Chapter 6 — Sister, Can You Spare a Dime?

Was it the right thing to do?

When I faced Suzumi with the truth was an indecisive choice, but it was necessary to make.

The inevitable revelation was approaching during that time, fueled by whispers and rumors — that the news helped fan the flames — that had swirled around me.

Whatever a teacher meant to this world is way more than just teaching people things, from what I could tell.

Whether my decisions were the right call, I stand by them nonetheless, in a game with no cards to play; Here's to hoping I did the right thing. Here's to lady luck guide my hand. Now, when did I hear that the last time?

Oh well, Suzumi at least seemed to be okay with it when I called her up, and that was a major weight off my chest.

"Phew, glad that's out of the way," I breathed, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. With the Shittim Chest displaying the map, I took separate notes down for my pip-boy and a notebook with me on the more interesting destinations for about a while now after my trip. Of the places to check out, well, most of them consist of the fancy bars to the lower-end dive joints.

"Alright, enough rest," I said, grinning.

"Time to get down to business!"

That meant for the early morning sun cast over me as I oversaw repairs and construction in various parts of the war-torn district under Momoka's eye. Which never really meant much when she spent her time lazing around when not watching me, and that was just only when she told me what to do before going off somewhere.

The work itself was mundane when everything went smoothly — the equivalent of sprinkling smashed chili on a gecko stew, trying to make it palatable but not exactly enjoyable.

My experience managing construction during the Arizona capital's expansion and the lower levels of Hoover Dam certainly proved advantageous here. The crew, under my command, followed my instructions without a question. Whether because of genuine respect for my expertise or simply a preference for avoiding my wrath, their silence ensured the tasks progressed smoothly. Under intimidation, that deterred them from daring.

I know, I could hear them chattering away when I'm also out of their sight. I let them be, since progress hasn't slowed.

Regardless, the system I taught them to follow worked.

Still, it feels somewhat off, downright wrong, for me to watch the workers who are not even a fraction of my age engaging in strenuous labor.

So, with a grunt and a bone-jarring thump, I dropped the sack filled with cement mix from my shoulders onto the growing stack; the sound echoing through the dusty air.

Raising a calloused hand, I silenced the rhythmic clang of hammers and the rumble of concrete mixers. "Alright, everyone," I rasped, my voice hoarse from the dry air and along an airy whistle out. "Gather 'round, listen up."

As the workers, their faces etched with fatigue, went and huddled close, a sense of accomplishment mingled with clear exhaustion in their eyes. "We're pushing on a good pace," I continued, my voice firm but laced with respect. "At this rate, we can fix this plaza just before midnight rather than tomorrow noon before lunch, but there's still the last push ahead towards the plaza itself, good thing bullet holes and craters need filling, and we're done."

A low murmur rippled through the group. I held up a hand, silencing their concerns. "Before we tackle the last stretch," I said, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips, "everyone needs a well-deserved break. Two hours for the pace you held, then we get back to it. We should all be done just before midnight."

This time, the murmur transformed into a chorus of relieved grumbles and nods of agreement. The girls dispersed, seeking shade or a cool surface to rest their weary limbs. A wave of satisfaction overall of them as I spot those tired smiles hyping one another.

Now this is better than behind a desk. Physical labor, not whatever mental torture they called as signing documents.

The beads of sweat on my forehead as I wipe them away.

As my hands slowly descended from my face, I suddenly noticed the workers grouped up near the makeshift entrance of the site. Something was happening. I made my way closer and behold a robot sporting the cleanest, pressed suit I see.

As my hands retreated from my weary face, faint chatters snagged my attention. It emanated from the makeshift entrance of the site, where the workers had gathered in an unusually tight cluster. Curiosity gnawed at me, urging me closer. As I edged forward, a glint of chrome caught my eye. There, amidst the dust and debris, stood a figure unlike any I'd ever seen. It was a robot; it appeared clunky, utilitarian bipedal machines I was used to, but that's just the end of it since this one sported a suit so pristine I can't help which poor fool the tin-can take it from.

"Woah, woah, who the hell are you? Are your camera sensors in a broken, this a construction site."

"My name is neither of your concern, what you need to trouble yourself is I am representative for Kaiser Construction. We simply ask you to have your people leave the premise." The bot spoke eloquently, I say. If it were me, I'd guess the personalities were copied from a human.

But that still ain't nothing but a coward inside a toaster, if that's the case. Or just an A.I based on a personality it learned and copied from. Also Kaiser? Really? Sounds like someone is a history nut. Well, all empires are bound to fall someday…

I blankly said in return for that information. "It just ain't your sensors but your entire data bank… Well, how about go on and beat before I beat every byte out of that OS you're running on." One step forward I took is all it took and soon more of those hulking man-man monstrosities came out of the trucks, now larger frames and weapons — no suits this time.

