Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 6

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It shot through the sky, a dark, defiant streak against the blinding blue. It seemed to pierce the very heavens, a rocket with purpose, cutting across the sky with an almost malicious speed.

Anemone squinted, the sun cruel and relentless on her skin. She pressed a hand against her brow, her veil billowing slightly in the wind, shielding her face from the harsh glare. Her eyes tracked the descending YoRHa craft, a sleek, predatory silhouette that appeared deceptively small from afar, but up close—much like everything else with the YoRHa—its scale was far grander, more imposing.

She and her squad had seen these flyers in action before, of course, but always from the ground—always watching as their strength tore through the air above them. A cold, almost bitter pang stirred in her stomach. What they could do with that kind of power... But there was no room for jealousy, not today. She and her people had seen the humans first. That, at least, was something she could still hold over White.

The sound of the craft's engines started to quiet as it pitched backward, hovering with precision before settling onto the ground. The winds kicked up in a frenzy, sand whipping across the land, the dust thickening in the air. Anemone adjusted her grip on her weapon, her boots digging into the earth as she steadied herself.

And then, as the dust began to settle, she saw her.

At first, Anemone thought she was imagining it. But no—it was unmistakable. A face she had known once, now framed in cold, efficient lines. A face she hadn't seen in years.

She blinked, her mind racing, the image of the past fading as she refocused.

No. It wasn't her. It couldn't be. This was just another model, another puppet with a familiar face. A semblance of someone lost.

Anemone shook her head sharply, her breath coming a little too quickly. It didn't matter. This wasn't her.

She chirped—an eerie, sharp melody that echoed through the empty space like a bird's call—and the shadows around her shifted. The Resistance revealed themselves, stepping into view with quiet precision.

The YoRHa model turned to them, her expression an unreadable mask of stoicism, as if nothing in the world could touch her. Anemone stepped forward, her weapon casually slung over her shoulder. She met 2B's gaze with a smirk that didn't reach her eyes.

"YoRHa No.2 Type B," the model greeted, her voice monotone and devoid of any warmth. "Reporting as ordered."

Anemone couldn't help the slight curl of her lips, a bitter amusement flickering in her gaze. A rock has more personality than her, she thought, but kept the observation to herself.

"Anemone," she said, her tone a clipped command. "You got the uranium?"

There was a sharp hiss of air, and a small, boxy object levitated from the YoRHa craft, hovering in place with unsettling precision. A mechanical voice spoke—bleak, disinterested.

"As requested," it droned. "Warning: The material is highly sensitive and must be handled with care."

Anemone raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking from the floating object to 2B. "And you are?" she asked, her voice sharp with curiosity.

"I am Pod 042," the voice responded, cold and clipped. "I am a Tactical Support Unit attached to YoRHa No.2 Type B. Alert: Tactical data reveals multiple machine units in the area. Proposal: Proceed with the exchange."

Anemone studied the pod for a moment, considering the implications of its words. She had never dealt with a working pod before, and if this was what they were like... well, she'd rather continue without one.

"Agreed," Anemone said, her decision final. "Let's get it over with."

She gestured toward a truck concealed behind a patchwork of leaves and debris, hidden away in the shadows. It wasn't much—just a battered old thing—but it was all they had.

The Pod floated towards it, its mechanical eye scanning the truck with a disapproving hum. It turned back toward Anemone, its voice mechanical and unfeeling.

"Warning: This truck is insufficient to transport the uranium. Proposal: Let YoRHa Unit 2B transport the uranium herself."

Carolina bristled at the suggestion, her hands twitching toward her weapon. "You implying we can't handle that ourselves?" Her voice was laced with irritation, eyes narrowing as she glared at the Pod.

The grey-skinned pod gave no sign of hesitation. "Correct. The Ural model of truck is insufficient in transporting highly sensitive material."

Carolina growled, her teeth grinding in frustration, but Anemone held up a hand. She knew when to pick her battles, and this wasn't one of them.

"On the truck then," Anemone said, her voice cool as she turned toward 2B.

"Affirmative," 2B replied, her voice as flat as ever, as she moved toward the truck with calculated precision, her heeled boots crunching the sand beneath her.

Anemone raised an eyebrow, glancing at the YoRHa model. "How about your Flight Unit?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice. "You just going to leave it here?"

