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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"… Very well."

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

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

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

xOx

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

"What in the world…"

"Lord Rustal, what is this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After that long-winded speech, the figure's posture sagged minutely, before seemingly redoubling their conviction and energy right then and there, their shoulders once more squared up and their head held firmly high. "But I'm afraid that is all the time I shall have for today. Nevertheless, I part with one last message to you all: the words of an old scholar, from a time long forgotten, and on which I base my mission and goal."

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

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

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

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

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

Wake up! Don't be afraid of knowledge!

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

…

Signed…

Schwarzwald

xOx

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

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

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

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

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

-O-

Meanwhile, on Mars…

Amidst Chryse's many tailors and clothing shops, Annette Skies Threads was one of, if not the, best. Almost any request posited to them, they would fulfill to the absolute best of their ability, performing the job with utmost professionalism expected from their workshop. They were, after all, a high-class shop, and thus had an image to maintain for their clientele. And regardless of how eccentric said clientele could be sometimes, they would never let this affect their poise… except today.

A month prior, Annette Skies Threads had received an order for ten separate sets of clothes, nine sets of suits and a dress, from a buyer through their virtual contact, along with measurements for them all. Those had been somewhat strange at first sight, considering how big they had turned out to be, but the staff merely wrote it off as some kind of fitness-obsessed richman wanting to stock up in clothes, and maybe a dress for his lover.

The truth, however, turned out to be even wilder than they expected. Because of all the kinds of people they had expected to walk through the door of their shop a month later to pick up the order, a seven foot tall statue of a woman with a body so muscled she seemed fit to rip the door off its hinges, pointed ears and honest-to-goodness horns on her head was not included on that list.

Thus, the current situation they found themselves in: watching as the amazonian woman downright preened in front of the full-body mirror, a smile on her face as she hummed some nondescript tune to herself. For the tenth time so far.

Granted, at least she wasn't using the same set of clothes for it more than once. With ten separate orders, it was a guarantee that she'd spend a long time trying them out to make sure they fit properly.

Which they, in fact, did. It may have been due to her physique, but the dress suits all fit comfortably over her frame, not being too baggy but also not too tight, just enough room to cover the woman's figure and keep her muscles subtly hidden. Still, whenever she did a show of flexing her limbs, her clothing would stretch just enough to hug against her body, detailing the muscles beneath in just the right way.

In this case, she had been trying out the very last set of clothes the shop had finished: a brown vest with gold trimmings, a navy blue dress shirt and black trench coat with a gray fur collar, both with magenta cloth lining the insides, a magenta tie, and black dress pants held by a belt with a golden buckle.

Once more, the work of Annette Skies proved unmatched. Perhaps too well, unfortunately, considering one of the tailors had been forced to excuse herself after she was caught staring a bit too intently at the customer, and received a grin and a wink in return.

The shade of red across her face had been quite unique.

However, let it be said that regardless of professionalism, some of the workers at the tailor shop still held a few… select opinions regarding certain subjects.

One of said subjects being that when the woman removed her coat during the first change of clothes, the Whiskers upon her back became visible.

Now, far be it from their workers to demonstrate the blatant prejudice that was well known to be given against "Human Debris", especially the so-called "space rats" which had been implanted with the Alaya-Vijnana during their childhood. Annette Skies Threads was, again, a professional establishment.

That did not stop the customers present in the building as well from sneering and frowning at the woman behind her back. Thankfully, none of them had spoken up yet, but regardless the store workers were still on pins and needles waiting for someone to try their luck.

In a bid to stave off that moment, the owner of the tailor, a middle-aged woman whose hair had already begun to gray, walked closer to the large woman and coughed as politely as she could into her closed hand. "Is everything to your liking, Miss Durandal?" she asked calmly, even as she eyed the woman up and down as professionally as she could.

"Yup, everything looks great!" replied the woman in return with genuine cheer as she turned to face the store owner, hands shoved into her coat's pockets. "Damn, you guys work magic with these…"

"We do our best, miss. Will that be all, then?"

"Yeah, that's about everything. Is the rest packed up?"

As they talked, the two turned to walk back towards the entrance of the store, two other employees moving in to pick up the rest of the clothes and trailing just slightly behind. Moments later, they had reached the register, the customer had paid (with a card, so no worries with suspicion regarding absurd amounts of live cash), and was on her way out of the store, bags in hand. The store's owner allowed herself to relax and let out a sigh of relief…

"Tch, damn space rat…"

That is, until she and her workers heard those words, whispered by a woman who was still trying out a dress alongside her husband, and who both were staring at the departing customer with equal grimaces in their face.

