Slamm-O
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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The meeting shall be glorious!
Though Joe maybe blinded by all the light reflecting off his outfit.
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The meeting shall be glorious!
Joe: why do I hear boss music, and why is it so funky?
Europeans who lived their entire lives with 24 clock: "Whats so difficult about it?".[That's 2:30 PM, to clarify.] Andersen quickly followed up.
Thank fucking Christ it occurred to Andersen that Joe had all the experience of a goddamned civvie and had no fucking idea how to read military time.
I guess not everyone appreciate 24-hours clock display. Honestly, I actually find AM/PM jarring. Sure, it matches how in everyday speech we tend to say "2 in the morning/afternoon" but in written form, 14:00 is more clear than 2 PM for me.From Andersen, it read: [Meeting tomorrow with Ingrid and Mustang. My office, 1430 hours sharp.]
There was a beat in which Joe stared at the phone for a few moments blankly, his lips down turning as his brow knitted in-
[That's 2:30 PM, to clarify.] Andersen quickly followed up.
Thank fucking Christ it occurred to Andersen that Joe had all the experience of a goddamned civvie and had no fucking idea how to read military time.
People whose countries have no sense of standartization: Eh, what IS the difference? (My brain autoconverts these things without conscious thought.)Europeans who lived their entire lives with 24 clock: "Whats so difficult about it?".
I remember reading that Oswald was a fan of Goddess Squad. What do you reckon that he destroyed the entrance to Ark on Joe's orders to protect his squad?"You weren't defending yourself from the Central Government. In your abject fury, they were defending themselves from you
He's just so based."Simply invraisemblable to obscene degrees! Improbable to the point that yours truly is yet the only successful example of a true, full conversion in human history! I would never have considered putting my girls through what I myself would not go through first!"
Nikke's a great game and all... But can it run Doom?My man went on a Rampage!
The Doom Music was playing so hard back then.
And it seems more secrets and surprises pop up!
Well, it's time to get back in the saddle, Commander...
We have an Ark to burn!
===
Chapter 34 - The Truth Will Out
===
"You weren't defending yourself from the Central Government. In your abject fury, they were defending themselves from you."
my man just post it as some sort of challenge on the doom subreddit or something just to see if the madlads can pull it off tough if it works it would not be the first game to be able to run doom as minecraft showed
Both.. both is good you get cookie if you get the referencei wonder what this means going forward if the central goverment find out joe is alive or if syuen finds out joe is the legendary commander
===
Chapter 34 - The Truth Will Out
===
The following day, little of note occurred. Counters was milling about the Command Centre, and while Anis looked deeply wary when Joe informed everyone that he was going to a meeting with Andersen in the Ark proper, he was allowed to depart without any fanfare.
The trip was a long one. Not quite as long as the elevator straight to the surface, but the Outpost was closer to the surface than it was the Ark. Going back through the Ark again, honestly, more than a little put-off by just how… uncanny it was, all dressed and dolled up to look pretty, like the ideal future-tech city. A brightly lit Cyberpunk metropolis, clean, orderly, conspicuously lacking in apparent criminal elements, everyone traipsing about, cheerily, living seemingly ordinary lives. This, despite the situation being what it was.
Joe was aware that this was, on the surface, preferable to the alternative of the average citizen being on a hair trigger, at least. But…
The rot was palpable, now that he wasn't… distracted by Marian's balming presence, and had the time to not have her dominate his thoughts in their entirety. There was an uncomfortable, unspoken desperation saturating the air.
The Ark was a deeply unpleasant place to live. That much was clear. Joe found that more than a little upsetting, given the amount of young people for whom this was their entire life. This was what it always was, how it always would be to them. There was nowhere else to go - genuinely, truly, there was no out from the Ark. The rest of the world was gone.
And looking up, the source of it all was clearly in view. The Central Government headquarters. This was what they wanted. They had no interest in recapturing the surface, empowering the Nikkes being misled into thinking they were making the ultimate sacrifice in the interest of taking their world back from the Raptures, in making things better. This was exactly that life should be, to them. Because it meant the CG was King Shit of Turd Island. They'd march mankind into extinction, if it meant they'd get to rule over the forsaken ashes for just a few moments longer.
