-3: 122
1:30 PM.
A trendy bar within the outpost.
There, at a booth in the back, Johan sat beside Isabel, nursing a rum and coke.
Isabel sipped on a long island and glanced over at Johan.
"...Don't say it, Isabel."
"...But it's good."
Johan sighed and sipped his drink.
...Isabel was right.
The drink was good.
The coke was real cola soda. And the rum was smooth, which paired well with the fresh lime slice on top.
And that was the kicker.
It was lime. Real lime. Something that even Eden hadn't managed to cultivate because of how finicky the fruit trees were.
And yet...
"...I hate to say it." Johan sipped on his drink. "...But it seems the intel was correct."
Johan and Isabel had infiltrated the Outpost early in the morning.
A casual excuse about being a Commander and Nikke pair had been sufficient.
It wasn't a lie.
Johan was a commander, after all, and Isabel was a Nikke.
But after that...
Nothing.
No caution, no warnings.
They were free to go as they pleased. And as they did, they were just like a face in the crowd.
It was like Eden, except... anyone could enter. There was no need to prove yourself. No need to show you could fend for yourself or help everyone else.
Just... be.
"...It's unsettling." Johan murmured.
Isabel sipped on her drink and said, "Is it? Or... are we just too used to conflict to enjoy peace, Commander?"
Johan was quiet. Raising his head, he looked around. As he did, he saw mass-produced Nikkes without visors, chatting with each other.
He saw humans treating Nikkes like anyone else.
He saw countless people in civilian attire without a single weapon or means to defend themselves.
But more than that...
He saw smiles.
Johan let out a soft sigh and sipped his drink.
It was refreshing. But for some reason, it felt bitter.
'Paradise... That was what Dorothy, Cecil, and I tried to create. But this...'
It wasn't Paradise. That was for sure.
The Outpost was loud. Messy. And right now, it was mostly Nikkes, with few humans around.
It also wasn't 'equal' at all. Some people clearly had more, and others less. That was clear from the clothes they wore, as well as jewelry and more.
But the fact that food didn't seem to be a worry. That the roads were clean and organized. That Raptures didn't dare approach and the Outpost didn't have to hide from the world like Eden with its optical camoflage...
"...I'm envious."
Johan couldn't help but admit it.
Isabel set her drink down and glanced at Johan. "Commander?"
Johan shook his head and sipped his drink again.
'One man. One man is responsible for this.'
Johan remembered the Outpost. And he'd heard reports about it throughout the years.
A ruined area that was barely fit to receive supplies. A place constantly besieged by Raptures. A desolate wasteland...
And yet, in a few months, all of this was possible.
Johan had seen the defensive armaments with his own eyes.
While not impressive in terms of output... indeed, Eden's Spear was far superior in that regard.
It was impressive in the quantity.
Every building had a mounted coilgun.
Some had railguns.
And there were countless slugs on hand to be used at a moment's notice.
Some had to be manned. But others were automated.
Which implied a central connected system with an extensive AI or at least logic system.
One that the Ark could never have created.
Meaning...
'A genius on par with Cecil.'
...It had to be that.
A once in a generation talent.
Even so...
"It's odd."
Isabel glanced at him. "What is, Commander?"
Johan tapped his prosthetic fingers on the table and murmured, "This is technology the Ark does not have. I'm certain of it. If this was possible, the Central Government wouldn't have let it out of their hands."
"...That's true." Isabel narrowed her eyes. "Those selfish people would have hoarded it all. And they definitely wouldn't let Nikkes just waste time like this."
"Right. So..."
A thought came to mind.
One that changed the entire paradigm of how Johan had been viewing this.
Their intel was that 'The Valiant' was a commander assigned to the Outpost. Not just a commander, but the son of the Legendary Commander and Liliweiss.
Because of that, Johan had been operating under the assumption that he worked for the Ark and prioritized them.
But in hindsight...
"Dorothy would never work with anyone affiliated with the Ark."
Isabel's eyes widened. "...Yes. She would not."
Johan tapped his fingers, thinking again. "...Interesting." He smirked. "...Our intelligence on the Ark is outdated." He finished his drink and left credits on the table. "Let's go, Isabel. We need to do more research."
Isabel finished her drink and stood up as well. "Understood, Commander."
Johan put his commander's cap back on, his thoughts racing as he recontextualized the information.
As always, his priority was reclaiming the surface for humanity.
Because of that, he couldn't stand the Central Government who was content in hiding away underground.
And because of that, he was prepared to make contingencies for this upstart commander who seemed positioned to go against all of Eden's interests.
But.
'If my suspicion is correct...'
...It seemed like there was a possibility for their interests to align after all.
===
Back in the Ark, Tetra Line's headquarters.
