Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 7

+++

2B's heels clacked against the cold metal of the catwalk as she approached, her gaze sweeping over the rows of cryo pods below. Hundreds of them, each one encasing a frozen human, awaiting their awakening. At her side stood Anemone, silent and watchful, joined by several other androids carrying trays laden with towels, glasses of water, and pills designed to help the humans adjust. Popola had warned that extended cryo-sleep could leave a person nauseous, and the androids were prepared for that eventuality.

2B said nothing, her eyes locked on the cryo chambers as Pod 042 floated up beside her, its camera lens fixed on the pods. The pod's systems hummed softly as it boosted its resolution and allocated additional space to save copies—this moment had to be preserved, after all.

"Opening Cryo Pods in 3...2...1," Popola's voice crackled through the speakers, sending a chill down the androids' spines. The room collectively held its breath as power surged, and the hiss of machinery filled the air.

A cloud of smoke particles swirled through the chamber as the cryo pods began to open. The glass lids released with a mechanical whine, centuries-old ice vaporizing into the air. Then came the movement—slow, uncertain, as shadows within the pods stirred to life. Pod 042, ever vigilant, expanded its storage capacity, anticipating the flood of data it would need to process.

A chorus of ragged gasps filled the air as the humans began to inhale, their lungs desperate for the breath of life after so many years. The sounds were guttural and strained, followed by deep, wet coughing as their bodies struggled to adjust to the shock of returning to the world.

The androids tensed, their composed facades wavering for just a moment. Jackass's heart hammered in her chest, her legs thrumming with anxious energy as the coughing and wheezing echoed through the chamber. Sweat trickled down her brow, but she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, her leg twitching as if to move toward the humans. But Anemone's steady hand stopped her, holding her back with a quiet strength.

Anemone's breath billowed out in visible puffs, her body aching with the instinct to rush to the humans, to offer warmth and comfort. But she resisted, the discipline programmed into her overriding her instincts. Popola's warning echoed in her mind: They have just awoken. To overwhelm them would be disorienting. She kept her composure, even as her every fiber screamed to act.

As the coughing began to subside and the humans adjusted to their new reality, 2B recognized her cue. She had wondered before why Popola had chosen her to greet them. Greeting frozen humans wasn't exactly part of her skillset. But as an Executioner model, adaptability was built into her programming. She would do this. She had to. It was another task. Another responsibility.

She paused, surveying the four figures ahead of her as they slowly became more distinct. Her gaze sharpened as their eyes adjusted to the light. They were disoriented, their minds still sluggish from the long sleep.

2B inhaled deeply and spoke, her voice steady as she focused on the first man. He was older than the others, tall, and broad-shouldered. His hair was streaked with gray, and his face carried the weight of a lifetime of war. And, like the others, he was completely naked. In that moment, 2B decided to preserve his dignity, choosing to meet his gaze directly and nothing more.

"I am YoRHa No.2 Type B," she said, her voice neutral but resolute. "Welcome back, Lieutenant Colonel Smith."

The human's eyes snapped into focus as they locked onto hers. His lips parted, and for the first time in centuries, a human was about to speak to them. The androids leaned forward, eager for what would come next.

His mouth moved, the words coming out slowly. The androids watched intently, their anticipation rising. 2B, however, frowned, her expression unreadable. When the words reached her, she shook her head.

"I do not understand," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

"Alert: The language the Lieutenant Colonel is speaking is English," Pod 042's calm voice chimed in, breaking the tense silence. The humans turned to the pod, startled but intrigued. "Downloading the English Program."

Jackass, unable to contain her frustration, shouted from the back, her voice thick with confusion. "So we can't understand them?"

"The program will be shared freely," Pod 042 replied, turning toward 2B and then back to the others. "You may repeat yourself, 2B. The program is complete."

As the program finished downloading, 2B nodded, her eyes settling once more on Lieutenant Colonel Smith. This time, when she spoke, her words were clear—and understood.

