Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 34

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"What on earth did you fight?" the technician complained.

"Some YoRHa deserter," Adonis replied.

"No shit?" The technician blinked.

"Yeah. Parrot's in medical right now because of her," Adonis said. Parrot had been blasted off to SS13 for rest and recovery. His Gotterdamerung, on the other hand, required extensive repairs before it could see the field again. As for Adonis, he had returned to the Resistance Camp. Once, the camp was little more than a refugee settlement, barely hidden behind tin walls and tarpaulin. But under Colonel Anemone's expanding powers, the Resistance Camp had grown into something far more organized. It now accommodated not just human operatives but also her new assets.

The human section was kept separate, fortified by a permanently stationed team of YoRHa androids. Adonis would have preferred if everyone co-mingled, but the last time that happened, he and the volunteers had been swarmed. At least now, discipline had been enforced, and YoRHa's presence ensured no one got in or out without proper interrogation.

"People are getting medical for all kinds of reasons," the technician joked, his body slick with sweat and oil as he stood up and walked over to an adjacent table. Wires snaked across the floor, connecting to Adonis's battered Gotterdamerung. Implements, servos, and various parts lay scattered around. "Some idiot got too bold and had an android sit on him."

"Idiot," Adonis scoffed, shaking his head. "Did her ass crush his skull?"

"Not quite," the technician replied, typing away on a nearby console. "Wasn't a skull-crushing. Guy ran out of air. Poor girl had to call for help. Fun explaining that one to the medics."

"Aren't androids averaging around the hundred pound mark?" Adonis pointed out.

"We use kilograms where I'm from," the tech snarked. But he nodded. "But yes, that's about right. 143 kilograms of pure ass."

Adonis was a healthy man, and he couldn't blame the poor sap. However, try as he might to distract himself, it failed. His mind went back to that android, A2. And disturbingly, how so similar that other android was to her.

Leaning against a table, he crossed his arms. "You ever think the androids could betray us?"

The technician froze mid-typing, eyebrows raised. "The fuck you mean by that? They worship us, Adonis."

"Yet one of their deserters just trashed my mech and put Parrot in medical," Adonis pointed out. "That tells me they can hurt us if they want to."

"You're not about to go full Matrix on me, are you?" the technician asked. "Take the Red Pill, Neo." he added mockingly.

Adonis shook his head. "No, man. Just saying. We've only seen the best of them. Makes me wonder what their worst looks like."

The technician shrugged. "I'd rather not think about that. They love us. We love them. It's a perfectly good system."

"Hm," Adonis grunted, his expression hard. "That deserter showed a whole lot of love, alright."

"If you're that curious, why don't you just ask around?" the technician shot back. "As far as I'm concerned, she ought to be destroyed especially if she left that much of an impression on you."

The technician stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. Adonis shrugged. "Let me know when my suit's ready."

"You don't rest, do you?" the tech called out as Adonis waved him off, leaving the room.

In truth, Adonis didn't feel tired. He'd been fighting for most of his life. Shooting things was the best damn thing he knew how to do. And, he was restless.

As Adonis stepped out of the room, he found himself in a winding hallway. Light filtered in through an open window, casting a pale glow on the cold, stone walls. Beyond the window lay the ruined city, skyline jagged with grey spires piercing the sky. He stood there for a moment, staring at the decayed grandeur, before making up his mind.

Turning on his heel, he made his way back to the barracks. Pushing the door open, he found the room empty, save for the essentials of a soldier's life: lockers, beds, and the scattered implements of survival. It was a stark, utilitarian space, but he wasn't there to rest.

His fingers found a terminal, and he began typing. He started with the mission he and Parrot accomplished, supporting Resistance units in the city. The AAR was standard, usual, and mundane. That was until the topic landed on the Castle incident with the deserter.

"After clearing the Castle of its Machine occupants, I encountered a YoRHa deserter, designation Type A No.2. She demanded her questions to be asked and I refused. This infuriated the deserter who attacked me. No.2 displayed aggressive combat profiency, despite visible damage to her person."

He nodded. That was true enough to his memory.

