Thanks! We'll do our best to update the story once more at a quicker pace. Hopefully it won't be once a year.
On the other hand, Adam sems to be unduely impatient for as yet unknown reasons. Not sure what that's about, but it sounds bad for 11B's plans to point him torwards the Resistance base.
Adam's the type of guy that doesn't like to waste time, even for a few minutes. As shown where he's too lazy/impatient to use a perfectly serviceable hole that they smashed through in the first place (previous chapter). There's a reason for this but it's a spoiler.
Then again, it could be due to the concussion he had earlier.
It might be difficult to pin him down long enough to get that communication through.
He has his own mission which is important for him to accomplish, thus he won't just capitulate to the androids' demands/requests unlike in most "Human in NieR" fanfics.
Wooo! Really happy to see this fic still alive. With an interesting new take on adding a human to Automata (he isn't an SI and even has agency!) I'd been really looking forward to seeing where things went. 11B's reaction to seeing an entire base full of humans is going to be PRICELESS and I want that in my life. Please. Pretty please.
"Thinking about it, it's strange to see buildings that big still standing," Adam muttered to himself as he flew over Tokyo's vast ruined landscape, Veis in his arms.
Looming up ahead was his destination, the weather worn form of a skyscraper. TheNTT Docomo Yoyogi Building in fact, according to EVANS. The tallest building in the vicinity of their destination, and still recognizable despite the fact that going by old records, it had to have been thousands of years since it was abandoned.
Nine thousand years of decay had wrought less change to the city than he would have thought.
EVANS' voice on the internal speaker shook him from his musings.
"I am detecting a disturbance nearby: explosions and weapons fire," the AI subroutine reported. "Several auditory patterns do not match profiles of energy weapons used by currently known automata forces."
It wasn't just EVANS either who had noticed. Veis was already turning her head towards the source, reacting well before Adam had finished processing what EVANS had to say.
Was it Veis' people? Someone else? It was impossible to tell from that alone. Whoever they were, they were fighting the robots, and that made them potential allies for him and the Yamanashi Bunker. Or a bunch of greedy, raider assholes straight out of the typical post-apocalyptic media, ready to sink a knife in his back for any reason. Who knew what 9,000 years of passage had done to the remnants of society? He would just have to take some contingencies, and hope that the old shows were wrong.
"EVANS, we're going in to investigate, set up a NAV point with an overlook," he ordered.
"Be advised: Deviating from the main objective will put you and the android Veis Aksteiz in serious risk," EVANS warned.
Even expecting the AI's canned response, Adam couldn't help but sigh.
"Look, before I engage, I'll just drop Veis on the overlook, away from the firefight," he replied confidently. "Besides, you should know better given my track record of completing missions."
"I am well aware of your military background, as is your history of adding to mission parameters," EVANS stated. But despite the objections, the AI drafted a flight path on the HUD.
But that wasn't the end of it. Veis immediately turned to face the Lancer once he changed course. Despite her stoic expression, he was certain that her eyes were frowning behind the blindfold.
All he could do was stare at her for a moment before returning his attention to the view in front of him.
When Adam reached the NAV point atop a multi-story building, the sounds of gunfire had increased to thunderous levels, the echoes coming in so close they were dopplering.
Dropping off Veis, he walked up to the parapet, peaking over with the Javelin's long range camera. There was a group of people down the avenue, backs to a building and taking cover amidst the concrete rubble. A constant twinkle of muzzle flashes told of desperate defense, aimed downrange at a large force of familiar tubular machines that waded inexorably through the fire and heedless of losses.
A flick of an eye and the camera zoomed in on the defenders.
At least six people, one casualty on the ground. Four in ballistic vests and BDUs including the casualty, while only two of them were in tattered ponchos. The remaining two further stood out from the others with their bright red hair compared to the more muted colors of the rest. More importantly, the redheads were not fighters, focused on tending to the casualty.
Three combat effectives against an overstrength platoon of machines, no clear lines of retreat, the conclusion was clear. They were going to be overrun in short order.
"EVANS, highlight all the hostiles on my HUD," he ordered.
An aura of maso enveloped the Storm Javelin once more, followed by a deep hum that quickly built into a high-pitched whine as he prepared to fly into battle. However, before he could take another step, there was a tug on his left arm, stopping him in his tracks.
The Lancer turned around to find Veis holding him.
What? What are you doing, Veis?
Did she not want him to go down there? Well, he could understand why, but the Lancer was better armed than the besieged group, and at worse he could still fly. She had to know that much at least. He tried to free his arm from her grasp, but she clamped on to him like a vice.
Damn it, Veis!
He tried again, gently tugging at her fingers until at last she finally loosened her grasp. She took a step back as her hand fell away, the android looking at him with what he assumed was utter disbelief.
For a moment, he thought about reassuring her, about saying it'd be fine. But without the words either could understand, he could only shake his head. With a gesture for her to stay, he leapt, leaving Veis alone on the rooftop.
11B could only watch, filled with dismay as Ah-Dum just flew off without her, heading off into battle and all she could do was watch from afar.
Her fists slammed on the parapet, cracking the neo-concrete in her frustration.
"Damn it! What was he thinking?!" 11B yelled to the air.
She had finally managed to clear enough of the Logic Virus that she could speak properly, only to have the very reason for her existence fly away before she could get a word in. All to put himself into danger for the sake of saving those androids! That was completely unacceptable! If something happened to him, she would never forgive herself.
There was no catching up to him before the fighting started, but that didn't mean she couldn't do anything.
Tapping into her communication system, she opened a channel to known Resistance frequencies. Only to immediately grimace as a wave of static flooded her receivers, quarantine alerts warning of Logic Virus infestation threaded within the jamming. It wouldn't break through her quarantine protocols, or any other vaccinated android, but trying to punch a signal through, or pick up one in all that noise would severely tax any android's hardware.
If she still had her Pod, it's more powerful communications suite should have been able to… no, no point dwelling on might have been. She would just have to do and hope.