​

2B stood at attention, her heels clacked together, and the humans all turned back towards her. "I am YoRHa No.2 Type B. I am an android in the service of mankind. Welcome back, Lieutenant Colonel Smith!" Her voice was brighter, fuller, passionate. Her palm fell upon her chest.

"Glory to Mankind!"

+++

​

"Glory to Mankind!"

The force of her proclamation slammed into Smith like a thunderclap, its intensity rattling through his ears. Behind him, he felt the others flinch, the volume overwhelming. Smith's hearing, worn down over a lifetime of military service, wasn't as affected as the others, but there was something about the raw force of it that unsettled him. What really bothered him, however, was the icy cold that slowly seeped into their exposed skin, and the relentless intensity of the gothic lolita maid and her android companions' gazes. They weren't just looking at him—they were studying him.

It was the gaze of a rabid fan finally face-to-face with their idol, a moment that made him feel both unsettled and strangely scrutinized.

A thousand questions exploded in his mind: Where were the Twins? Why was a gothic lolita maid greeting him instead of them? Why was she wearing that... bizarre costume? He shoved those questions aside for the moment, his dry throat screaming for relief.

"Water, please," he rasped, his voice like gravel scraping over stone. "For myself... and the others."

Immediately, the androids sprang into motion. The first to approach was a woman with short black hair, her hands trembling slightly as she held out a tray of glasses. Smith took one, muttered his thanks, and drank greedily, feeling the cool liquid soothe his parched throat. He handed the glass back, noticing how her eyes widened with awe. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she quickly lowered her gaze to the glass before looking back at him, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm... uh... Jackass, by the way," she said, her English heavily accented, though still clear. "Nice to... er, meet you, sir."

Smith blinked, momentarily taken aback. Jackass? He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, another voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Awaiting further orders, sir," came a smooth, composed voice. He turned to find a woman who introduced herself as 2B. The name Two-Bee hung in his mind, peculiar and unfamiliar. What kind of name was that? Smith briefly wondered if humanity outside the arks had changed so much that even the names had shifted. Dr. Fujikawa would have a field day studying this new cultural evolution. But for now, his focus had to remain elsewhere.

"Towels, please," he rasped again, his body still struggling to adjust after the long cryogenic freeze. "And prepare the Conference Room. I need a status update."

One of the androids quickly handed him a towel, which he wrapped around himself for modesty, though the cold still gnawed at him. As he did, another figure approached—a tall woman with the dark skin and veiled features of someone from the Middle East. Her presence was striking, strong, militaristic, and she gave him a firm, respectful salute.

"Colonel Anemone," she said, her voice steady and clear. "Army of Humanity. I am sure you have questions, sir."

Smith met her gaze and nodded. "Correct."

"We'll prepare the chamber for you, sir," Anemone continued. "In the meantime, we've prepared clothes for you and the others to change into."

Smith gave a short nod, gathering his composure. As he began to follow her, his mind raced with questions that needed answers. The androids parted as they made their way through the facility, their eyes still filled with awe—except for 2B, who quietly fell in step beside him, her heels clicking against the cold floor.

As they walked, Smith took note of the androids in the chamber. Aside from the gothic lolita maid, they wore military-style tan uniforms and carried themselves with a quiet professionalism. Despite this, the same awe never left their expressions.

A new figure joined them—Naoko Fujikawa, taller than most women from Japan, with shoulder-length black hair and brown eyes that seemed to peer straight into one's soul. She wrapped her towel more tightly around her, attempting to conceal her figure. "Lieutenant Colonel," she whispered in Japanese, her voice tinged with urgency.

"Doctor," he greeted her, his feet brushing against the cold metal floor as he stepped forward.

"This is wrong," she whispered fervently. "The Twins should be greeting us."

Smith's brows furrowed, his gaze hardening. He glanced toward the androids, a few of whom subtly tilted their heads, intrigued by the exchange.

"I know," he muttered under his breath. The Gregory Initiative had indicated that they would be the ones to greet them. Something wasn't right.