It seemed a little... irresponsible to abandon such an asset, especially when it was so close to their own territory. No doubt the Resistance would be tempted to 'acquire' it, tactically, of course.

As if on cue, the Flight Unit shimmered. Then, vanished. 

+++

The ride was relatively smooth. The Ural, an all-purpose truck, was built to go anywhere, and the desert terrain, though bumpy, didn't stand a chance against it. Still, the lack of proper roads threatened to tear up the vehicle. Anemone saw it as a good time to sit in the back of the truck with her men. She couldn't help but feel some curiosity about 2B, who had been sitting cross-legged in her corner all this time, her Pod clinging to the truck's sides.

Before they set off, Anemone had asked where the uranium was stored. It turned out that it was kept in a pocket dimension of sorts, tethered to the Pod. That moment marked Anemone's realization: living with the Pod's personality might be worth it if it meant access to that kind of power.

"So… what else can your Pod do?" Anemone asked, bouncing in place for the umpteenth time. 2B briefly looked up, mimicking her motion.

"They assist YoRHa units in battle," 2B answered, her voice monotone.

"Yes… but how?" Anemone clarified, eager to understand more.

2B paused, her expression unreadable. "Through various means."

Anemone's patience began to fray. "What kind of means?" she pressed.

"Pod," 2B called out softly.

"Tactical Support Units provide fire support in battle. Additionally, we offer advice to YoRHa units based on optimal data," Pod 042 answered, its voice flat, as if it were struggling to keep a grip on the truck.

"Are you alright in there, little buddy?" Reaper asked, tilting his head.

"Correction: This unit is named Pod 042. Designation 'Little Buddy' does not compute," Pod 042 replied.

"Too late. Calling you little buddy now," Reaper smirked.

"Correction: This unit's designation is Pod 042."

"Little Buddy."

"Correction: Pod 042."

As the banter continued, Anemone couldn't help but chuckle. She glanced at 2B to gauge her reaction, only to find her as silent as ever. The stillness of the YoRHa model was almost eerie. Anemone couldn't help but think it felt like there was more life in a graveyard.

"We were supposed to be collaborating with a YoRHa unit on the abandoned factory," Anemone spoke up, breaking the silence. "Well, that was until we found the bunker. Is the mission still ongoing?"

2B turned her head toward her. "The mission continues. I was supposed to assist, but another unit has taken my place."

It made sense. The Abandoned Factory had been pumping out machines at an alarming rate. Tokyo was already infested enough. It didn't need more.

"The Bunker the Resistance found," 2B trailed off. "How was it discovered?"

"Accidentally," Anemone answered with surprising honesty. "One of our androids, Jackass, was exploring the region when she stumbled upon it. If she hadn't been wandering around, the bunker would've remained hidden."

"What was this Jackass doing so deep in the Desert?" 2B asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and incredulity.

"She likes to experiment with explosives," Anemone explained. "The Desert's a great place for that. There's really nothing here to blow up except the sand."

2B nodded, then asked slowly, "Are there really humans in the bunker?" The disbelief in her voice was unmistakable.

The Resistance androids exchanged glances. "There are," Carolina muttered. "A thousand of them."

"A thousand?" 2B leaned forward slightly, her lip curling in surprise.

Anemone nodded. "Frozen in cryostasis. That's how they've survived for over a thousand years. We believe they're survivors of the old wars with the Legion."

"Query: How were the humans able to survive for so long?" Pod asked, its tone still deadpan.

"Magic," Anemone replied, half-joking. "There's a maso generator deep inside, keeping the place alive."

"And since the Resistance requested uranium, the bunker relies on nuclear power for the rest of the facility?" 2B asked, the pieces seemingly falling into place.

"Exactly," Anemone said with a nod. "Once we get everything booted up, the protocol calls for waking up the command staff."

She continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "The bunker's got four chambers. Cryo Chamber 1 holds the administrative, command, logistics, and maintenance staff. Chamber 2 has security—a full battalion of men and women. The other chambers were meant for civilians, designed to repopulate the Earth." 2B remained silent, absorbing the information.

"The Bunker's also stocked with seeds and materials needed to rebuild civilization. Without help, though, that process will be slow."

