"You're three and a half months late, dick," Josh stated matter of factly as Jack took his seat at the 'friend' table in the corner of the modest restaurant. Jack just rolled his eyes as James decided to cut in, too, most of the bar's other patrons now giving him the once-over as they went through their own conversations.

"Why are you dressed like Agent Smith?" asked the Welshman.

"Call me 'pikey' on live TV again and I'm gonna shoot you," Luke declared. Jack glanced at the three of them, leaning onto the table.

"Christ, changed your tune from being on the TV an hour ago, ain't you?" he replied flatly, once more running his hand through his hair. "And who's the real fuckin' idiot here, me for not registerin' that 'three and a half months' have gone by, or you, for sittin' here for eight months?"

Josh gave him the 'fuck off' look and reclined in his chair. "Whatever. Anyway, that went better than expected. People actually recognised me in the street after that," he noted. "Someone called me 'Grenadier' as I went past. I rather like it."

James smirked. "Works well enough as a nickname. I still get called 'Dragon Hunter', and I've no issue with it." Luke just groaned, throwing his hands up slightly.

"Meanwhile, thanks to you three, I got called 'pikey' all the way here, and some people started yelling 'Where's your caravan' as I went past." The other three men at the table just started laughing. "It's not funny!"

"Oi, nah, it's pretty funny," Jack retorted, "I got sent Nepchat footage of you pullin' bits of metal off the Cyber-Dragon. Couldn't find any lead roofin' to steal?"

"And you couldn't find anyone other than your middle-aged bodyguard to start shaggin' on the down-low?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Mate, I'm not fuckin' Cave, I'm not fuckin' anyone, you and I know there's no chance of that happenin' any time soo-"

"Except that blonde woman on telly who was trying not to literally take you on-stage," came a sudden, rather Northern voice, accompanied by someone slapping a gloved hand onto Jack's shoulder from behind and shaking him slightly, the other hand leaning down onto the table. He tensed, almost tempted to flip the newcomer on reflex, then remembered where he was and that it wasn't a good idea. "You have about a hundred and fifty people here who can agree that the host on the telly was definitely eyeing you up."

Jack turned in his chair to face the newcomer, and was surprised to see someone roughly his own age looking down at him. The brown-haired young man was wearing some kind of armour-and-hooded-cape combo, illuminated with a small holographic symbol on the left sleeve which bore the insignia of the 'VANGUARD' unit of the SASGIGNNATOPOLIZEIRANGERSUSMCSBSSPEHSSMEHREENS initiative.

Jack remembered hearing about them. Didn't hear too much, but he knew the section existed, at least.

He raised a brow, and pointed at the man's left sleeve. "Ain't you one of the geezers from that really hushed-up bit of the program?" he asked bluntly. "What was it you lot did that was special, again?" The guy just groaned, standing himself up.

"Oh, OK, 'hello' to you, as well," came his sarcastic response, before he extended a hand. "I'm Sergeant William Lazarus. Apparently we're the same rank; You can call me Will." Jack just shook his hand cautiously.

"I'm a Sergeant?" he asked bluntly. Will stared at him and nodded once, keeping his grip.

"Yes."

Jack, not really being sure what to do, turned his head away slightly, mouth slightly agape, and murmured a quick "Uh-huh…", as Will – unprompted, of course – grabbed a nearby chair, put it back-first to the table, and straddled it, leaning on the spine of the chair with one arm on the chair and a hand on his hip.

"So," he began, blowing a tuft of hair that had drifted into his eyes and ignoring the skeptical looks from the other four boys at the table as he jabbed a finger towards James, "Was it you who shot that big dragon thing in the chest with a cannon?" James, rather taken aback by Will's sudden question, sat up slightly.

"Uh…yeah, that was me," came the Welshman's steady response, "Experimental bullets for my sniper rifle, though. I don't have a cannon." Will just shrugged.

"Did the job, though, innit," he mused. "I wanna get a gun like that." James rolled his eyes, and stubbed his cigarette onto the ashtray as he reclined in his seat.

"Well, no offence, none of us have chatted with you before," he sighed, "So the only way you're entitled to my gun is if you kill me yourself." James paused to give Will the once-over.

He wasn't exactly the spitting image of a dreaded special-forces-trained government assassin, though then again, there were a few young faces amongst the gaggle of people sat around the bar. He couldn't have been any older than the four of them, since Luke was the oldest, then Jack by a few months, then Josh being two days behind Jack, and James being the youngest. If anything, the entire group around the table – Will included – looked more like a bunch of young adults at a comic convention.

Will's armour looked almost like modified motorcycle gear, similar to what Chaz normally wore, except Will had a lot more pouches and belts, along with a hooded cape on the back. The armour itself was bashed and battered; A lot of the areas seemed to have been crudely fixed with extra plates and new fabric. Good thing, too: The areas damaged would probably have been lethal bullets if they hadn't stopped whatever attack had hit Will to break the armour.

Jack briefly stuck out his lip, scratching his chin in thought.

Maybe Mr. Foster wasn't the one who looked most like someone from S.T.A.L.K.E.R.

Nevertheless, he looked over at Will. "You mind tellin' me who's in charge of you lot?" he asked rather suddenly. Will just tilted his head.

"Mum is," he replied, almost sounding confused. "Didn't you bring her here?" Jack was confused, then understood what he meant.

"Oh, uh, no, I don't mean Lady Sigrun," he said quickly, shaking his hands in denial, "I mean, like, of you guys. Before Lady Sigrun adopted you all…do you all have to call her 'mum'?" Will shrugged.