"I'd suggest to refrain any physical threats, for your sake." The head, or whatever it looked like one, looked to me. It simply replied.

As the moments passed, a growing mass of onlookers enveloped us. Their presence faded into insignificance, as my focus remained fixed on the metal-heads. A terrifying aura emanated out of me, seeping into the air around, filling the atmosphere with a spine-chilling tension from the looks of the crowd.

Just then, a voice made a pathetic attempt to shout. "Everyone disperse!" Kirino…

"Sense, w-what's going on here." She got in the way of me and this Kaiser bot. The question tumbled out of her mouth, punctuated by a stutter that betrayed the usual confidence in her voice. Her head is like a chicken looking back and forth, eyes panic, not even sure what to do.

"Kirino, take this uh… Walking beer money out of my sight before it ruins my morning any more and I have to take him in myself… At the nearby scrap yard."

"Threats are no need for people in our position."

"Oh, I don't make threats, I am stating a future where I get free money. Maybe treat everyone here for lunch might as well."

The world seemed to slow down as I locked sharp eyes to sensors with the Kaiser bot. A silent battle of wills unfolded. Channeling it into a stare that could melt steel with its terrifying presence. The effect was instantaneous. Kirino, caught in the middle, let out a startled gasp and stumbled back.

The bodyguards, previously indifferent, tensed like predators sensing a threat. Their hands twitched towards their own weapon's trigger, the metallic clicks echoing in the sudden silence.

Machines twice as large as I with high caliber weapons aimed at blank range over a single target. It was quite a pathetic sight.

The atmosphere became intense, filled with a potent anticipation and fear, causing even the crowd to retreat to a safer distance.

"Now I am wondering how someone with such… crass attitude ever come to the position you're in."

I was close. Close to make The Warrior and Vargas proud. Just an inch close.

'that so?" I growled in a menacing tone.

The Kaiser bot froze in place, its whirring grinding to a sudden halt. A tense silence descended as its green optical sensors, discolored to a bright red, flickered erratically, scanning me with a newfound urgency. The fact surprised that it is even possible for them to react with a sort of fear that way, actually.

Took them long enough to find out.

A paper. That what all it took. The representative pulled from his coat pocket and extended his hands to me. "Keep it, It lasts longer." His artificial voice sounded.

So this was it. Outsourced. Signatures, names and all. Lists of the owners of the shop, even the guy who owned the land, sold us out.

"Guess that's it." The weight of finally off as my shoulders sag. With a small smile, I reached as I cup the robot's face, even it flinched when I did just as its body guards once more aimed their weapons at me.

"Sensei?" Countless murmurs and sharp intakes of breath, accompanied by a symphony of hushed whispers from a distance.

With a small smile, I reached out and cupped the cool, metallic face of the robot. It flinched slightly, as if surprised by my touch is some possible for a robot, while its bodyguards once again aimed their weapons at me.

The tense air was thick with hushed whispers and gasps from those observing from afar. Despite the tension, I gently patted the robot's cheek, feeling the smoothness of its surface. Yep, it's a suitable material for repairs.

"You go enjoy yourselves," I whispered, my words barely audible amidst the intense atmosphere.

"Alright?" I concluded. "Because you better unless I'll come back to see whether you have brass balls or not because I won't sell them. I'll turn 'em into bullet casings instead."

After that, I turn back and call everyone to pack up and leave.

I walk through the metallic crowd quietly. Everyone else following behind my lead.

"So, how'd you get on?" A voice said. Momoka. Such nonchalant tone to just speak after her own being ousted from a job.

"Thought you'd at least stay on-site." I muttered. Right now, I really trying to keep myself from blowing up. Her ditching and only just now appearing was not helping.

"Oh, I did. I also watched an idiot attempt to provoke military-grade robots into shooting themselves. By the way, good work on that. You gave them quite a scare with them. I saw each movement their watching to you. Not sure how you pulled it off, but it's impressive you could tense them on their toes enough flinching every time you look at them."

"Why thank you." I looked back down at her.

"Just a drag that we have to leave though."

"So, we aren't going to let them take the credit, right?" This was too coincidental. They show up nearing completion and suddenly we have the order to leave the premise under a signature. Now, something with sounds off.

"I'll be the judge of that," she said, her voice muffled by the bag of potato chips she was casually munching on. With a nonchalant gesture, she held out her hand, motioning that I should pass her the contract.

As I handed it over, she peered into the depths of the bag, seemingly absorbed in her snack for a moment. The crinkle of the chip packet was the only sound in the room as she carefully scrutinized the document, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Come on, Momoka. Even you saw how dirty this whole thing is."

"And we can't do anything if they're really behind the signature nevertheless. Sensei, this looks bad, I know, not an idiot around here called what they did to us was conniving."

After what felt like an eternity, she finally withdrew her hand from the bag, now free of chips but holding the contract. Her expression remained inscrutable as she examined the paper, her eyes darting across the text.