And this was all Joe could see just based on what little he'd seen so far. Lord in Heaven forbid he caught wind of what the actual underbelly of the Ark was like. What it was like where people had it rough in the Ark.
Andersen was right. The Central Government was their enemy, and had to be toppled, for the sake of all mankind.
With a newfound resolve, Joe moved to enter the CG HQ, and towards Andersen's office.
"Ah, Pholus," Andersen looked up as Joe stepped into his office, the door closing and locking behind him. "You're-"
"Mon Cheri!" Joe, meanwhile, was fucking flash banged by the figure that spun in place, gesticulating wildly at him as he glimmered and shone in numerous shades of gold and diamond. "There! Finally, there he is! The man! The myth! The legend! Le Commandant Légendaire!"
Ingrid pinched her brow, exhaling deeply from her seat across from Andersen's desk.
Meanwhile, the man that could only be Mustang, the CEO of Tetra Line, visually assaulted Joe.
He was, simply put? Built like a Greek God. Tall, tanned, dark hair… and dressed like the wealthiest court jester Joe had ever set eyes upon in his life. The man was wearing a black and golden skin-tight leotard, the Tetra Line logo proudly emblazoned over his crotch. Every detail of his abs were visible through the outfit, yet the cartoonishly overblown ruff adorned with pearls worn around his neck actually somehow managed to distract from how precious little his leotard left to the imagination. His hair was cut high, yet worn loose and swept over to one side. The sides of his scalp were shaved down to a deeply photogenic stubble, his facial hair carefully trimmed down to a pencil line. Were it not for his gold-rimmed, mirrored aviators, Joe was sure the man's eyes would have been as striking as the purest gold just the same.
Strangest yet, however, was the… Golden, diamond-studded… techno… peacock… tail… thing hanging off of his ass. It flared off a solid metre out around him, framing the man in glimmering, shining gold and silver.
It took Joe a moment to realize that he'd actually jumped back into the now-locked door leading out of Andersen's office. Joe wasn't expecting someone low-key, but holy shit, this was far and away beyond what he was expecting out of Tetra Line's CEO.
"Ah, fantastique, to see even the Legendary Commander himself bedazzled and sidéré by la magnificence of Tetra Line!" Mustang leaned back, far, very far, arching his figure wildly, causing his rippling muscles to visibly constrict and strain against the metallic fabric which seemed to struggle for its life to contain his figure. "This is the merveille of Tetra Line! Even living legends are left in sputtering awe! Magnificent!"
Mustang then snapped back, pointing dramatically at Joe and declaring: "My little Anis, her Commander is her l'amour! She says how kind, how beau and fit he is! And his rump! She will not cease remarking upon la figure of this man who treats her right! I dare say, I wonder if I may even have felt somewhat menacer! And yet…" he shifted his pose with a flourish, daintily resting a hand upon his chin. "Was I right to be préoccupé, I wonder?"
There was a beat in which Joe blinked, then he felt something twig in the back of his mind. Was he… being challenged? Was Mustang challenging him?
Joe was built like a soldier - a man that was in shape because his life damn well depended on it, while Mustang was built like a body builder. The gold-bedecked CEO looked more outwardly impressive by no small margin, but how much of that was functional strength, he wondered?
As if Joe was going to let some showboating pencil pusher talk shit without consequences. Joe hadn't touched a bow in probably at least a century, but he was an archer that hunted animals in the frigid, unforgiving Canadian wilderness with arrows. He knew what to show off. Thus, casting his jacket aside onto a side table, Joe spun on his heel, and bringing his arms up, flexed those muscles used for archery.
At that, Mustang crooned, clapping his hands in rapturous glee, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
In the midst of that, with a heavy sigh, Andersen rose from his seat, walking around to the front of his desk, and staring at a still-flexing Joe… Tore off his own coat, and dropped to a knee pull off a showboating variant of The Thinker, his well-fitted button-down straining against his taut form, a wide, cocky grin in place on his features as he flexed and bulged his own muscles as he interjected himself and made this duel a proper battle.
To that, Joe only had a single thought in his head: bring it.