"I dunno if we have to, but it ended up being a nickname, and now we all call her that." He scratched his mop of hair for a second, squinting, then looked back at Jack. "She keeps calling you her 'son', though."

Jack didn't move from his reclined position, but raised his left brow steadily. "I ain't her son, though." He glanced at his friends for a second. "You lads met my mum when she was around, didn't you? Sig ain't my mum." James, Luke, and Josh gave a few mutters of 'Oh yeah, we met her, I liked your Mum, nice lady', prompting Jack to look back at Will and just give a big shrug.

Will just returned the gesture. "I think it just means she's taken a liking to you, specifically," he suggested. "But, um, that aside, if you wanna speak to who's in charge, there's your table."

Will raised a gloved finger towards a table in the middle of the room, which was surrounded by a hard-looking group of men, none of which were wearing conventional sets of armour or clothing. One of them, a very muscular bald man, was pale as snow, wearing some kind of berserker's fur armour, whilst another looked as if he'd been dragged out of Chivalry: Medieval Warfare, strapped to the teeth in metal armour and with a mighty shield sat to his left. They all seemed to be quietly murmuring to each other, serious expressions on their faces as each of them brought points into whatever important topic they discussed.

Truth be told, Jack thought they looked fucking ridiculous. Everyone around the table looked about 50 or more years out-of-date – was that a fucking cowboy? Jesus Christ.

Nodding steadily and mentally preparing himself for a stupid discussion, Jack got up from his chair, and patted a hand on Will's shoulder. "Cheers, back in a few," he declared, not taking his eyes off the bizarre 'leader' table in the middle of the bar. Naturally, as he stood up, the many dozen people around the room turned their eyes to look at him as he went, but there wasn't any kind of silence, thankfully.

The table in question hadn't turned their attention to him, seemingly too engrossed in their conversation to pay Jack any heed. However, it was as he got closer and heard the words "ass is hometown, though" coming from the shaven-headed knight that Jack came to the conclusion they probably weren't having a talk that wasn't worth interrupting.

Striding confidently up to the table, Jack had surprisingly evaded their detection when he suddenly found the gunslinger nearest to him rotate in his seat to face him. "Well, now, look who finally saw fit to grace us with his presence," the man announced, a rather heavy Southern US accent in his gravelly voice. "Takin' a break from the high life to come hang out with the degenerates?"

Even from a quick glance, Jack could tell that the man before him was considerably older than him. If he included the outfit in the judgement, he might even go so far as to say the guy was a time traveller. He had a remarkably clean black tailcoat on, with a white flat-top brimmed hat. The waistcoat, spurs, and cowboy boots, plus an accompanying brass star badge that said "U.S MARSHAL" in a rather fancy font, seemed to indicate that the man was either so good at his job in the police that he had the right to wear things like that, or so delusional that he thought he was an actual cowboy.

Whatever the case, he was missing an eye and had a thick white moustache that went over his mouth, with a deep grey stubble where he seemed to have shaved.

Jack opted against calling him a Westaboo, and straightened up a bit as the rest of the equally-strangely-dressed table turned their attention to him. "Aye, show ended, came here to meet you lot," Jack began. "I understand you're Lady Sigrun's…ah, 'troops'?" The old man in front of him gave a calm nod, then turned further to extend a hand.

"Yyyyup," he grunted, finally letting Jack shake his gloved hand, "That's us – all one hundred and fifty that saw fit t' show up, this evenin'. I'm U.S Marshal Nick Bones; You're welcome to call me Marshal Nick. I was actin' sheriff of Nokeya when we got the call from Mom to roll out." As he withdrew from the handshake, Jack noticed the knight lean forward at the mention of 'Mom' – apparently Sigrun's nickname amongst 'her' troops.

"You got Mum's attention fast," the armoured warrior interjected; Jack detected a fairly heavy accent from the English midlands, once again making him wonder just why there were so many Brits on the Project. "Within about ten minutes of meeting her, you've got her in your van and we're all gearing up to follow along."

Jack just shrugged, then mockingly adjusted his lapels and smirked. "I know, surprisin': I absolutely radiate charm," he declared, voice dripping with sarcasm as a few people around the table chuckled. Nick gave a brief gesture towards a vacant chair after a moment.

"Well, whatever the case with Mom might be," the old man drawled as Jack took a seat, "We still needed t' have you here so you could properly clarify what you've been up to with these four civilizations." His gloved hand swept around the room lightly. "All these good folks've been cooped up in some desert town, so I think they'd all be pretty glad t' have some real insight on the do's and don'ts in this world." The knight, again, nodded.

"We're not gonna lie to you, Sergeant: Spirits aren't too high," he said bluntly. "Nobody's been getting any good fights in against Kashuba's boys since you popped the fucker. They've doubled down in aggressiveness." Jack raised a brow at the comment.

"Uh-huh. Any idea why?"

Nick shook his head. "Ain't a clue, or I'd be tellin' ya right now," he sighed, scratching a rather deep set of scars across his cheek that Jack had only just noticed properly. "I got thirty years workin' in law enforcement, and part of my job is knowin' what makes a bad fella tick. Right now?"

Jack steadily nodded in understanding. "You've nothin'."

"Correct. It's erratic. They're spread out. I'd normally visit neighbouring towns 'n' see what was goin' on at their end. Few counts of public incitement, some minor terror – usual shootin' in the air kinda deal – and we had at least one count of jaywalkin'." Jack chuckled at the final note.