And, to the owner's horror, said customer stopped on her tracks, pointed ears bouncing slightly as if in response to the comment.

For a long, agonizing moment, both workers and customers watched the goliath of a woman stand there, unmoving, the seconds stretching by like hours, until finally the woman lowered her bags back to the floor, and turned back towards everyone, one hand scratching the back of her head while the other gripped the marble archway of the entrance. "Oh, shit, sorry! Forgot I owed you one more thing!"

Confused, the store owner opened her mouth to ask what she was talking about…

Crunch!

Only to stop and gape, wide-eyed, at the hole now present on the archway, the missing chunk being held loosely on the woman's grip. And she was not the only one, either, with every single person inside the store now staring at the horned woman, who in turn, was staring at the woman who had spoken up with one of the scariest smiles any of them had ever seen and with half-lidded eyes.

"You can bill the repair to me," she said in a low, deathly-cold tone of voice, all of her previous cheer gone completely. "Sorry for the mess."

And with those final words, she picked up her bags once more and left, leaving a bewildered group of people staring at the broken archway the woman had left…

Crash!

That is, before the sound of shattering glass drew their attention to the now-shattered windshield of a car parked right in front of the store, the chunk of marble stuck to the head rest of the seat.

-O-

"Bitch… seriously, she kept quiet the entire time, why couldn't she keep quiet until I left?!"

"I'm honestly surprised she talked at all. You look somewhat terrifying."

"And don't you forget it!"

Serena huffed indignantly as she walked down the street, ignoring the bewildered stares the passer-bys gave her as they tried to avoid both her and the towering M-Doll Soldier beside her. Sure, it was keeping its weapon stowed, but a seven foot tall soldier wearing a trench coat, "helmet" and ballistic armor with an assault rifle slung over "his" shoulder still cut an intimidating figure.

Not that the Mobile Doll was the focus of their attention, really. As it turned out, Serena's love for cosmetics ended up biting her in the ass once she tried to mingle with normal civilian life. Turns out being an amazon of a woman with horns and elf ears doesn't particularly lend itself to being treated normally in a society indoctrinated to hate any extensive modifications to your body.

It's not like she asked to be sent here looking like this!

…

Okay, maybe she did, but that's besides the point.

At least her talking to thin air was perfectly justified by the custom LCS headset wrapped around the back of her head, plus the addition of a glass visor that wrapped fully over Serena's eyes like a visor, to allow her video feed of anyone she was talking to, and special ear plugs to fit the thing over her elvish ears.

Such was the case with this particular caller, a young woman with platinum hair cascading down her back, save for the four strands that formed a pattern not unlike that of a cockatiel, an honestly humorous comparison considering how serious the woman looked.

"I'm glad you decided to dress somewhat professionally, at least," said the young woman, her eyes not focused on the camera set up in front of her, but instead on the pile of paperwork currently set in front of her, her hand almost blurring as she continued to sign them all. "Seems you listened to at least one of my suggestions."

"C'mon, I didn't look that bad the first time we met!" replied Serena with a lopsided grin, even as she finally reached her car and had the M-Doll Soldier help her pack the bags into the trunk, before moving to the passenger seat of one of her company's many combat SUVs, armored to the gills and (normally) loaded with a turret and munition launcher, both of which were missing on this model so the police wouldn't pull her over.

The woman, however, did not seem to share Serena's amusement over this situation, considering the half-lidded stare she turned towards the camera. "You showed up wearing cargo pants, a sports bra and a coat cape to our first meeting, the only reason I didn't kick you out was because of the insane amount of money you gave us."

"Love you too, Rembran."

With a chuckle, Serena threw herself into the passenger seat of the SUV, just as the Mobile Doll climbed onto the driver's seat and started up the car, the large armored vehicle leaving its parked spot a moment later, far more smoothly than something its size would seem capable of. Once she was sure they had left any people near them behind, and thus any eavesdroppers, Serena refocused her attention on Miorine, her grin reducing itself to a smile. "So, how's setting up the charities going?"