"Where's Popola? Devola?" Dr. Fujikawa asked, glancing around with growing suspicion.

At her words, Smith noticed a shift among the androids. Their expressions hardened, their posture shifting from awe to something more guarded. Carolina let out a sharp mocking laugh.

"You don't need to see those traitors," she sneered. "They should be grateful they're even allowed to be here with us."

"Traitors?" Fujikawa's voice was a low growl, her eyes narrowing. Carolina paled under the doctor's intense gaze. Despite her towel, the woman radiated a palpable menace.

"T-they're in the Overseer's Office... Popola is, at least," Carolina stammered, shrinking under the weight of Fujikawa's stare. "The other one... s-she's in Engineering."

"Bring them to the Conference Room," Fujikawa snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This facility will automate while they're away."

Carolina quickly saluted, her voice shaky. "Y-Yes, ma'am!" She turned and fled, the other androids following suit, all avoiding the piercing gaze of Dr. Fujikawa.

Jackass resisted the urge to cackle.

+++

The doors slid open with a soft hiss, courtesy of 2B, and in walked Smith, now dressed in form-fitting jeans and a simple hoodie jacket. It wasn't much, but then again, he wasn't stepping into the President's office. His attire was functional, a far cry from the formality of the past, meant to blend into a world he'd barely begun to comprehend. The others, equally dressed down, fidgeted uneasily, still adjusting to life after a lifetime in cryo-sleep. For Smith, the passage of time felt like little more than the blink of an eye—a single, restless night filled with dark memories: Japan, Taiwan, the Philippine Campaign, the long retreat westward…

He shook off the haunting thoughts and refocused on the present. The future lay ahead, uncertain but in need of action.

The conference room was stark, utilitarian—a sharp contrast to the confusion and chaos of the last few hours. Cold, metallic walls rose high, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. The ceiling, a grid of sterile white panels, offered no comfort, only a sense of clinical detachment. A long, gleaming rectangular table dominated the center of the room, its surface polished to an unnerving smoothness, surrounded by rigid, dark chairs aligned with military precision.

In the far corner, a console sat beneath a wall of dormant monitors, their blinking lights casting a ghostly glow in the otherwise silent room. The faint hum of dormant machinery buzzed in the background, punctuated by the occasional beep as monitors flickered to life. Sparse remnants of a bygone era lay scattered across the table: old maps, forgotten data pads, and a half-drunk mug of coffee—now cold and abandoned.

Three figures stood at attention as Smith entered: Anemone, ever the picture of discipline, and two others—identical red-haired twins, their expressions subtly different, but their stance unwavering.

"S-sirs," Popola stammered, her voice wavering slightly as she glanced nervously at Dr. Fujikawa, whose raised eyebrow betrayed her confusion at their attire.

"Ma'am," Devola added, her tone more confident, though still cautious.

Smith let out a soft cough, his throat still raw. "Let's get this started," he said, his voice firm, the words more directive than a suggestion. He reached for a chair but was beaten to the punch by 2B, who effortlessly pulled it out for him.

He turned to her. The YoRHa android met his gaze, her expression unreadable but composed.

"Please, sit," she said, gesturing to the chair with a graceful, almost formal movement.

"Thank you, Miss," Smith replied, offering a brief, wry smile. Once seated, he pushed the chair forward himself, a subtle refusal of the help, as if to reassert control. The others followed suit, the floating black pod silently hovering beside 2B.

"First things first, introductions," Smith began, but before he could finish, Anemone stood and raised a hand.

"If I may, sir, we've already reviewed the files," Anemone interjected smoothly, her tone respectful yet efficient. "We know who you are." She turned toward Dr. Fujikawa. "Doctor Naoko Fujikawa, Medical Officer. Mister Mario Rossi, Quartermaster. Mister Emilio de la Cruz, Chief Engineer."

Mario Rossi, middle-aged with a stern face, sharp eyes, and a long Roman nose, nodded briefly. His neat hair and impassive expression gave little away. Beside him, Emilio de la Cruz, younger and gentler looking, adjusted his glasses nervously, glancing between Smith and Anemone with a quiet intensity.