With a deliberate nod, she handed the contract back to me, a hint of satisfaction in her demeanor. "Looks good," she declared, her voice clearer now.

Boy, what a disappointment… Practically made my hands clench my face for a moment to end with a deep sigh.

"It's legit. The signature aligns with what we had. I could have someone cross examined and- Hey where are you going?" She looked up.

I'm not going to stay and stand around while my people have their jobs stolen. Not on my watch.

Last I heard Momoka calling for me as I walked away; and towards Kirino and Fubuki. Just the right people I need to ask for help.

This whole thing reeks. It just doesn't feel right.

"Look, Kirino it's your…"

"Uwah, Stop it!"

"In." As stern as enough to drill through them, I'm not in a cheery mood. I entered this small van by the passenger seat and shut the door.

The duo seemed to look at one another, one afraid and another just a nonchalant sigh, but confused, as they had no choice but to follow my word. They owe me, and as Sensei, I've got authority here.

As they finally got in with the doors closed. One simple instruction, I told Kirino. "Drive. Don't ask."

"Hey, we're not done talking! Get out here!" I opened the door for Momoka's voice, usually laced with playful teasing, now held a sharp edge of frustration that I had no intention of delighting her with my attention. I slammed the car door back shut with a satisfying thwack, momentarily muffling her nagging. Her frantic figure materialized in the rearview mirror, fists pounding a light but insistent tattoo on the passenger side window.

"Hey, what am I going to tell Rin?! That we got outsourced!? The GSC got played?!" Her voice rose in pitch with each question, punctuated by the frantic drumming of her fingers. A wry smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Nothing." I said through the rolled-up window, my voice a low rumble that I hoped carried over to the pink-haired student. If I could hear her perfectly, then surely the soundproofing hadn't failed me completely.

"Get out here!" More banging from Momoka.

"Kirino drive."

"But-"

"Now."

As Kirino hit the gas, the small van finally moves, though not as quickly as expected.

But still, once we're off, I turned to the Valkyrie duo.

"Alright, now we're off," Fubuki finally said, her voice clipped and laced with a hint of impatience. "What exactly is your problem?" As I watch, her eyes narrow towards me, with a sharp glint reflecting in the sunlight.

"Fubuki, listen." I began, voice tight with urgency. "Sorry about what you saw. I know it looked bad, but the deal is…" I hesitated for a moment, rethinking about what had happened earlier. "It is bad. We got screwed over and I need your help…"

"You say it like it's a fact; do even have any at all proof?"

A wave of frustration washed over you. You let out a defeated sigh. "No, I don't." You trailed off, knowing it wasn't enough.

A collective groan filled the car. Kirino, slumped in the driver's seat, turned to face you, her brow furrowed with worry. "Sensei," she began cautiously, "this whole thing sounds far-fetched. Are you sure you're not just…".

"This not me doing this as a teacher, but me making sure my people get paid for this job. Kirino, Fubuki, Please. I need you both on this. You're the best I've got."

After making my final decision, I stood there, hoping that my words had truly reached them. There was silence, dominating utterly around. I could feel the tension in the rumbling car, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

If not for myself as a Sensei, then at least for the hardworking students who were eagerly waiting to receive their well-deserved cash or caps or whatever this city use as currency…

…..

"Arona, you sure this is the place?" The soft blue glow emitted by the Shittim Chest tablet illuminated my face, casting an ethereal hue as I carefully examined the intricate map displayed before me. The location depicted was a towering high-rise, its floors stacked one atop the other in a real fancy display it has going.

As I delved deeper into my investigation, it became clear that the owner of this land, the one who leased the plaza to shop-owners, held the key to find my answer. The answer to why they had lowballed us, to undervalue our worth and tossed away.

"That's the same signature and name listed on the citizen database, unless they have other properties not added. That's a good start." Arona answered. Find the rabbit hole and see how deep it goes.

I just need to talk to the owners. Talk; nothing more.

"What floor they are at exactly?"

"Well, Sensei, you're mistaken. They don't own a room there. The entire building is on their name."

Huh, a hotshot… Their wallet must be overflowing with caps if they own such a vast land. Alright, good. I'll remember this. A small grin cracked across my face as I retrieved my binoculars, eagerly scanning the perimeter. The sight of a few security guards patrolling caught my attention, their footsteps echoing faintly in the distance. The air carried a subtle scent of metal, blending with the faint aroma of freshly cut grass — and sweet pastries.

As I focused my gaze, I noticed the presence of surveillance cameras, their unremarkable appearance adding no surprise to the scene.

"Sensei, you sure you don't want a piece?" Just beside me, now Fubuki sat in the driver's seat. A strange circular bread they called a donut, motioning round and round at my face as I turned to her.

"Later, not hungry." I replied as I sat back.