"It's… coming along."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not as bad as I expected, granted, but there's still enough bureaucratic hurdles to keep things grounded for a good while." As she shuffled her paperwork around, the young woman took some of the papers and held them up off to the side, allowing an unseen person to take them and leave. "Sending aid to the colonies here is easy enough, they're still within the Earth Sphere territory, so fewer licenses and permits needed. But when we're talking outside the sphere, well–"

"Then Gjallarhorn throws a fit and suddenly you need a license to justify how many toilets you have aboard your transport, I got that right?" asked Serena with a huff, as she stared half-heartedly at the streets, buildings and people passing them by. Overall, it wasn't that much different from the usual hustle and bustle of home, or even in terms of aesthetic. Were it not for the different-colored skies, Serena could even pretend somewhat that nothing had happened, and she was back on Earth, going about her life like she hadn't been abducted by some weird-ass Haro with god-like powers… well, were it not for the sight of the occasional Gjallarhorn sentry post, the graffiti or posters clamoring for Martian independence or decrying the economic blocks of Earth, or even the occasional protests demanding Martian independence, being watched over by Gjallarhorn soldiers and the occasional Mobile Worker. "Guess they don't like people reminding everyone things are shit…"

"Unfortunately so, something I've grown quite tired of," replied Rembran in return, the young woman furiously rubbing her temples in a clear attempt to push away a migraine. "So for now, it'll still take a while to ship emergency aid to Mars. Sorry."

"Nah, don't worry, I expected something like that. I take it Venus is out of question, then?"

"Completely. It is a penal colony, after all, regardless of how rotten a concept it is."

"Don't worry, I'm sure we can work something out," replied the ex-Diver. Sure, some of it was positive thinking, but the rest was… well, she knew of a certain adorable little kid with a dream of making his home a tourist spot, she was sure lil' baby boi Wistario would be willing to help Ochs Earth with their humanitarian aid mission. "In the meantime, don't worry, I'll keep the money pipeline open for ya."

"And will you ever tell me where all this money comes from, Serena?" asked the white-haired woman, one eyebrow raised and a skeptical look in her eyes as she picked up and sipped from a cup of something that had been next to her. "You're a little too well-off for a 'small' security firm."

In return, Serena's face was once more split by a wide, toothy grin, the oni playfully twirling a lock of her hair as she turned her attention back to the caller. "That depends, you ever gonna tell your wife about those toys ya asked me to pick up?"

"PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTH–!"

The spit-take her oh-so-innocent question created would forever live on in Serena's memory, and also the recording of this call she'd ask Aria to archive.

"Mio Mio, something wrong?"

The sight of the aforementioned wife walking into the room, completely oblivious to the last few questions thrown out, only served to make things sweeter. "Hey Suletta!"

"Oh, hey Miss Serena!"

"GOODBYE, DURANDAL."

"Bye, Miss Serena!"

"Bye Miorine, bye Suletta, say hi to Ericht for me!"

And just like that, the call cut off, Miorine almost leaping over the table to shut the camera off while Suletta waved cheerily from behind her wife. With the video feed now dead, Serena had no shame in laughing loudly at the end result of it all.

Besides, what were the chances she'd end up meeting some of her favorite protagonists in all of Gundam in this crapsack of a world? And married, too! Suck it, Sunrise!

Letting out one last chuckle, the ex-Diver took off the LCS headset and threw it onto the car's backseat, allowing her the peace of mind to think about everything that had transpired so far.

Her first three months in this new world had been quite chaotic. After all, forging an entire life for yourself when you literally didn't exist until something tossed you into the world wasn't an easy task, nor one done half-heartedly: hacking databases, creating a plausible and retroactive paper trail for your existence up to your birth, setting up safeguards and collecting intel on your situation and possible enemies… Serena had honestly lost count of how many days she and Aria had spent connected to the Veda terminal, breaking into lord knows how many databases and related to get all the paperwork retroactively set up, but the ex-Diver knew it had been enough at least that she could swear her chair was now molded to her ass 'contour. But in the end, it had been worth it: she now had a plausible paper trail and solid enough "history" that if any background checks were made, she could fool whoever was investigating her, or at least delay them enough until she could pull a Celestial Being and mail some pipe bombs to their house.

Throughout the process, Serena also ended up confirming the date of her arrival: Post Disaster, March of the year 321, essentially two years before canon kicked off. That meant that currently, Serena had around a year or so to properly set up her plans into motion before Kudelia made her trip to Earth, and things started going downhill. But if she wanted to help Tekkadan, she'd need established resources and allies, enough to challenge an interplanetary feudal police force.