The three men, at that, began posing dramatically at each other - a battle with no words spoken, no hands thrown. Mustang somehow continued to outstrip the more conventional men by sheer virtue of how freakishly limber and flexible he was. Andersen and Joe both seemed to come to some manner of mutual understanding: this was a duel for second place, and neither was willing to surrender to the other…
Until the clock on Andersen's wall came into view, and Joe realized they'd been engaging in this idiocy for ten whole fucking minutes.
With a jump and a small yelp, Andersen seemed to notice as well, snapping to his feet as he and Joe spun to face Ingrid, who was doubtlessly fuming over the rampant stupidly on display-
Yet, instead, there was a satisfied grin on Ingrid's face as she practically lounged in her seat, seemingly watching the proceedings in rapt enjoyment… "...Oh, you're already done?" the CEO asked, visibly disappointed. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped, we do have business to tend to…"
Mustang laughed and laughed and laughed melodically, while Andersen sheepishly put his coat back on, adjusting his tie and clearing his throat as he returned to his seat.
…Ingrid had been just sitting there, watching the three grown-ass men act like complete idiots for ten fucking minutes, and just let them. And if anything, seemed to have enjoyed the goon show. Joe wasn't sure what to make of that.
Joe followed Andersen's example, putting the jacket Marian had gifted him back on, and claiming a seat across from his direct superior. Mustang, meanwhile, grabbed a chair lacking in armrests… and spun it around with a dramatic flourish to sit on it backwards - his weird techno-peacock tail thing necessitating that he be a bit more creative with his seating.
"Ahem, anyways, to get things back on track…" Andersen made an effort to shift back to serious mode. "Pholus: as you might imagine, we're here to discuss the plan at large. That and your… or rather, our history together."
Nodding once, Joe figured. It was evident that Mustang knew who he was, and Ingrid obviously would too. So… there was little to do but actually sort out their plans for the time being. "Lay it on me, then," he declared.
"Ah, swift to aller au vif, just as I remember! It's as though he never left!" Mustang cried out in joy.
That caught Joe off-guard, looking between him and Andersen in clear and present confusion.
"Mustang was present during the Initial Rapture Invasion, just the same as us," Andersen noted. "All three of us knew each other back then."
At that, Joe blinked, looked at Mustang, then at Andersen, and took a deep breath. "How in the name of all that is good and holy are we not decrepit old men?"
"Aside from Splendamin having life extension properties?" Andersen began. "I'm on a series of other assorted life extension programs, the recipient of a number of experimental implants and gene therapies. It's… oftentimes uncomfortable, yet here I am. Still kicking, despite my time having come and gone ages past," the once High Commander of Goddess noted somewhat wistfully. "I have it the roughest of the three of us, by a fair margin, in terms of just… persisting. But such is the cost of damn well ensuring that I can be here to set things right. It's a weight I will continue to bear as long as I must. Until my duty is done, the reaper shall not take me."
Joe nodded. That tracked. He'd seen how crazy the technologies at the disposal of the Ark were. It only made sense that it would be possible to find ways to keep certain individuals around, even if it might not be a fun process.
"...And us?" Joe motioned towards Mustang.
"You've been in cryogenic stasis for many decades," Andersen declared matter-of-factually. "You've also been subject to life extension alterations as a benefit of your role as the Legendary Commander of Goddess, but… you've been on ice since the Ark was sealed, and that moment you woke up in the hospital. You aren't actually as old as many would think, considering that. Though you'll find in time that you are aging slower than most would, even relative to the average Ark citizen."
…Yeah, that tracked. Though Joe had questions about that in particular, he looked aside at a broadly-smiling Mustang, asking, "I suppose Mustang's in the same boat as you, then?"
"Oh, no," Andersen shook his head. "Not at all. Mustang's an Adonis."
Joe just… stared blankly at Andersen, who himself took a moment to realize that there was a lack of understanding. "Ah, apologies, 'Adonis' is the male gendered term for a Nikke."
There was a beat before Joe recoiled as if struck, snapping between Andersen and Mustang with wide-
"He's a what!?" Ingrid, however, loudly interjected, back going ramrod straight in her seat as her eyes became unto saucers.
Well, at least Joe wasn't the only one that was being bushwhacked here…
Mustang laughed and chortled cheerfully at the two's reaction, setting a hand on his perfectly-formed pecs as he leaned back in his seat dramatically. "Do not act so surpris, fair mademoiselle Ingrid! Does it not explain much? You yourself surely attempted to look into my past, only to find that what you found did not add up under scrutiny?"