"Alright then… Pass me the box." She stretched her hands across to me as I look for the second box of donuts for her. After passing over the box of pastries, I watched her devour a piece of the circular bread in just a second. Well, at least someone here is calm right now.

"You know, Sensei. You should really relax." Through the muffled munching, Fubuki suggested. To which I responded.

"I am calm."

"Uh-huh. I supposed that's one way to call it… Staring at a building for a while. So, therapeutic…" She snide.

"Kid, I gotta wonder…"

As the night deepened, the conversation between us drifted from one topic to another. Most topics would toss out references with amusement, while I furrowed my brow at names of these strange words and slangs that sounded like something a nomadic tribe from Death Valley would create.

One topic brought up was this sort of singer Arona and Fubuki kept calling a pop-idol — which in turn gave me a bad tinnitus instead of enjoyment when the duo decided for me to try some songs.

Who the hell would enjoy their fast singing!? It sounded like I was skimming through a book with each beat; and that's also a problem. They almost blow my eardrums off if it already wasn't from the constant ringing.

No, thank you. I'll stick with my type of singers.

"Sing me a song, Johnny Guitar;"

Of which, Peggy Lee's Johnny Guitar was on the NCR radio right now. I turned up the volume to let the sombre percussion of the guitar play and after sometime the duo I was in the van with fell asleep.

She always knows how to send people to dreamland. Kivotos' local are no exception.

It was quiet inside the van; the silence was broken only by a chirp of some king outside and the leaves gently rustling between the almost idling wind outside. As I clicked off the interior lights, plunging the space into near-darkness, a sliver of moonlight sliced through the cracked windshield, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

A dull ache, sharp and sudden, settled deep in my temples. It spread like a slow fog through my entire head, momentarily dimming the world around me. Tired…

…..

I looked back to the rear-view mirror

There was a canine, more importantly, standing on its hind leg, gently swirling its glass of whiskey with its… paws — whatever logic that operates with that made that possible.

I had a glass on my hand as well… A swig and it's empty. Taste good.

"Kaiser! They strolled in like they owned the place! Even threaten my receptionist to the pound. The nerve those people have! Told me they got an offer I can't refuse. Except I already shook hands with the GSC and they're too late." He huffed in discontent.

A momentary pause for the man to take a long sigh. "They left me with no choice. They shown me pictures of my wife while she's out wasting my wallet like there's no tomorrow and ah… eehh, my wife – I couldn't let them hurt her, I love her too much despite all of the headache she brings to me every morning. Maybe that's my weakness…"

Many people are, pal. You aren't the only one. The poison for all men, the only thing left to let luck do its thing and pray for the few that have a cure or find yourself settled with the one that will spell your name chiseled on a tombstone goodbye. I thought as I turn to sat down with him on the couch.

"Don't have a partner myself, but I see where you're coming from. Met many around the bottle to whet their whistle just to get away from the wife at home." I shrugged back. "Rarely ends well for both party."

Then here I am, at the third party, talking to a dog of all things. It helps at least with the charisma to convince him I have some degree of pain or knowledge to share.

"Wait, no it's nothing like that." He looked away from me for a moment with a flinch of his face of something akin to shame crossing his features. Clearly hiding something. My suspicion just piqued.

"No need to be modest. "

"It is nothing like what you think."

"Oh… I see where this is going… Please spare the details and just say if you're having an affair. They're using it against you, ain't right?"

"What?! I'd be dead by my own mother if she were to find out…"

"Then what?" I demanded, the words clipped and sharp. My patience, already frayed thin, snapped completely.

"…Y-you won't tell?" stammered the dog, its voice barely a whimper. A sheen of sweat, or perhaps dew, glistened on its fur.

I let out a long, slow sigh, the sound echoing heavily in the tense silence between us. A calculated pause stretched, thick with unspoken threats.

"Is it necessary to?" I finally drawled, each word laced with a dangerous undercurrent. The implication hung heavy in the air, leaving the dog to squirm under the weight of my unsaid promise — or threat.

So he did, after a few more attempts at my charisma for him to show me.

Under some fancy large bed fit for a king, too big for a dog, a wooden chest stood before me, its polished surface reflecting a warm glow. Delicate carvings adorned the four corners, some real fancy stuff must be inside.

Well, I found a leash, its worn leather. Alongside it lay a collar, the faint scent of a familiar friend lingering on its fabric.

Now things have become clear…

"They killed your dog as a warning… " and next was his wife if he doesn't play ball. Sons of bitches…

"No, we don't have a dog," He blurted out, a touch too quickly. His voice squeaked a notch higher than usual.

Wait, I slammed on the brakes, metaphorically, to a halt. Then what the hell is this?

"That's ahh… For personal use…"

Personal use.

Personal use.

A talking dog on hind legs… has a collar and leash… claims he uses it for personal use.

