the wrong tree…" Serika pointed out.

Ayane pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're right. How silly of me."

Shiroko nearly did end up buying the takeout after all. However, Nonomi had already invited most of the students who had helped with the assault to a little R&R as a show of thanks. Since there was no way that Abydos could afford to pay for everyone (and the rest of the Foreclosure Task Force adamantly refused to let Nonomi foot the bill again), they decided to just whip up whatever they could in Abydos' cafeteria instead.

The room was more than large enough to host everybody. At each lunch table were each clique; Iori, Chinatsu, and their Prefect Team subordinates occupied two adjacent tables, while Problem Solver 68 sat at the table facing opposite of them. The members of Schale sans Chinatsu had their own table, and lastly, the Foreclosure Task Force and I sat adjacent to them. With no immediate threat in the vicinity, ED-E lazily buzzed around the room as he listened in on the small talk amongst the students. In one corner of the room stood the empty depowered suit of Power Armor; as I didn't have time to move the suit to a secure location, I settled for simply having it within eyeshot. The sound of shifting cookware and sizzling emanated from the kitchen along with the faint sounds of Nonomi and Fuuka chatting.

"Hina's not coming?" Kayoko asked, breaking the silence between the two opposing groups of students. There was a certain element of tension in the air between the Prefect Team and Problem Solver 68 that suggested that although they had a temporary truce, they weren't entirely ready to let bygones be bygones.

Chinatsu shook her head. "Since the hostilities have concluded, President Hina chose not to join us and will instead be heading back to Gehenna."

"More work, even at this hour, huh?" Kayoko replied.

"Unfortunately," Chinatsu said, holding back a wince.

"That's rough."

"But don't think that just because she's not here you punks can get away with doing whatever you want, you hear me?" Iori belligerently warned.

"Iori-san, that's just uncalled for-" Chinatsu began.

"Heheheh…" Aru, confident now that Hina was absent, crossed her arms as she bore a taunting smirk. "And just who would stop us? You? What can you do without the head prefect holding your hand?"

"Y-yeah!" Haruka chimed in. "You're just a s-small fry. Aru-sama could take all of you on any day of the week-"

Aru nodded smugly, her subordinate's words of praise washing over her.

"-singlehandedly!"

Aru turned to Haruka in shock. "N-now wait just a minute…"

"You actually think we need the head prefect to deal with you jokers?" Iori scoffed. "Don't make me laugh. All I need is this." Iori patted the rifle leaning on her chair for emphasis.

"Iori-san, please…" Chinatsu pleaded, her words falling on deaf ears.

"Hmph. That peashooter? Fat chance!" Aru taunted. "It doesn't even have a scope."

"It doesn't need one!" Iori responded angrily. "I'd drop you from five hundred meters away before you even know I'm there."

"Oh yeah? Try seven fifty!" Aru shot back.

"One thousand!"

"Fifteen hundred!"

"Two thousand!"

"FIVE THOUSAND!" Aru blustered, sweat beginning to form on her brow as Iori stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Wow~" Mutsuki giggled. "Leave it to Aru-chan to push the physical limits of her weapon's effective range and set a world record just to prove a point."

"Can you guys just…not?" Kayoko sighed along with Chinatsu.

The rest of us simply watched the brewing spectacle with varying levels of amusement or irritation.

One student, however, was not interested in the squabble between Gehenna factions. The lone Millennium student, who had been curiously eyeing the pacing Eyebot, got up from her seat so she could inspect the robot closer.

"I see you managed to get the antigravity module working on time," she commented, putting a hand to her chin as she observed the hovering robot. ED-E stopped pacing and turned to Yuuka, blankly staring at the student who had suddenly gotten very close.

"Had to cut a few corners, but it's nothing that can't be fixed after the fact," I replied.

"It's quite impressive, given you had to manufacture most of the parts from the ground up." Yuuka nodded to herself. "Robots in Kivotos remain afloat using a variety of methods. But your peoples' method of using low antigravity to offset the burden on the plasma thrusters, with the side effect of minimizing emissions, is certainly a fascinating one. On that note, did you get over the power issues?"

"Still working out the kinks," I said, omitting the technical details, as I figured Yuuka would ask me to elaborate on the specifics later anyway. I didn't mind; unlike most people in positions of authority, Yuuka didn't have any ulterior motives in learning about pre-War tech beyond healthy scientific curiosity, which I found extremely refreshing. "Still, I think he turned out pretty well, all things considered."

"I can empathize," Yuuka responded with a smile. "There's nothing quite like watching the fruit of your hard work in action, is there?"

"{Inquisitive beeping}?"

"This is Yuuka. She helped me build your new body," I answered, as the students from Abydos looked at Yuuka with interest.

"So she's the one who sent Sensei that letter, huh?" Serika whispered to Ayane, who nodded. Shiroko looked up from her weapon maintenance to give Yuuka an evaluating glance.

"To be specific, I handled the more theoretical portions while Sensei handled the hardware," Yuuka said to the robot, proudly placing her hands on her hips. "If you have any issues regarding your sensors or weapon calibrations, do let me know. Though I'm confident you'll find no fault with my calculations."

"Are all Millennium students this bigheaded?" Serika murmured, only to be shushed by Ayane.

ED-E examined Yuuka for a moment then let loose a long series of beeps and clicks.

Hearing his response, I snorted and shook my head. "ED-E, you little rascal, you."

"What did he say?" Yuuka asked.

"He said thank you."

Yuuka raised an eyebrow. "It sounded like he said a lot more than that."

"Well…" I decided there would be no harm in translating his little joke. After all, I knew he only really thought that way about Dr. Whitley. "He also called you his mother."

Yuuka became stark still.

"M-mother…?" Yuuka's analytical mind, running overtime as it arrived at some absurd conclusions, began to overheat, and the student turned red. "B-but wouldn't that make Sensei the f-f-fa…" she choked out, unable to finish her sentence. She seemed to lose the capacity for human speech in the moments following, and I could've sworn I saw steam escape from the top of her head.

…Seriously? I thought as I watched the most brilliant mathematical mind I'd encountered here thus far turn into mush. While watching Yuuka short-circuit was entertaining, it didn't exactly paint her in the most flattering of lights, especially with how many students there were here.

"...Who does this girl think she is?" Serika scornfully said as she crossed her arms.

"Serika-san, that's rude," Ayane admonished as she hid her own irritated frown. "Though I must agree that I expected more decorum from a member of Seminar…"

Sighing as the students seated with me admonished a paralyzed Yuuka, I shook my head at ED-E. "Less than five minutes. It took you less than five minutes for you to break my calculator. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"{Apologetic beeping}."

"You're not sorry, don't even try to pretend like you are."

"Tsk." After witnessing Yuuka's spectacle, Shiroko decided she'd had enough of weapon maintenance for now. Shiroko quickly reassembled her rifle and eagerly chambered a round with a click. "Maybe she needs some help snapping out of it. I volunteer."

"Shiroko-chan, shooting people without a good reason is also rude," Hoshino sleepily mumbled, her voice muffled by the table.

Shiroko visibly deflated at this. "Darn."

"She's right," I said, nudging Shiroko. "There's an easier way to go about this."

Shiroko's wolfish ears twitched attentively. "Oh?"

Clearing my throat, I said loudly, "The square root of 144 is 13."

"What?!" Immediately, Yuuka's head snapped in my direction, her stupor dissipating. "No, it's not! It's 12!"

"Good to have you back."

"I-" Yuuka blinked, then, realizing what I'd just done, flattened her lips in a deadpan expression. "I see what you did there. I don't like it, but I see it."

A few minutes after Yuuka retook her seat, Fuuka and Nonomi reentered the dining area, wheeling in carts on which bowls of rice and other foodstuffs were arranged.

"Sorry for the wait~" Nonomi announced as they began passing around servings to everyone.

"Here you go, Sensei," Fuuka said, humming as she deposited several piping hot bowls onto the dining table.

Briefly voicing my thanks, I waited until Fuuka walked away to serve the other tables to bring up my Pip-Boy and run a brief scan on the food. Owing to Abydos' minimally stocked larders and the last minute preparation time, the dishes were rather simple, consisting of steamed rice, braised vegetables, and grilled chicken of the non-mutated variety. The Geiger counter was silent, as usual, and the Pip-Boy's analyzer picked up no traces of chems anywhere in the food. Were these readings accurate, or were chems around here undetectable by RobCo tech?

"Thank you for the food!" several students from every table said as they folded their hands together and bowed their heads slightly. Once this little ritual was finished, everyone eagerly began to dig in as they settled down to recuperate from the long day.

Such a strange custom.

Looking down at my own portion, I shrugged. It's not like I never used chems myself, right? Accepting the possibility that I may or may not start tripping afterward, I removed my headgear and began to follow suit, savoring the taste of fresh vegetables and unmutated meat that hasn't been steeped in preservatives for two centuries. As I did, I caught something out of the corner of my eye.

"Hey, Shiroko," I said to the student next to me.

"Mmf?" Shiroko looked at me mid-bite, her cheeks bulging outward like a squirrel from all the food she'd shoveled into her mouth.

"Is there something on my face?"