Hence, her decision to open a company. It'd be an easy way to launder all the money she and Aria had been siphoning away from the companies and businesses they had found out were, shall we say, less than reputable, while also allowing Serena to get some reputation around Mars. She'd also had chartered a trip to Earth once in the last year, once Aria brought word of the Ochs Earth Foundation and all the charitable work they had been performing for the last seven years or so to Serena, leading the ex-Diver to set up a meeting with their chairwoman of the Foundation to try and work out a partnership deal.

Subsequently, that had been the day she met with the Post Disaster timeline's versions of Miorine Mercury née Rembran and Suletta Mercury, along with the latter's sister Ericht Mercury, their many friends and co-workers, all of which were, of course, also PD versions of the Ad Stella characters… or, well, Ad Stella people. Still something she had to get used to, but considering her time in Eldora, it was a bit easier to adjust to it than it most likely would have been to "normal" people.

Nevertheless, the meeting had gone fairly well, and not long after, Ochs Earth had a new pipeline of money coming in for them, allowing the Foundation to extend the reach of its humanitarian aid program much farther than before.

As for where the money had been coming from… well, let's say the correlation between the fall of several incredibly corrupt companies and Serena's fortunes could never be proven in court after Aria wiped all the traces of the transactions.

Most of the money went straight to paying the bills and salaries of her company's workforce, of course, plus a reserve of cash for her little extra-work activities, but this still left a good amount to donate for philanthropic endeavors. She couldn't do it herself after all, a PMC doing humanitarian aid is always the sketchiest fucking thing possible, it means they have something to hide.

And Serena's PMC had plenty of things to hide. Like the fact all of its soldiers were machines rather than flesh and blood people.

Or that the maintenance crew worked hand-in-hand with both non-sapient murder bots repurposed to engineering work, yet were still armed enough to kill anyone they came across, plus the horde of definitely sapient Haros piloting Karels or just outright rolling about like a tide of talking metallic tumbleweeds.

Plus there was the warship she had been building for the better part of a year and a half that was completely original to this timeline, from design to its technology, to the point she had to contract a private dockyard from Teiwaz all the way down on Jupiter in order to build it with any semblance of peace.

So, you know, small stuff.

And that was just on the legal front! There was also her entire work on the illegal front, namely being a revolutionary figure trying to spread forgotten knowledge and take down a quasi-totalitarian state police force who enforced brutal inequality in all of humanity's colonies, all for the sake of "order", while ALSO dodging the many investigations said state police force had launched to discover who the mysterious "Solomon" was.

Oh, yeah, and finding some like-minded individuals with enough reason to join her in this little endeavor.

"When do I get a fucking break…" muttered Serena with a groan as she scrunched her eyes closed and massaged the bridge of her nose.

[Maybe you should have probably scaled things down a bit, shouldn't you?]

The sudden voice inside the car probably would have spooked someone not expecting it. Admittedly, it did spook Serena the first few times, when she wasn't aware of the fact Aria could wirelessly connect to the Mobile Doll Soldiers' speakers.

It got old after the seventh scare, though.

"And when have I done things the small way, sweetie?" she asked playfully as she turned to stare at the driving M-Doll, taking note of its faintly glowing amber optics, a clear sign that Aria was connected to it.

[Right, my mistake, I forgot who I was talking to for a second,] replied the AI helper in turn with no small amount of sarcasm. [Remind me to play that voice clip back at you next time you're chugging coffee like an addict and bitching about being tired.] Serena's only response to that was a chuckle, and a light knock against the M-Doll's body. Useless, sure, but it was the thought that counted. Ignoring said bump, the AI continued speaking, right as they began the final approach to the company's headquarters. [Anyway, I got some news for you, Serena.]

"Oh? Do tell."

[I got the dossiers ready. All of them.]

And as the car drove towards Jormungandr Security Services' main building, the company emblem's of a vegvísir displayed proudly for all to see as a large metal insignia, Serena's grin turned downright feral as she stared at the M-Doll Soldier. "... Well now… that is very good news."

-O-

As their car rode the elevator down to the underground garage Serena had dug for JSS' use, she couldn't help but feel some pride on what she had accomplished for the company in this year and a half. Sure, it didn't hold a candle compared to her Force Nest, but that hadn't been literally built, merely purchased and programmed through a digital medium, and thus popped into existence fully made, even if she did take time customizing it afterwards.