Smith's lips parted in mild surprise but closed again almost immediately. "I see," he said, nodding. "We'll skip the introductions, then. Anemone, please, continue."

"As I said, I am Colonel Anemone, of the Army of Humanity," she began, her voice steady. "Since you asked about the Twins, I assume you are familiar with them." She gestured toward 2B and the floating pod. "This is 2B, and Pod 042. We are all androids, created in service to humanity. It... it is a pleasure to meet you."

Her voice faltered slightly at the end, the awe in her words betraying her professional exterior. Smith took note of it, realizing just how much weight this meeting carried for her.

"It's a pleasure as well, Colonel," Smith replied with a small nod. "Now, I have questions. First, what is the state of the world? And what is the state of this facility?"

Anemone's expression shifted, turning solemn as she glanced toward the Twins. Popola stood up hesitantly, her face tightening with uncertainty as she exchanged a look with Dr. Fujikawa, who returned the gaze with a penetrating stare.

"W-well, sir," Popola began, her voice trembling slightly at first but gaining strength as she continued. "The year is 11,945." A stunned silence filled the room.

She paused, letting the enormity of the date sink in before continuing, her voice more resolute. "You'll be pleased to know that the Legion has been purged, and so has the WCS. The surface, while still unstable, is... theoretically habitable again."

A collective sigh of relief swept through the room, but it was quickly tempered by lingering uncertainty. Emilio de la Cruz, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. "Theoretically?"

Before Popola could answer, Pod 042 spoke up, its mechanical voice cutting through the quiet. "That is correct. On July 4th, 5012, alien invaders descended from space and began attacking android settlements. We have been fighting them and their machines for thousands of years."

The room fell silent. Smith's heart raced. Alien invaders? The others exchanged glances, their disbelief palpable.

"Aliens?" Dr. Fujikawa repeated the word slowly, as though hoping it might make more sense on the second pass.

Anemone nodded solemnly. "Yes, Doctor. Aliens. The Army of Humanity was formed to combat them. 2B and her organization," she gestured toward the YoRHa android, "are part of that ongoing fight."

"We're newer models," 2B added softly, her voice almost lost amidst the shock. "Built with the latest technology."

"I can tell," Dr. Fujikawa said, her eyes narrowing as she assessed both 2B and Anemone. A flicker of envy passed across Anemone's face before it was quickly replaced by an impassive mask.

"What about the planet?" Rossi rumbled, leaning forward with a grim expression. "You mentioned it's habitable?"

"It is, sir," Devola answered, her tone now composed. "But only part of it. During the wars, the planet stopped rotating, resulting in the Western and Eastern Hemispheres being locked in a perpetual cycle of day and night. Currently, we're stuck in an eternal summer."

"That… what?" Dr. Fujikawa muttered in disbelief. "How could the planet stop rotating? That should make the surface uninhabitable!"

Devola's shoulders stiffened. "We don't know how it happened. It just... happened."

"Impossible science aside," Smith raised his voice, cutting through the mounting confusion. "What about the facility?"

Devola relaxed visibly, relieved by the change in subject. "The rest of the facility is stable, Lieutenant Colonel," she reported. "All the chambers are green. Stock is intact, miraculously, so there's no immediate concern about food shortages."

"I can also arrange for deliveries of foodstuffs," Anemone added. "We routinely send supplies to the moon. It's simply a matter of redirecting some of those shipments here."

Smith's eyes narrowed. "Supplies to the moon? We have a base there?"

The Twins and Anemone turned to 2B, who nodded. "Yes, sir. There is a stable human population on the moon. Humanity fled there after the aliens invaded," she explained.

Smith felt a flicker of relief. If humanity had made it to the moon, then perhaps Gestalt had succeeded after all. "Gestalt succeeded, then?" he asked, a hint of hope creeping into his voice.

But the response was not as he had expected. Anemone's gaze dropped to the floor, the Twins turned away, and 2B stiffened noticeably.