After taking a moment to swallow, she took a closer look at me, then shook her head. "No. Why?"

I tilted my head in the direction of the Prefect Team's table. Shiroko and her classmates, who became interested in the conversation, followed the gesture. Seeing that they weren't being the most subtle, the gaggle of low-ranking Prefect Team members quickly turned around and pretended like they hadn't been pointing at me and whispering amongst themselves.

"Oh. That," Shiroko said.

"You mean you don't know, Sensei?" Nonomi, who'd rejoined the group as they ate, asked.

"I'm assuming this is another one of your social media things?"

Nonomi laughed. "Kinda?"

"You know how you're wearing that helmet all the time?" Hoshino asked, smirking. "Well, since you never take it off in public, some youngsters got it in their heads that you're hiding something in there."

"Hiding something?" I asked curiously. "Like what?"

"Some people say that you're actually a student in disguise, since you do things that a lot of students wouldn't even dare think about," Shiroko said.

Did they miss the part where I don't have a halo? No, scratch that; I don't even sound like a woman, much less look like one!

"I saw some people saying that you're actually a robot," Serika added.

Only a quarter true.

"Um…" The conversation reached across the room as Haruka volunteered her input, trying not to wither under the attention. "I read one rumor where they said you're wrapped head to toe in bandages from a really bad injury…" Haruka shuddered briefly, then bore a small smile of relief. "I-I'm really glad that one wasn't true…"

Do they think I'm Graham or something?!

"Pretty dark, huh?" Mutsuki commented, before mirthfully offering her own input. "Personally, my favorite is the one where Sensei takes off his helmet all slow and dramatically… only to reveal another helmet."

"Pfft! Two helmets at the same time? That's so stupid!" Serika exclaimed, adding to the laughter that echoed throughout the cafeteria.

Listening to the absurd theories that continued to circulate, I couldn't help but amusedly smile. "Guess I killed the mystery for them, huh?"

"Well, they're just a small group from Gehenna. I don't think anyone will believe them if they try to spread the word." Hoshino shrugged. "Kids love their outlandish rumors, even if they don't really match reality."

"True," Yuuka replied. "Though I imagine once word of what Sensei has been up to reaches Millennium Science School, public interest in Schale will escalate, rumors or no."

"I guess a freakin' exosuit does seem like the kind of thing that'd get Millennium students riled up," Serika mused.

"Hey, I'd actually been wondering about that," Mutsuki said, propping up her chin with her palms as she swung her legs back and forth idly. "Where'd that even come from, anyway? Kinda reminds me of an anime I used to watch when I was little."

"What's an anime?" I asked.

The room instantly quieted down to the point where one could hear a pin drop.

"Is… is he for real?" Iori incredulously asked.

"Sensei has pretty…old-fashioned tastes," the student next to her whispered.

"I heard that, Chinatsu."

"Sorry, Sensei…"

"How do I put this…" Nonomi wondered. "It's a wide genre of TV animations that can be about… anything, really."

"Pretty vague, but I dunno how to explain it any better without overgeneralizing even more," Kayoko commented.

"So… they're cartoons?" I replied, to which Nonomi gave an uneasy smile.

Mutsuki whistled. "Better be careful who you say that around, Sensei. Some people take their anime real seriously. I'm talking terrorism seriously."

"How is that any different from the normal, everyday terrorism that goes on here?" I flatly said.

"I think it would be a lot easier if we could just show you," Hoshino said. "Man, if only Hifumi-chan were here. This kinda stuff is right up her alley."

"Oh, I know!" Nonomi happily suggested. "We can have an anime night at Schale!"

"Please don't make arrangements on behalf of Schale when you aren't a member," Yuuka said disapprovingly. "Though if we were to host such an event, I suppose I would have to attend for solidarity's sake…"

"Yuuka-san means she'd be happy to attend along with the rest of us," Serina translated, causing Yuuka to glare at her and Shun to stifle a laugh.

"I suppose Problem Solver 68 can make time if it's for the edification of a business associate," Aru cooly said. "I think you'll find my anime recommendations to be perfectly representative of the outlaw's struggle."

"Oh, m-maybe we could even bring the Blu-rays that we were required to watch for our orientation…" Haruka suggested.

"Orientation? For school?" Shun asked, tilting her head.

"Um… no," Haruka meekly answered. "The orientation for our employment under Aru-sama."

"...You guys were required to watch anime to join Problem Solver?" Serika asked.

"Don't ask," Kayoko flatly said, sighing.

All eyes gradually fell on the last group of students.

"What?" Iori crossed her arms stubbornly. "I hardly know you people. Why in the world would I-"

"We'll be there if you invite us," Chinatsu said good-naturedly.

"H-hey!" Iori snapped at her classmate indignantly. "Don't answer for me!"

The conversation gradually drifted to other, unrelated topics as the tension between the two Gehenna groups dissipated for the time being. Some of the Prefect Team subordinates took out a small spherical device and set it down on their table. Once it began to play music I realized it was a speaker.

…Not bad. Perhaps I was too quick to let Austin Dieber sully my first impression of this city's music.

This song had a good beat, and though I found the lyrics to be somewhat concerning, I had to admit they were fitting; kids bringing guns to school and shooting their classmates was the norm around here, after all.

Though I didn't really have any clue as to what a 'pumped-up kick' was supposed to be or what it had to do with shooting one's classmates.

I unscrewed the cap on my trusty Vault 13 canteen and took a lengthy swig, contentedly sighing once I was finished. With all the odd things that had been happening, coupled with what Black Suit and I discussed, I found that I didn't really feel like thinking about anything at the moment. For now, I just wanted to kick back for a bit and enjoy a good drink - the best way to wrap up a long, stressful day.

I made good headway; I could save investigating the source of Kivotos' weird divine magic voodoo shit for another time.

Noticing I took out my canteen, Nonomi frowned. "Sensei, if you're thirsty, you don't have to drink from a canteen," She grabbed a pitcher of ice water and a glass and offered the glass to me. "Here, let me pour you some water."

I waved a hand. "I'm good, thanks."

"You're sure?" Nonomi tilted her head.

"Yeah. Was just a little parched, is all. Better now."

"Hmm…" Shiroko skeptically hummed. She leaned forward and sniffed the air twice like how a canine would, then frowned. "But that's alcohol. It'll just make you more thirsty."

She has the sense of smell of a wolf, too?! I thought, briefly panicking.

"Ha, good one." Hoping that she would get the hint, I gave a casual little laugh. "You see me drink from this all the time; you know I only put water in here."

Her bluish eyes regarded me for one moment, then narrowed slightly.

"...Liar," Shiroko said plainly. "You probably replaced the water with alcohol sometime after the fight, didn't you?"

Dammit, Shiroko!

Either she was screwing with me, or I really needed to sit her down and give her an in-depth lesson on social cues. There are some unspoken rules that you just don't violate.

"Kufufu…" Mutsuki held a hand to her mouth, giggling. "Drinking in front of your students… Don't you have any shame, Sensei?"

"Not really," I replied. The cat was out of the bag, so no use playing dumb.

As morally questionable as it may be, nobody in the less populated parts of the Wasteland really cared what age someone got exposed to alcohol. Hell, I probably had my first drink when I was around half these students' ages. My cautiousness in hiding the alcohol was because I wasn't quite sure where this district stood in terms of alcohol prohibition, as every district had their own laws in place regarding its possession and use. For instance, I recalled that possession of alcohol in Red Winter Academy is a prosecutable offense.

Still wouldn't let them see my chems, though. That was a whole slippery slope that I was content not introducing them to.

"Well, it's not illegal to possess alcohol in Abydos for someone of your age…" Ayane informed.

"Really?" I said, my hopes rising.

"Yeah, but we're on school grounds, and booze is considered to be contraband within these walls." Hoshino smirked. "Sorry, Sensei, but you're a criminal. I'm afraid Serika-chan has to arrest you now."

"What?!" Serika flinched. "You want me to try to subdue him? Why me?!"

"Mm. Bad choice. Serika would lose instantly," Shiroko flatly said.

"Hey." Serika glared at her classmate. "I agree with you, but could you at least say it with less certainty?"

"No."

"Okay, while I may have technically broken some rules here-" I began to defend myself from the little pink arbitrator.

"You mean, you literally broke the law," Hoshino helpfully amended with a smile, clearly enjoying this little charade.

"-you're gonna let me off the hook because I'm a swell guy, right?" I continued as I sported my best winning smile, which may or may not have come off as a shit-eating grin.

Hoshino held a hand to her chin as she pretended to give the matter some careful consideration. "Well, Oji-san might be willing to look the other way if you swing by to fix the air conditioner in the left wing of the school building later…"

"It's a done deal," I said, shaking her hand.

"Pretty sure the deal you guys just made is illegal in itself…" Serika muttered.

"Definitely illegal," Ayane confirmed with a tired sigh.

Now that I didn't have to hide anything, I quickly chugged the rest of the whiskey in the canteen and stowed the empty container, before taking out the whole bottle. Uncapping the glass bottle, I began drinking directly from the source. Good ol' Wasteland spirits.

"Senpai, I think you should've clarified what you meant by 'look the other way'…" Nonomi said with concern.