In contrast, Serena got to watch JSS' main base of operations being raised from the ground up, walked through the half-finished halls and rooms as she gave instructions to the construction company on how to make everything, from the above ground to everything below. She had seen digging machines carve away the earth beneath to fit the large military barracks where her "men" would rest, their gear and vehicles would be stored… It reminded Serena of the times she'd admire any Gunpla project she would spend long periods of time building, from the sketches on her old notebook to the finalized build standing either atop her table, or inside GBN, at full size.

It was… good.

As she mused about things, the final security door for the elevator opened, allowing her current SUV to finally drive into the garage, and for Serena to bask in the final product of all the work done here.

Money hadn't been spared when designing the company's underground installations, and it certainly showed on the appearance of the garage: metal walls and ceiling, polished concrete floor, plenty of tools and equipment, and enough space to easily fit their escort cars, APCs, trucks and even Serena's personal ride comfortably, plus enough room for the repair team to walk around, such as they were doing now.

Both teams, as it turned out.

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

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

And sure, maybe using said machines wasn't something allowed by the law… but it wasn't forbidden, either, so Serena decided to simply go "fuck it", and brought them in anyway. The workers didn't complain about the help, and didn't blab to anyone, so win-win!

Plus, it's not like Serena was keeping jobs away by using the Haros, Karels and automatons: everyone currently being employed at JSS outside of the military unit had been pulled directly from the impoverished sectors of Chryse. People with plenty of experience but that had been let go for one reason or another, given another chance to earn their keep. Pay was fair, benefits were good, and the hours were generous.

A good job for good people, that's what Serena wanted to offer. And good people she got.

Granted, she did run extensive background checks on everyone that joined in, with Aria helping to parse for any falsified information. She was generous, but not stupid. Thankfully, everyone had come through clean, and their work interviews had hit the final nails in the coffin of Serena's worry: every single one of the hires had turned out to be good, decent people.

And this was the crowd she was met with, once she exited the SUV and entered the garage proper.

"Well, you lot seem to be fucking about nice and easy!" she shouted to everyone present, a big grin plastered on her face and hands on her hips as she stared down at the workers who had only just now noticed their boss' arrival. "And here I was, ready to give you all a bar night as a reward for all the hard work!"

"Says the boss who went clothes shopping for the entire day!" hollered back one of the engineers, an old man with a grizzled gray beard and a scar over his missing right eye. "Picked anything good up at that joint?"

"That's for me to know, and for your tyke there to fantasize over, Geralt!"

Said "tyke", a young man named Rikard who Geralt had taken under his wing as a student of sorts in the company, let out an indignant sputter at the comment, just in time to drop the wrench he had been holding atop his toes. Rikard let out a yelp and began hopping atop one foot while he held his other up, only to collide with an automaton and topple to the floor. "Fucking–!"

"Watch your fucking mouth, kid, I don't pay you to swear, I pay you to work!" said Serena with no bite, her grin still wide as she lazily pointed a finger at the young man. She let the silence hang for a second, before suddenly, the entire garage broke out in laughter, including Serena herself. Finally, however, the ex-Diver shook her head and returned her attention to the mass of people. "But seriously, if you guys are done here, go grab some lunch or something. Delta Unit won't be back until the end of the day, so get yourselves a two-hour meal break and rest up. There'll be plenty of work once they come back!"

"Aye, boss!"

"Nice, keep at it!"

And with that, the ex-Diver waited for the M-Doll that had come with her, plus an extra that had been waiting for her arrival, to pick up all the shopping bags she had brought over from the tailor, before walking off to the elevator at the back of the garage. Once inside alongside the robot soldiers, Serena hit the button for the main floor, and waited patiently as the armored metal box rose from within the underground all the way up to the building on the surface.

Thankfully, the ride was not long at all: in barely a minute, Serena and her two companions were allowed to disembark amidst the interior of JSS' headquarter, in a nondescript white hallway with only a few signs to indicate directions inside it, and also a janitor swabbing the floor, who stopped his work to wave at his boss before resuming his task.

Waving back with a smile in return, Serena promptly took off towards her office, only stopping to direct the M-Dolls to her apartment inside the building (hey, she couldn't live in a cave in the middle of the desert!). Just like the elevator ride, the walk did not take long, until finally Serena was standing in front of the double wooden doors for her office's reception.

Prime Italian maple, that shit smelled pristine.

Just as she was about to open it, however, a thought crossed her mind, which renewed her mischievous grin once more. "Hey Aria, you listening?"