"To the six Resistance units currently under Machine assault, this is YoRHa No.11 Type B. You have reinforcement inbound. Single flier, no IFF. Check fire," she stated. "How copy?"
Nothing. Just more static. No change in the defenders posture that she could see.
Damn it! She cursed internally. Things were quickly going from bad to worse today.
That only left one thing she could do. The rooftop was scanned for a moment, but then discarded. Even if there were stairs, it'd take too many precious minutes. Jump? Even for a battler, at this height, the odds of critical damage to her legs were non-negligible. And wouldn't that be something if she went from unable to invalid?
Ah-Dum was getting closer…
She took a running leap. Powerful legs took her over the parapet, into a parabolic trajectory. It was barely a decision. Horizontal speed quickly bled into vertical, even with her limbs wide to create drag. Moments before impact, she flipped. Legs crashed down onto the asphalt, flexed, sending her into a forward tumble. One revolution. Two. On the third her legs flexed, kicked. And then she was upright again, racing down the street. Alerts within warned of moderate damage to her legs from the landing, but she pushed those aside, focusing only on increasing her speed.
Praying to catch up with him before it was too late.
The Small Biped's existence was cut short when the Type-3 sword flashed out, slicing it's barrel torso in half. Another approached from behind and she didn't hesitate; continuing the spin to stab the Machine through the power core, killing it instantly.
A glance to the side showed that Devola was doing well on her part. An overhead chop carving through a Stubby's head in a shower of sparks, her Type-3 sword splitting it apart before flowing into a spin that beheaded another approaching Small Biped with its serrated edge.
So far, so good, Popola thought, cleanly disarming another Machine before pulling her weapon back and running the now armless machine through. She didn't let her guard down however, not when there were so many more still coming from all sides. Neither of them had been damaged yet, but that could change soon.
Even with both former Overseers holding the right flank, their situation wasn't good. The other four members of their group were fighting with everything they had, the ground was a carpet of brass casings. But the neo-concrete rubble didn't impede the Stubbies much, and the specialized EMP rounds weren't doing enough damage to the Stubbies. There was a hollow thump as one of the fighters launched a grenade from her underbarrel attachment, the roar of detonation wiping out the targeted Medium Biped and its smaller escorts. More fire poured into the wake, tearing at the exposed Machines with bullets and explosives.
But more Machines clanked in to fill the gap. Despite everything, the encirclement tightened.
It was just their luck, she groused, sword already lashing out to carve open another Biped. A salvage run for the twins and a scouting operation for the Resistance fighters had ended with them running into each other. And from there, one of the members by the name of Roheda just had to get into an argument with Devola that ended up drawing the Machines from all over the place. If only-
"Roheda!"
The shout was filled with panic, forcing her to spare a glance behind and immediately grimaced. The android in question was sprawled on the ground, helmet all but caved in by a Stubby. His assailant clanked forwards, foot raised for a coup de grace.
A sword bloomed in its chest, Type-3 sunk to the hilt by the force of the throw. The Machine stumbled, falling onto its back. But Popola had already dismissed it, rushing towards the downed android. "Devola! Cover me!"
Removing the helmet revealed an ugly looking head wound, his dermal covering all but torn off and heavy denting on the cranial endoskeleton. Intact but not undamaged, her fingers triggering a diagnostic. Disconnected optics, a broken power linkage, nothing the self-repair systems couldn't handle. But they didn't have the time for that, not even with her kit bag.
Maso flowed through her, programs guiding the magic to form tools and implements finer than a strand of hair. She ignored the sounds of battle, blocked out the bark of guns, the clash of steel and the thud of Machine footfalls. In those frantic few moments, her world was just her instruments, and the telepresence data from within Roheda's metallic skull.
Then it was done. Crude, slapdash, but Roheda's eyes flickered with light as the connection went live. Pupils dilated, focused on her. His battle rifle, still clenched in hand, came up.
"Popola!"
Gunfire chattered, the weapon spitting death as Popola flung herself to the side. Sparks flew, static flickered on her vision. A metal claw hurtled past just where her head had been. Sparks flying from its joints, the Small Biped stumbled back under the hail, paused.
And then Devola's sword was spearing through its side.
She ducked low, avoiding the almost reflexive left hook before her foot slammed into the Machine. It flew off her blade, smashing into another Stubby in a deafening crash. But there's no time to check if it stayed down. Not when more Machines clank forward, clambering over their dismantled. Popola briefly met her sister's eyes, understanding and intent exchanged almost instantly.
Devola stepped to the fore, blade flashing as she leapt into the crush. Three Machines fell apart in as many seconds, the tide momentarily pushed back through sheer ferocity of her blade. Three seconds Popola used to gather her maso, channeling it all into spell diagrams that twirled around her forearm. At the crescendo, she thrust her arm forward. Instantly the spell ignited, turning into a forest of crimson spears that erupted from the ground ahead of them. Machines were pierced, perforated and skewered, thick armor plates insufficient against arcane might.
The surviving Machines paused, as if taken aback by the sudden destruction of several ranks. The Resistance gave them no such pause. Grenades sailed out, tearing even more chunks into their lines as Devola rushed forward. Magical constructs formed above her shoulders, large crimson fists lashing out in one two hooks, pulverizing Bipeds into scrap, creating an opening.
"Come on!"
The command came from more than one throat, and everyone complied. Even thinned, she could see more Machines pouring into the street.
She didn't see the one leaping from the windows above. Not until its shadow overlapped her sister.
Popola's world returned in a cascade of error messages and pain. Broken asphalt upon her back, the smell of smoke and burnt synth flesh strong on her nose. The crackle of fire piercing through deafened ears. The thump of Machine feet on the march.
Sight returned in time to see them. Of the Resistance members, none were still standing, those still active trying to shake off the effects of the blast. But the cleared path was gone, filled by Machine units. Too close. Too many. In all her recollections, things have never gotten this bad before. And then she found her. Devola, closest to the detonation, laid in a crater, still stunned.