"Hey, I didn't exactly expect him to take out an entire darn bottle…" Hoshino said. "Ah, well. At least it won't be so stuffy anymore in the gym area. Hard to nap in there while I'm practically baking alive."

Shiroko watched me intently as I finished nearly a fourth of the bottle in one go. "Does that stuff even taste good?"

"Why do you ask?" I asked, lowering the bottle.

"Don't get the appeal. It smells terrible."

"I guess I see what you mean," I said, remembering the disastrous first time I tried hard liquor. "It's kind of an acquired taste, like coffee."

"Hmm…" Shiroko pondered this for a few seconds. "...Can I-"

"Not a chance," Hoshino immediately said.

Shiroko arched an eyebrow. "I didn't even-"

"Nope. Don't have to."

"But Sensei-"

"Don't care. He's an adult."

"..." Shiroko gave an irritated pout.

"Give it up, Shiroko-chan. It's not happening," Hoshino lazily said, meeting Shiroko's defiant stare. "I know you want to do what Sensei does, but it's not good for you."

"Yeah, don't you know that alcohol causes your muscles to shrivel?" Nonomi added with a knowing smile and a wink at Hoshino.

Shiroko went stark still. "It does what?"

Flashing Nonomi a look of gratitude, Hoshino added, "Yep, all true. Look it up if you don't believe us."

"That can't be right," Shiroko said, looking to me for confirmation while Nonomi and Hoshino looked at me with dread. "Can it?"

"Sounds about right," I said before taking another swig of booze. "Clinical trials across the board show that increased alcohol consumption correlates with muscle atrophy."

"...Never mind, then," Shiroko relented, while her classmates sighed in relief.

"Figures you'd put some egghead spin on it," Serika said, before realizing something. "Hold on. If that's the case, then why are YOU drinking that stuff?" she incredulously asked.

The [Monocyte Breeder] technically aided in the clearance of alcohol's more deleterious metabolites, thereby neutralizing alcohol's long-term negative effects on my body, but that was the correct, boring answer.

Shrugging, I said, "Dunno. Because I can, I guess?"

Serika opened her mouth to deliver what was no doubt going to be a scathing remark when Shiroko abruptly stood up and grabbed her rifle. Sniffing the air like a bloodhound, Shiroko turned in the direction of the door.

"Shiroko-chan, what's wrong-" Nonomi said before she was cut off by the sound of the door to the cafeteria slamming open.

Once I saw the silhouette standing in the doorway, a pit formed in my stomach.

Oh crap.

"Sensei~!" Wakamo sang as she happily bounded into the building, heading my way.

What the hell is she doing here?! I told her to avoid being seen by the students other than Hifumi-

It was then I realized my mistake.

Since I knew that Wakamo's presence would only complicate matters with the students from multiple schools I instructed her to keep a low profile during the mission.

But I didn't say anything about what to do afterward.

"...I don't like her," Shiroko growled, with what was possibly the nastiest scowl I'd ever seen her wear.

Well, there goes the idea of the two getting along…

Yuuka's eyes widened. "Wait, is that-"

"The Fox of Calamity!" Chinatsu exclaimed.

"That person is wanted across the entire Academy City!" Iori shouted, unslinging her rifle. "You scumbag, I'm bringing you in-"

"Wait!" Chinatsu placed a hand on Iori's shoulder before she could act. "We have no jurisdiction here, remember? We can't just go starting fights!"

"To hell with that! We gotta do something-"

Before Iori could act, Shiroko beat her to the punch, intercepting Wakamo on her path toward me. Shiroko pointed her rifle at Wakamo, glaring daggers at the terrorist all the while.

"Ara?" Wakamo halted her approach, tilting her head at the unforeseen obstruction. "And who might you be?"

"None of your business. And neither is Sensei," Shiroko replied brusquely, her eyes never leaving the Fox.

"You would get in the way of me and my beloved Sensei?" Wakamo said calmly, her tone reflecting none of the fury that surely simmered within her. "An impudent little dog like you should know her place."

"...What did you just call me?"

"Hm?" Wakamo's voice took on a cruel, mocking edge. "Why, a dog, of course-"

Bang!

Shiroko's gunshot echoed throughout the room as the round pinged against Wakamo's mask harmlessly. Dead silence reigned among everyone present.

"You…" Wakamo slowly said, perhaps still coming to terms with the fact that Shiroko had the gall to shoot her in the face without hesitation. "You dare-"

Bang!

"Will-"

Bang!

"-you-"

Bang!

"-stop-"

Bang!

"-that!"

Bang!

Wakamo, finally losing her patience, snarled in fury and reached for her own weapon. "I'll have your head, you damned mutt-"

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

The sound of breaking glass followed the last gunshot as the round ricocheted off Wakamo's mask and bounced off the ground, then promptly shattered the whiskey bottle I held in my hand. Shards of glass flew every which way while the table, floor, and I became drenched in whiskey.

Shiroko wheeled around, her expression one of fright. "Sensei?! Are you alright?!"

"..."

"Sensei?" Wakamo walked closer, wringing her hands anxiously. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

"I… I didn't mean to…" Shiroko bit her lip.

"..."

"Um… Sensei?" Nonomi ventured.

Slowly setting down the handle of the broken bottle onto the table, I grabbed the tips of my duster and shook them off, watching forlornly as the droplets of ethanol hit the floor and coalesced into a puddle. Normally I wouldn't have minded, since many a bottle had been lost during drunken misadventures in the past, but this was different.

That was my only bottle from the Wasteland. In a way, it was like watching one of my only pieces of home go down the drain. I was hoping to save the last half for an appropriate occasion, like maybe when these students finally paid off their debt, but there goes that idea.

"Sunaookami."

Upon hearing me call her by her surname, Shiroko shuddered. "Y-yes?"

I looked up, facing Shiroko, Wakamo, and the students sitting around us. For some reason, the Fox of Calamity was no longer the one making every other student feel on edge.

"If you're going to play with your friend, please do so outside," I slowly said, my face the perfect picture of calm.

Shiroko's ears flattened against her head as she looked down in shame. Wakamo barely held back sobs, perhaps devastated that she had just been demoted to simply being Shiroko's 'friend'.

Shiroko diverted her attention to the fox-eared student, glaring at her balefully. "This is your fault."

Wakamo rotated her head to look at Shiroko in an agonizingly slow fashion as she shook violently, her rage on the precipice of erupting. Somewhere in the kitchen, a tea kettle began angrily whistling, and Fuuka hurriedly retreated to tend to the tea, eager to escape getting caught up in the imminent calamity.

"Out. Side," I reminded the two firmly before they could annihilate Abydos' cafeteria.

Wakamo squeaked timidly and ran out the door. Shiroko pointedly avoided meeting my eyes as she checked her ammo, grabbed her bag and a few extra magazines, and rushed outside as well.

I rubbed my temple as I watched the door close after them. Perhaps I was a bit too harsh on Shiroko - I knew she didn't mean it. But while losing my only bottle from the Wasteland was irritating, it was more so her hasty actions I found off-putting. Wakamo was a criminal, yes, but Shiroko did start that fight without considering those around her. By sending them outside, I was letting Shiroko know that I wasn't condoning her behavior, while simultaneously getting Wakamo away from the other students here before more conflict could ensue.

I frowned as I thought about the Fox. I could resolve any misunderstandings with Wakamo by simply speaking with her later, but that wasn't the problem. It was Wakamo's lack of restraint. Shiroko might learn if Wakamo knocked some sense into her, but at the same time, Wakamo just might take things too far if I allowed her to.

"Hoshino, could you please go with her and make sure she doesn't get hurt too badly?" I asked.

Hoshino attempted to wave it off, though concern still showed on her features. "Eh, Shiroko-chan's one tough cookie. She can handle herself, no biggie-"

Just then, an explosion from outside shook the building, followed by the sporadic pops of gunfire.

"...On second thought, Oji-san could use some fresh air." The so-called strongest Mystic grabbed her gun and her ballistic shield, then sauntered out the door. "Ah, to be hotheaded and full of energy like those younglings again…"

The sounds of battle became quieter as Hoshino presumably corralled the two students toward somewhere more remote, and the room was silent once more.

With the brewing crisis averted, I sullenly held up the handle of the shattered bottle, sighing. It was always possible that this city had alcohol that's been aged over three hundred years, but I wasn't holding my breath.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you sad before," Serika said. "Angry, sure, but not sad."

"I try not to be." After all, anger has its uses, but I couldn't say the same about sadness. Energy spent being sad could be directed toward more important things.

Serika observed my expression for a bit longer. "You know, I think I'd sympathize a lot more if you were sad about something actually important. But over a bottle of alcohol is just a bit… I dunno…"

"Pathetic?"

"Hey, I didn't say it," Serika raised her hands defensively, the corners of her lips curling upwards.

"...Yeah. You're right." I set the bottle handle down. "Who even cares about whiskey, anyway?"

"Uh, yeah." Serika blinked, as if she had not expected it to be that easy. "There's plenty of other things in life that can make you happy, after all."

"You said it," I replied, grinning as I reached into my pack and fumbled around until I found what I was looking for.

"Sensei? What's that?" Ayane asked, dreading the answer as I pulled out another bottle.