"That will be a matter for later," Smith added quickly, not wanting to derail the meeting. "We need to focus on the immediate issues at hand."

Rossi, clearing his throat, spoke up. "As for the supplies, are the seed and livestock samples intact?"

Popola's expression softened. "Yes, sir," she confirmed with a nod. "They are all healthy and viable for use."

"If I may," 2B interjected, "YoRHa has additional resources to help with mass production. With your permission, I'd like to contact my Commander and begin rebuilding efforts."

Anemone's eyes flashed with subtle annoyance, but she said nothing.

"That would be appreciated, Miss," Rossi replied, leaning back in his chair. "Grazie."

"They're the ones who supplied the fuel rods, right?" Cruz asked, blinking in surprise. "I can't imagine the generators have lasted long."

"Yes, Chief Engineer," 2B nodded.

Cruz grinned. "Good! That saves me the trouble of hunting down uranium," he chuckled.

2B's posture stiffened slightly, but she kept her composure. "It was our duty, sir."

Smith nodded, satisfied. "Excellent. For now, this meeting is adjourned. Good work, everyone—Anemone, 2B, Popola, and Devola."

They all stood a little taller at the praise, even 2B.

"Now, let's get to work. Anemone, with me. Rossi, see to the stock and do some final checks?"

Anemone nodded, and Rossi gave a short affirmation.

"Devola, Popola, I want you with me," Dr. Fujikawa spoke up.

The Twins froze. "Y-yes, ma'am!" Devola hesitated. "But someone needs to stay with the generator."

Smith turned to Cruz. "Chief Engineer?"

Cruz offered a thumbs-up.

There was the click of heels. Smith turned to see 2B. How could he forget?

"Make your call, Miss 2B."

She nodded, her posture straightening. "Yes, sir. Glory to Mankind!" she said, offering a swift salute before turning to leave.

​+++

2B stood atop a mound of sand, the golden expanse stretching endlessly around her. The desert wind howled, grains of sand whipping against her sleek black dress. The sun bore down mercilessly, but her YoRHa systems kept her temperature regulated. Yet, despite the cooling mechanisms within her, something felt… off.

Ever since leaving the Bunker, she'd been plagued by an unfamiliar sensation—a strange warmth coursing through her body. Her systems felt... overheated, not in the mechanical sense, but something deeper. Her breaths came out in faint bursts of steam. Her thighs tensed, and a persistent, disconcerting wetness threatened to spill over.

Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the unyielding sand, the harsh impact sending a jarring ripple through her body. She clutched the ground with one gloved hand, her fingers digging into the coarse grains. A small, translucent stain spread beneath her, a faint sheen glimmering in the sunlight.

"Alert: Internal systems have been compromised," droned Pod 042 in its usual monotone voice.

2B's head snapped up, her glare piercing. "You don't say?" she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice tinged with frustration. Her pale cheeks were flushed, a rare sight on her usually stoic face. She shook her head, trying to focus. "What is it, Pod? Is it a logic virus?" There was a tremor of fear in her voice. After everything—the gods, the revelations, the chaos—was this how it would end? Would destiny deny her the chance to fight for salvation?

"Scanning," 042 replied in its typical detached manner. A brief pause. Then: "Negative. Unit 2B's internal systems are functioning correctly. The presence of a logic virus is highly unlikely."

Her frustration deepened. "Then what the hell is wrong with me?" she snapped, her voice rising in desperation.

"Analysis complete," 042 announced. "Unit 2B is exhibiting positive reactions to physical and psychological stimuli. In simpler terms, Unit 2B is experiencing sexual arousal."

The words hung heavy in the air.

2B's eyes widened in shock. Her breath hitched. Mortification clawed its way through her composure, her carefully constructed mask cracking under the weight of the revelation. Despite her cold demeanor, she was not naive. She understood what 042's diagnosis meant.

"...Impossible," she muttered, forcing herself upright on trembling legs. Her balance wavered, but she steadied herself. "Androids do not—" she paused, her voice faltering, "—produce children."