No no nonononono-
Fear gave her energy, forced her upright even through the error cascade.
But a Medium Biped was already bounding forward, clawed fist raised to strike her sister.
"DEVOLA!"
Lightning rained from the heavens. Electricity danced upon metal shells, arcing from body to body, somehow finding their way into the sensitive interior. Ozone was joined by the acrid smell of smoldering electronics, spasming machines collapsing one by one as their insides burn out.
Popola stared, wild eyed, as the forest of crackling electricity danced between the Machines, yet not a single bolt touching her nor her sister.
And then she heard it. Barely audible above the dying crackle of fading lightning, a humming noise that permeated the surroundings. Both ex-Overseers tracked it skywards to an unfamiliar suit of humanoid armor. It was descending, a faint crackle of sparks dancing on its fingertips, surrounded by the barely-there corona of an energy field.
Before she could think to voice a question, it drew an oversized firearm and began firing down on the Machines, accurate bursts picking off the ones that hadn't been brought down by the lightning.
That spurred them all back into action. Resistance members picked themselves up, swords flickered back into the sisters' hands. Questions fell to the wayside as they fell back on the task of breaking through the encirclement. Once again, the Machine forces began falling to android ferocity. The former tried to rally, but their numbers had been whittled down, making the battle far more even. In that brief moment of fighting, Popola only managed a single meaningful glance at her sister, thinking the very thought they all were.
"Who the hell is that?"
Devola's reply was a brief shake of her head, only for both sisters to jerk as their maso sensors suddenly spiked.
Hovering above them, the armored android, for what else could he be, had both arms raised, practically glowing with magical energy. The right arm was encased in thick crackling frost, the other wreathed in flames.
The rime-coated hand swung out imperiously, hurling a storm of ice spheres at the largest concentration of Machines. Bipeds and Stubbies alike were caught in eruptions of frost, metal shells instantly icing over, stuttering to a halt as local temperatures dropped to near absolute zero in an instant. The other hand came down, and a flaming comet erupted from it.
The twins ducked just in time.
Superheated flame washed the frozen enemies, sheets of ice instantly sublimating. Solids became gas, expanded quickly, furiously, violently. All around shattered Machines were sent flying to crash on unforgiving asphalt, their formation rendered into a hissing crater. It was a sight that stunned the other androids.
But for Devola and Popola, it was something else. The way the armored android had used their maso, it was like nothing in current service. Not the clean programs a YoRHa Pod might use, or even resembling the constructs used by the long defunct mage-type androids. It was something… familiar, but each time they tried to call the memory, it was not there. Almost as if-
The sound of turbines dispelled the thoughts.
Even with the initial waves broken, the Machines were not done yet. Flyers were arriving by the droves, each carrying Gun Stubbies and more as they buzzed into the battlefield. Further down the road, Bipeds and Stubbies marched out from buildings, quickly forming up into another wall of metal.
"Arrrgghh!" Devola snarled, blade already raised in a guard position, crimson magic circles forming over her other hand. "This is getting ridiculous! Why are there so many?!"
"Just get ready, sis!' Popola shot back, shifting to a more defensive stance, red spikes lining her own magic circles.
But before anyone could move to attack, Machine or android, a translucent concave wall of shimmering energy appeared in front of the sisters and Resistance soldiers. Maso practically wafted from each barrier, its purpose and origin instantly clear to both sisters.
"They're shields!" Devola shouted to the Resistance soldiers, taking cover behind one as she unleashed her spells.
Enemy fire came in quickly, a barrage of energy bolts from the Gun Stubbies blanketing the area. But true to her sister's guess, every orb that struck the barriers was instantly flung away. Up above, the newcomer had a barrier of his own, glowing shield suspended on one hand, the other firing his heavy rifle to great effect.
Both sisters exchanged a look, nodding in silent understanding. Stalemate again, but with the help of the newcomer, things weren't as hopeless. At a three count, they moved, darting past the barriers to strike at the thickly clustered Machines, diving into the press of bodies to shield them from the Gun Stubbies.
Escape was still possible. And both were going to put their all into it.
The Lancer flew through the air, trading fire with the flying machines in the increasingly crowded airspace. Large caliber bullets went out, energy bolts came back, only judicious use of the Wind Wall projection kept the latter from connecting.
And yet despite the overwhelming numbers, they were doing surprisingly well. The flyers were falling almost as quickly as they came, and the ground team was still pushing through the machine assault. The situation wasn't anywhere lax enough where Adam could afford to be distracted, yet something kept niggling at the back of his head about the group.
It was the redheaded twins. The spells they were using were hauntingly familiar. And the reliance on swords over any kind of ranged weaponry too. That they were using both effectively against overwhelming odds, it reminded him of the Crusaders, back during the Legion War. But that was all the time he had for musing.
Maso flooded Adam's systems, surging through the palm emitters and the invisible tether of magical energy to the protective Wind Walls on the ground. The shield matrices pulsed with the fresh influx, overloaded… and catastrophically failed.
They burst as one, gale force winds erupting outwards and scything into the mechanical horde. Machines were abruptly bowled over, smashed into the ground or each other with a deafening crash.
But not loud enough to drown the screech of the threat alarm in his ears.
"INCOMING! INCOMING! IN-"
Something hammered into him like the fist of god, folding him half and throwing him hurtling through the air. His weapon spun away, locator beacon a smear of color under the force of sudden acceleration. For a single moment, his focus managed to narrow. Identify the flying machine buried against his chestplate.
And then they struck the building wall.
Adam's head snapped back, air driven from his lungs as stars exploding in his sight despite the cushioning gel. He barely felt the machine pulling away, his body peeling off the crater to crash onto the ground with a bone rattling impact. EVANS was droning in his ear, electronically flat sounds he couldn't understand. More light. And then-
Motion.
Darkness.
Awareness came screaming back with a jolt of liquid fire in every nerve. Noise.
And death.
"Wha-fuck!" The yell was punctuated by a surge of maso. Ice sprouted from his forearm, becoming a jagged spike. Physics did the rest as his lunge carried him forward, spearing the machine through the chest before it could brain him.