"Tequila!" I replied as I unscrewed the cap. Wasteland Tequila, to be specific. Freshly homebrewed alcohol doesn't have the same nuance as three-century-old alcohol, but it'll get you drunk all the same.

"Hey, you liar!" Serika accused. "Weren't you just saying something like 'who even cares about alcohol'?!"

"I said whiskey. Don't put words in my mouth."

"That's basically the same thing!"

The look I shot at Serika was a mix of offended and pitying. "Whiskey, alcohol, and tequila are most definitely not the 'same thing', and how dare you claim that they are."

Serika rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh, how dare I not know obscure alcoholic trivia. I must've been sick on the day we were taught that in class."

"I wouldn't call it obscure; try opening up a dictionary and reading the difference for yourself."

"E-excuse me, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Fuuka suddenly interjected, her eyes darting nervously between me and Serika. In her hands was a short broom and a dustpan. Next to her were Nonomi and Shun, who carried a mop and a bucket, respectively.

"Huh?" Serika blinked in surprise, moving her seat to allow Fuuka and the others to start cleaning up the broken glass and spilled whiskey. "Oh, no. Go ahead."

"Don't worry," Ayane said. "This is normal… surprisingly."

"Yup, yup!" Nonomi said. "Serika-chan and Sensei bicker every time they're around each other. It's basically a part of the school's natural scenery at this point."

"It's not my fault this guy says irritating things all the time…" Serika muttered to herself, her face flushed.

"Shun? You're helping too?" I asked in slight surprise as the instructor set down the metal bucket she was carrying.

"Yes. I'm very used to cleaning up after my little ones' messes, after all," Shun said with a fond smile. "Though your students seem keen on doing the bulk of the work."

"Yeah, they're a hardworking bunch," I said as we observed Nonomi and Fuuka diligently work together to clean up the spill. I knew from my time at Abydos that Nonomi excelled at cleaning, but Fuuka was no slouch herself.

Upon taking another swig of booze, I began to experience the slightest bit of tipsiness. While a bottle and a half weren't really enough to get me properly intoxicated, I nonetheless reveled in the feeling of having alcohol in my system for the first time in what felt like ages.

"...Sensei, I know they gave you permission to drink here, but do you really think you should be doing so in front of your students?" Shun asked as she furrowed her brow disapprovingly.

"These students aren't as young as yours, Shun. They know what's bad for them and what's not," I replied, taking a look around. The students from other schools had begun to mingle once more, and the music was cranked up loud enough that one could no longer follow a conversation from across the room. "'Sides, everyone's doing their own thing."

Shun sighed. "That may be so, but still…"

Observing Shun's worried expression, I patted Shiroko's vacant seat next to me. "Here. Why don't you take a load off?"

Tilting her head at the unfamiliar expression, Shun said, "Pardon?"

"Pull up a seat and relax. Better yet, I'll pour you a drink."

"Sensei?!" she exclaimed. "I-I couldn't… If word got out…"

"We're far enough from Shanghaijing that nobody will care. And if they do, just say you were just indulging in a custom from my homeland."

"This is customary where you're from…?"

"Having a drink after a victory? You bet."

After some internal struggle, Shun gingerly lowered herself on the seat adjacent to me.

"You like sweets?" I asked, trying to gauge her tastes.

"Y-yes…" she shyly replied, looking away with flushed cheeks. Was she ashamed of appearing too girly or childish?

Nodding, I grabbed two empty cups and a bottle of homebrewed Sunset Sarsaparilla and filled up both cups halfway. Next, I grabbed the bottle of Wasteland Tequila and filled up one cup nearly to full, then added only a splash to the other cup. Giving both cups a brief swirl, I passed the latter cup to Shun.

"This is…?" she looked at the cup's fizzing contents questioningly.

"Straight tequila is too much for most people, so I diluted it to make it more palatable," I answered, picking up my cup and holding it in front of hers. "To our careers?" I proposed.

Recognizing the toast, she picked up her cup and smiled warmly. "And to our students," Shun added.

Clink!

I reared my head back as I emptied my cup, then looked back to Shun as she broke into a series of light coughs.

"I-it's quite… strong," she said as her coughs subsided.

I asked for her cup and she obliged, after which I filled the rest of its contents with Sass to dilute the cocktail further.

"Better?" I asked as she tested the waters.

"Very much so," Shun replied. "Thank you, Sensei-"

"Fuuka-chan?!" Nonomi gasped.

Shun and I looked over to the duo to see that Fuuka had collapsed.

Springing out of my seat, I already had a Stimpak at the ready when I made my way to Fuuka's side. "What happened?!"

"I-I don't know! We just finished sweeping up all the glass shards, then this happened!" Nonomi exclaimed with wide eyes.

As my first thought was that her injury from earlier was worse than we thought, I checked the bandages on her head, but saw no signs of the collapse being due to trauma. Confused, I inspected her facial features to determine the cause.

"Senshei… I feel funny…" Fuuka slurred out as she fluttered her eyes at me.

Flushed face. Glassy, unfocused eyes. Slurred speech. Impaired motor function. Blurry halo(?).

Could it be…?

"Fuuka, are you drunk?" I incredulously asked, only receiving some noncommittal murmurs in response. "Nonomi, did she drink anything?"

Nonomi shook her head. "I was with her the whole time. All she did was sweep up the glass and help me mop…" She put a finger to her chin in thought. "Actually, she got pretty close to the spill. Could that be it?"

Pretty close? If she wasn't touching the spill, then the only possible avenue was through the air.

Don't tell me… She got drunk just from the alcohol vapor?

Granted, getting drunk from alcohol vapor was possible, but in a well-ventilated area like the cafeteria, the chances of that happening from such a small volume of alcohol were…well, non-existent.

Just how much of a lightweight do you have to be for that to happen?!

"Alright, let's get you moved somewhere else," I said to the intoxicated Gehenna student, stowing the Stimpak. After trying to support one of her arms around my shoulder and finding that she simply wasn't cooperating, I scooped up the student into my arms and walked over to where Serika and Ayane were originally sitting, which should be a good enough distance away from me and Shun.

"Eheheh…" Fuuka pushed her face into my chest, a gesture that may have been endearing if not for the fact that her horns were digging into my collarbone. "Senshei, you're warm…"

"Thanks, I think."

"Sensei, what should we do?" Ayane, who had gotten up after seeing Fuuka collapse, asked.

"Simple. Let her ride it out," I said as I deposited the student onto the seat in spite of her weak protests. "She'll feel better after sleeping."

"If you'd like, we have rooms she could stay in for the night," Ayane offered.

"Maybe later," I said. Guess returning to Schale wasn't in the equation now that Fuuka was in this sorry state. "For now, in case she gets worse I'd like to keep her where we can see her. Preferably away from alcohol."

"Agreed," Ayane said, then tilted her head curiously. "Is… is what happened to Fuuka-san typical of-"

"No," I answered, glad that, for once, somebody else recognized one of Kivotos' violations of common sense. "It's not."

Ayane scratched her head, looking even more puzzled than before. "I see…"

I sighed as I sat back down with Shun. "Well, that was interesting."

"Sensei…" Shun said with a tremor in her voice.

I turned to the instructor, raising an eyebrow as I registered the sight of Shun's quivering lips and tearing eyes. Next to her was her Wasteland-Sarsaparilla cocktail, which sat half-finished.

Putting two and two together, I gulped. I was almost afraid to ask, but common decency dictated I must. "Shun, what's wrong-"

"Oh, Sensei!" Shun grabbed my arm and began sobbing into my sleeve. Her blurry halo hovered in front of my face and obscured my vision. " What should I do?! It's just awfulllllll!"

Seeing my predicament, the other students at the table tried to hold back their laughter with varying levels of success.

"Better buckle up. Looks like you're gonna be here awhile." Serika snickered.

"Good luck, Sensei. We'll be cheering you on from here," Ayane encouraged with a smile.

All I could do was shoot them a look that promised extra homework as I poured myself another drink to help me make it through the night.

As I sat there and listened to Shun vent about work and stress and the responsibilities that came with age, I learned two things about her on that day.

One: while she wasn't as bad as Fuuka, she was still a total lightweight.

And two: in contrast with the sleepy drunk across the table, Shun was an emotional drunk.

---

When Sunaookami Shiroko returned from her spat with the Fox, it was well past midnight. The cafeteria was empty, the school's guests having left very recently. The mess left behind by the guests was cleaned only halfway; she guessed that Nonomi wasn't in any condition to clean up after that many guests after today's events.

After checking in with the rest of their classmates via MomoTalk, Hoshino headed home, leaving Shiroko alone. That was fine; it was her turn to stay at the school overnight, anyway.

Shiroko walked the vacant halls of Abydos High School, wincing slightly as she put weight on her right leg - the Fox got a few good licks in, but Shiroko liked to think that she returned the favor twofold.

Though lighting was minimal, she wasn't impeded by this in the slightest; Shiroko and her classmates knew the layout of the school well enough that they could navigate the place blindfolded. However, her familiarity with the school's layout would not benefit her now, for she was not relying on her sight.