My eyes slowly widened as I came to realize what he originally meant. The leather pulsed with an unnatural rhythm; the edges seeming to blur and distort. It wasn't simply morphing; it was unraveling, revealing something that lurked beneath its unassuming guise.

No pet dog, but a leash and collar… But he and his wife are dogs…

I closed my eyes….

.…

When I opened them…

I saw it. My hands on the steering wheel.

Who could've thought… I'd end up back in the desert already?

Now, I was behind the wheels. My eyes catch the clouds of dust billowed behind me in thick, choking clouds, obscuring the fleeting image of the compound's barbed-wire encirclement and imposing guard posts in the side-view mirror blurred and dissolved.

As I drove off, the cracked desert highway stretched out endlessly before me, a mirage-like sea of golden sand shimmering for miles.

I, of all people, shouldn't be surprised at all.

I retrieved a compact tin can from the depths of my coat pocket. With a twist, I exposed the contents, feeling the faint crinkle of a brownish dried fruit against my fingertips. The chew I had was no ordinary one; its intense spiciness jolted me awake instantly.

I tossed the tin near with a makeshift cattle-prod and several cannisters of microfusion cell with duct tapes across with the writing "optimized" all laying by the dashboard.

"Sensei, was this all necessary?" Muffled by my coat, I pulled Arona out of or the Shittim Chest, and tossed it by the passenger's seat. "We could have just called Miss Rin to handle the contracting, you saw it for yourself the store-owners were tricked into signing the contract. It wasn't right, but the way you're handling this…"

Oh, well. I guess I had more urgent matters attended to. Being just completed my acquisition from an uncooperative third party who is difficult to reason with. So here we are.

"Let me think about it." I respond sarcastically. Without even a moment's hesitation with a dismissive wave of my hand, I made my stance clear. "No."

That meant liberating said papers, documents relating to their contract for the right to repair parts of Kivotos back to us, the GSC, from them. Again, still a waste of my time most of all. I could have handled it far better than… What I did earlier.

Still, another good day's work for a good pay. That's some satisfaction I got out of as well.

"Then why all of… that?"

Why all of this indeed? Go through the trouble at all.

Well, those walking tin cans, they have no manners.

Though, said tin cans need not be privy to my acquisition from them.

Not now, at least.

"I know they're type and I know the game they're playing at. If we send that report then it would take long for GSC to even deal with, let along understand the situation for those bipedal toasters to finish the job themselves and take the credit over our own work. I ain't betting Rin could even bother to deal with our trouble right now, given the other business higher on the priority list." I stated, my eyes briefly shifting from the road ahead to meet Arona's gaze through the screen. Her face, previously obscured, came into view with an unmistakable expression of trepidation. "Turns out those bipedal toaster played snake's eye."

"Kid, listen closely," I said, gripping the wheel as I took a sharp left turn. The familiar stretch of desolate suburbs unfolded before us, a familiar image. "It's not about the contract or the robots themselves. It's the principle. People like them, those… dumpster with legs strong-arm the weak, thinking consequences was just some myth. Back in my neck of the sand, we had a saying: 'Act tough, get treated tougher.' Seems they didn't learn that lesson – until now."

A wry smirk played on my lips.

"Looks like they all bark and no bite, huh?" I chuckled.. "Guess they weren't expecting someone like me to fight back. They'll learn messing with the wrong people doesn't come without karma just behind the corner." Ah, wasteland culture at its finest, I thought with a sigh. All bravado and empty threats.

Those who boast loudest often end up with their throats slit and tongues clipped, and either buried six-feet under or on display out on the streets simmering on their own pool of blood — sometimes justified, but mostly just hot air and maybe a shrug when all is said and done.

Still, in some cruel way, it served as a crude litmus test, separating the genuine threats from the blowhards.

Arona remained silent. Whether she absorbed my words or simply watched the clouds go by, I couldn't tell.

She's better off not knowing any more else.

"Arona, you saved the blackmail material that Kaiser got on the owners?"

"Yes!"

"Did you back it up with a copy?"

"Several already!"

"Good girl."

"Hehe, thank you."

"Did you look inside the folder?"

"No!" Good, I don't think I need to explain to her why the landowner has a thing to be on a leash being led around the park at night. Even if the guy is a talking dog standing on hind legs. What a strange explanation I'm going to have to listen to why later.

"How about the camera footage of Kaiser threatening the owner?"

"Copied and backups sent to Momoka."

"Very good." I mumbled back. "Good, very good." Several times over.

…..

"Sensei… where are we?"

The tires screech loud against the road as I hit the brakes.

"Home."

"That's… that's where you live, Sensei?" Arona's voice cracked, barely a whisper that escaped her lips. Her eyes welled up, threatening to spill over as they darted between the gaping maw in the roof and my face, searching for an answer. A hand instinctively flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp that threatened to break the fragile silence.

Well, she at least looked like she cared.