"Shit, jaywalkin'? We're gonna have to clap the fuckers in case anyone's late for work," he mused, scratching his chin. At this point, Will and Chaz had moved over to the table, Chaz deciding to hover behind Jack and listen in whilst Will pulled up another chair and once again sat on it the wrong way round. Of note was that no other chair in the room looked like it; If anything, he seemed to have pulled it from nowhere.

"Now Sergeant, I'm sure you'd love to finish that big shootout in that skyscraper and exterminate the rest of Kashuba's boys," Nick continued. "I think there ain't a soul in this bar who wouldn't bury each 'n' every one of those bastards with a bellyful of lead. Thing is…we ain't allowed."

At this point, Jack grimaced, and rubbed his eyes for a second, sighing. "I'm…gonna make the assumption that-"

"- the current leader of this country, Mum's daughter Vert, has said we can't go wandering about and killing people without proper reasoning," the knight finished, tapping fingers on the wooden table. As he spoke, Jack tilted his head to look at the chair beneath him.

It was wooden, and still supporting the man's weight and what looked like about forty to sixty kilos of steel armour.

Jack made a mental note to find the furniture manufacturer responsible and use them when decorating his house.

The knight, a shaven-headed young man, just grinned, baring a set of oddly well-kept teeth. "I mean, yeah, I'd say that working under a terrorist who recently carried out a large scale terror attack in the middle of Plan…Pla…Purple Land's capital city is a good enough reason to diddle them to death, but not according to any government officials we've been allowed to speak with." There came a pause again. Finally, Will opened his mouth to speak again.

"That's…kind of why we were hoping to chat with you," he said cautiously. "Out of all of us, you and your mates have managed to literally become best friends with the four countries' leaders." Jack nodded as the whole table, and a few others nearby, turned to listen to Will. "I mean, two months of living in tents and then four months in some town where everything's too small to use comfortably has been nice, but I think we'd all be more appreciative if you could get us anywhere in regards to…y'know..."

Nick cut in. "Legal things. Citizenship papers, jobs, solid accommodations, some kinda…diplomatic meetings with these Goddesses of yours." He leaned forward on the table. "Truth be told, only so much I can do as a Sheriff if I ain't even legally considered one. We need t' get properly set up here."

Jack narrowed his eyes slightly, nodding. "I understand where you're comin' from," he replied. "But I'm gonna have to ask some questions to you lads, first." Nick, the knight, and the other bald man in the fur pelt – who had not spoken at all – looked at each other for a second in confusion, then back to London.

"Well, uh, shoot, if ya want," Nick said finally.

"Right. So…you lads're in charge?"

"De facto, yeah."

"And that means?"

"None of us outrank each other," Will interjected. "We have a whole lot of sergeants in here. Nobody higher than that. The highest ranking person was –"

"Sergei…" Jack mused. "And I wasted that dickhead."

"Indeed," Nick said calmly, adjusting his seating position slightly. "Now, after him, we had Lieutenant-Commander Fisher. I'm not sure that's how the ranks worked, but Fisher was meant to be his second-in-command. Whether a Major outranks a Lieutenant Commander is still up for debate, but we sure do have a lot of non-commissioned Officers in here. I don't even think anyone's below the rank of Sergeant. Anyone higher, you killed."

"So we find Fisher and put him in charge?" Jack suggested.

"Well, I hope you got a shovel. He got eaten by the giant worm bastard that nearly killed all of us. Thing barely got away, I think. Beneath the sands between Louis and Leanbox."

"Oh. Shit. Uh…sorry to hear that. Who's Louis?"

"Louis. The place near Leanbox."

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's not called Louis. It's Lowee."

Nick leaned forward in his chair, raising a gloved finger towards the suited youth to his side. "Listen, kid, those two words might be spelled different when your dialogue lines come up, but part of my accent and character joke means I can't say Louis properly. 't ain't easy for me."

Jack groaned and rolled his eyes. "Right, listen. First off, don't you start making jokes about this bein' a story. Second off, I'm thoroughly unconvinced that's a real Southern accent."

A few people nearby went silent at the accusation, and Jack just stared the older man down. Finally, after a moment, Nick looked down, nodding slowly, then swirled the whiskey in his glass for a moment. "…y'got me. I'm…shit, fine, I'm from Minnesota."

At the words, a small cheer arose nearby from a few tables, along with loud groaning. Jack turned to look; A group of men nearby were quite begrudgingly handing objects to a man who was shouting "Come on! Pay up! I knew it, you were wrong! Fake accent!".

Will scratched his chin. "I thought there was something weird about your accent." Nick just sheepishly scratched at the scars on his chin.

"Well, 't ain't my fault. They forced me to speak in this accent through trainin'."

Jack just gave a blank stare, then turned to face Chaz to see if he understood, but since even his alarmingly expressive helmeted face was offering no emotion, Jack was fairly sure he wasn't alone in his confusion.

Finally, he spoke up again. "They…forced you…to have an accent." Nick just nodded.

"Yuuup. Now I can't be rid a' the damn thing. Don't even know why they made me put on an accent. Didn't make a damned day's difference up in Minnesota, nor in Arizona or Texas." As Jack was about to speak again, the bar suddenly went quieter, then altogether silent. From behind him, he heard the more apparent sounds of cars outside and the city life.