"Correct," 042 affirmed. "Androids are incapable of reproduction. However, YoRHa models such as yourself are equipped with pseudo-organs that mimic human biological functions. These features were incorporated during your manufacturing process."

2B's hands curled into fists, her nails digging against her gloves. "Then I'll have them removed," she declared through gritted teeth, her voice sharp with resolve. She felt no need for such superfluous features. They were a distraction, a weakness. Yet, even as she said it, a flicker of regret wormed its way into her thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her mind a tangled mess of conflicting emotions. She shook her head, desperate to regain control of herself. "Androids cannot produce offspring," she repeated, almost as if trying to convince herself of the irrefutable logic. She breathed in. "Pod...connect to the Bunker, please."

"Correct," 042 reiterated. "However, I recommend Unit 2B resolves her current physiological state before contacting the Bunker. As the human expression goes, 'fix yourself' before presenting to the Operator or Commander."

2B's teeth clenched. She inhaled deeply, forcing her iron will to subdue the heat in her cheeks. Slowly, the flush faded, but the annoying itch beneath her skin refused to vanish entirely.

"Pod," she snapped, her voice sharp with impatience. "Now."

"Connecting," 042 droned.

A ringing echoed around the desert, faint and distant. Moments later, the flicker of light revealed a familiar blonde Operator. 6O's cheerful face lit up the interface.

"2B!" she greeted with her usual enthusiasm. "How was the mission? Are there actu—"

"6O," 2B interrupted, her tone clipped. "Connect me to the Commander. Now."

6O blinked, taken aback. "Oh, um, okay. Sorry, just curious," she mumbled, wincing slightly at 2B's tone.

2B sighed internally, softening her voice. "The mission went well, 6O. I'm sure you'll have some good news to look forward to."

6O immediately brightened, her cheerful demeanor returning. "O-oh? Then I can't wait!" she beamed. "Alright, connecting you to the Commander now!"

The screen flickered, the connection shifting. After a moment, a familiar voice spoke.

"…2B?"

The executioner model blinked. The Commander's voice was steady but distant. Normally, her image would appear on screen, but this time, the interface showed nothing but static.

"Commander?" 2B asked, her tone tinged with concern.

"Interference in the connection," White replied curtly, her voice firm but slightly strained. "Pay it no mind. Now... is it true? There are humans down there?"

2B nodded. "Yes, ma'am. A bunker's worth. I will be transmitting data on the inhabitants shortly."

"Good," White replied, her tone heavy. "This is going to get... complicated."

2B understood immediately. "What are our next steps, ma'am?"

"Firstly, we secure the perimeter," White began. "Scans show minimal machine presence in the area, but that could change at any time. It's fortunate the bunker is in the deep desert. Trying to secure a city would be a logistical nightmare."

2B nodded. "Colonel Anemone believes anonymity is the bunker's best defense. It's hidden within a valley. Moving too many troops risks exposing its location."

"I concur," White acknowledged. "However, the final decision rests with the Council."

"Lieutenant Colonel Smith has been asking questions on the Moon Base, ma'am. What should I tell him?" 2B asked softly.

"For now, I'll lead a small team to the area," White revealed. "There's an outpost in a nearby oasis. Officially, it's an expansion. In reality, it will serve to reinforce the bunker. I'll handle Smith personally."

2B hesitated, surprised. "You're coming down, Commander?"

"Yes. The Council authorized me to bring them into the fold." White's voice was firm, but there was a trace of weariness to it. "This situation requires delicate handling."

Dread coiled in 2B's stomach. Her creators—so kind, so welcoming—were about to face the truth. And she feared what that truth might cost them. "...And if things go wrong?" she asked, her voice quiet.

White's reply was grim. "We do our duty."

2B nodded, understanding the weight of those words. "Understood, ma'am. I would like to return to my duties now."

"Of course," White said softly. "Glory to Mankind."

"Glory to Mankind," 2B echoed, saluting before the transmission ended.