"...I thought that it was impossible to make male Nikkes," Joe remarked, staring at Mustang with as much shock as Ingrid.
"No, no, not impossible," Mustang shook his head, waggling his finger in Joe's direction. "Simply invraisemblable to obscene degrees! Improbable to the point that yours truly is yet the only successful example of a true, full conversion in human history! I would never have considered putting my girls through what I myself would not go through first!"
That… "...Does that mean you predate all Tetra Line Nikkes?" Joe asked.
"Correct!" Mustang declared with a cheer. "The first, and only of my kind! Oh, the only regret I have is the wave of renewed attempts to create more Adonii in my wake which followed! That month was… not bon for my would-be fellows, to say the least."
…Well, that was… unpleasant to hear. "...I can see how that would renew attempts to redouble the forces mankind could effectively throw against the Raptures, until everyone realized it was a one-in-a-million jackpot situation…"
"Indeed," Andersen nodded grimly. "It actually set us back in a few theatres. Male Nikkes - Adonii periodically going berserk in production facilities did not do the big three any favours in production efficiency until the notion of converting men was abandoned yet again."
Ingrid, meanwhile, had just slumped back in her seat, rubbing her forehead in deep-seated exasperation.
Mood.
Not seeing the need or point in dwelling on the subject, given that men and women doubtlessly far more intelligent than Joe could ever hope to be had surely already asked every question and did everything they could to determine what it was that allowed Mustang to successfully undergo conversion where every other man had immediately gone violently insane afterwards… Joe just decided to prod the conversation along.
"Well, anyways," pinching his brow, Joe nodded. "The Central Government, and Snow White…"
"Yes…" Andersen adjusted the cuffs of his coat, humming quietly as he considered the situation. "Our long term plan is to eventually overthrow the Central Government, as we've previously discussed. They are fascists with no intention of recapturing the surface, perfectly content with humanity's situation as it is, purely because it means they get to rule over these lingering remnants. This alone is cause to declare them to be enemies of mankind: though we need more of a secure power base to risk doing so. Enikk is certainly not willing to back an attempt at a revolution as it is. Her goal is first and foremost: mankind's ongoing survival as a species. Her calculations point to an attempted revolution backfiring and damning our species as it is."
"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what there is to discuss on this matter right now," Ingrid piped up, arms crossed and brow set at a down-turned angle. "We need to bide our time, and continue to build power to leverage against the Central Government and Missilis. Being able to point to having the Legendary Commander himself on our side when the time comes will do much to bring the general populace to our side, to say nothing of all the Nikkes that won't be willing to stand against him, just on account of his legend… What else can Pholus do besides hold steady and build up the Outpost?"
"Firstly, not just the Legendary Commander," Andersen started. "Remember, Pholus encountered Snow White on the surface. We don't know if the rest of Goddess is still alive, but even having one member of Goddess-"
"Deux," Mustang corrected the far less ostentatious brunet.
Taking a deep breath, Andersen shook his head. "Mustang, we can't-"
"John," Mustang interjected. "Regardless of your feelings on the matter, Snow White knows that both her Le commandant and Red Hood are alive and active in the Ark. Do not be so stupide as to convince yourself that she will simply and conveniently not drive to reunite with the woman she considered a sister as well. Your concerns about the possibility of Rapi undergoing another Mind Switch are valide: but they cannot take precedence over our need to secure as many powerful allies as we possibly can. That will mean, à la longue, reminding Rapi of who she is. Better that she be given the chance to acclimatize to that fact before she's faced with a dear old friend that surely remembers her clearly."
"...What lead to Rapi's Mind Switch in the first place," Joe inquired, "And how does she still know that she's Red Hood, even if she doesn't know what that means?"