Pretty walked inside, her eyes wide as she took everything in. "...You really made it pure entertainment, Hanson."
"Non, mon amour." Mustang winked. "In ze Ark, I am le Mustang. Only in private am I that man."
Pretty laughed and said, "Right, right. Mustang..."
After spending the night together and letting out feelings left unsaid for decades, Hanson- Or rather, Mustang, had taken Pretty out for a tour of Tetra Line's facilities.
Like in the past when she was incognito, Pretty was dressed in a sleeveless white top with black gym shorts and white sneakers. Wearing a black baseball cap, round glasses, and with a pink leather jacket, she looked like a fashionable teenager ready to hit the town.
As for Mustang...
Unlike his usual flashy spandex and flashing lights, he was wearing a simple but elegant outfit. A lowcut black shirt showing off his trained body. Flared black slacks. A blazer with black and gold diamonds...
In short, dressed like a mafia king or underground syndicate leader.
Pretty glanced at Mustang and reflexively licked her lips. When she realized what she did, she turned a bright red and looked away.
Mustang chuckled and said, "No, no. There's no need to be embarrassed, mon amour." He dramatically gestured towards his body and said, "All of this is yours."
Pretty blushed, making her turn even more red and said, "Y-You made that plenty clear last night, Han- I mean, Mustang. It's just..." She glanced at Mustang and looked away again. "...When did you get so muscular?"
Mustang laughed. "Ohoho?" He flexed his bicep, its shape clear through the tailored blazer he wore. "Impressive, no? In my line of work, possessing a powerful body is importante, you see?"
Pretty's eyes were drawn back towards Mustang's body as he flexed and she quickly looked away. "I-I see. Still, it's a bit awkward..."
Mustang placed his arm around Pretty, pulling her close.
Pretty let out a startled yelp, but didn't pull away. "Y-You've gotten bold, Ha- Handsome."
Mustang laughed. "Handsome? Oui, I suppose I will compromise with that. But yes." His gaze softened as he looked at Pretty before he said, "Not being bold made me lose you. And it almost made me lose everything a second time. So..." Mustang twirled Pretty around and said, "Le Mustang is prideless! No shame, all eeeeeeeeeentertainment!"
Pretty laughed as she let herself be twirled around. Then she said, "I can see that. But..." She stared at Mustang's face and smiled. "You're still as kind as ever, 'Handsome.'"
"Oui." Mustang reached his hand out to cradle Pretty's face. "That is because I had a shining star to run after, no?"
"Hanson..."
Mustang winked and stole a kiss.
Pretty yelped and then huffed. "Hey!"
Mustang laughed and pulled her back under his arm. "Come, mon amour! Let Mustang show you the magnifique Tetra Line of today! To begin with-"
At that time, Ark Ranger Red and Ark Ranger Blue walked out from a nearby studio.
Ark Ranger Red noticed Mustang and waved. "Hey, Boss. Sorry to bother you, but have you seen- Wait." She stared at Pretty and then looked back at Mustang.
Mustang winked and tapped a finger over his lips.
Ark Ranger Red nodded. "...Okay. But anyway, have you seen Black? Blue and I wanted to go watch a screening of the movie with her but she hasn't been answering her phone. And we haven't seen her since the gala."
"Hohoho?" Mustang's eyes widened. "Is that so? Well..." He adjusted his glasses. "...I do believe le commandant had quite a few 'treats' last night. Perhaps noire is... 'Ow shall we say... Preoccupied?"
Ark Ranger Red blinked. "Huh? What do you-"
"HA!" Ark Ranger Blue held out her hand towards Ark Ranger Red and said, "Pay up! I told you Black would fold!"
Ark Ranger Red looked confused. But then her eyes widened and she laughed. "No! Her?! With the Commander?! But she's so shy!"
"And she had plenty of alcohol last night, soooo pay up." Ark Ranger Blue held her hand out again.
Ark Ranger Red rolled her eyes and handed over some credits. "Fine..."
Mustang laughed and bowed towards them. "Then if that's resolved, I'll bid you adieu. Mon amour and moi have a date with le destiny."
Pretty rolled her eyes as she let herself be led away by Mustang. "Your French is getting worse."
"Lo siento."
"...That's Spanish."
"Oui~"
Pretty laughed. "Well, that hasn't changed at least."
Mustang led Pretty around the facilities, introducing her to various Tetra Nikke and showing her the current state of things.
But as they went back to Mustang's office, Pretty was quiet.
Mustang noticed and said, "...Freesia?"
"Sorry, Hanson. Just..." Pretty looked at Mustang and said, "...Dad's gone. Isn't he?"
Mustang was quiet. Then he slowly nodded. "...Yeah. It's been a long time since you... well, 'went on hiatus,' Freesia."
"...Did he... live a happy life?"