"What? No, this place ain't even mine. Well, it's a-"

"Then… You must have stolen it!" What a crazy idea she jump to, and fast!

"How do I steal a house exactly? I kicked the owner out?"

Arona seemed to actually believe me as each numerous blink of her eyes was like inches paved from the realization coming to her, and I couldn't help but regret my big mouth sometimes.

I kicked the already ruined door down once more with a kick as I introduced her in to my abode and to prove my point; I don't stoop down to steal someone else's home.

"Here… This here is a minefield. I still remember where I left them." I held the Shittim Chest to the living room, or what's left of it, partially sunken by the sea of sand. Each plot has a surprise partially buried under. "I had to stay the night here when I first arrived. Ain't much of a looker but this house, she does the job against the sandstorm."

Arona just gawked at my hands, lightly brushing past the surface to reveal the metal frame of an explosive mine.

"See?" I said.

After Arona discovered I had spent the night beneath a dilapidated house, it required a few more minutes of persuasion and reassurance that it's fine and I don't mind at all. The sight of the ramshackle structure, with its crumbling walls and creaking floorboards, left her concerned.

Gradually, my comforting words and gentle touch -on the screen display- eased her worries.

I watched the wave of emotions washed over Arona's face — the visage of somber worry etched in the drawn lines around her eyes as they stare back at me darkened. Hey, did her halo changed?

Well, that didn't matter when her voice, barely above a trembling whisper, questioned, "Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm not picky where I sleep under." Would be a great story to tell when I slept under a carcass of a Deathclaw once during a winter storm to keep myself from freezing.

"Sensei, I'm sorry…" Maybe not…

"For what? It's alright I don't – Wait are you accusing me of home invasion or are you pitying me for-"

"I am truly sorry for your situation."

"…"

I can't fault Arona for this. Being trapped inside a machine for who knows how long, no-one knew a lick of idea to open so that's up in the air. But that won't stop me from noting she is one strange bundle of emotions — wearing them on her sleeves. After that pity party giving me a digital make-believe pat on the back and shoulder, god knows countless of times Arona at least tried to lighten me up — Which is unneeded.

I started loading my haul from the old world into the truck.

"So this is Sensei's stuff… Before you arrive to Kivotos?" Arona wondered, the Shittim Chest propped up at some window frame for her to see.

"Uh-huh," I grunted, the grit of dust clinging stubbornly to my fingertips as I hefted a dusty, metallic case towards Arona. "Some of these are definitely older than they appear. This one looks just as heavy as you'd expect, but also the story it carried before it landed to me is just as interesting."

She leaned closer, as much as the screen let her, and asked. "What's that?" To which I answered.

"Hmm…" What is this again? Gotta jog my memory… It had something to do with The Hub… Oh, right, that gal that sells the heavy weapons.

"Well, back then. There were this group of people that go way back, probably before I was born, they call themselves the "Union of Atomic Workers" and as a group, they tend to keep to themselves like a tight-knit community that composed of the grandsons and granddaughters of steel workers on factories who created inventions based on somewhere long ago that made life just a bit easier for us, but ever so rarely they'd trade away some of their creations to neighboring communities."

"What did they create?"

Urk…

The words that came from Arona shattered my focus, leaving me frozen mid-movement. My eyes, previously scanning the jumbled cargo, became glued to the metallic case now jammed precariously between the G11 assault rifle and a crate of dusty milk bottles.

"This here is a… An old tech it uh… Used for landscaping and such. Gardening, if I could remember… Cleans something that isn't clean. I dunno much about it, never really had time to try it myself. But I remember It's actually built on the original that came far older, it was just improved with what they had at the time. As for the people who were responsible for improving it. They, uh… left," I said, choosing my words carefully.

"Something forced their hand, disagreements maybe, and they went their separate ways. I met some of them, good folks, every one of 'em. Still too bad they most likely won't be back together. Would have been a real treat to see them work their magic around a rocket launcher."

Yeah, forced their hands… By the freak melting on a monitor.

Oh, well. "There's no point in reminiscing about the past." I ended with a shrug. "Such is life like that in the old country, but you never get picky with what you have. You just accept it for what it is and try to learn from it. At least you're learn something of value – whatever that might be."

My eyes drifted subtly towards the A.I. Ignorance, they say, is bliss, and she seemed blissfully unaware. Despite my attempts to sanitize the story of the Union for her, a nagging feeling persisted.

"Here's something fun!"

With a rasp laugh, I pulled back the tarp more, revealing a hulking contraption from space. The weapon felt ancient, just from the chipping cyan and blue paint, yet just the design was so alien that it felt advanced. A league of its own in actuality. Its sheer size threatening to pull myself down with its weight when I hoisted with my hands with a grunt.