2B showed no visible reaction, her expression as unreadable as ever. She nodded, acknowledging the information. "Understood," she said, her voice as emotionless as before.

+++

The truck finally rolled into the hidden valley, kicking up a cloud of dust as it came to a halt. 2B stood still, her gaze scanning the camp ahead, taking in every detail.

It was modest at first glance—sandbags, camouflage netting, HESCO barriers, and a few tents, all set up with a clear sense of purpose. Yet, as a YoRHa unit, she saw more. Hidden fighting positions were cleverly concealed, nearly indistinguishable from the shifting sands. On the cliffs above, faint glints caught her eye. At first, they could have been mistaken for mirages, but they weren't. They were rifle scopes, strategically placed to keep a watchful eye on the ground below.

The truck came to a complete stop, and 2B swiftly leapt down. Pod 042 detached from the vehicle and floated toward her, its presence a constant, silent companion. She gave the pod a brief, almost affectionate pat before turning toward the open wound in the desert floor—a gaping hole that led into unknown depths.

"We've opened the rest of the doors," Anemone's voice rang out, cutting through the silence. "It was a bit of a headache—barely enough power—but we made it work."

"Alert: There are faint traces of chemicals by the gateway."

"Yeah," Anemone replied with a hint of frustration. "Jackass tried blowing the doors open."

2B tilted her head slightly, her voice calm but edged with disbelief. "That's highly irresponsible, especially if there were humans inside." Didn't the android consider the risks?

Anemone's explanation came quickly. "We didn't know what was inside. She thought it was just an old stash, abandoned and forgotten."

2B purged the thought of executing Jackass from her system, no matter how tempting it was.

As they entered a dimly lit tunnel, 2B felt the air change. It was freezing and her body reacted, warming her immediately. Tanned-clad resistance fighters stood guard at every corner, and in the shadows, more hidden positions were visible. 

They moved through a long iced tunnel and into motor pool, where a fleet of meticulously maintained vehicles sat ready—Ural trucks, armored personnel carriers, and various jeeps, all painted in stark white with black markings on the side. 

"Pod?" 2B asked, breaking the silence.

Pod 042 responded promptly. "The markings are an abbreviation for the United Nations. The United Nations was an international organization established in with the goal of promoting peace, security, and cooperation among its member states. It had 193 member countries. Its headquarters was situated in New York City."

"Kingdom of the Night now, isn't it, Little Buddy?" Reaper chimed in.

"Correction: This unit's designation is 042," the pod replied mechanically, unfazed. "And yes. The old New York City is located in the area designated the Kingdom of the Night." 

The "Kingdom of the Night" was where the Western Hemisphere was, a by product after the Earth ceased rotating. 

They continued on, moving into an elevator that was large enough to accommodate them with space to spare. After what felt like an eternity of descent, the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened to reveal a vast, dimly lit chamber. The Resistance had set up lamps along the walls, casting a soft glow over the area.

"You aren't shivering," Reaper noted, his envy plain. 

"YoRHa units are equipped with internal heating and cooling systems. We can operate in a variety of environments," 2B explained matter-of-factly, her gaze sweeping across the room. As they moved further into the atrium, her eyes were drawn to a mural on the far wall. It depicted the Earth in all its untouched beauty—an Earth free from the scourge of machines and the Legion. A free Earth, or at least, what it had been before the wars.

Anemone noticed her gaze and followed it. "There's something written underneath," she remarked. "We couldn't translate it. Your pod seems to know a lot. Can it help?"

Though 2B knew that translating the words wouldn't serve their immediate mission, she was tasked to assist Anemone. 

"Pod?" she asked, her voice cool.

Pod 042 floated closer, scanning the mural. "The language is Latin, an ancient tongue once spoken across the Roman Empire," it explained. "Though the empire itself has long since fallen, Latin remained an influential language, particularly in science and religion. The inscription reads: For All Mankind."

"For All Mankind," the androids repeated softly, almost reverently.

"Anyway," Anemone continued, her voice firm as ever, "let's keep moving. The Twins are getting antsy about the reactors. 2B, follow me."

+++  

"Initiating reactor reactivation in 3... 2... 1."

The uranium rods slid into place, guided with precision by 042. It was a delicate, almost surgical operation, but the pod executed it flawlessly under Devola's watchful eye. All that remained was the final step—activation.