It was Ingrid that answered him. "Simply put? As Andersen tells it: Some time after the Ark was sealed, Red Hood went on a rampage here in the CG Headquarters. Slaughtered a great many Central Government officers and security… and even a fair few actual Councilmen. She collapsed at some point in the midst of it, and was pronounced dead and disposed of. A lie, obviously. Andersen and Enikk apparently colluded with Elysion's at the time CEO to hide her away in stasis, until such a time that it was deemed safe to bring her out of it and put the only remaining Grimms Nikke back to work, with the CG none the wiser. She was informed that she had undergone a memory wipe, and that it was her duty to make up for the massacre she had went on, with no specifics provided to her." She rolled her shoulders as she finished. "So, believe me when I say that I understand Andersen's reticence to remind Rapi of exactly who and what she is. But Mustang has a point: we can't hide from the fact that Snow White will seek her out, and open Pandora's box in an uncontrolled manner, if they were truly as close as they both say."
Jesus fucking Christ. And Rapi thought herself as a monster for accidentally killing a single human as it was…
Regardless of Joe's internal musings, at that, Andersen closed his eyes. He took a deep, centring breath, and let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it…" shaking his head, he looked over to Ingrid. "To address your other point: Pholus is also here so we can go over his- or rather, our history. We can't dance around his amnesia anymore - not when we know that Snow White will be bee-lining for him, and him being one step away from being in the dark could and would make that eventual meeting… Difficult."
"Indeed," Mustang agreed. "While I was not present to anywhere near the same degree as you were, Andersen, us three had our des moments together. This most recent incident being but the latest instance of déchaîné tomfoolery!" The Adonis chortled in a high-pitched tone cheerily. "As I said, it was as though I'd been flung back in time! The only thing missing was Red Hood catcalling us all the while!"
…Man, Mustang knew exactly how to get Joe gooning. Yeah, they knew each other. Of all the people in the world, Joe had never expected that Andersen, Mustang, and himself had been the boys a century prior.
"...Well then," Ingrid looked between the three men, arms and legs crossed where she sat. "Pholus, I'm sure you have questions. Go ahead and ask: it seems that it will be a learning experience for the both of us."
Fingers thrumming the armrest of his seat, Joe considered where to start. He had a number of inquiries: especially involving Mustang, and the fact that Enikk, the Ark's central AI was apparently in direct contact with Andersen, and only didn't back the revolution because doing so put humanity's continued survival at too much risk at present…
Yet there was something which had been nagging at Joe ever since he'd woken up in that hospital, and Andersen had kept avoiding. "You said that I was on ice since the Ark was sealed," the burly man started, looking at his superior officer seriously. "But, moreover… I was almost dead the instant I was removed from stasis. From severe blood loss. Given everything that's been said about the Central Government, would I be incorrect in assuming that they attempted to assassinate me for my perceived danger to their power?"
Any and all cheer had left Mustang's face, while Andersen looked deeply resigned, and Ingrid just watched the proceedings with rapt interest, as in the dark about Joe's past as the man in question himself was.
"...No," Andersen answered pointedly. "It was not an assassination attempt. It was self-defence."
Joe cocked his head at that, somewhat confused. "...I don't- so I was injured defending myself from the Central Government? I don't understand, it seems like you're splitting hairs here-"
"Joe," Mustang seriously interjected, actually dropping his tendency to randomly shift to and back out of French as he elucidated. "The Central Government informed you of their intent to take the girls you had come to cherish, and tear them apart limb-from-limb, shamelessly killing them in the process 'for the betterment of mankind' despite all they'd done to give our species a fighting chance. You knew well enough to see it as a tyrant's ill-conceived smokescreen. You knew the moment the words left their collective mouths: they only sought to slaughter those who might challenge them, and in so doing learn how to empower themselves in the process with technology which had already been lost along with the surface. And their intent to use you as a propaganda-spewing puppet in the aftermath."
Not allowing Joe the chance to react, even as something was twigged in the back of Joe's mind, and something began to emerge from the grey, Mustang continued.
"Then, as you departed from that fateful meeting, assumed to have been brought to heel like a good guard dog by those fools, doubtlessly driven beyond the point of reason to do something altogether fruitlessly foolish… you found none other than Red Hood, the Central Government's sheer arrogance and incompetence taking no issue with allowing her off the leash until the very moment they decided to dissect her. Then, alongside your equally vengeful subordinate, you discovered the sheer, boundless arrogance of those haughty fools in the fact that they had not thought to revoke your Hoplon access privileges, while the Central Government's Headquarters had been built directly atop, and was still directly connected to the Ark's primary military garage."
"You weren't defending yourself from the Central Government. In your abject fury, they were defending themselves from you."