Those at the table turned to look as well, and Jack – confused – followed their gazes. "Hey, look, it's that one lass who came to Nokeya with you," the knight declared, and sure enough, his regal decree was correct: Standing in the doorway, seemingly oddly calm and wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, was Chika. She wasn't wearing her dress; Instead, she sported a pair of jeans, motorcycle boots, leather jacket, no shirt, a green bikini top, and a small-yet-eyecatching necklace that had 'C.H' in gold letters.

Jack grimaced slightly at the apparel. He hoped everyone else didn't kill based on clothing style, especially since she was dressed like some kind of biker pornstar, or a rapper.

She was leaning on the wooden doorframe of the bar, slowly turning her head as she took in the appearances of the dozens of men and women around her. Finally, her eyes set on London, a wry smirk crossed her face, and she calmly began to stroll through the many tables to get to him.

The silence in the room only began dying when people realized there were a few other Gamindustrians in the room; Namely, the bar staff and a few waiters. Why they'd gone silent for some woman coming in who happened to be with London when he showed up to see Mom was really a good question. She was likely there for a chat, after all.

The Oracle carried an alarming air of confidence as she strode across the crowded bar, commanding caution from everyone nearby as she went, before she finally reached the table that London had moved to. Then, without seemingly any care for what the other men gathered had to say, raised her foot and used the chair visible between London's legs as something to lean on, folding her arms onto her knee.

As the Oracle reached into a pocket and drew a cigarette, Nick looked rather stunned for a moment. "Now, excuse me, ma'am, but we are havin' a private conversation," he said finally, staring at her.

Chika finished lighting her cigarette, and lowered her sunglasses slightly, clicking her lighter shut as she looked the cowboy over. After a moment of observing the older man, she shook her head, inhaled smoke, then blew it out in one big sigh, finally looking down at the young man whose groin area she was dangerously close to stomping on moments before.

"Hey, London," the Oracle said flatly, gesturing her cigarette towards Nick. "Who's this?"

London rolled his eyes, and raised a hand to gesture at the men around the table. "Oracle, nice of you to come in and say hi. This is Marshal Nick Bones, actin' Sheriff of Nokeya. Works under Lady Sigrun." Chika took another drag of her cigarette, tapping the ash on her knee, then slowly nodding.

"You a cowboy?" she asked. Nick, slightly taken aback that this was the second-in-command of a country, coughed and nodded, removing his hat out of respect.

"Well, respectfully, 'cowboy' is kinda a rough word for what I do, ma'am," he replied. "I uphold the law in absence of actual law enforcement units for Nokeya. By technicality, Mom appointed me Sheriff of the town." Chika let out a 'Tch' of amusement.

"You call Lady Sigrun 'Mom'?" she mirthed, before pointing around the table. "You all call her 'Mommy', too?" The men assembled just shrugged, some shaking their heads at what this new lady was implying, but nobody seemed too aggressive about it, which Jack was thankful for.

If anything, for just walking into a bar full of killers and going to their faces to accuse them all of having Mommy kinks, they would know for a factthat Chika had some real balls. Hell, hopefully they all respected her posi-

"Alright, Auntie," Will piped in from behind, still backwards on the chair, "So what exactly are you here mugging us off, for?"

Chika hesitated at being called Auntie.

Then, she mulled it over.

Then shrugged.

"Well, dearest nephew," she replied mockingly, taking a brief pull from her cigarette, "I'm here to get an idea as to which one of you is in charge." Will shrugged again.

"Mum is."

"No, amongst you. You're all soldiers, right?"

"We're all also, like, exactly the same rank."

"…what?"

"I'm a Sergeant," Will explained, then pointed around the table at each man individually. "Sergeant, Sergeant, Sergeant, Sergeant, Sergeant, and guess what's cool about your toyboy?" His finger pointed at Jack, who was now disinterestedly looking at the group before him.

'Why's there a weird-looking Bluetooth speaker hovering behind Will?'

Chika looked down at London, then smirked. "Uh, is it that he's afraid of women making advances on him?" she asked rhetorically.

Rather surprisingly, at the joke, nobody smirked or chuckled. In fact, quite a few of the gazes were suddenly rather hostile. Chika's confidence drained slightly, and after a moment she muttered 'Tough crowd…' and dragged from her cigarette again.

Will rolled his eyes at the comment, then gestured to London. "A lot of us heard what happened with Valkyrie Platoon, so nothing to be concerned about. Sorry to hear. We won't joke on it, mate."

For a moment, Jack was stunned at the comment, and the mention of the name. Then, after a moment, he nodded slowly in understanding and appreciation, and smiled at Will. "Aye…cheers."

Chika stood for a moment and mulled on questions about 'Valkyrie Platoon', but before she could ask any, Will continued. "So if we go back to what I was saying," he sighed, finally standing up, "Everyone in this bar currently holds the same rank. The only other person higher was Lieutenant-Commander Fisher, who got eaten by a giant wormy thing."

Chika just raised a brow at the comment, leaning on the table and being sure to place her well-formed rear end on London's hand that was on the edge of the table. "And what about that 'Casper' guy?" she asked, folding her arms. Will shook his head, and the knight just snorted.

"Major Kashuba?" the shaven-headed man cut in, drumming fingers on the helmet sat on his lap. "Ask London what happened to him and why he can't be here, tonight. Kashuba and Fisher were meant to be in charge. Both are dead."

Nick scratched at his chin. "Now, technically speakin'," he began, raising a finger, "I was asked by Mom t'…'maintain law and order within the ranks', so t' speak. I just hang out with these fellas a lot, so I'm just gonna tell ya they're my Deputies." The older man gestured to the table in one sweeping motion. "Staff of the Sheriff's Office of Nokeya: At your service, ma'am."