The student stopped as she reached a hallway intersection. She closed her eyes, letting her other senses guide her. After a moment, she opened her eyes and nodded to herself, heading down the left corridor.

It grew more and more faint with each passing day, but she could still pick up on it. The scent of the Mojave wasn't like any place she knew of in Kivotos, so it was easy enough to distinguish it from the usual surroundings. Following this invisible trail until its intensity reached its apex, Shiroko rounded a corner as she came face-to-face with an unassuming beige door. An old, unused classroom that was spacious enough to use as a place to sleep; Problem Solver 68 (and apparently Fuuka and Shun, as she found out earlier) took up temporary residence in a room much like this one.

This is the room, she confirmed as her ears picked up the faint sound of ED-E's floating.

Raising her hand, she lightly knocked twice. When there was no response, she tried the knob, only to find that the door was locked.

Strange. Was he out? If so, she had to wonder how ED-E locked the door without opposable thumbs.

Oh, well. This worked out too - she could drop off what she needed to and be gone before he came back.

She reached into her handbag, pulling out a screwdriver and bobby pin. Sensei taught her that if someone truly didn't want you opening their doors just to see what's on the other side, then they would've installed better locks. She didn't know if that was applicable in this case, since she doubted the people who installed these locks cared what the school got up to now, but she nonetheless took his words to heart.

Balancing the screwdriver in one hand and the bobby pin in the other, Shiroko crouched as she got to work on picking the lock. Her ears twitched as she carefully listened for the sweet spot, and once she was confident she found it, she gave the lockhole a twist, causing the door to click open. As expected, years of minimal maintenance made Abydos' door locks very easy to pick, even for a newbie like her.

The door creaked as she pushed it open, and Shiroko began to poke her head into the room…

…Only to sharply inhale in surprise as ED-E abruptly engulfed her field of vision, like a jumpscare from a movie. Shiroko took a step back from the door frame, watching the unusually aggressive robot.

"Hello, ED-E," she greeted, tilting her head when she received a singular beep in response. "I'm here to see Sensei. Is he here?"

"{Beeping noises}."

"Uh…"

"..." The robot stared at her.

"I didn't get that."

"..."

"...Right…" Shiroko said awkwardly. It was kind of tough trying to speak with ED-E alone. Sensei was usually there to translate, and even when he wasn't, Nonomi liked to converse with ED-E and pretend like she understood him, which was better than the silence he was giving Shiroko. "Can I come in?"

"{Low beeping noises}."

…That didn't sound like a yes.

"I just need to drop something off. It'll be quick," she attempted to persuade him.

"{Low beeping noises}."

…Is he angry about earlier?

Shiroko's eyes darted between the Eyebot and the door. Tentatively, she took one step toward the door, jumping back reflexively when ED-E fired a laser at the spot her feet previously occupied, leaving a black scorch mark on the floor.

She furrowed her brow as she watched the Eyebot cautiously. ED-E floated in the same spot attentively but made no further attempt to attack.

A warning shot.

The last time ED-E attacked them, it was because he was indirectly acting under Sensei's commands. That meant that this was probably a similar situation.

Shiroko angled her head to the side to get a better look through the slightly open door, widening her eyes.

Laying on the ground was Sensei, who wore his normal attire save for his duster, which was folded under his head to serve as a makeshift pillow. Both of his hands rested on his stomach, and next to him within arm's reach was a handgun and his unequipped Power Fist. In the corner was his other equipment and the inactive Power Armor suit. Sensei was almost entirely motionless save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and he made no indication that he'd heard her or ED-E.

He's asleep.

She hadn't ever seen him sleep before, even when he stayed over late, and judging by what he and Ayane discussed last time, it wasn't a common occurrence. Yet here he was, deep enough in sleep that even ED-E's warning shot wasn't enough to wake him. Strange; she'd expected him to be a light sleeper, given how attentive he was while awake. Perhaps his current ease of restfulness was due to the alcohol, but Shiroko had a suspicion that it was due to another reason entirely.

Sensei's robotic friend flew in front of her, obstructing her view of Sensei in a protective gesture.

It was ED-E.

One day after training, Sensei told Shiroko about the circumstances of his arrival in Kivotos. One moment he was in the Mojave, and the next, he woke up in the heart of the General Student Council building. Thrust into a completely new environment with no knowledge of how he got there, it was no wonder that he slept with one eye open during the only times he got to sleep at all.

At least, now that he had a piece of the Mojave with him, he could rest easy. She was happy for him; after all, she could only imagine what it would be like, waking up in a completely foreign place and being forced to find her own way in the world. Hoshino found her before the unfortunate reality of being alone and abandoned could truly affect her. Sensei had no such luxury.

Though, she might have envied Sensei just a bit, seeing him reunited with a piece of his homeland. Unlike her, someone who woke up in Kivotos with no memories and little more than rags and her name, he had somewhere he originally belonged. History. A home.

Shiroko did find a place with the rest of the students at Abydos High School, and she was glad that she had something she could devote all of her being toward, but try as she might, she still wondered from time to time about where she came from and what purpose she served.

There weren't many things that scared Shiroko, but for some reason, thinking about where she would be without her classmates terrified her.

Eager to take her mind away from the uncertainties of her past, Shiroko said, "I see. Thank you for protecting Sensei, ED-E."

After a short pause, the Eyebot let loose a series of clicks. It didn't sound aggressive, so Shiroko took it as something positive.

"Listen. I just need to leave this for him." Shiroko reached into her handbag, aware that the robot was scrutinizing her every move, and slowly pulled out a bottle wrapped in brown paper.

"{Beeping noises}."

"It's alcohol," she explained, unsure whether he actually asked about what she said. "I bought it a few blocks away from here. There's not much in the way of law enforcement around here anymore, so some merchants will sell to basically anyone as long as they can pay."

"{Beeping noises}."

"I…" Shiroko took a deep breath. "I guess you can say I felt guilty about what happened earlier. I don't really know anything about alcohol so I don't even know if he'll like this, but… I want to make it up to him either way." She looked downward. "...I don't want him to be angry with me."

"{Longer beeping noises}." This time, ED-E swung his chassis back and forth horizontally. Was he reassuring her?

"...Thanks," she said, keeping her response simple just in case he actually insulted her. "So, I'm just going to leave this near the entrance, okay?"

"{Low beeping noises}."

"I promise that's all I'm going to do."

"..."

"Please?"

"..."

ED-E turned and floated into the room, so she took that as a sign to go ahead. Opening the door just enough for her to enter, she stepped into the classroom. Her eyes drifted toward where Sensei slept but ED-E positioned himself between her and Sensei, causing her to pout slightly. It wasn't like she was a stranger…

Sighing, Shiroko lowered the bottle to the ground, then stepped away. "...Thanks."

"{Beeping noises}."

She grasped the handle on the door, then stopped.

"Hey, ED-E. You've been traveling with Sensei for a very long time, right?"

"{Long, sustained beeping}." Towards the end, he trailed off a bit. Was that a question?

"It's just…" she trailed off, then shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Never mind." Shiroko began to close the door behind her. "Goodnight, ED-E."

The door clicked shut, and Shiroko made her way to where she'd be staying for the night. All the while, thoughts about Sensei and his robot friend from the Mojave crept into her head.

It was obvious that the two trusted each other immensely, probably as much as the Foreclosure Task Force members trusted one another. However, the Abydos students had the looming threat of closure of their school binding them together. In comparison, she couldn't even imagine what Sensei and ED-E had been through together that'd foster that kind of bond. Sensei even mentioned other friends he had back home - she wondered if they were also as close to him as ED-E was.

And she hoped that, one day, Sensei might trust his students to that extent.

The thought of being trusted so implicitly by Sensei evoked a strange feeling in her chest.

…Must be nice.

---

"Goodsprings General Store…?"

When the visitor opened her eyes, a building with a sign bearing those exact words was the first thing that greeted her. Adjacent to the little, run-down storefront was another structure, whose half-lit sign read "Prospector Saloon". A few small ashtrays holding the smoldering stubs of cigarettes were littered around the porch and on its seats, suggesting recent occupancy, though the occupants themselves were nowhere to be seen.

Tearing her attention away from the two buildings, she surveyed the rest of her surroundings.

She found herself in a small, seemingly deserted settlement, which was situated in what seemed to be a desert biome of sorts, though it was not quite as barren as the Abydos Desert in terms of vegetation. Smaller buildings she guessed were residences were situated here and there, and protected by makeshift pens were small patches of tilled earth on which maize and some manner of cactus fruit grew. Beneath her feet was a dilapidated concrete road which looked like it hadn't seen proper maintenance in decades. A passing tumbleweed became caught on some pebbles on said road before a stronger breeze ushered it along on its way.

She slowly blinked as her eyes took in the unfamiliar environment.

…Where was she? It couldn't be in Kivotos or any nearby area - one look at the dreary clouded sky all but threw that notion out the window.

A fabrication, perhaps? The general theme of this town matched the "wild west" archetype, which, while not a popular theme in the Academy City, still had its niche in certain eccentric circles. Though she wasn't quite sure which place the "west" referred to, now that she thought about it.

The visitor ruminated on this theory for a bit before shaking her head.