Heart thundering from stimulants coursing through his veins, he kicked the dead machine off, an avalanche of warnings, threats and more screaming into his mind. Already his sidearm was swinging in an arc. Six staccato booms, and three lesser machines fell, their facial domes shattered.
More came, and more died to gunfire and sheer unrelenting violence. But as the red fog of emergency stimulants faded from his mind, as rationality began to reassert itself, amber status lights broke into his awareness.
No no no, not good!
He immediately backpedaled, dodging another Machine that tried to crush him beneath its charge. The Kinesis shield was fluctuating, the Storm's thin armor already battered. His heavy pistol dangerously low on ammo and he was still on the ground. A silent command returned a toneless blat, his thrusters whining piteously instead of flaring to life.
"EVANS?" He enquired breathlessly. "What's going on?"
"The crash has severely damaged the flight system," EVANS replied. "Restoration is currently underway."
"Make it faster then! We're almost naked here!" The Lancer exclaimed, cursing his carelessness. Even under the effects of stimulants, he shouldn't have forgotten just how poorly armored Storm suits were.
"More hostiles coming from above," EVANS suddenly warned.
"Fuck!" Adam jerked up to see a quartet of flyers already descending from the rooftops, easily distinct from their previous cousins by their sheer size alone.
Quad engines, gun turrets and wire cutters for whatever god forsaken reason. Worse were the passengers hanging underneath, detaching before he could do more than bring his gun up. Twelve sets of feet struck the ground with a bone rattling thud, throwing up clouds of dust that did little to conceal the glowing eyes that honed in on him.
As if the universe wasn't done yet, a dozen more walkers erupted from the concrete and brickwork, smashing through walls to join their rusted brethren in the growing encirclement.
There was a pause. A second where the gathered forces looked upon Adam, just long enough for him to truly appreciate the state of his situation. No flight. His shields were down, his assault rifle lost in the battle somewhere. His only remaining assets were a near empty heavy pistol and depleted maso reserves. All the while surrounded by a horde of red-eyed machines. He did the only thing that came to mind.
"Well that's just typical."
"#$%&+@^!!!"
The machines attacked as if on cue, the first wave of walkers surging ahead of the crowd. They were met with all the fury Adam could muster. Forks of electricity danced around his forearm, becoming a trapped thundercloud in his clenched fist. With a swing, lightning hurtled from the skies, striking the lead machines with an ear splitting thundercrack.
Metallic limbs jerked and spasmed, optics flickered and burst in a shower of glass. The machines stuttered under the lightning assault, seized up, and detonated as one.
But neither storm nor death deterred the Machines.
More piled on, stepping over the scorched remnants of their vanguard without pause, their numbers splitting to flank him.
"This!" Adam panted, brow sweating under the strain of maso depletion even as he channeled the dregs, "Keeps." Frost iced over one arm, the other enveloped by spinning mists.
"Getting worse!" He roared, cutting both spells loose. An array of icy daggers erupted along his left flank, shooting off to perforate the approaching machines in a storm of death. Gale force winds burst along the other, gusts compressed into ultra-thin discs that sliced through rusted metal and concrete with equal ease. Eruptions filled the battlefield as power cells were breached and fuel lines cut, more machines reduced to nothing but scrap.
It wasn't enough.
A massive fist struck him in the chest like a wrecking ball, impact forces sending him flying across the road in a tangle of limbs. Another large machine dashed to close, leaping forward before he could even roll to a stop.
Only for it to land directly atop his stomach.
CRACK!
"AAARGH!!!"
He screamed. All thought fled as pain flooded every nerve, his torso crushed under the weight of buckling structural plate and popped internal braces. Impact padding, designed to cushion the shock of weapons fire, only served to spread the crushing force throughout his body.
Fingers tried to work despite the crushing pain. Inched down as daggers of agony stabbed in his chest and alerts wailed in his ear. Grasped the grip of his heavy pistol. Lifted it just as the walker lifted its foot, giving him one blessed moment of relief.
And slammed down again.
The ground fractured, armor buckling as it sank into the shallow crater. Froth bubbled at Adam's lips, mouth wailing in airless agony. Fingers spasmed at empty air, lost in the cacophony of ever increasing alerts of failed carapace, ruptured nanogel reservoirs, trauma and internal flooding. Maso flickered, the last dregs pulled in desperation through the blinding pain, spell matrices forming too slowly as the machine raised its foot one last time.
Silver light sang.
It was the longest few seconds of her life.
Her arm flicked, and the accursed Machine fell apart, the two halves sliding away before they could deliver the finishing blow.
Ah-Dum was still alive. She could see the movement of his chest, his limbs. She wasn't too late.
But he'd been harmed. Near crushed by that damned Medium Biped despite the protection of his exo-suit. Just acknowledging that reality set her circuits alight with pain and regret. Almost as bad as it was to look upon him and know that it was her failure, her slowness, that let him get brought down like this. She couldn't see his face, didn't have his internal diagnostics, but she didn't need either to know that the buckled plates had to be crushing his torso.
She had to help him. Every circuit, every line of code, screamed at her to do something. Anything.
But as she looked at the visor of his helmet, sure that he was looking back at her, she realized a horrifying truth.
She didn't know what to do or even how to help him. She wasn't a Healer. Wasn't even a Support or Scanner model. Would tearing off his armor make it worse? Would it help? She didn't know, she was a Battler. She was made to destroy, not repair. A thousand horrible variations of anything going wrong ran through her head as she hesitated.
And then-
"KILL ANDROIDS!!!"
11B stiffened, shame coursing through her core. She'd forgotten. But Ah-Dum, he-
He looked at her. Said a word she didn't know. But then he pointed, unfamiliar magic swirling off his fingers. A small tornado sprung into existence, whirling into the Machine lines. Flyers were sucked into the vortex, their engines unable to contest the gale force winds that smashed them into walls and each other.
His hand fell, and he said that word again.