"After neutralizing Parrot's mech, A2 initiated a standoff with me. Despite her hostility, she did not immediately strike. Instead, she questioned me regarding Command's actions, specifically referencing an event she termed "Pearl Harbor." I was unable to provide answers, as I had no knowledge of the event or its implications. A2 appeared agitated and accused Command of betrayal, citing an operation where her unit was allegedly sacrificed to gather data for future models. I am unable to pierce if the Command she refers to is YoRHa or the Council of Humanity."

She did not exactly specify, as far as he could remember.

"A2 exhibited signs of extreme psychological distress, including anger, grief, and mistrust. Despite her hostility, there were moments of hesitation during our interaction. She expressed deep resentment towards Command and humanity as a whole, blaming them for the loss of her comrades. Her emotional state suggests she is not acting purely out of malice but rather out of a sense of betrayal and unresolved trauma. To close, I recommend an immediate investigation into No.2's accusations regarding Command's betrayal and the alleged "Pearl Harbor" operation. If her claims hold weight, they may have significant implications for the United Nations relationship with YoRHa, or even the Council of Humanity. As for No.2 herself..."

He thought about it. The military part of his mind recommended that she be put down. She had attacked him after all and sent Parrot into a coma. But Damian 'Adonis' Cruz wasn't a knucklehead destroyer. He was a sensible knucklehead destroyer. It made sense to destroy the Legions and the Machine Lifeforms with extreme prejudice for both invaded humanity's most sacred and holy cradle. It...did not sit well with him to put down someone who potentially had a story to tell.

No.2's existence did not mean he distrusted YoRHa. No, far from it. YoRHa covered their asses when they were fleeing from the desert. As far as he was concerned, they were alright in his books. Them and all the androids.

"I highly recommend bringing in No.2 into our fold. First, send someone trained in diplomacy to establish trust with the deserter. Secondly, have her testify her case. And third..."

His fingers paused as a single question dawned in the back of his mind.

Why?

Why do this?

Why bother with some deserter with her wild claims? He considered the possibilities on what might happen if an investigation is done. Would it not damage the already excellent relations that the United Nations and YoRHa shared? Then there was the fact that his own commanding officer was porking YoRHa's highest brass was already a massive conflict of interest. His lips turned thin as hesitation hit him.

But the other side, the human side, felt it. Adonis could sense bullshit twenty miles off. But it sure as shit was hard to fake grief. He saw it in her eyes, felt it in her voice. No, he needed to be sure.

He established a connection.

"…Sir?"

Adonis leaned closer to the screen. "6O. I need everything you have on that deserter and the mission she went into."

Silence.

"…6O?"

The voice on the other end hesitated before responding, laced with tension. "I…I will need approval from Commander White."

"What for? Is it really that classified?" Adonis pressed. That was not a good sign.

"Yes," 6O replied, her voice stiff.

"Well, unclassify it," Adonis snapped. "I'm human. I have the authority."

"I..." 6O swallowed. "Y-Yes, sir."

He waited, then his terminal pinged. He had a file simply titled: Pearl Harbour

He clicked on it.

...

...

​He stood up, and turned for the door.

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Anemone's eyes were bright, illuminated by the flickering light of the holographic table she leaned over. The projection displayed ruins gripped by nature, tall and mighty. But it also showed different things as well. Numbers, units, names. Territories in red and blue. Red for their enemies, blue for the Army of Humanity now blitzing its way across old Tokyo. In one corner, the Forest Kingdom had been reclaimed, for the Glory of Mankind. Anemone had plans for that castle. With its position as a redoubt, it could be converted to be a mighty Fort for the Japanese Front, a bulwark covering their eastern flank. What she had on her bucketlist however was the Machine factory located not too far from her camp. If it could be converted for their purposes, issues of planet supplies could be minimised. At worst, destroying it would guarantee cutting into Machine numbers.

Her shoulders sagged.

She ought to feel elated that finally, they were gaining ground. But something else was bothering her.

​Smith had promised he would put a child in her. But he had done it first with White. Anemone was an old android. Petty jealousy was supposed to be something beyond her. But her age aside, she was still a woman. A deep ugly resentment bubbled in her core the more she thought about that blonde bitch wrapping Smith around her finger, whispering sweet little things into his ear. It was ridiculous, unfair. She and the Resistance androids were literally fighting and dying by their hundreds planetside while White got to be safe and sound in the Bunker. White had forgotten what it was like to be in the trenches, and it showed.