Thick, braided cables snaked windingly from the weapon's hefty butt. The wires continued their journey up the weapon's body, disappearing into the imposing, barrel-shaped chamber. A large, cylindrical canister nestled beneath the barrel, its smooth metal surface gleaming faintly against the yellow sun. Its connection to an intricate machine nestled near the trigger.

"Huh?" Finally forgotten about the Union by the look on Arona that she tilted her head, looking at the weapon.

"A Freeze-gun!"

"Woah!" Arona's grin widened to a full-blown gawk. The prospect of a weapon specifically designed for shaved ice was simply too tempting to ignore. In her mind, the only thing missing now was syrup and fruits — then she could finally declare it the ultimate weapon. Only its effectiveness judged solely on the quality of the icy treat it could produce. "Could you try it!?"

"Try it? Sure."

…..

The rest of the afternoon stretched out in a tense silence. The rhythmic rumble of the engine filled the car, a stark contrast to the void left by their broken conversation. Neither Ayumu nor Rin dared to break the ice, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

"Arona, could you open up that letter about our help, I think its in Abydos Correct?"

"Sure, Sensei." Arona answered quietly as she could. Not wanting to say anymore.

"And uh… Try not tell anyone about the…"

"Yes. Yes…"

"Good." I nodded.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues. The duo finally reached near city proper. Just behind them, a sight so bizarre it defied nature's logic. In the heart of the arid landscape, a colossal mountain of ice gleamed like a forgotten jewel in the fading light. Its impossible presence cast an otherworldly glow, with the orange sun casting above its surface.

"Sensei?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think the mountain will melt?"

"What mountain?"

"Oh, yeah…"

…..

The rhythmic clang of a distant welding torch echoed through the construction side. Dust motes, illuminated by the harsh morning sun. A satisfied smirk played on my lips as I strode onto the construction site, my boots crunching on the loose gravel. My students followed close behind, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and apprehension at the confrontation they knew was coming.

I got them all set for the show they're gonna witness.

"You missed me? Don't tell me your memory bank is that small? What… 12 Kb?" A loud hint of amusement echoed out of my voice as I said, taking everyone's attention. A chrome glint in the distance caught my eye. It was the Kaiser representative, his silhouette outlined against the canvas of a nearby open-tent as he went out.

"Guess who's back in business?" I announce with the biggest smug I could pull.

I stopped a few feet away from the toaster-that-could-walk, the manila envelope clutched in my hand as a trump card. The whirring of his internal machinery hitched noticeably. "Consider this your eviction notice," I declared, my voice firm. "While we appreciate your… efforts on this project, the results fall far short of the agreed-upon standards conditions set by the owner of this land."

The representative flicker of something akin to frustration danced across the reflective surface of his face. He was silent, probably hoping to find a crack through my bluff.

Too bad the envelope wasn't bluffing if I was just smiling over him. In fact, my smile grew even more when he looks inside to find several printed hard-copy of a certain negotiation turned brutal with their face clearly seen.

"Don't even think about claiming some technicality or a breach of agreement in the contract," I continued, a sly smile spreading across my face. "This isn't a bluff." I tapped the envelope meaningfully.

His metallic arm shot out, snatching the envelope with surprising speed. The whirring of his core escalated into a frenzy as he ripped it open. My smile widened as he unfolded the document, revealing a stack of freshly printed contracts. The revised terms, far less favorable to Kaiser, were spelled out in bold, black lettering. They were removed from the project.

If anything else, they should try to retaliate for a breach in contract. The provided hard-copy of pictures inside of them threatening the owner by a hidden camera should keep them at bay from any more strong-arm tactics.

Deflated, the representative barked out a series of harsh commands to his crew. Dejected figures moved to disassemble their equipment, their movements mirroring their leader's defeat. It was a real nice to my eyes.

"Oh, before you go, keep this, if you want to go over your threats once more…" I called with a mock sympathy, as if I ever had for this tin-can. He caught it between with his metallic hands, his internal grinding in a low growl. We locked eyes to sensors for a moment, a silent exchange that communicated the weight of his defeat.

"it'll last longer, or so I heard." A last envelope from me. He'll very enjoy what's inside of it. I tossed another envelope towards him, a cruel parody of a goodbye gift. A participation reward, more humiliating than getting nothing at all. "Paper seems to be a more reliable storage than whatever your internal memory banks are running on these days." I made an apathetic shrug.

Heh…

Soon these tin-cans shuffled out, bringing their equipment with them. Each rumble was like a sweet taste of victory.

Who could have thought being a degenerate would help save people's job. Case in point, having a secret camera all over the room to record a rather strange deed by the bed — or in the owner's taste, being led around the carpet with a leash — for… Reuse.

That's a thought I never imagine I would string up…

Alright, job well done. I clasp my hands together and announced.

"Alright, everyone! Let's finish this work! Treats are on Momoka after!"