This time, she understood.
She spun, launching herself at the pair of Bipeds stomping forward towards her. Their feeble arms spun, trying to smash into her as they charged. Her sword arm was faster, slashing them into pieces with two swift strokes. Flyers came hurtling at her, Stubbies and more as the Machines judged her the greater threat.
Not one lived past the reach of her blade.
And then she was advancing, killing with every step, pushing back the wave with all the strength and fury her model was made for. Her mind and her core hummed as one, united in purpose in what seemed like a very long time. She would buy Ah-Dum the time he needed to recover. Keep the Machines from him. She would kill and kill and kill.
She would not fail her fallen comrades.
She would not fail humanity.
She would not fail him.
11B ducked, a rusted blade flew inches above her head, and she thrust hers forward deep into a Small Biped's shell, killing it. She then moved on to her next target.
Popola didn't really need to breathe. But it was still nice to go through the motions and catch her breath as the YoRHa Battler singlehandedly took on the bulk of the Machine forces, butchering them in the process.
"Well, that's a weight off our shoulders," she muttered. And it really was, the Battler was doing more damage to the Machines than their entire group had in the entire battle. But Popola kept her blade out all the same. Even with the black-clad android decimating the Machines, the memory of the multiple ambush reinforcements was much too fresh. In fact, she half-expected a bunch more Stubbies to pop out of the sewers any moment now. "You okay, Devola?"
Her twin nodded, "I'm fine, sister. Though I think her friend needs to be looked at."
"What happened?" She blinked, looking for where she'd last saw the armored android. "I was too busy fighting to- Oh."
"Yeah."
By silent agreement, both sisters quickly made their way over to the crater and the fallen android in it. The armored suit they were wearing stood out, even if it did not match any design she had heard of.
A fairly battered suit at that, she amended as she booted up her diagnostic processes, while Devola was keeping watch.
"Hey, you okay?" She asked, simultaneously sending a query to the system diagnostics.
Even without the report, the torso section was obviously just one caved-in mess. She didn't know what model of android was inside, but she doubted even a Defender unit with their reinforced chest plates would be able to walk away from this without seeing a repair bay. They didn't seem to be moving either. Hopefully there wasn't any critical damage to their core systems.
Though… now that she thought about it, what kind of suit was this anyway? It obviously wasn't as sturdy or well-equipped as a YoRHa Flight Unit, but it was much more compact, and the use of elemental maso spells rather than red was a strange decision. She'd never seen or heard of anything quite like it.
…and where was that report anyway? A quick check on her logs and… nothing?
"Sister?" She turned towards Devola. "Can you try and open a scan connection to this guy? I'm not getting any response."
"Really? That's strange." Her wavy-haired twin tilted her head, a frown growing on her brow. "Nothing here either. Maybe his suit is shielded? I can't- Ah!"
Devola started at the groan, the twin's full attention now on the downed android who was writhing feebly.
"Easy! Easy!" Popola put a hand on his arm, arresting his motion. "You've taken a bad hit and you don't want to make it worse."
"Que?"
What was that? It wasn't Chaos or any of the older dialects. But it was kind of familiar… she frowned before shaking her head. That wasn't important right now. "We're going to try and treat you, but we need you to open up-"
"Ah-Dum!"
Suddenly, there was a black-clad hurricane, practically materializing right next to Devola, knocking her straight-haired twin on her butt with a yelp.
"Hey!"
The YoRHa android just ignored her, which was sadly typical for any android really, fussing over her friend instead and babbling about why he hadn't fixed himself yet- Waitaminute…
"Wait! You!" The Battler snapped at Devola before she could voice the thought, "You're from the local Resistance camp right?"
"Yeah, what's it to you?" She shot back with a nonplussed look.
"That means the Resistance Camp must be nearby!" The YoRHa android blurted out excitedly, completely ignoring Devola to turn back towards her companion with rapid-fire words. "They'll have healers to repai- no, fix? Mend?" She threw up her hands, "Ahh, not important. You can get better there! Come on!"
"Hey, wait-!" Devola could only look on, utterly flabbergasted, as the Battler quickly scooped up her much larger companion in a bridal carry and sprinted off before she could even finish her sentence.
"Jeez. She could've asked to see if we were the maintenance units," she grumbled with annoyance and concern in equal measure. Already the YoRHa unit and her armored friend were practically a dot in the distance, disappearing around the corner a moment later. "They're going to have to wait for us to get back now."
Her sister shrugged. "But they didn't know that, did they?" Popola sighed, laying her hand on her twin's shoulder. "There's no use chasing them now. Let's just hope that suited android finds someone else who can perform the repairs at camp. Or at least hold out until we get back there."
"Speaking of the suit, it's strange to see the android these days using combat-rated spells without a Pod for assistance," the wild-maned sister pondered, "even if they were restricted to elemental magic only."
It made her wonder what kind of goal the Army of Humanity had in mind when designing the suit. She could see it if they were trying for something less complicated than a full caster-type like her and her sister, eschewing the complexity that would be needed for pure red maso utilization. But if they were looking for cheaper, why would they give them flight ar-
"Sis, take a look at this!"
Startled out of her thoughts, Devola found her sister down on knee, staring at something on the ground. There was a middling-sized stain on the cracked concrete, quickly drying, the color not all that unlike hydraulic fluid used in a lot of android models. It took her only a moment to realize that was probably what it actually was.
"That's where the other guy got stomped, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Popola's voice was faint, like she couldn't believe it.
Devola couldn't believe it either. It's not like they hadn't come across less lucky androids during their expeditions, so what made this one special? "What about it, sis?" She snorted, crouching down next to her sister. "It's not like-"
Then it hit her. The scents that tickled at her olfactory receptors. Not methyl or phenyl, not even benzene like she was expecting from hydraulic oil. But there were aldehydes and ketones. Organic chemistry. Blood. Her eyes widened.
"Is that… Are those…"
After thousands of years of never-ending agony and remorse, of being mistreated and shunned, she, and no doubt her sister, felt a small spark of hope, one that they had most likely not felt for a long time.