+++

With that, the call ended, and the terminal's screen flickered off, leaving nothing but silence. Commander White sat still for a moment, her hands resting on the console. Then, she stood up and turned for her bed, her composed exterior crumbling as she let out a shaky breath.

She turned over on her bed, the faint hum of the station's machinery serving as the only sound in the room. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes, spilling over as she buried her face into the pillow. For all her strength, for all her resolve, the overwhelming burden of her duty had finally begun to break her.

Her breaths grew heavy and labored, hitching with the raw emotion she couldn't suppress. Pain coursed through her—a pain that wasn't just emotional but physical, gnawing at her core. It burned deep within her, relentless and insistent.

Her trembling hand slid down her body, hesitating for only a moment before finding her left breast. Her fingers coiled around her nipple, twisting it sharply as a shiver ran through her. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, the sound muffled by the pillow. The pressure on her chest mirrored the ache in her heart, as though she could claw her way through the pain.

Her back arched, hips shifting as her other hand moved lower, slipping beneath the fabric of her uniform. Her fingertips brushed against her folds, slick with heat and need. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the noises threatening to escape, but her body betrayed her. Her head tilted back, her lips parting in a strangled moan as her fingers worked mercilessly, thrusting into her wetness with a rhythm that bordered on desperation.

Each motion was an attempt to drown out the storm of emotions swirling inside her—grief, frustration, longing, and guilt coalescing into something unbearable. Her mind raced with thoughts she couldn't silence. The humans. The Council. The endless cycle of war.

The prim and proper Commander was gone. Her face was decadent, pink and wanting. Her tongue lolled out. She was already going to be shamed, this sin was nothing compared to what awaited her. 

The Humans would hate her. They would despise her. For everything she had done. The lies, the deception, the countless androids that lied dead simply because they lost hope or deserted. They would shun her, they would turn her into an outcast. It was painful, to finally have the gods return, only for them to hate her. Her heart burned with envy. 2B might be forgiven, she was only a soldier after all. But her? She was the officer, she was the Commander. She would bear the sins and punished. 

​She hated this. She wanted to be with the humans. She wanted to see them, to touch them, to feel them. She wanted their warmth!

Her fingers moved faster, her breaths coming in ragged gasps now. The heat in her core built to a crescendo, her muscles tensing as she chased the edge of release. Her thoughts blurred, her body trembling under the weight of her own touch. She clung to the sensation, desperate for it to drown out everything else.

And then, with a shuddering cry, her body gave in. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers stilling as the release washed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her breathless and spent. For a fleeting moment, the storm inside her quieted, replaced by an emptiness that felt almost peaceful.

But as the aftershocks faded, reality crept back in. She lay there, motionless, staring up at the ceiling of her quarters. The tears she'd managed to hold back earlier now flowed freely, streaking down her cheeks. No amount of temporary relief could ease the weight she carried. No escape could erase the choices she'd made—or the ones she would have to make.

White wiped at her face with the back of her hand, letting out a trembling sigh. She sat up slowly, her body still trembling from exertion. Her gaze fell to the door. She gulped, feeling thirsty all of a sudden. How many time had she done this? She glanced down and frowned at the veritable puddle that was supposed to be her bed. 

Filthy. Disgusting, her mind told her. 

This would have to be burnt, she told herself. Even if she was shameless, she still had a public persona to uphold. She had to compose herself. No one could see her like this.

She stood up on shaky legs, her eyes settling to the door that led to her own private bathroom. She showered quickly, making sure the smell of sex and shame left her, and finally, donned a new uniform. White straightened her uniform, smoothing out the creases with shaking hands.

She took in a breath, and sighed. 

"Glory to Mankind," she told herself, as she moved to leave her quarters.

+++

A/N: White has been gooning ever since 2B left. 

​I like to imagine that 2B's A2 side comes out when she gets angry. 

The UN staff basically have no idea what the fuck is happening but stranger things have happened. Next chapters, humies interacting with the androids.