Amidst the vibrant atmosphere, the air filled with jubilant exclamations of "Yeah!" and "Yay!". I observed the infectious cheer spreading among the students, their voices echoing in excitement. Turning to Momoka, a mixture of bewilderment and astonishment washed over me. "Wha!?" she blurted out. I just laughed at the whole thing.

"Okay, enough cheering and more making money!" Nods all around, some punching the air with their fists.

But before everyone scattered.

As my hands slowly descended from my face to take off my hat, I suddenly noticed the workers in front of me. They were not scattered or occupied elsewhere; instead, they formed a neat line directed towards me. Each one bowed their head, their safety caps cradled tightly against their chests, as if expecting something from me.

Were they expecting something? I furrowed my brow; the confusion etched on my face, no clue at what the line was for.

On a whim, I took a chance. Not sure what my thought process went into doing it. Maybe it was the nervous energy radiating off the crowd that piqued my curiosity about what would happen, or perhaps a strange intuition, but my hand reached out slowly. It hovered for a moment before gently landing on the highest point of their head.

With a hesitant touch, I moved my hand in a slow, rhythmic stroke, raising their head slightly with each pass and then lowering it gently. A rustle gently on their head as I ruffled their hair, careful not to be too rough.

A flicker of surprise, then what appeared to be gratitude, sparked in their eyes. It wasn't a human expression, but the way their gaze softened and their posture relaxed told me I'd done something right.

I might as well be since I am. I heard her purr. Wait, did she actually purr? Twice, no, Thrice I blink to make sure I was hearing things. Apparently she was purring alright.

Since I was already lost in thought, the sound went almost unnoticed at first. Then it hit me — a soft rumble. I heard her purr. Wait, did she actually purr? Twice, no, thrice I blinked, jolted back to reality.

Apparently nestled comfortably under the strokes of my hand, she was definitely purring alright.

The dam seemed to break. Before I knew it, a line had snaked its way far — all the way to the far entrance, each student patiently waiting for their turn to have their head patted.

Strange place I got myself in…

Oh, well.

…..

Somewhere in some dank alley, Sensei sat alone inside his parked truck, the dim light casting shadows on his face. He held up the detonator, his fingers tracing the embossed logo on its side, feeling the cool metal against his skin. As he squinted, the logo came into focus, revealing the fabled octopus.

I clutched the folder tightly in my hand, feeling its weight and the smooth texture of the paper.

The stench of tobacco wafted up, mingling with the musty smell of the truck's interior. Printed on the folder was the same unmistakable logo of the octopus with its tentacles spread out "Kaiser."

From the manufacturing plant where this detonator originated, to the construction sites it would be used on, Sensei pondered the peculiar range of Kaiser's portfolio.

By the looks of things, they got their finger on a lot of things.

Interesting.

Haven't seen an octopus before myself, can't wait…

He tossed it away to be dealt with later.

Currently, there are more important tasks that need to be addressed in his pip-boy.

The inventory list is acting up. It showed things I have no clue when I listed it or where it is even stored… Need to fix this soon.

A/N:

Attention!: This chapter is to be the final one in the story, which was significantly impacted by the hardware failure of the HDD that erased my original ideas.

Lol, I think.

This was a draft that was deleted and I managed cobbled together with the old saves that were left. I still wanted to publish this, so here it is. In its unfinished glory. Un-glory.

Hence why the chapter is short and most of all, missing parts I could no longer remember or replace with something with. So, sorry about that.

I shit you not; I remember writing an entire scene dedicated to that leash on the park thing with the owner, who is a dog that can talk, has and his also dog wife — who apparently is a dominatrix.

Also, this was rewritten in the middle of a huge presentation I was preparing while I write this. So sorry again.

On other news…

Now usually, I don't take requests, but…

Good friends on Discord (And also the people I borrowed Mika and S. Hoshino from since I wasn't able to pull gorilla queen and atsui) requested me to write a short non-canon story with Thirteen and Hoshino and a younger version of herself. Not sure how to even write the first-year Hoshino because the chapter she is in is still untranslated and not yet released on global.

The Metro Red Winter side-story is as of currently on hiatus because of the large portion of the story gone. Most likely cancelled and only mentions are going to be made going forward.

The Arona and Thirteen only story is making good progress. I don't want to spoil. Sorry.

Chapter 7 is being rebuilt since most of the original draft is gone.

For now, the non-canon double Hoshino story will be taking my time besides finals. Should the discord homies decide they want to release it, then I'll post it as a one shot story or right here. Lol, have mercy.

farhangibran15: Thanks for the review! As my style of writing being a slow burn... Means I get a lot of time to add characters that would be niche in terms of personality. Besides, her personality is -I'm not sure how to say- manageable, not explosive, or easy to compliment with Thirteen, considering his age and all for all the action he has went through. He's still an old man.

naufalrakha0104: That's right, I'm back!

kerrowe: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next after this lol.

Mnass: Thanks!