"Come on, Roheda," the Resistance soldier wheedled, nodding her head in the direction of the twins.
"Why?" He questioned, frowning mulishly at her persuasion attempt. "They're maintenance 'droids, they did their job. Don't need a pat on the back for that."
"They patched you up," her voice rose a little, pointing at the gash on his head, field repairs visible through the tear in synthskin, "when you took that hit from a Stubby. Even after you'd insulted them and pushed them off beforehand."
"So? What do you want me to say, Sousan?" Roheda snapped sarcastically, fingers on both hands crooking in double quotations, "'Sorry for being a jerk, you girls. I'm so ever grateful for you doing your jobs.'"
"Well yeah! But without the sass," she shot back with a scowl. Why couldn't Roheda act with some professionalism? It was like his personality seed had all the markers for an unrepentant ass. "Just dump the trash, take up the clean, will ya?"
That got through him, stubbornness turning into naked confusion as he tried to process her words. "What."
Without bothering to explain, she just points at the twins. He'd either get it, or she'd have to start looking into AP rounds to get through that thick skull of his.
The persecution those two faced just didn't sit right with her. No matter how badly their ancestral models screwed up when it came to their creators, the ones responsible were long gone. Carrying on with their descendant lines just struck her as excessively petty. Just because they had perfect memory, it didn't justify several thousand years of this nonsense.
Besides, she couldn't judge people by their worst failures. Not when Earth was still infested with the Aliens' detestable creations.
Everyone needed to get their priorities straight.
Roheda sighed, relenting under her glare and turning his head towards the red-haired twins in the distance. Who were, for some reason, staring at the ground.
"Fine. I'll do it," he huffed, rolling his eyes. The android slung the battle rifle over his shoulder as he made his way to them.
"Hey, uh… fellas!" Roheda called, but there was hesitance in his voice, almost an uncertainty. "Listen, about what I did to you girls bac- Oi!"
Before he could express his halfhearted apology, Devola and Popola bolted at a dead sprint, rushing off in the same direction the YoRHa android had gone.
Sousan blinked, taken aback by this sudden change of behavior. She'd never seen them run off like that before. Not when they were chased by a herd of moose. And certainly not when someone was talking to them, even if it was someone as disagreeable as Roheda.
Speaking of which, the android just threw his hands up and shrugged. "Ehhh. Guess they don't want it."
"Don't be a jerk, Roh," she snapped, pointing at the soldier. "They probably realized something important."
He rolled his eyes before shooting a snarky grin at her. A look that was absurd in her opinion, thanks to his thick pointed mustache. "Whatever you say, Sou." A mock salute came her way, and Sousan had to roll her eyes at his behavior. She would have given him a rude gesture back, but a shout interrupted her.
"Hey! Whaddya think we should do with this?"
She turned to see her other squad member, spotting the android holding an oversized assault rifle that bore little resemblance to Resistance issue guns. Where it came from was easy enough to infer. It must have been dropped by the flying android when he was knocked down by the Small Flyer. A shame.
While she was impressed by the android's use of elemental magic in battle, saving all their behinds in the process, the rifle was no less impressive on its own. From the barrel alone, she could tell that it fired a larger, heavier bullet. There were probably downsides, there always were, but there was no arguing the fact that it was very effective at killing Machine Lifeforms.
She frowned in thought, looking around but finding no bullet casings that would match the kind of bullets fired by that gun. More evidence of the difference between Resistance issue firearms and whatever group that android belonged to.
It would be nice if they had a few rifles like that in the Resistance, even if it would be more cumbersome without some redesign for their smaller frames. Nonetheless, that gun wasn't theirs to take, and she was sure that YoRHa android would report it missing if someone got their sticky fingers on it anyway. Best to return with it to the Camp where it'd go back to where it belonged. Besides, it was the least they could do to thank that android for the assist.
"That's not ours, Sardaana," Sousan warned. "You know that?"
"I know! I'm just keeping it until we meet that person again," she assured, flashing an excited grin on her face. "Once I've done some studies on this gun back in the Camp, I'll give it back to that guy. Or lady. I promise!"
A doubtful snort announced the approach of the final member of her squad, a shotgun casually resting over his shoulder. A series of harsh electronic clicks and chirps emerged from the red scarf that covered his mouth.
Sardaana turned to face her friend, naked offense on her face with the way her brows scrunched.
"Of course I'll give it back! Have some faith in me, Chatterbox!" Sardaana told him off, clutching the large foreign weapon tightly to herself. "Besides, I'm not Jackass."
"Yeah? Well, I'm still waiting for you to fix that wooden thingy I gave you last month," Roheda reminded the short-haired brunette.
"Which wooden thingy?"
"The one with the brass horn and a hand crank, you nitwit!"
Sousan shook her head with a sigh, closing her eyes to her squadmates' antics. At least they knew how to be professional when it counted, but would it have killed them to save the fooling around for when they weren't deep in enemy territory?
"Let's just get back to Camp…"
Being rescued was torturous.
Hissed gasps escaped from between clenched teeth as Adam tried to focus on keeping his breathing shallow and steady. Veis Aksteiz did her best to keep him level, but every now and again, a jolt, however faint, would send fresh agony climbing up his spine. Sweat dripped down his face, a near waterfall that obscured his HUD and the crimson medical alerts plastered all over it.
Armour compromised.
Internal spalling detected.
Penetrating abdominal trauma detected.
Biofoam deployed.
Biofoam depleted.
Immediate medical attention required.
He could feel the warmth of blood and more bubbling up from the wound where the internal bracing had punched through. The mixture of fluids seeping into his undersuit and onto his skin, that slick sickening sensation growing bit by bit with every minute that passed despite the biofoam coating. The only thing left was the analgesics, but Adam had held the AI back on deploying it. Whatever rescue Veis was planning, or at least he hoped it was, there was no guarantee there'd be a doctor on site. He needed a clear head if he had to treat himself.