No. Everything here was too specific, too cohesive to be a mere flight of fancy - from the temperature, to the air quality, to the textures of the buildings and surrounding matter, to the extremely subtle sensation of dust kicked up by a light breeze brushing against her skin…

This couldn't be an illusion - it is, or was, someone's reality.

The question was: whose?

Deciding that she wouldn't receive any meaningful answers simply standing around, she followed the road, wandering further into the town. As she did so, she became dimly aware of an unusual sensation.

There was something about the air here. Arid, as one expected from a desert, but there was something… ambient. Ubiquitous, yet unnatural altogether. Though it was extremely faint, she could nonetheless sense it radiating through the atmosphere like some manner of unseen miasma, seeping into the surroundings and permeating through every part of her being.

The feeling was tolerable, but she couldn't say she cared for it at all.

The visitor stopped once she hit a fork in the road. One end led to a small shack, while the other led up a hill. Perched on the hill was a large house, and further down the hilly road was a gas station. The visitor could also make out what seemed to be a decrepit schoolhouse in the distance. There was no sign of any students having used the place recently, which wasn't surprising given its state - even Gehenna's schoolhouses, with their infamously destructive student body, were better maintained.

These observations were set aside as the visitor noticed something to her right. Her heels sunk slightly into the dry earth as she stepped off the road and approached the first living creature she'd seen thus far - a cow.

Or so she thought. She recoiled as the animal craned its neck downward, revealing a second head.

Morbid curiosity triumphing over her initial shock, she stepped forward to inspect the animal more closely, fighting back a wave of nausea as a purulent odor emanating from the animal reached her nostrils.

Not only did it have two heads, but the poor animal barely had any hair left on its leathery reddish hide. Both of the animal's heads bore gnarled, misshapen horns, some of which terminated in short stubs. On multiple spots on the creature's hide, limbs, and udders were small, fleshy growths she sincerely hoped were benign. The animal snorted as it resumed grazing on some desert shrubbery, wholly ignorant of her presence.

Her first thought was that this animal's state was the result of some bizarre congenital fluke - however, this notion died out once she noticed the presence of more of the bicephalic cows a few houses away.

She wasn't well-versed in zoology, but she was certain these were not characteristics typical of livestock. What in the world happened to these creatures? Could these peculiarities simply be a natural phenomenon of animals native to this Goodsprings place?

The visitor watched the odd cattle for a few minutes before she closed her eyes resignedly.

She felt for these misfortunate creatures. She really did. But even if she chose to help, there was scant little she could do. The art of healing was simply not in her repertoire.

She walked away from the cattle and returned to the dusty road. She contemplated trying the schoolhouse next, but ultimately decided against it, opting to try the General Goods Store instead, as those two buildings seemed to bear the only signs of recent occupancy.

Upon her arrival at the General Goods Store, however, her sensitive ears alerted her to activity on the road. Footsteps.

From there, things began to get interesting.

Three entities hurried down the road, making a beeline for the Prospector Saloon.

The first was a halo-less woman with short brown hair and tanned skin. She wore dark padded armor which the visitor guessed was made of leather, and in one of her hands was a pair of binoculars. A rifle of questionable state of repair was slung across her back.

The second was a dog; thankfully, this animal didn't seem to be afflicted with whatever ailed the cattle from across town. The dog panted as it diligently kept pace with the woman, who was likely its owner.

The third individual… stood out, to say the least.

A young halo-less man, who seemed to be maybe just a bit older than a third year student, trailed behind the woman. He was dressed in a blue bodysuit which seemed almost garish in light of the drab surroundings. His bodysuit was adorned with various bits of leather, including a pauldron; possibly a haphazard attempt at adding some additional protection to the clothing. Visible under his dark, unkempt hair were several white bandage wrappings, through which a few small blotches of dried blood seeped through above his forehead. Strapped around his left forearm was a device with several archaic-looking buttons and knobs. In his arms he carried a rifle of identical make and condition to the woman's, and a small handgun rested in a holster on his belt. His eyes darted to and fro anxiously, as if he were expecting trouble on the horizon. As the trio passed the visitor, she noted the number '21' printed in gold on the back of the man's bodysuit.

The woman came to a stop once she reached the porch of the Prospector's Saloon. She stowed her binoculars onto her belt, and rapped her fist against the door three times. The door opened slightly, and a woman with dark reddish hair looked out the door frame cautiously.

"Sunny? What's the word?" she asked.

The woman who the visitor guessed was Sunny shook her head. "Not good. They're coming, alright. And they don't look like they're gonna ask for Ringo nicely this time."

"If that was their idea of nice, then I'd sure hate to see their mean side." The woman snorted, then asked, "How long do we got?"

"Less than five minutes. If we got anything we need to sort out before they arrive, better make it quick," Sunny answered.

"Is everyone ready to go, Trudy?" 21, as the visitor decided she'd call him, asked.

"Well, we already distributed the armor Chet loaned us. There's not enough for everyone, so we let the ones who'll be most in the thick of things wear it." A wry smile made its way onto Trudy's face. "Nice work with Chet, by the way. Didn't think it was possible to get him to give away anything for free."

"Not sure if I'd call that free," 21 said, sighing. "He said we're borrowing from him. And we'll have to compensate him if the items come back damaged."

"Seriously?" Sunny flatly said, groaning. "What does he think the point of armor is? To look pretty?" She shrugged. "Whatever. We can worry about that cap pincher after we make it through this. What about Doc Mitchell?"

"He's got some beds ready, and we even rigged up a few stretchers in case anyone can't make their way to the old Doc's on their lonesomes." Trudy darkly added, "Hopefully we won't need to use 'em."

Sunny nodded. "Then we're all set. Let's get everyone in position."

Trudy and 21 nodded. Trudy began directing several armored men and women inside the Saloon to take up positions around the front of the two buildings, where they took cover behind large cargo crates, wagons, and whatever else they could find. Once she was finished, Trudy joined 21 and Sunny behind a cargo crate, wielding a rifle of her own.

"Okay," Sunny said quietly, her voice audible to everyone due to the fact that the air had become deathly still. "Bullets are gonna start flying real soon around here. Now, I'm no military woman, so I can't say I've thought up an elaborate plan or anything like that. But since we've got the drop on them, I'm gonna start shooting the moment I see anything that looks like a Powder Ganger. I recommend you guys do the same."

Echoes of agreement arose throughout the peoples' ranks. 21 stayed silent, a pensive look in his eyes.

So the reason that there were no people around when she arrived was because they were in hiding, waiting for the opportune moment to stage an ambush against these "Powder Gangers". The visitor didn't have a single clue as to whom that term referred to, but if bullets were going to start flying then that had to mean…

A feeling of dread bubbled up from within her.

These people had no haloes. Surely they weren't going to…?

"Uh…" a man spoke up as he nervously fiddled with the grip of the 9mm pistol he held. "I just wanna say thanks. For having my back and everything. I swear the Crimson Caravan and I will do everything we can to make it up to you once this is over."

Trudy rolled her eyes in slight annoyance. "Y'know, Ringo, if you had asked us for help right off the bat instead of holing up in that gas station, all this hullabaloo could've been over and done with by now."

"...You're right. Sorry about that," Ringo replied. "Just didn't think you guys would be willing to help. I know most other towns I've been to wouldn't have if they were in your shoes."

"Then they're downright fools," an elderly, dark-skinned man wearing a straw hat succinctly said.

"Huh?"

"Easy Pete's got the right of it," Sunny said. "You can't negotiate with people like the Powder Gangers. You give them an inch, they'll take a mile. If we sold you out, chances are the Powder Gangers will be coming for Goodsprings itself next. And if it's not the Powder Gangers, then it'll be something out there in the Wastes. That's just the way it is around these parts." Sunny's eyes hardened. "Sooner or later we were gonna have to take a stand to protect our town. Just so happened it was sooner."

Everyone's heads swiveled toward the horizon as the distant sound of breaking glass echoed throughout the ghost town. Soon after, a pillar of smoke began to billow out toward the sky as what was presumably a molotov cocktail ignited one of the buildings on the outskirts of town.

"They're here," 21 murmured, steeling himself as he readied his rifle, an action that was mirrored by many of the townspeople.

The townspeople watched in anticipation as the first Powder Ganger became visible in the distance. The man wore a blue outfit with a black ballistic vest, which was reminiscent of the armor worn by certain Valkyrie security divisions. In one hand he held a revolver, and in the other a stick of dynamite. He was flanked by four similarly armed men, though the visitor noticed that more began to trickle in from multiple directions in the town.

"Trudy!" he shouted. "I'm here for that piece of shit, Ringo! Hand him over, and maybe we won't burn this place to the ground!" The man, upon hearing no reply, narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he looked around town. "Where the fuck is everybody?"

Fortunately for him, he noticed the barrel of Sunny's gun just before she took her shot, diving to the side to avoid the bullet aimed at his head. "FUCK!" he cursed, taking cover behind a dilapidated house. "It's an ambush!"

The Powder Gangers quickly brought up their weapons and began their assault. A few of them who bore shotguns and machetes began to storm the townspeoples' position, their body armor doing well to repel the townspeoples' poorly maintained guns.

