Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 1

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That door. Damnable. Infuriating.

Jackass had prided herself on her explosives. They were an art form, understood and mastered by few. The chemistry behind them, the careful gathering of materials, and the constant awareness that one wrong move could send her work in every direction—these were the hallmarks of her craft. Regardless, she was the demolitions queen.

Then, she found it—the one thing that refused to yield to her creations.

It was an accident, really. She had been traveling through the Desert Region, as one might, when she slipped down a dune. The dune gave way, and only her quick reflexes spared her from being buried in the sand. Suffocation wasn't a death she would ever choose. Maybe surrounded by machines, taking them all with her to the next life in one massive explosion—that was how she wanted to go.

When she regained consciousness, she found that the sand had been concealing something. Her eyes settled on a massive metal door, thick and plated. She couldn't tell exactly how thick it was, but it looked as though it could withstand the apocalypse. There were no other markings on it, save for a faded white globe surrounded by laurel leaves—its only indication of allegiance. Seeing that symbol triggered something inside Jackass, sparking a yearning to uncover what lay behind the door.

The door's refusal to yield to her explosives fueled her obsession.

Nothing should resist her concoctions, yet that damn door did.

Putting thoughts of glorious last stands aside, Jackass dropped to one knee and carefully affixed the wires to their proper places. Satisfied, she quickly retreated to a safe distance behind a barricade, mostly made of sandbags. Her camp had started out as a humble fire and a pitched tent, but what had begun as a small setup had quickly evolved into a fully established camp. Several tents, mostly for storing explosives. Camouflage netting for shade, sandbag barriers to keep out wildlife—she'd managed to put it all together in under a week.

Spite, and the lack of any need to eat or rest, made for an excellent motivator.

Now, her obsession was about to be satisfied. She prepared a mixture of Semtex and C4, combined with specific chemicals that the periodic table had yet to discover. Her gloved fingers curled around the detonator, a grin spreading across her face.

She flipped the switch.

The desert flashed with the brightness of a miniature sun.

The explosion rocked the desert, sending a shockwave that reverberated through the sand and air. For a moment, the world went still—everything bathed in a searing light, then engulfed in dust and smoke.

Jackass shielded her eyes, her false heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had done it—she could feel it in her bones, the satisfying weight of success. The door, once an immovable enigma, had met its match.

But as the dust settled and the smoke began to clear, a strange sense of unease crept over her. The door stood.

It wasn't entirely unscathed, but it was still there, defiantly intact. The edges were scorched, the metal warped and cracked, but the door itself hadn't yielded.

Jackass blinked, disbelief flickering across her face. She had poured everything into that explosion—every ounce of her skill, every chemical compound she had carefully blended to perfection. And yet, the door was still standing.

She stood frozen for a moment, trying to make sense of it. This wasn't possible. She was the best. Nothing could withstand her creations.

But here it was. The door—unshaken.

She cursed under her breath, frustration bubbling up inside her.

"GOD DAMN IT!" Jackass swore, throwing up her hands up into the air. She stood up, and levelled an accusing finger towards the metal portal, mocking her with its silence. "Fuck you, door!" 

The door gave no reply, for it was an inanimate object. But to Jackass, it might as well be screaming at her. Frustrated still, Jackass reared back, sitting atop the sand, her eyes settled on the thing, and questions bubbled inside her.

What was so important inside that thing, that it could resist even the strongest explosions?

Theories flashed inside Jackass's mind, computing ideas faster than a human brain could for Jackass was an android, a synthetic being crafted in the image of humans. The first thing that came to her mind was that place could potentially be a storage of the Army of Humanity, long forgotten. If that was the case, there could be weapons inside that was so devastating, it could be a force multiplier in the battlefield. Surely, that could be something worth to crack open. Jackass knew that in the Kingdom of the Night, they fielded things that required such firepower. That theory made the most sense to her but there was that symbol, the faded white earth with laurel leaves. 

​The Army of Humanity never used such iconography. 

A brief glance into their archives yielded only one example. Jackass did not understand the context of it and the archives did not exactly tell much. She did reach one conclusion however. That image went hard. 

​Her hands tightened into fists. She wanted to know what the hell was behind those doors. If her conventional explosives would not yield, then maybe she should call in a favour to get it smoothed over. 