Chika pouted slightly, before nodding in approval and stubbing her cigarette into a nearby ashtray. "Great. So you guys are in charge?" she asked.

Nick, again, shook his head. "We're the law enforcement. We just do what Mom tells us, but other than that, we're all Sergeants." Chika gave an irritated look, then shrugged.

"OK, well, congrats, let's just drop the army shit for a while," she groaned exasperatedly. "Just answer this, OK? You guys take charge of all these people, right?"

Everyone nodded. London scratched his cheek.

'Chika's thigh is still in front of my face and I'm now concerned by how much perfume she uses around her thighs. Why does she need it to smell like someone'll be putting their face there OK that's disgusting.'

"So, one would assume that you guys could assume a leadership role, right?" the Oracle continued.

Nick looked around at the others, seemingly telepathically deliberating with them, then gave a tilted head gesture. "Weeeeell…kinda? I ain't much of a leader so much as I am a lawman."

The knight raised a hand. "Not many of us are leaders. Nick was a Marshall back on Earth, and I used to work as a prison Warden." Before anyone spoke, Jack cut in, leaning forward so that his chin was just above Chika's knee.

"Yeah, uh, what was your name? You never said."

"I'm Thomas," he replied flatly. Jack's finger shifted towards the man with the big fur pelt.

"And you are?"

Thomas just shook his head as the ashen white man stared London down. His muscles were almost larger than London's, which had him thoroughly concerned. "None of us know. He won't speak or write his name. Good listener, though." Jack just steadily nodded, then reclined his seat again.

"Uh…right. Anyway, sorry, continue, Thomas."

"Thanks. So, like I was saying," the knight continued, leaning onto the table, "I don't think anyone here received formal leadership training. I just learned to hold positions, or take them from the enemy." Will also leaned in.

"I'm a disposable unit, kind of." Jack just raised a brow at the comment.

"Well, that doesn't sound fun. How can you be 'disposable'?" he asked. At the question, the people around the table shared looks, smirking. Then, Will looked at Jack, extending his handwith a 'gimme' hand gesture.

"Gimme your gun," he said finally, grinning. Jack, hesitantly, after looking up at Chika, slowly drew his Desert Eagle, and handed it to the mop-haired guy in front of him.

Then, without even a shred of fear or hesitation, Will put the gun's barrel to the top of his head and fired.

Immediately, bits of brain and gore splattered out of the side of his skull alongside the almighty boom of Jack's pistol going off. Everyone in the bar turned instantly to look, at least one of them being stood on a table within a second and having a gun drawn, and a loud 'What the Hell?!' resonated throughout the room.

Jack stood up as fast as possible, pulling Chika into the bridal carry position and stepping back. "What the FUCK?!" he yelled, staring at Will's corpse as it lifelessly slumped to the floor, the strange speaker-looking device steadily drifting down alongside it. "He just-HE JUST FUCKING SHOT HIMSELF?!"

Despite this, as the young man's body splayed onto the hardwood tiles and blood began dribbling out of the absolute cavern that the gun had opened in his head, the rest of the table chose not to offer a responsible reaction, and neither did the rest of the bar.

Everyone started laughing at Jack and Chika's reactions; Both absolutely mortified.

Nevertheless, Nick and Thomas were both applauding at Will's suicide, two sets of clapping amongst a hundred. "One shot! Hell of a show!" Nick laughed, before shaking his head, smiling up at Jack and Chika and pointing to the corpse. "Now, watch this, son."

The young man and his 'boss' blinked, then looked at Will's body; Specifically, the little device near it. It seemed to stare at the body, rotating a few times. Then, it spoke.

"God, I fookin' hate it when he does that."

Now THAT was a Northern voice.

There came no time to question how so much working class attitude had been crammed into such a device, as the small object emitted a pulse of light that washed over the area and corpse, before a sudden light flash occurred a few feet away.

Jack couldn't believe it.

On the floor, the corpse was still there, crimson still pouring out of the hole and occasionally, the body twitched.

Will stepped over it, cracking his neck a few times and reaching down to pet the little machine, and retrieve the pistol from his own corpse. "Thanks, Brad," he sighed, wrenching the pistol from his hand, wiping some of the gore from it, and then walking over to Jack.

Still smirking, he almost smugly handed the weapon to its' owner, who stared in disbelief, before gently lowering Chika to the table and hesitantly taking back his Deagle.

After a moment in which people chuckled at his reaction, Will smiled further. "You look as if you've just seen a Gho-"

Another deafening bang rang out as Jack raised the Desert Eagle and shot Will straight between the eyes, and the bar exploded into uproarious laughter as the young man's body once more slammed back onto the floor. This was CERTAINLY their type of guy; Someone who sees the opportunity to test someone's claims, and does it without question!

Chika – and most of the bar staff – screamed in terror, as the charismatic man they'd just seen on Nepstation Live, had just fucking murdered someone in front of a hundred and fifty people, who were now applauding as if he'd declared personal victory over Iraq.

The small floating machine accompanying Will – apparently named 'Brad' – extended a few sections of itself as if letting out a surprised snort, the blue light in the middle of it blinking a couple of times.

"Fook's sake!" the machine laughed, rotating to face Will's limp body again. "Don't you start doin' this joke as well, you've only just met 'im!"

London shrugged, tucking the handcannon into his shoulder holster as 'Brad' floated down to revive Will. "He looked invincible, figured it'd be worth a test of my own."