So he grit his teeth, hoping that wherever it was, it would at least be clean enough he didn't end up dying of sepsis anyway.
Or tetanus. Even with all the alerts, his faceplate showed just exactly how much rust and debris were left exposed in the broken city Veis was rushing through.
"Arcane flight system has been repaired," the subroutine AI chose to announce. "The Kinesis shield is now recharging at a normal rate."
"About… time," Adam wheezed sarcastically between pained breaths. Eight minutes and a little, according to the clock. "The designers… need to do… a better job."
EVANS did not reply to that.
Patting Veis' arm to get her attention, he tried to tell her his plan. It took minutes of painfully slow pantomime, and in the end the hum of his flight system to get the idea across. And even then, it proved an awkward affair. The flight system was not meant to serve as a makeshift hover stretcher, nor was it meant to be towed legs first. But if it meant his torso wound wouldn't be jolted every few minutes, Adam was willing to have his dignity go hang.
Towed like a balloon, he closed his eyes, trying to block the pain out and conserving his energy.
…
...
…It wasn't working.
Instead he let his eyes drift, watching the ruins of the city as it sped on by.
Car wrecks stood out amongst the debris of a long dead civilization. Despite being more rust than metal, their tires long since decayed into empty hollows, their shapes still were recognizably out of place. The rounded shapes more reminiscent of vehicles in his great, great grandfather's time than his own.
Other oddities stood out as they moved into the more overgrown parts of the urban landscape. Wildlife, some normal, some far too large to be natural, and some looked totally out of place. Once they passed a small herd of boars taller than he was. In his state, all the sight did was remind him of Mishima Kenichi's request before he had left the Yamanashi Bunker. Fresh meat, he'd asked for. Or maybe that moose over there. The thought of that man's expression when he brought back a house-sized moose was enough to get a chuckle out of him.
And then a grimace as the motion brought a fresh spasm of pain as the spar dug just a little bit deeper.
Regretting the action, he closed his eyes, letting the minutes pass until EVANS spoke up.
"Intact man-made structures ahead," the AI announced, pulling the Lancer out of his thoughts.
Adam panned his suit cameras, realizing that they were slowing down to a halt in front of a large structure. A haphazard wall of scraped together junk, made from rusted metal sheets to pipes and panels of various shapes and conditions. There was even the wheel from a bucket-wheel excavator sitting in the rubble, which made him blink in confusion as to how it got there. There was also a gatepost, but equally ramshackle, the outline formed from a pair of broken concrete pillars, rusted I-beams forming the arch and held together with crude welded bars.
Even in his state, it was hard not to grimace at the sight. For all that it had bulk, the wall likely wouldn't be able to hold up against RPG-wielding Legion grunts, nevermind hostile robots with energy weapons. Better than nothing, but not much more than that.
Veis came to a stop, hollering something in her still strange language. Moments later, an armed man appeared atop the gatepost, weapon at the ready and shouting back in the same language.
The muzzle swept towards him, and suddenly Veis was there, standing in front of him with her arms spread wide open. More words were shouted, anger and frustration clear despite Veis' alien tongue.
He carefully didn't chuckle this time, but the image of a petite android being fiercely protective over his exosuit-clad frame that both overtopped and outmassed her brought a rueful quirk to his lips.
In the midst of the argument, a different female voice came from behind him, the shouted words sounding similar to Veis' and the guard.
He couldn't turn, prone as he was, but he didn't need to as a familiar pair of redheaded twins came rushing up, stopping when they were next to him. He stared in bemusement as they immediately joined Veis in yelling at the guard, only for it to become confusion as he realized that they had to be moving pretty fast to catch up. And they didn't even seem winded.
That seemed… kind of unfai-
*BZZZT!*
"AAAH!"
"Electroshock stimulation applied. You cannot rest yet."
Adam clenched his teeth and shut his eyes, hissing in annoyance until the tingling sensation went away. He'd set it up himself, but it was still tempting to just curse at the subroutine AI for zapping him. But then there was babbling and he opened his eyes to find three more sets staring up at him in surprise and concern.
"I'm fine... I'm fine," he grunted at their concerned sounding questions, knowing that it would be pointless anyway. Not like they had cracked a common language ye-
Why were the twins looking at each other like that?
"Sir?" One of them asked uncertainly after a moment, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm good." His fingers twitched in an attempt to wave it off. "Just a minor shock to keep myself awake."
But if the guard wasn't going to let them in, the jolt would be the least of his problems. One of the ruins nearby might be intact enough to do some field surgery, but it was definitely going to suck. He was-
...
...
...
Wait, what?
He snapped open his eyes, turning his head so he could look at the speaker. Their aqua green eyes were still concerned, worry etched on their faces. But he put that aside as he said the first thing in his mind.
"Y-you speak English," he blurted out. He couldn't believe his luck. Even after this long, at least someone still spoke the same language. He didn't know why Veis didn't, maybe she was from a different country or, well, that didn't matter.
"Yes, and we need to get you in for surgery right away," the wavy-haired redhead quickly said, while her sister turned to the guard at the top, shouting in a language he didn't understand once more.
He turned his gaze to the guard atop the gatepost, who abruptly raised his rifle and looked over his shoulder, signaling at someone below from behind the walls.
Soon after, the sound of metal scraping against metal rang out throughout the area as the gate slowly opened. His eyes were drawn to the sight of many people, canopies and tents as both him and the women entered the compound.
They were gathering a crowd, Adam realized. Between the fact that he was still being towed and the unique sound of the Storm Javelin's arcane lift system, he could see a great many eyes turning towards him. Most were in robes appropriate for the desert, while others wore armor and BDUs like the four soldiers he had met earlier. But many of both types stopped whatever they were doing outright to stare at him, or perhaps his suit, with a mixture of expressions.
Or maybe it was the blood. It had taken him a while to realize that his armor had been breached through and through. And that despite the biofoam, a minute amount of his blood was dripping out to stain the armor and ground. It would have been worrying, but treatment couldn't be far away.