The visitor's heartbeat instinctively quickened when a Powder Ganger took aim with his rifle right at her, then relaxed as the bullet phased right through her. That was right, she had briefly forgotten herself; she was in no danger so long as she chose not to reveal herself.

A gasp from behind her was followed by a sickly gurgling noise, and she turned around to see that the bullet hit its intended target, embedding itself in the neck of one of the townspeople. The man immediately dropped his rifle and clenched a hand around his neck in an attempt to staunch the bleeding, to little avail. The man retrieved a strange syringe from one of his pockets and attempted to uncap it; however, the blood loss proved too much and the man collapsed onto the ground, helpless to do anything as crimson rivulets of his blood cascaded from his body and merged with the dry earth. The man gave one last gargle and a twitch before he stopped moving, his eyes beginning to glaze over.

She stared at the still body of the man for a few moments while the gunfight continued around them, uncaring of its first casualty.

"H-hey…" she whispered. In her shock, she found herself extending an arm toward the man to… to…

Do what, exactly…?

Close his eyes? Comfort him in his last moments?

…Maybe even help him? He seemed intent on using that odd syringe. Maybe that would fix everything?

…Why was she even considering this? Nothing she did here would change anything. She knew this, and yet…

The visitor's internal conflict was interrupted as an explosion to her right went off, which was followed by a woman's anguished scream. She instantly regretted daring to look at the aftermath, as she was greeted by the sight of a sobbing woman cradling a man, presumably her lover. It would seem that he had pushed her out of the way of a stick of dynamite and taken the brunt of the detonation himself. His upper body was intact, but his lower body… His legs…

"Cheyenne!" Sunny yelled from behind the visitor. Though she had begun to feel sick, she turned around, welcoming any sight but the one she'd just beheld. Unfortunately for her, she found no relief in this action.

"Gahhh!" The Powder Ganger who threw the stick of dynamite at the couple screamed as Sunny's dog sunk its teeth into his ankle. He grabbed his machete and attempted to swing at the dog to dislodge the animal. "Get off me! Get the fuck off-"

The Powder Ganger howled in agony as Sunny shot his other leg, causing him to crumple to the ground. Cheyenne, making use of the opportunity, pounced on the man and seized his neck in her jaws. The Powder Ganger didn't have time to struggle or even scream as Cheyenne wrenched her head to the side, taking a hefty chunk of the man's flesh with her. Once the deed was done, Cheyenne happily returned to Sunny's side, her tongue lapping up the residual blood around her mouth from her recent kill.

"Good girl," Sunny praised Cheyenne, as though such a thing was routine. After working with 21 to dispatch another Powder Ganger from a distance, Sunny retreated behind cover to reload. Upon doing so, her eyes widened as she saw a Powder Ganger round the corner of their cover, the townsperson she'd assigned to cover the flank overwhelmed. The Powder Ganger wore no armor or even clothing on his torso save for a single bandolier.

Containing an arsenal of dynamite.

"Run, Goodsprings, run!" the Powder Ganger cackled madly as he held two sticks of lit dynamite in each of his hands. He reared his arm back to toss one at both Sunny and 21.

Is he insane?! the visitor wondered… until she saw the multiple pinpricks dotting his arm. Drug use certainly explained his reckless choice in apparel. But forget the lack of armor - dynamite at this range would probably hit him too unless he aimed further. And with that short of a fuse…

21's face became one of pure panic upon seeing the mad Powder Ganger. Quickly, he dropped his rifle and scrambled to retrieve the 9mm pistol at his hip.

It's all in vain, the visitor sullenly thought. Even if he shot the Powder Ganger, the short-fused dynamite would still reach them. Nothing short of a miracle would help them now, and last she checked, these people were not students…

She grimly watched as the dynamite left the Powder Ganger's hand…

And then the world stopped.

Her mouth went ajar as she looked around, watching the contorting expressions of the townspeople around her, their bullets exiting the barrels of their guns, spent casings falling to the ground…

Perhaps 'stopped' wasn't the right word. 'Slowed' seemed more appropriate. Regardless, she was able to watch as time slowed to a crawl, allowing her to survey the situation with uncanny celerity. The strange effect seemed to encompass the entire town, save for one individual, who was mostly unaffected.

21.

The man's eyes widened as they swiveled about in shock, leading her to believe he was just as surprised as she was at the turn of events. His mind seemed to catch up with the situation, however, and he took the opportunity to raise his pistol at the offending Powder Ganger. The visitor watched in bafflement as an electronic user interface appeared around his target, highlighting specific body parts alongside a corresponding percentage.

Despite her confusion, however, at least this put one mystery to rest.

This was 21's reality as he perceived it. Whatever was happening here, he was at the epicenter.

The gears in 21's head seemed to turn, and he selected a target. After three resounding electric beeps, time sped up slightly, allowing her to witness in slow motion as 21 raised his pistol, firing three times at the dynamite as it was leaving the Powder Ganger's hand. The first two shots missed, but the third hit its mark, causing the dynamite to detonate violently in the Powder Ganger's face. This had the unforeseen side effect of causing a chain reaction with the other explosives in his bandolier.

Normal time resumed, and the visitor was never more thankful for being mostly incorporeal as specks of dust mixed with ichor splattered on everyone and everything in the vicinity. Like her, 21 desperately avoided looking at the remains of the Powder Ganger, instead looking at the device on his wrist in shock.

"Nice save," Sunny complimented, briefly relieved before she finished reloading her rifle and returned to the fight. "But we're not through just yet."

This seemed to snap 21 out of it, and he shuddered once more at the aftermath of the explosion before returning to the fold.

Unbeknownst to them, however, their observer had had more than enough.

The sight of wanton destruction, she was sadly acquainted with all too well, but this was different, for it was the first time she had seen death so up-close and… graphic. In a way, this was more personal, visceral - not made any better by the fact that these were not students fighting, but regular people, who possessed none of the inherent protections or resilience that students did. In spite of their fragile lives, these people fought to the death with not an otherworldly threat nor a mutually incomprehensible enemy, but with each other.

What could possibly make visiting such pointless atrocities worth it? On their fellow man, no less?

She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears in a vain attempt to drown out the gunshots, explosions, and screams. Try as she might, her sensitive ears nonetheless picked up everything, disturbing her attempts to hear and process her own thoughts.

She'd come to this place partly on a whim, but mostly because she sought an avenue of escapism. Was it all for naught? Was there truly no place in which she wouldn't be constantly reminded of the gnawing futility of her own reality?

The battle may have only lasted for a few minutes, but to the visitor, it was a veritable eternity. However, all things come to an end, and like clockwork, the gunfire slowed until one last body fell to the ground. Hushed voices communicated with one another, and in the mix, the visitor heard Sunny and Trudy, giving her a small measure of relief. As she understood it, these people were simply defending themselves, and while their actions mattered little in the grand scheme of things, she would not celebrate if they met their grisly ends here. As for 21, well, his survival was all but guaranteed; she would not be here if that were not the case.

Tentatively, she opened her eyes, willfully avoiding looking at the many splotches of red that littered the desert landscape.

Despite being outnumbered by the townspeople, the Powder Gangers, initially numbering around fifteen, inflicted quite a few casualties; there were about five townspeople missing from last time she checked. Conversely, the Powder Gangers were routed completely - while they had an initial advantage in weapons and equipment, the townspeoples' coordination and home advantage ultimately tipped the scales in their favor.

Shuddering, she stepped over a stray severed arm as she waded through the carnage.

"Pretty scary, huh?" a nearby settler asked as he inspected a collapsed Powder Ganger, poking him with the barrel of his gun to make sure he was dead. "Glad that's over and done with."

"You said it," the settler next to him said, then frowned. "Took some hits, though. Harold didn't make it."

"Son of a…" He cursed under his breath, then sighed. "Poor Sheila."

"Yeah." The settler shook his head regretfully. "We did all we could. But it would've been a lot easier on us if Victor helped out…"

"What'd I tell you? We can't trust that robot," Trudy said, scowling as she joined the conversation.

"I know, but since he saved that courier, I just thought…"

"What? That that machine had a change of heart?" she scoffed. "Who knows why he did it? All I know is that you don't just up and start caring for people right outta the blue like that. He had to have a reason, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart."

The settler grimly nodded, then said, "By the way, where'd that courier go, anyway?"

The group looked around, unaware that 21 had walked away behind one of the dilapidated houses near the entrance of town… and that he had someone tailing him.

When the visitor caught up with 21, he had his rifle stowed on his back and his pistol held loosely by his side. Slouched against the wall of the house was the initial Powder Ganger she had seen, whom she assumed was their leader. His vest was perforated in multiple places, and judging from his bloody coughing, he'd likely taken a bullet to the lung. The man's leg was mangled beyond saving; the trail of blood leading to his location suggested that he had suffered these wounds during the fight and escaped before ultimately succumbing to his injuries.

"Cobb…" 21 said as he stared down at the man, his expression betraying some manner of inner conflict, perhaps weighing whether the Powder Ganger could be saved or not, or whether he should even try.