[Obviously,] answered the AI through the building's PA system, though at a low-enough volume that the sound didn't carry to the next room.

"Bueno! So, what's my dear assistant doing right now?"

[Currently distracted with eating the parfait you recommended to her, why?]

"No reason…"

Cracking her knuckles and rolling her shoulders, Serena strode forward, raised one leg in the air…

WHAM!

"RISE AND SHINE, BABY!"

"GWABUHAHABHUH–!"

And kicked open the doors with enough force that they swung outwards completely and smashed against the wall, the banging noise echoing loudly inside the room.

It also had the consequence of scaring the pants out of the bookish young administrative assistant that. Serena had hired, her frazzled hair growing even more so, and her treasured parfait almost falling off the table before the woman desperately grabbed it out of the air.

"Hey there, Nadia, how you doing?" asked Serena shamelessly, her fanged grin clear in sight as she stared down at her assistant with arms crossed. "I see you went to the place I told you about!"

"B-Boss, why do you keep doing this?!" asked the young woman in return as she readjusted her glasses and turned to stare at her boss with those big puppy eyes of hers. "We're gonna have to call the repairman again!"

"Eh, it's fine, we got a discount set up already."

"Only because you keep breaking the locks so much…"

Chuckling at the muttered reply her ears picked up, Serena walked past her assistant and gave her hair a good ruffle, the young woman letting out a little eep! when her boss' large hands wrapped almost fully over her head. Once said hand was removed, Nadia looked up, and to her surprise, was met with a surprisingly warm smile from her boss.

"Thanks for the hard work, Nadia," she said softly, before turning around to walk into her office proper. "You can take the rest of the day off. Go check on your brother, 'kay?"

And with that, she disappeared behind the doors of her office, leaving a bewildered assistant behind staring at where her boss stood, before her eyes fell on the sealed envelope resting atop her table, which Nadia knew hadn't been there until moments ago.

"... Maybe a home visit would be good…"

-O-

As soon as the doors closed, Serena closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, before promptly reopening them right as her pupils shifted to the color of golden nebulas, and her body came alight with Permet markings.

"Alright Aria, time to work, let's go."

[Roger that.]

While Serena pulled off her coat and undid her tie, her office began to lock down completely, both physically and electronically, dozens of different security measures coming to life as the ex-Diver readied herself for another bout of "extra-legal" work. At the same time, several panels on the walls retracted, revealing the plethora of screens filled with a dizzying amount of information that no normal human could possibly keep track of… but that for an AI, would be no problem. And speaking of said AI…

On the furthest wall, the biggest of all screens fizzled for a split-second, before the image of her closest companion appeared in full definition, staring expectantly at her "boss".

Creating Aria had come to Serena in a sudden moment of clarity during one of her sleepless nights. She had remembered Haroro, Font Baud's AI companion from Crossbone Ghost, and realized that a companion like that would have helped quite a lot in Eldora, especially with figuring out its true nature. So, with that bout of inspiration in her head, Serena spent several months coding Aria's being, with a little help from some EL-Divers she had met in the game: Sarah, Eve, and a boy who apparently inhabited an actual Gundam in the real world, named Rize. And now, the result of their collaborative work was staring right back at Serena, just like the latter was staring back.

Naturally, Serena had made her to be Eldoran, so as to never forget the things that went down there. Specifically, she modeled Aria after a particularly fierce and free-spirited Eldoran warrior she had met in the first village she had visited before… well, before.

She had a lithe, well-built body, more athletic compared to the power-build of Serena's avatar-turned-real body, and covered in silver-colored fur. Her eyes, cat-like in shape, were amber-colored, and seemed to almost glow, not unlike Serena's own when she utilized her Innovator cosmetics. Her hair was cut short, and colored just like her fur, and two long ears protruded from beneath the hair, a mix between a cat's and rabbit's ears, lazily twitching at random.

And to complete her appearance, she of course was dressed in the common Eldoran desert clothes of a large overcoat atop of baggy desert clothing, boots, an armored chest plate, armored, fingerless gauntlets over her hands, and a face mask covering up the lower half of her face.

[You look good,] said Aria with a cocked eyebrow, even as she watched her creator remove more and more layers of clothing. [Would be nice if you kept them on for longer than when you're forced to.]