The first reactor's lights blinked on, casting a dim glow across the room as a low, ominous rumble echoed from deep within its core. The control panel lit up with blinking green streams of data, cascading like a waterfall. Devola's hand moved steadily to the control lever, inching it forward. With each tiny movement, the pulse of energy surged ever higher.

"Power levels are stable," Jackass's voice came through from the adjacent console, barely audible over the growing hum of power. Sweat beaded at Devola's brow, but her eyes never left the screens, her focus unshaken.

The second reactor followed suit, its internal systems coming to life with a series of sharp mechanical clicks. This one was slower, more reluctant, as though it were waking from a long, tormented slumber. The reactor's veins—the cooling tubes—began to pulse in sync with the rhythmic beat of the massive engines. A deep thrum grew louder, swelling with confidence. Devola slammed the lever down, the final, decisive push that brought the reactors fully online.

There was a chilling moment of silence—a suspended breath—before an explosive surge of power shot through the system in a brief flash of light. The reactors hummed in unison now, their steady thrum reverberating through the facility.

The red maso orb flickered—first crimson, then settling into a calming, reassuring blue.

"Reactors fully online," Devola said, exhaling a sigh of relief as her shoulders sagged slightly. She pressed a button by her ear. "Popola, the power grid has stabilized. You can begin reactivating the facility."

At the Overseer's office, Popola gave a subtle nod, her gaze fixed on the fluctuating data on her screen. "I'll restore power incrementally," she replied. "We don't want to overload the system."

As the Twins worked in their respective stations, 2B stood silently by the glass window, gazing down at the vast expanse of cryo chambers below. The dim lights reflected off the iced pods—silent, still. Inside, the remnants of humanity slept.

There was no worry of contamination; the stasis field ensured the rods' radiation was contained. But even as she stood there, 2B couldn't shake the weight of the scene. Humanity—what was left of it—slumbered in perfect stillness.

Her thoughts lingered on them, though not from curiosity—such a thing was beneath her—but from something darker. Fear, perhaps. What would humanity think when they awoke? What would they make of YoRHa, of the army's unrelenting efforts to preserve what little remained? And of her own role in all of it—the missions, the silencing of those who dared to question.

She barely noticed the growing chatter around her until the lights flickered again, the bright white illuminating her from above as the cryo chambers powered up. A fresh wave of voices echoed over the comms.

"Motor pool is online."

"Tunnel is green."

"Atrium clear."

Popola's face softened slightly as she turned to Anemone, who had been pacing restlessly. "Anemone, all systems are green. We can begin the thawing process now."

2B turned to face them, her expression unreadable. "Before that happens, I must contact the Bunker. This area requires additional security."

Popola's brow furrowed. "That's not part of the protocol. The Command Staff must be thawed immediately."

2B's tone hardened. "I have orders from the Commander and the Council of Humanity."

"And I have my orders from the United Nations," Popola retorted sharply. "Those take precedence. They predate the Council."

The tension was palpable. Just then, Jackass's voice broke through the silence, a grunt of frustration crackling through the comms. "For god's sake, just do it at the same time."

"I agree," Anemone added, her tone dry. "Sorry, 2B, but we can't delay this any longer."

With a stiff nod, 2B relented. "Fine. But I want to be present for the thawing. The Bunker will need a full recording of the event."

Popola exchanged a brief glance with Anemone, who gave a subtle nod. "I'll provide you with specific instructions," Popola said, her voice softening. "Do not deviate from them."

2B raised an eyebrow, her head tilting slightly. "As the administrator, shouldn't you be the one to greet them?"

Popola's eyes darkened with a hint of sorrow. "It's... better that I stay here. Someone needs to monitor the facility's health." Her voice was final, and 2B didn't press the matter further.

As the HUD blinked to life with new orders, 2B's gaze shifted to the thawing process about to begin.

"Understood," she said quietly, preparing herself for the next phase of their mission.

Greet the Commander.

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A/N: Humies next c:

​Trying to write 2B is kinda hard considering she insists on sticking to the no emotions rule. It is lowkey kinda jarring for her to have no emotions one second then break out crying the next. If anything, staying here is going to dethaw her personality because well....humans.