Cobb coughed and leaned to the side, spitting out copious amounts of blood. Afterward, he fruitlessly attempted to speak, merely succeeding at producing more blood. The man began convulsing as he began to suffocate on his own body fluids. Somehow, still had the mental acuity to glare hatefully at 21 as he shakily reached for the revolver at his side.

21 was briefly surprised by this before his expression hardened. He raised his pistol and, before she could look away, pulled the trigger once, the lone shot echoing in the ghost town. Cobb slumped over, the bullet to the head predictably proving fatal.

21 slowly lowered his weapon and stared at the ground, making no sound. After a few moments of concerning silence, the visitor walked around him so she could get a look at his face, just in time to see him let out a breath he'd apparently been holding. 21 looked at his weapon and began to breathe heavily as the reality of what had just transpired reached him. It was no wonder he didn't realize Trudy had arrived and was at his side until she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you alright-"

Gasping, 21 wheeled around and pointed his gun at Trudy with panicked eyes.

"Whoa, whoa!" The woman raised her arms placatingly. "Easy there. It's just me, Trudy," the woman said nervously. "Let's just relax and lay that pistol down, alright?"

"Trudy?" 21 blinked, his senses thankfully returning. "Oh, shit. Sorry, I just…" he muttered, lowering his gun. "...Sorry."

Trudy eyed him cautiously before deciding to walk up to him once again. "No harm, no foul, right?"

"...Right."

"...Hey. If you don't mind me asking…"

"Yeah?"

"This your first time?" Trudy asked.

"Huh?"

"Your first time. Shooting, I mean."

21 blinked as he registered her words, then shook his head. "No, my folks taught me how to handle a gun."

"Makes sense. You do look like you know your way around that thing," Trudy said. "But what I was really referring to was, well..." She gestured toward the town. "Shooting, if you catch my drift."

21 was silent for a moment, then said, "I practiced on little critters and the occasional ant, but never…"

"People," Trudy finished knowingly.

"...Yeah."

"I wish I could say it gets easier, but honestly, that depends on you." Trudy shot him a sympathizing look as she patted him on the back. "But what I can say is that as long as it's for the sake of survival, you ain't ever in the wrong-"

"Thanks, Trudy. I…"

"-unless you're a cannibal. If you are, kindly limit your diet to just Powder Gangers in areas where we can't see you, will you?"

Despite himself, 21 snickered at the morbid joke, and Trudy cracked a smile. And despite her disgust, the visitor found herself following the latter. She wondered what that said about her current mental state if she found such tasteless humor palatable.

"Gotcha," 21 said.

Trudy slung her rifle over her back and put a hand on her hip. "Now that that's outta the way, why not wet your whistle at the saloon in a couple hours? I'm sure the town would love to throw a party for the one who managed to do the impossible."

"Impossible?" 21 snorted. "Come on, Trudy…"

"Managing to make Chet act charitable and getting Easy Pete to share his dynamite stash? I'd call winning over the two most stubborn sons of guns on this side of the Mojave impossible," Trudy replied, smirking. "So, how about it?"

21 appeared to seriously give it thought before shaking his head. "Thanks, but I'm good."

"You sure? Drinks are on me," Trudy coaxed, leaning forward. "No limits. As long as we're stocked, you'll be welcome to as much booze as you can drink without getting a brain injury-" Realizing something, Trudy added, "-or another one, in any case."

"On second thought…" 21's eyes lit up like a student's in a gun shop, before his expression sobered up. "...No. I'm good."

"Still dead set on following the guy who shot you, huh?" Trudy asked.

"..."

"You should at least stay the night," Trudy reasoned. "Lotta dangerous types out there, and not all of them are just petty criminals like the Powder Gangers."

"...I'll think about it," 21 replied, but his tone all but confirmed his mind was made up.

Trudy raised an eyebrow but didn't pursue the matter further. "Suit yourself. You need more instructions on how to get to Primm?"

21 checked the device on his wrist. "I think I can manage. Thanks."

Trudy nodded, and the two began walking back to town proper while their observer followed.

"By the way, we'll be gathering up the bodies and burying 'em in the cemetery on the hill before they attract critters and start stinking up the place. Lot of us are kinda squeamish about scavving from freshly dead folks, but it'd be a shame to let it go to waste…"

21 shifted in slight discomfort, letting her finish.

"Between you and Sunny Smiles, y'all are welcome to keep whatever you find on the Powder Gangers. Chet might be willing to fork over some caps for the stuff you don't need… provided you clean off the blood and all."

21 simply nodded, and with a friendly wave, the two parted. He walked up the hill, presumably leading to the cemetery.

The townspeople had already begun dividing up the bodies into two separate groups - one for the handful of settlers who didn't make it, and another for the Powder Gangers. From the looks of it, they were working on creating a mass grave for the latter, while several men dug smaller holes and prepared gravestones for the former, probably intent on saving the proper burials for the deceased townspeople.

Sunny was kneeling down by the group of Powder Gangers, sorting through their belongings and taking anything that might prove useful before giving the green light to toss the bodies into the mass grave. 21 joined her, clearly uncomfortable, but Sunny seemed to ease him into it as she took the lead, chatting with him about trivial topics like the weather and good hunting spots. 21 followed her example, hesitating for a mere moment before assisting her in relieving the dead of their valuables.

The visitor looked away and promptly walked back to town, partly because she was disturbed by how readily these people took to looting, and also because she did not wish to look upon the faces of the dead, whose expressions were frozen in varying states of agony, terror, or both as rigor crept in.

Though she had not participated in the firefight, the visitor nonetheless found herself exhausted by the turn of events. Easy Pete, having entrusted the cleanup to the town's younger, more able men, paid her no mind as she eased herself onto a seat adjacent to his in front of the Prospector Saloon.

Silently, she watched as the town bustled with activity in the wake of the attack. Some townspeople continued to haul bodies up to the cemetery for burial, while others busied themselves in other ways, such as assisting the injured up the hill leading to the house - likely the town doctor. The remainder returned to various tasks one would expect from a small farming town, such as tending to the crops and minding the cattle. From where she sat, she could hear the myriad conversations amongst the townspeople as they went about their business.

The results were… not what she expected.

There was worry, caution, and fear among the populace, yes. There was also mourning, as was the case with the woman who lost her lover. In the aftermath of such a devastating attack, these emotions came with the territory. However, these attitudes were far from being the prevalent ones.

No. If anything, the majority were… nonchalant.

She closed her eyes in introspection.

From what she heard among the townspeoples' talk, such attacks were not exactly uncommon in this 'Mojave'. They also expressed worry that the Powder Gangers might muster their numbers for a revenge attack on Goodsprings. And if that weren't enough, apparently there were rumors of a 'Legion', who numbered hundreds of times more than the Powder Gangers and were magnitudes more cruel, that threatened to engulf the entire region. A small town like this, which didn't even have a proper militia until now, would be overrun in an instant.

And they knew. These people knew exactly how hopeless their situation was. Yet they did not despair. They did not run. They did not even attempt to petition higher powers out there for assistance. They just lived, content to carry out their simplistic day-to-day routines.

They knew that a bleak future likely awaited them, but they chose to live in the present, in blissful isolation, until danger was at their doorstep - in which case they'd fight back in any way they could.

She did not understand. What was the point of fighting what they knew was inevitable, then?

What was the point of any of it?

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye as Easy Pete tipped his hat toward her. Musings interrupted, she followed the gesture and saw 21 as he stepped onto the road. He had some equipment that he did not have before, the most notable being Cobb's revolver, a satchel bulging with ammunition and dynamite, and a black cowboy hat atop his head.

Catching Easy Pete's cordial gesture, 21 curtly nodded at the man. 21 took one last look at Goodsprings before taking a deep breath and determinedly turning to the road. He took his first steps on that dusty, lonesome road leading into the barren wilderness while the visitor got to her feet, intent on following him. However, as she did so, she began to experience a familiar feeling of weightlessness. Looking down, she sighed as the ground began to distort beneath her feet.

Time's up.

The end came quicker than she expected, but she didn't fight it. This, too, was inevitable.

Goodsprings began to undulate and shift, as though it were being viewed through water, and the sky began to blacken. This blackness spread quickly throughout the landscape, eventually consuming the townspeople, 21, and everything save her.

Even as the 'reality' around her crumbled and she began her plunge back into the embrace of the void, she barely even noticed. Her mind was already preoccupied with contemplating what she had seen and what these things meant.

Though the people of Goodsprings knew that death could take them at any moment, they lived their lives with a near indifference to that fact, some even with smiles on their faces. Those who lost loved ones despaired, as she expected, but they bounced back quickly, returning to their uneventful farm life, content to simply eke out an existence in a veritable wasteland.

How could they live in relative contentment fully knowing that every day could possibly be their last?

Her thoughts shifted to the man who was clad in a garish blue jumpsuit and was ostensibly not native to the town. The man had been wronged - that much she knew from Trudy's words and the injuries on his head - but as for his journey to confront the person responsible? She knew not the end result.

It was as frivolous a thought as any other, but she couldn't help but wonder what became of 21.

The visitor pondered these things for a very long time. Long after the ephemeral scene of Goodsprings, its inhabitants, and 21 had dissipated into nothingness, and then some. Which was fine by her - she had all the time in the world.

…For what that was worth, anyway.