Mustang shook his head. "I'm not qualified to speak about that. But... I think I know someone who can."
Pretty blinked. "Who?"
Mustang smiled. "Your nephew."
"...Nephew?"
===
The Central Government Headquarters, Burningum's office.
After the festivities of yesterday, Burningum was hard at work arranging various events to make the timeline of the Third Surface Reclamation War fit.
Keeping the board of directors at Missilis in check, pushing through the various paperwork required to bring Abnormal up as a pillar of the Ark (at least nominally), arranging the informational television programming on the return of the Goddess Squad and the Legendary Commander, brainstorming propaganda to fit how and why they were coming back now of all times...
It was a lot for one man to handle.
But Burningum was used to it, so he easily sorted it out at his desk, jotting notes on a spreadsheet as he carefully set the board of the precarious political landscape within the Ark.
And then he got a notification from Papillon.
"Deputy Chief. The CEO of Tetra Line is here to see you with a... guest."
Burningum paused when he heard Papillon's tone of voice.
It was rare for her to be hesitant, let alone refer to him by his title.
"...They can enter."
"I'll send them in then."
After that, Burningum sat at his desk to wait.
And when the door opened...
Burningum froze. "...Aunt Freesia?"
Mustang's eyes sparkled with amusement.
As for Pretty... "Huh? You're my nephew? What kind of kid did Dad have after me...?"
"Ah. Well..." Burningum coughed. "...I apologize. I am not Grandfather's biological descendant. But I do carry his legacy. Quite well, I would hope... No. One moment." He looked back at Mustang. "Explain yourself. How...?"
Mustang shrugged. "It's a miracle. The commandant has the details."
Burningum slowly blinked. "...Of course it would be him." He eyed the Abnormal logo on Pretty's shirt and said, "...I presume the cover story is 'experimental Nikke prototype?'"
"Oui."
"...I'll get the documentation sorted. But for now." Burningum let out a genuine smile and gestured for Pretty to sit. "Please, sit for a while."
"U-Um..." Pretty glanced back at Mustang.
Mustang placed a kiss on Pretty's forehead and said, "I will let you two catch up. I do believe le commandant is in a bit of a pickle, so I will be off to provide some aid. Call me, mon amour!"
"W-Wait. Hanson-!"
After that, Mustang slipped away, leaving Pretty along with Burningum.
An awkward silence filled the air.
But Burningum cleared his throat and said, "It is my understanding that you also cherished the Goddess Squad, yes? I possess quite the collection of memoribilia if you wish to peruse them, Aunt."
Pretty's atmosphere immediately shifted, turning back into an excited teen's. "You do?! Do you have any of Red Hood?"
"Of course! In fact..." Burningum reached into his desk and pulled out a small frame with old autographed leather gloves.
When Pretty saw them, she froze. "Those are..."
Burningum quietly slid it over and said, "These were Grandfather's most prized possession. I've kept it safe, but considering the circumstances, they haven't had the chance to see the light of day much. But since you've returned... I suppose they're better with you."
Pretty quietly took the frame and stared at the gloves. Then she looked up at Burningum and said, "...Your name. What was it again?"
"It's Burningum, Aunt Freesia."
"...Would you tell me? About Dad? After I... you know?"
Burningum let out a soft smile. "I would love to. Where to begin... Ah." He nodded. "I suppose I will begin as Grandfather did when I was small. Once upon a time, there were those who fought for humanity. They were called the Goddesses. Truly, they were beings worthy of being called the Goddesses of Victory."
Pretty's breath hitched and she clenched her hands together. "Dad..."
"Grandfather regretted it until the end of his life. But he worked the rest of his life to ensure their record would not be forgotten. Nor yours."
Pretty closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Burningum quietly poured a cup of coffee from his thermos. Then he slid it over for Pretty. "Here. A pick me up."
Pretty paused and took the cup. Then she sipped it. And when both the sharp tang of black coffee and the ridiculous sweet sugar hit her tongue, she let out a laugh. "You drink coffee like this?"
"Mm. It's an acquired taste. Grandfather used to always make it like this."
"...Yeah." Pretty wiped her tears, sipping the coffee again. "...He always used to make it like this for me."
"I see." Burningum let out a soft smile. "...Then I will continue making it for you, Aunt."
Pretty laughed and said, "It's weird, hearing you call me that. Aren't you technically older than me?"
Burningum tilted his head. "...I suppose that's true. You did perish at quite a young age..."
"Wow. Not going to sugarcoat it?"
"I do enough of that with those shallow men in the Central Government. We're family, so I hope you don't mind it."
Pretty chuckled and sipped her coffee again. "No. I don't. ...And thanks." She looked at her coffee and murmured, "Family... What a miracle to still have a trace of that left after all these years."