"Atten-hut!" someone cried.

Anemone blinked, turning to see a familiar face standing before them. "Sir," Anemone greeted, her eyes taking in Cruz's sweat-slicked form. Concern bubbled in her as she saw the turmoil in his eyes.

"Anemone, you got a second to talk?" Adonis asked.

"Operations are winding down," Anemone revealed. "Sure, what is it do you need?"

"You got a quiet corner?" he asked. That rang some alarm bells in Anemone. Still, she nodded as she gestured Cruz to follow her.

"This isn't much but its mine," Anemone joked as she brought Cruz to her room. In the corner was a narrow bed draped in crimson and gold fabrics, and a brass lantern cast intricate patterns of light across the concrete walls. A worn blue and gold rug covered the floor, while a carved wooden screen leaned against one side. A low table near the bed held simple items: a chipped cup, a bowl of preserved fruit, and a brass incense holder faintly scented with oud. Above her cot hung a tapestry of geometric patterns and flowing elegant calligraphy, while a small shelf displayed a tarnished astrolabe, a vial of sand, and a few worn books.

"Comfy," Adonis commented.

"Being an officer has its perks," Anemone laughed, gesturing for Cruz to squat by the table. Cruz muttered his thanks, taking off his boots before he sat. Anemone stood by the door, her arms crossed.

​This was not really the first time they spoke. Being in such close proximity had allowed a working relationship between pilot and Resistance Leader. Anemone having called Cruz for CAS more than plenty of times.

"So, what is it?" Anemone asked, sensing the turmoil in Cruz.

He glanced up. "Do you know a No.2?"

Anemone froze.

Cruz exhaled, his eyes flickering with expectation. "Your name was brought up in a AAR regarding the Pearl Harbour Descent Mission. You had encountered the Prototype YoRHa."

"That...was three years ago," Anemone replied, her shock subsiding. "Why?"

"You heard about the attack on Parrot?" Cruz asked.

"Of course," Anemone shrugged. "Everyone has."

"But not everyone knows that it was No.2," Cruz revealed dryly.

"All we knew was that a deserter attacked. You have no idea how much my men are itching for payback," Anemone said.

"I can imagine. But I am not here for that," Cruz said. "I am here to gain insight from someone that was actually there. What was No.2 like?"

Anemone paused, her face falling slightly. "You are...asking me to open up some locked memories, sir."

​Cruz paused, seeing the discord in Anemone's eyes, the way her shoulders suddenly locked. Cruz took in a breath. "This is not to satisfy my own sick curiosity. This is to determine whether or not I should press for an investigation on No.2's claims. I've read the report but..."

"But?"

"I suppose I need one last push to do it," Adonis said. "If I do press this, this potentially opens up a can of worms that will put a wedge between the United Nations, the Army of Humanity, the Council of Humanity, and YoRHa. I need to know if this is going to be worth it."

Anemone stood very still, arms still folded, her frame taut as if his words had tightened invisible wires through her body. The light caught the hard set of her jaw, the faint tremor in her lips betraying more than she wanted. For a long moment she only stared at him, as if weighing whether this admission was a test, a trap, or something else entirely.

"This...if you've read the report, sir, then you know that YoRHa fucked over her and her squad. You do not need me to tell you to push for an investigation," Anemone replied, trying her best to fight the confusion from leaking.

​"Because I need your voice. I need a witness. You fought with her, the AAR said so. So tell me. What happened, that the report did not say?"

Anemone paused.

​She thought for it.

Her mind went back. Oil, sea, gunpowder, burning metal.

​Her throat tightened.

"Alright," Anemone sighed. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

And so, Anemone spoke.

Adonis listened.

And the more he did, the more his stomach twisted. And the more it twisted, the more he knew what he was going to do.

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A/N: The bells have begun to toll as secrets are going to spill. Camille, White, perhaps the whole of Project YoRHa?

Also, its my birthday today. Yipee.