"Eh, just cause I like them doesn't mean I'm gonna be forced to use them all the time," replied the Diver nonchalantly as she further undressed herself, until finally all that covered Serena's torso was her sports bra, the rest of her clothes now resting atop the back of her chair. Now half-undressed, Serena extended her arms outwards, and from them, multiple strands of blood stretched forward and connected the Neos woman to some of the computer terminals now exposed inside the office. "Alright, hit me. What have we got so far?"

[Well, first, here's some interesting files I picked up from a few shell companies I dug through.] With barely a moment of wait, Aria pumped the files directly into Serena's mind, the ex-Diver merely frowning under the onslaught of data sent to her brain. [Also, I think you'll be happy to know Gjallarhorn still doesn't know about us specifically. They've been trying to track down Solomon and the database's signal for quite a while.]

"And I take it you're running rings around them?" asked Serena idly, even as she parsed through the files in her mind. They were indeed interesting, yes, but in a more mundane way: money and paper trails, fake IDs and who they truly belonged to, bank details… paperwork, mostly, though it did let Serena see how many pies Nobliss had his obese fingers stuffed into.

[Pretty much. Poor bastards, they don't even know how outmatched they are…]

"Sure, Narcissus… anyway, what about Gjallarhorn itself? Any luck breaking in?"

To that question, Aria's response was to heave out a sigh, put her hands on her hips, and shake her head. [That's a no-go, and believe me, I tried. But all the wirelessly-connected servers have just publicly-available information. All the military and black ops material is locked in local access-only servers, and I can't piggyback through something else into them. The only way we're getting in, is if you bring me to those servers and plug me in, so until then, we're shit out of luck.]

With a huff, Serena dismissed the files, and opened her eyes to stare at the AI. "Well, who knows, maybe someday I'll get invited to Vingolf, and we'll get to break open all their nasty secrets."

[Sure, and maybe you'll get to steal Bael from right under their noses, piss on Rustal's windshield and graffiti your name on the side of a colony cylinder.]

"Ooo, now there's an idea. Note it down for later."

Smiling teasingly as she watched Aria huff out a non-existent breath in what the ex-Diver could imagine was half in annoyance, half in defeat, Serena gave a tug to the blood lines on her left arm, which caused a virtual hand to appear next to the AI and pat her on the head. "There, there, it's alright," Serena said teasingly, vanishing the hand just as Aria swatted at it. "Alright, what about our push to the colonies?"

With a wave of her hand, Aria brought forth a few more files, this time keeping them out of Serena's head and instead displaying them on the monitors. [The worker movements have been accessing the database quite frequently, and I've heard more than once that people are interested in what Solomon has to say. Granted, the colonial authorities are cracking down on people, but it's not exactly easy to do so, bar shutting down the communication grid.]

"Which even they aren't stupid enough to do, thank fuck… and the relief supplies?"

[Smuggled in as well as they can be, along with the official aid we've managed to get authorized to them. It's helped, but it's just a stop-gag until we can actually get the administration to change things.]

"Alright… keep pushing them in as best you can, then, and run as many rings around the cops as you can."

[Of course.]

"How about construction of the Red Comet? How's my baby going?"

Lightning-fast, schematics of the Acidalium-class interstellar ship opened up right in front of her, along with recent images of the actual ship being built, and its current state of its rate of completion. [Going well, thankfully Teiwaz upheld their end of the bargain and have kept the shipyard hidden, meaning we managed to ship the more sensitive technologies like the Minovsky Drive and Umbrella Stealth System without having to worry about being discovered. At the current rate of construction, the Red Comet will be finished in about eight months, give or take a week or two for margin of error. After that, we'll just need the license and paperwork to legally transfer it over to Mars, and she'll officially be in business.]

"Nice, means we'll have an extra warship for the trip."

Rolling her neck a bit to work the stiffness out of it, Serena gave another tug on her blood tendrils, before lengthening them a bit more to give her more room for movement. As she did so, the tendrils slackened and fell to the floor, not unlike regular computer cabling, were it not for the fact they were made of solidified blood wires that somehow did not stain the carpet.

Being a Neos was fun!

Finally, Serena approached the wall with the largest amount of monitors, and cupped her chin in thought. "Alright, prime time stuff. Let's see those dossiers you promised me."

Without a vocal reply, Aria pulled the related files up. Quite literally, as it were, since the AI grabbed folders from out of frame and pulled papers from within them before tossing said papers towards the monitors Serena had been staring at. And thus, one by one, the dossiers opened up and arranged themselves side by side in a wall of virtual paper, displaying in them names, photos, detailed information of their past and events related to them, their current whereabouts… all very thorough, and that would probably land Serena in several lists back home.