"Sir, I'm Devola," one of the twins said on his right, breaking his line of thought.
"And I'm Popola," the other announced, distinguished from her twin by her comparatively straight hair. Her hand reached out to grab his. "May I ask your name?"
"Adam…" He broke off mid word, hissing as the motion brought a fresh stab of pain. "Adam Menendez..."
"Mister Menendez, we need to get you there for surgery," Popola pulled him away from Veis to one of the nearby canopy tents, a row of iron-framed beds visible under its shade. Her wavy-haired sister flanked him on the other side, the twins pulling him by either leg. Veis followed close behind, practically hovering over their shoulders.
He would have chuckled at the sight, if not for pain lancing through his gut. "Any… any medics?"
"We are, sir," the straight-haired twin answered promptly. "Me and my sister."
"Ah. That… makes things… easier." He felt both eyebrows go up in surprise. Were they both battlemages and medics? It was an unusual mix, but he wasn't going to complain. As the canopy loomed overhead, he gestured for Popola with one hand, who looked at him with confusion.
"Sir?"
With a thought to the interface, Adam materialized two bags. One black, the other red, he pushed them into Popola's hands. "Surgical kit," he grunted, gesturing at one bag, and then at the other, "...medical supplies."
She blinked, then nodded in understanding as she turned to put them on a nearby table.
"Now… need to…" He hissed as a fresh lance of agony shot through him while the suit shifted to a standing position, feet settling on the ground with a faint thump. "Get out of this, rrgh, next."
9,000 years of crysosleep and he still dreaded this part. Seals popped on command, the Javelin's backplate unfolding with an alarmingly loud whine. Almost immediately, the pressure on his abdomen lessened as his back was exposed to the elements, no longer held up by gel padding. He grit his teeth, bracing for the moment he knew was going to come. Inhale. Exhale.
He pulled an arm out.
"RRGH!!!"
White hot fire raced through Adam's chest at the sensation of something slicing across his ribs. His heart was hammering but he tried to control his breathing, focusing on the other arm.
And then there were hands on his back, holding him in place with iron hard strength.
"What are you doing, Mr. Menendez?! Are you insane?!" Popola's voice was shrill with panic from behind him.
"Takes one to know one..." He responded shakily, though he had no idea where that came from.
"What are you even- no, that's not important! You're still bleeding," Devola objected as a tingling warmth suffused his back at the contact, only for her exasperation to end in a horrified gasp. "You have multiple cracked ribs, penetrating trauma from something that just barely missed your lungs and you were- No! Stay right there, Mr. Menendez! Do not try to move on your own! Popola, help me get him out of that."
More hands landed on his back and shoulders under Devola's snapped orders, the red haired girl pausing only to say.
"Mr. Menendez, we're going to pull you out now so we can treat you. It's going to hurt with that fragment still in you, but it will be over quick."
Adam huffed, gritting his teeth in anticipation. "Do it."
There was the impression of tightened-
PAIN
Air hissed through clenched lips as white fire shot through his chest, bled into sudden vertigo.
And then he was lying down, blinking away the tears as shadows frantically went to work, their words were fragmented and muted as if from underwater.
"This is stuck, shears!"
...
"...still bleeding…"
...
"...prosthetic limbs. Have to adjust…"
Sudden panic sparked in his mind. He tried to move, but then something clamped down on his limbs.
"Stay calm!" Popola's face swam out of the shadows, her face looking down on him with both compassion and concern. "You still have fragments inside and multiple rib fractures! We have to operate to get it out and that means anesthesia. Do you understand?"
Even through the haze of pain, he understood what she was really asking. Did he trust them?
Could he trust them?
Something squeezed Adam's left hand. In the corner of his haze, a blob of white hair. Veis.
Silly question. He came here, didn't he?
He nodded.
There was a pinprick, and the world faded away.
~~|>> [-//=+=\\-] <<|~~
Author's Note:HOLY FUCK. I am so sorry that you guys have to wait for a long time. Still, we really didn't expect that it had taken us a year just to update this story. Still, better late than never, right?
Anyway, we're back and this story is still not dead in the water. But to be frank, I don't know what to do if this is how we're updating our fanfic.
Anyway, I have a bad news to tell you guys.
As of now, @Mashadarof402 will not be proofreading this story indefinitely due to reasons I cannot publicly disclose. There was no discord between us, and we reached an understanding on the subject. Nevertheless, this doesn't mean this story is finished. I just need to find a new beta-reader. At least someone who is as proficient as Mashadarof402 at grammar, syntax, story flow, sentence structure, spotting plot holes and recognizing things that are BSOD, as well as having familiarity with the NieR franchise.
Also, credits to @bluepencil for the edited screenshots above, which were taken from the NieR: Automata anime.
Sorry to hear about your troubles, man. Happy as hell you got a chapter out though. A little disappointed that the language barrier got broken down so quickly but I'm not going to complain about getting our favorite twins involved.
Because Devola and Popola are (ex-)Overseer models, the language barrier between humans and androids will be broken as soon as the twins are involved in the story and interact with the human character.
Also, I'm surprised no one has pointed out how one of the android characters in the latest chapter has a moustache.
Some trivia for the three out of four Resistance OCs in this chapter.
"Sousan" is the Farsi name of "Susan", which means lily flower. If you're curious about which lily she's named after, it's the Fritillaria persica. It's native to southern Turkey, Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, Syria, Cyprus and Israel.
"Roheda" is named after a flower that's produced from a tree of the same name (Tecomella). Also known as the honey tree, desert teak or Marwar teak. Such trees are found in Oman, southwest Iran and northwest India.
"Sardaana" is named after the flower Lilium pensylvanicum, or sometimes known as Sardaana or Siberian Lily. It grows only in Yakutia, Russia.
Holy shit... On one hand I'm pissed to have only found this now (great job so far, by the way), on another I'm glad I didn't experience the long waits.
I hope you find a new beta and the will to keep it up, this story looks amazing and I can't wait for more 😀