After a moment, with the bar beginning to resume normal activity, Jack turned to Chika, finally sighing as he sat down. "I reckon we'll get on with these lads just fine," he said finally.

Chika had absolutely no words, and nodded with a blank expression that pierced even the sunglasses she wore. She simply opted to quietly shuffle over to Jack and sit on his lap, hands between her legs as she just stared at an empty area of table in front of her.

"You still didn't answer much by lettin' me shoot him in the face," Jack said, looking over the table. Nick raised a brow, turning his body to face him.

"We didn't let you do anythin', pard. You took the chance at doin' that."

"He showed a cool party trick in front of someone he probably didn't entirely trust, yet," Jack retorted, waving a dismissive hand as he brushed fingers through a slight mess of Chika's seafoam hair. "Not my fault he wasn't prepared for summat that was literally inevitable."

Nick grimaced as the rest of the table mulled on it, and Will walked back to the table, wincing and clicking his neck. "Ow," he announced, once more sitting on a back-to-front chair. "That wasn't a very epic thing to do." Jack didn't even get a reply in before 'Brad' hovered down next to Will.

"Mate, you showed him that you can immediately come back when you die, and you're surprised he shot you to test it," the oddly Northern device said in an amused tone of voice. "I'm actually sidin' wi' him on this one; You sort of 'ad that one comin'." Will simply shot his sentient defibrillator a dirty look.

"Shut up, Brad," he pouted, shaking his head. The little machine just made a movement akin to rolling its' eyes.

"Whatever the case may be with how much you enjoyed havin' your brains pasted all over the floor," Jack continued, casting a grimace at the two dead bodies on the ground, "You still haven't given us a clue as to who's meant to be in charge." Once more, the table just looked amongst themselves, then back at Jack.

"You wanna do it?" Tom asked. Jack just let out a 'pfft'.

"No chance."

"But you've got the most friends amongst all of us in this world," Will interrupted. "People know you."

"Aye, and people know Johnny Depp, but I wouldn't trust him to take charge of a piss-up in a brewery," Jack snorted. "Can't we just work under Lady Sigrun?" Nick shook his head.

"I love Mom, 'n' all, but I wouldn't personally recommend that we put ourselves at the disposal of a lady who cried when we told her that dogs dream about their owners," the Marshal noted, before raising a finger. "That's true, by the way." Jack raised a brow.

"They do? Shit, that's really cute."

"I know, ain't it just? Personally I don't like dogs, much. They keep tryin' to bite me and run off with my body parts." Nick seemed to be legitimately bothered by such a ludicrous possibility.

"That ain't gonna happen, but whatever," Jack sighed. "Point is, I'm not takin' charge." Tom and Will both collectively groaned as Nick just sucked air through his teeth, stroking his chin. After a moment, Will turned in his chair slightly.

"Who're you, again?" he asked. Jack looked over to him, and noticed that he was staring at Chaz, who had been silently observing the conversation. The pilot just offered a blank look through the helmet.

"Charlie," he replied, "Call me Chaz."

Will shrugged. "Alright. What can you do?"

"He summons planes," Jack cut in. Will turned to face him.

"Shut up," he snapped, then turned to face Chaz. "What do you mean, you summon planes?" Chaz just slowly shook his head, shrugging.

"I…guess I just make planes appear," he said finally. "If you're gonna ask me to take charge, honestly, I only came here because I wanted to hang out with the boys." He gestured over to the table just across the room, on which James was holding Josh's left hand to the table, with Luke playing the Knife Game™️ on Josh's hand. A few people had gathered around to watch.

The group stared at this. Will inhaled, raising a finger.

"If you suggest puttin' any of them in charge of these men, I'll kill you and then myself," Jack said flatly.

Will lowered his finger again.

"We still need a leader, out of us lot," Tom sighed, leaning on the table and rubbing at his head. "Nobody else in this entire bar has bothered trying to take charge. We're the only ones who've done anything major, and your boys are the only ones who've seriously interacted with the leadership, here." Jack nodded slowly, and appreciatively, mulling the point over as he idly played with Chika's hair.

Finally, he patted the table. "Tell you what," he said finally. "You boys think you could head up the basilicom tomorrow night? I can set you up a meetin' with Lady Vert." The men around the table shifted slightly, interested. "Seein' as you're all technically the most important ones here, probably best that you handle the arrangin' of affairs for your guys. We'll look into findin' you all some suitable accommodation, and if not, we'll get you guys some decent supplies to get you all set up."

London shrugged, smirking slightly. "I mean, I've already got a job and shit," he said smugly, the other men being visibly irritated by their junior's pride, "I guess I can help you lads find some work." Will raised a hand.

"Where do you work?" he asked almost suspiciously, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

"I kill monsters in my free time for cash, carry out Guild work, and work for the CPUs, doin' their little jobs for 'em when I'm in their countries," Jack replied. "I look after Lady Noire's sister, do PR shit for Lady Vert, and tell Lady Blanc stuff about Earth as she needs it. Lady Neptune, I never know what's next."

Brad hovered next to Jack, a light humming permeating the air and letting Jack know he was nearby. "What've you been tellin' Blanc?" he asked. "Actual facts, or've you been bullshittin' 'er?"

Jack shrugged, smirking.

"She doesn't know who Keith Lemon is, but she fuckin' hates him, now."

At this, the table came once more into laughter, Chika included.

She'd finally gotten over seeing Will die twice.

Though she probably wouldn't sleep well after that.