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A city stands, crumbling under the weight of time. Once a beacon of human achievement, it now lies in ruins, overtaken by nature and the ravages of war. It used to be Tokyo, a teeming metropolis. But its citizens are long gone. The towering skyscrapers that once pierced the sky now bow to the weight of time, their glass windows shattered, revealing nothing but hollow emptiness. Streets that once bustled with life are now desolate, their cracks filled with overgrown weeds, the faint rustling of leaves carried by the wind. The air smells of rust and dust, and the only sounds are the distant echoes of footsteps from forgotten places. There are a few new buildings, constructions of concrete and half-remembered designs, all erected by androids trying to prepare the world for humanity's return. But their efforts are hampered by the machines.

The year is 11945 AD. The Army of Humanity wages war against the Machines, creations of hidden alien masters determined to take Earth for themselves. There have been successes and failures. But the androids, humanity's solution to keep the fight going, persist.

Hidden in the ruins, in the dust and rust, by a blasted overpass casting its shadow over a courtyard, a camp stands. Unlike the sterile hallways of YoRHa, this camp is humble, tucked beneath a canopy of trees, surrounded by broken walls and makeshift tents. Ropes stretch across the camp, holding up tattered banners that flicker weakly in the wind—banners depicting a closed eye. The air here feels different, thicker—there's a quiet hum of something that might almost be called life, despite the world outside.

Inside the camp are various workshops—areas where androids repair themselves and each other. These spaces are filled with the sounds of tools clinking against metal, sparks flying, and quiet chatter. Small crates hold supplies—scrap materials, water rations, ammunition—recovered from supply drops sent by higher command. They must make do with less. The Kingdom of Day is a lesser front compared to the Kingdom of Night, and the forces here receive the same treatment.

Despite this, and the ad-hoc nature of everything, the androids here find rest, companionship, a place to unwind from the battles outside. But that was a luxury for those who didn't have to worry about responsibility—something Anemone was burdened with.

Anemone is tall and tanned, with piercing blue eyes. Strands of chestnut hair frame her face, barely visible under the green cloak draped over her shoulders. The cloak is fastened at her throat with golden strands. It has no use in battle, but it helps shield her face from the sun. Beneath it, she wears a crisp white tunic cinched at the waist with a sturdy leather belt, its golden buckle gleaming. Black gloves cover her hands—worn but firm. Her hands are crossed in annoyance.

Annoyance at the raven-haired android in front of her, hands clasped together pleadingly.

"Anemone, I promise you, the laser cutter will be used for science!" Jackass begged, her eyes wide and lips curled. The android stank of gunpowder, chemicals, and the desert. Anemone grimaced.

Jackass had been requisitioning supplies from the camp for a special project—one Anemone had no knowledge of. Usually, such requests would be denied. What could a single android possibly need tons of explosives for? Tent flaps? Camouflage netting? But Jackass was an asset to the camp—one of the few qualified androids who knew her job, along with the other things she provided.

Anemone rubbed the bridge of her nose, fighting off the irritation building in her chest.

She had finally returned after a week away, requesting the use of a laser cutter. "Do I really need to remind you that this is the only laser cutter we have?" Anemone said to her. "And you wish to...what?"

The laser cutter had been a useful tool—it was, in fact, a scavenged piece of YoRHa tech, used sparingly against tougher machines. Protocol dictated it be returned to them, but as far as Anemone was concerned, it was no longer a YoRHa weapon. It was now a Resistance Pattern Laser Cutter. Nothing YoRHa about it.

"Look, you know I've been taking trips to the Desert, right?"

Anemone nodded.

"Well, I found something. Big, metal, grey. I tried everything against it, but it just wouldn't budge!" Jackass yelled, raising her arms. Anemone had to admit some intrigue. Jackass's explosives usually worked against anything and everything they were tossed at. But for something to resist even her most insane creations?

"Maybe if something isn't meant to be opened, you should leave it alone," Anemone suggested. "Plus, it's a waste of resources, Jackass. We need you here at camp. Word from Command says YoRHa is going to be descending for a mission soon. We might be called to support them."

YoRHa and the Resistance rarely ever met. They were different branches in the grand scheme of things. But recent machine incursions from the abandoned factory west of the city had made collaboration a necessity.

Jackass glanced around, ensuring no one was within earshot. Seeing no one, she stepped forward, holding out her arm. Anemone cocked her head. "You want to share data?" she asked.

"Better you see it to believe it," Jackass mumbled, her eyes utterly serious. Anemone shrugged her shoulders and clasped hands with Jackass. Then she saw it.