Oh well…

Instead, the ex-Diver let out an appreciative whistle as she perused the dossiers, drinking in all the information in them. "Damn, you worked hard on these!" she said happily, a twist of her wrist causing one specific dossier to enlarge and display over the others. "Though there do seem to be changes…"

[Yes, I noticed them too,] replied Aria as she (again, surprisingly literally) walked over to the same monitor and plucked the enlarged dossier from mid-air, holding it in front of herself like one would a normal piece of paper. [Backstories that don't match, missing people or factions… at least the bulk is still the same, makes our meta-knowledge still somewhat useful.]

"True…"

Still, Serena was at a disadvantage in some of these pointers. Sure, she had watched all of Iron-Blooded Orphans, all fifty episodes, but there were also the side stories. There were only two, those being the GEKKO manga, and the Urdr Hunt game, but each of them had their own issues: the former had been canceled halfway through, with no proper resolution to its story, while the latter hadn't even released back home. Hell, she hadn't even seen recent news of this game at all before she got sent here! For all she knew, Urdr Hunt had been canceled as well, never seeing the light of day even after all the promotional material released for it! Maybe all the Gunplas had been thrown into a landfill like all those E.T. cartridges down on New Mexico, who knows…

But regardless of the half-made existence of those projects… well, they certainly seemed real here, even if only through bits and pieces, which meant that one way or another, they'd play a part in the plot, and thus Serena would have to plan around them if she wanted to survive, and not end up deleted from life by a mass of metal crushing her into red paste.

… Maybe she should avoid angering Suletta…

[Well, how do you want to do this?] finally asked Aria as she returned the dossier to its place hovering inside the screen, the AI's amber eyes peering deeply and closely at Serena. [Who are we starting with?]

Idly, Serena took her focus away from Aria and turned towards the dossiers again, once more scanning over them briefly, before finally tapping another file.

"How about we ring the stray dog first?"

-O-

A week later…

"Dinner's served, come get it!"

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

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

And not a moment later, both of the men walked into the cantina, Volco carrying a briefcase and walking while braced against his crutch, and Argi with his common slow and steady steps, both moving towards the table while Liarina filled bowls with soup and set them down onto the trays filled with the rest of the food, and Nanao took two trays and carried them to the table. "Good morning, young masters," greeted the maid to the two young men, a serene smile on her face as she set down the food trays atop the table just as Volco and Argi sat down, before stepping back with a twirl to pick up the other two. "I hope you've rested well enough for today."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"… No… No, I haven't."

His tone wasn't angry or confrontational, but she could tell the young Warren was frustrated, especially when his brow furrowed and his eyes squinted just slightly, a tell-tale sign that he was accessing the Memory Chip inside his brain. "I've gone through all the intel we have, and every database I could get access to, and even then I couldn't find anything on this 'Solomon'." Carefully, Volco pushed aside his bowl to open space in front of him, which he quickly occupied with the briefcase he took from the floor and set down atop the table, and when opened was revealed to hold a small laptop. "I also accessed their offered database, and it is surprisingly meticulous, a lot more than I expected a random political firestarter to have access to."

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

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

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

"Of course."

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

And then the screen went black.

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

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

"Y-You're… Solomon? But… H-How—"

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

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

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

"Invitation?"

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

~O~

There we go, another rewrite down!

Fucking hell, these take a while… while at the same time taking less time than I thought I did!

But yeah, this time we didn't have much to change, bar the middle. Less grimdark introspection, more Serena acting the way she is supposed to!

Also a cameo from the bestest baby ever, bless her heart, also I made them married already EAT SHIT, BANDAI, THE LESBIANS ARE OFFICIALLY TOGETHER IN THIS STORY!

Also, while I am aware that Urdr Hunt was already out by the time Witch from Mercury came out in terms of the real world timeline, I'm fucking with things a bit in terms of in-universe timeline, and am declaring this: for the canon of Re:Rise when set for this fic, while WfM has been fully released, Urdr Hunt has still not come out.

Btw, rest in pasta Urdr Hunt, you barely lasted a year. At least the MS and MA were pretty cool.

Thanks for the free content, fuckeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer–

Now, onwards to the rewrite of chapter 3! And we start with a pretty big change already, because I'll be shaking up the roster of Goetia pretty well!

Stay tuned, and until then, fellas!~