The next evening…

After spending a while coaxing Vert out of her room – not an easy feat considering her existing distrust due to Sigrun's prank the night before – Jack took the lead in taking the aryan goddess down to the end of the basilicom's lawn. Sigrun, of course, followed along, and had Jack been paying any attention, would have noticed Vert's giant mother closely observing how he walked with her daughter.

Whilst Jack hadn't been down to the end of the basilicom's lawn before, he made a mental note to certainly return.

Whereas he had originally assumed that the basilicom's patio area was the only area like it, he was very surprised to discover that just over the hedges at the end of the garden, there existed a cliff-side patio that gave an even moreamazing view over night-time Leanbox. Large, beige tiles adorned the ground, stone steps leading onto a deck area that featured a large pit in the centre for a fire, a large chair that wrapped around the fireplace, and a flashy roof over it all. Off to the side was a previously unseen 'parking area', with a road of gravel that lead down the hill to another exit at the base of the cliffs; Presumably, this was a summer exit for Lady Vert.

Quite cleverly, a hole existed above the fireplace shelter to ensure smoke went straight out when it was in use, which usually, it wasn't, since nobody could ever be bothered to walk all the way to the end of the basilicom's lawn.

However, tonight, the fireplace was certainly in use; Sat beneath the shelter, looking tidier than the night before, were Will (and his companion Brad), Tom, and Nick…and Jane Doe?

As he approached, Jack was very surprised to see the red-uniformed man sat with the others around the fireplace. He hadn't even seen him since the events of the Tower; Obviously, he mustn't have been without trouble, or was at least atoning for his actions, since wrapped around his ankle was a large electronic tag, the kind reserved for people under close watch. That, and sat on the opposite side of the fire to Jane was Cave: Most certainly intended to keep him in line.

The men (and woman) were having a surprisingly friendly conversation and meal when Jack and Vert arrived; Nick, in his cowboy-esque wisdom, had opted to bring a cooler full of…assorted meats, and was cooking them over the fire with a large hunting knife. Whilst novel, and whilst it did seem to make it easier for him to put things onto plates to pass around, Jack didn't understand why he didn't just use the barbecue tongs that were sat literal feet away from him, but since everyone had a plate and something to eat, they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Jack decided it would be best to announce the group's arrival by doing his usual.

"Evenin', fellas," he declared nonchalantly, strolling down the curve of steps leading towards the fireplace. Those gathered turned quickly to the voice, with Nick, Tom, Will, and Jane all simultaneously letting out a loud "Hi, mom!". Sigrun smiled at the pleasantry, ducking down slightly as she went underneath the shelter to sit amongst her men; Due to being unable to sit on the chairs because of her height, she instead opted to sit on the back of the chair, which was essentially just sitting on the porch.

However, as her bottom reached the ground, she found it oddly cushioned, and looked down to inspect what it was. Sure enough, there was now a cushion there, despite there not being one a second before. If she had paid more attention, she would have spotted London recovering from a very impressive throw that made zero noise and perfectly landed between Sigrun's bum and the patio tiles.

Nick did notice; He briefly gave some silent mock applause to the younger man as he moved to sit around the fire. Jack decided to sit next to Cave, meaning Cave was somewhat stuck between the end of the couch and the point where the patio floor dropped down. Vert sat on the other side of London.

Seeing this, Sigrun decided to move, and sat herself right next to Vert, as close as possible, forcing her exasperated daughter to shift closer to the man at her side. Whilst not obvious, having Vert's leg pressed against his own made London very uncomfortable, but he didn't really want to show it in front of the men opposite.

Though, on the plus side, Vert did still smell very nice, and Cave's usual scent of cherries could be detected as well. Being stuck right between the two wasn't all bad, but still not exactly preferable.

After a moment of everyone getting comfortable, Nick dropped two more mysterious steaks onto some plates, and passed them over to Jack and Vert. "Careful," the older man drawled, "They're fresh off the fire."

Vert seemed slightly skeptical about using her hands to eat the unidentified meat, but gave the cowboy a warm smile. "Why, thank you, Mr….?"

Nick gave a tip of his hat. "US Marshal Nick Bones. You can call me Mr. Nick or Mr. Bones, whichever you prefer, ma'am."

Vert nodded respectfully, and turned to look at Tom and Will. As the two introduced themselves (three, if Brad's "a'ight, love" counted as an introduction), Vert caught a glance of Jack's plate.

It was empty already. It could only have been about six seconds, and she was getting small burns from the fat spitting from the steak on her own plate, it was that hot. She didn't let her facial expressions betray the bewilderment at how quickly he'd devoured a searing hot piece of meat.

'Wha-?! How has he eaten it that fast?! 'Doesn't want to gain weight from eating anything', my ass!'

Nevertheless, once Vert had given her own introduction, London wiped his mouth with a thumb, and cleared his throat. Cave, who was watching, noticed a small puff of steam come from his mouth as it opened, and grimaced slightly as the air in front of his mouth distorted from the sheer heat coming from inside his jaws.

'Good Goddess, he should probably stop doing that.'

"So," he began, "Like you lads were sayin' last night, you want to negotiate." Will nodded.

"Preferably for places to live and some good food, yeah," he replied. Nick raised one grey eyebrow at his younger compatriot.

"You sayin' my food ain't no good?" the cowboy asked, seemingly hurt. "C'mon, now, I spend good time and effort trackin' these animals down, skinnin' 'em, carvin' 'em…" Will shrugged.