The enormous metal door loomed before her, adorned with a faded symbol—an emblem of a white glove encircled by laurel leaves. Tattered flags fluttered in the orange-yellow light, as though they had been waiting for someone to notice them.

She reared back, glancing at her hand. "Do you see why I'm so obsessed with it?" Jackass muttered under her breath.

Anemone nodded slowly. Inside her core, something flickered too—protocols hidden within her programming. Unknown, yet familiar commands. Her emotions, something pulling at her. A wonder, an obsession, a desire to act. It's strange, almost otherworldly in its pull. She locked eyes with Jackass. She knew what she must say, but her instinct as a leader was cautious. The Laser Cutter is far too valuable for any one android to take on alone.

"I am taking a squad with you," Anemone commanded. "We're taking the Twins with us."

It was only natural for a squad to go—protection was necessary, after all. But the Twins... she didn't know why she asked for them. It just felt right, like they were needed there.

"I'll get the girls moving," Jackass grinned, gratitude in her eyes.

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Not a second later, a truck blazed through the concrete streets.

In an instant, Devola and Popola were busy fabricating arms when the camp's crazy android walked in, demanding they go with her immediately. The Twins sighed, packed up their tools, readied their bags, and walked out. But they were confused, for a truck awaited them, accompanied by a squad of androids, all geared for battle.

Popola hopped on first, the others ignoring her, and then she helped her sister onboard. As they boarded, the other androids made a wide berth around them. Popola wanted to ask where they were going, but she knew the others would not reply. And judging by their conversations, they, too, had no clue where they were headed.

The concrete of the city gradually gave way to the sands of the desert region.

Popola frowned.

"We should have changed into better clothes," she mumbled under her breath, glancing at her outfit. She was going to have one hell of a time trying to filter sand out of her systems.

"Not like Jackass is going to give us the time of day," Devola muttered, rolling her eyes as her hair fluttered in the breeze. Devola and Popola were twins, both wearing identical clothes. Their long white coats billowed gently, split in the front to reveal fitted red pants adorned with black leather straps and knee guards. Silver-buckled belts cinched their waists, while tall, lace-up boots covered their feet. Both were redheads, with a single Lunar Tear flower adorning their hair. Devola's hair was wilder, Popola's smoother.

"We're close!" Jackass called out as the truck swerved and turned into a small valley. Devola turned, leaning on the roof of the truck, and saw a miniature camp set up in the distance, along with a wide metal door.

The truck stopped. Boots landed on sand.

"So, this is what you've been up to," Anemone muttered, her voice carrying over the noise. Her disapproval of the established camp was clear.

"What, you thought I was going to rough it out here? It's hot, Anemone," Jackass defended herself, shaking her head. "Anyway, y'all get the cutter ready!"

The Twins stood and watched, satchels ready, as an android marched forward with a handheld weapon, aimed squarely at the massive metal portal ahead. Jackass had clearly made an impression on it, with the bent metal and faint smell of scorching. Then their eyes fell on something.

A faded symbol.

Numbers began to form in their minds.

Their lips moved before they could register it. "Wait!"

Eyes snapped to them. The android stopped just before his finger could pull the trigger. He frowned, flashed them a dirty look, and prepared to squeeze the trigger, but Anemone's voice rang out.

"Hold!" Anemone barked, her voice cutting through the tension like steel. Then, she turned to the Twins. Her blue eyes silently urged them.

Swallowing nervously, the Twins lowered their bags onto the sand and slowly made their way toward the portal, their boots crunching the sand beneath their feet. Their artificial hearts thudded in their chests, a strange, mechanical rhythm as they walked closer and closer. They stopped before it, sharing a look.

They turned to the door and, in sync, placed their palms on it. The metal felt cold to the touch—lifeless and desolate.

Then, a searing heat.

The Twins cried out in pain as the metal door burned their hands. They recoiled, clutching their palms. Their breaths left them as they saw the mark left behind.

Something groaned. The earth shook.

Slowly, the doors were willed open.

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A/N: Again, a re-write for Restoring Mankind. Again, I do this because the last one had stuck me into a corner. Instead of continuing with that, better to start again. The difference though, the lewds will be much more woven into the fic. 

In other news, my cat is ill. His throat got inflamed, possibly from eating something bad. He lost a shit ton of weight but he hasn't like, hidden himself. I am still waiting for the laby results to come back if he has anything else in his system. Fingers crossed.