"Yeah, it's good, but I think most of us would prefer knowing what we're actually eating, thanks."

Tom snorted. "Yeah, and if we're eating at all," he added, looking to Vert. "There's been a lot of days and nights where some of us just don't get to eat; There's not enough food to go around between two-hundred-and-fifty soldiers." Nick rubbed at his face, groaning.

"I told you boys, before; You want more food, you come help me and the guys hunt it. Jason and Ajay can only do so much with those bows, and I can only do so much with my gear."

Will opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by Sigrun giving a 'Shhh' and pointing to London.

"Thanks, Sig," London said finally, sighing. "Anyway. Point is, you lads want to settle in properly, you want jobs, and houses." Tom, Nick, and Will looked at each other, then nodded, murmuring in agreement. "Good. Got that cleared up. You want a foolproof way of makin' money? You-"

"Hunt monsters," Tom cut in. "I keep finding this 'see-arr' stuff lying near their corpses."

"Credits," London corrected. "It's money."

"They have money in their corpses?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

"Why do they have money in their corpses? They're monsters."

"Don't ask. Some of them have girls' clothes inside them. I found a new pair of shoes the other day when I slapped the shite out of a Horsebird."

"Did you wear them?"

"Fuck off, 'did I wear them', they'd been inside a fuckin' Horsebird."

"But you spend the money they drop?"

"Yeah, because I'm not strappin' dosh to my feet, and I'm givin' it to someone else."

"Why do they take it if it's be-?"

"Right, Thomas, listen," Jack groaned loudly, leaning forward and clasping his hands together frustratedly as everyone else exasperatedly rolled their eyes at the argument. "They take the money because despite bein' thirteen perce-"

"London, please, remain on topic," Cave interjected, raising a hand to stop his rant. "The point is, you wish for these men to get jobs, correct?"

London sheepishly nodded. "Uh…yeah."

"So then why don't we have them join the Guild? Like you said, hunting monsters and doing Guild work pays a tremendous amount of Credits if done professionally. No doubt would they hold a good chance, especially Mr. Nick, who's level…"

Cave turned her head to look across the fire at Nick, who was reclined on the seat with a cigar between his teeth. She squinted. Then blinked. Then frowned. "…I…don't know…" Cave murmured. "It's as if, no offence intended, you have no heart. I can't see a level." At this accusation, Nick seemed rather uncomfortable.

"W-What? Now, that's…a weird accusation to make," the Marshal coughed. "Even just me coughin' right there proves I gotta have lungs, or some'. And I been eatin' steak since before y'all got here."

Before Cave could do her usual and perform a full investigation over a tiny detail, Jack raised a hand. "I'd say Cave's right," he said finally, making eye contact with Will, Thomas, Nick, and Jane, the latter of whom had been sat in absolute silence and picking his nose. "I make a lot of cash from Guild quests and bounties."

Will and Nick seemed to brighten up at the two words. Will just gave a smug look, nodding. "Yeeeeeah, I can do bounties, that's easy," he boasted, waving a dismissive hand. "I do bounties all the time, me." Brad, in his small metal armature, did the little movement as if he was rolling his eye.

"How many rezzes, though?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm always 'avin' to pick you up when you faceplant into a rock." Will raised a finger defensively.

"That claim is absolutely fake, and also very gay," he declared. Jack smirked.

"So you've got the endurance of wet tissue paper but you don't ever die?" he asked. Will turned his raised finger into a thumbs up.

"Yeah. I'm a squishy boy, but you can't get rid of me."

Thomas let out a snort, biting off a large chunk of meat. "Unf'rt'n'tely."

Nick looked at the piece of meat, recalling that he hadn't cooked any more and that Thomas hadn't reached over to cook any himself. It was quite apparent, as blood dripped onto his steel chestpiece, that Thomas was eating raw meat.

Nick decided not to question it.

"So, that settled, then?" Jack asked, extending his arms to gesture to all of them. "You gather a bunch of your guys up tomorrow, and the day after, we'll get you all kitted up for monster huntin'. How's that?"

There wasn't too much deliberation between the four men (and one jacked-up flying Bluetooth speaker), before they came out with a mumble of "Yeah, alright". Jack gave an approving nod, and started to stand up.

"Well, if that's all settled," he began, "I'm gonna head back to the basilicom and get a shower." As he prepared to leave, an arm suddenly rested on his; Looking at it, Sigrun was holding him.

"Why not take Vert with you, dear?" she asked warmly, still head-height with him despite being seated. The younger Goddess in question opened her mouth to speak, then let out a yelp as her mother simply hoisted her up and hooked her arm into London's. The lack of effort involved on Sigrun's part was frankly alarming; Vert could, quite literally, not oppose it.

"M-Mother, I was going to stay here," she stuttered, trying to unhook her arm from London's without seeming rude (something London, coincidentally, was also trying to do), "I-I haven't even said anything to your so-"

"You said 'hello', dear, and that's enough," Sigrun cut in, sweetly. She began ushering London and Vert away. Cave could only really sit and look annoyed as she watched London and Vert being literally pushed away one-handedly. "Share the shower, if you must, it'll keep water bills down!"

Both London and Vert turned to make a counter-point, but the threatening aura from Sigrun's smile mimicked that of the time Compa smiled as IF and London tried to oppose sleeping in the same bed. The sense of impending doom from disobeying had both London and Vert turn back to the path, and walk away.

"Y-You can shower first," London whispered to Vert.

"I-I don't even need a shower but now I feel like I need one, so thank you."