Another hand shoots up into the air.

‘Even bigger than … Azur Lane?’

‘Yes,’ the lecturer answers, quickly and decisively. ‘I believe it will be.’

The lights come back on.

‘All right, people,’ the portly man declares, raising his voice—and his hands—above the din of eager leavers. ‘Thank you for attending, I hope that I didn’t bore you too much. I’ll be available for questioning …’

The young man next to you dons his jacket, peering down at you expectantly.

‘You coming?’

>‘No, you go on ahead. I have a few questions.’
>‘Yeah, let’s.’
>[Write-in]

>>4309626

>‘No, you go on ahead. I have a few questions.’

>>4309648
Thank you for playing my quest, anon.

What is Saul Kata
What does a refractor do
What is the wisdom project
What is the other metaphorical shining beacon
Who is currently member of Azur Lane
What makes the old man think that a "great leap forward" is imminent?
If Saul Kata is merely funding the research, who does the actual research?

>>4309657
I'll leave those as write-in options, if that's okay with you?

‘No, you go on ahead,’ is your reply as you get to your feet. ‘I have a few questions.’

‘All right,’ your friend answers, nodding. ‘I’ll be outside. Remember, the—’

‘I know,’ you return, tapping your watch.

You make your way past a few moving bodies, coming to a halt right behind the lecturer … who was now busily shuffling his notes and other offending objects—a blue orb surrounding by three bright silver rings, a tome that looked as ancient as the ruins littering the ocean and a strange-looking sextant with a pink refractor in the middle among them—away into his carrier case. Frustrated rumbles and wry chuckles shake his shoulders as he moves in a hurried motion, more than likely … discouraged by the tepid reception of the attendees. You could only speculate as to why they’d chosen to attend the symposium in the first place … but considering the involvement of the man before you as an academic regarding the science of Wisdom Cubes and the Carbon Artificial Replicant Bio-Roid, it was in all likelihood that they’d attended based on the man’s name alone.

After all, it wasn’t everyday that you were able to be part of an audience featuring one of the most famed archaeologists-cum-diggers of your time. Especially not someone with the level of recognition as Professor Cidolfus.

‘Now where did I put the—’

He stops mid-turn, taking a step back as his eyes manage to lock together with yours.

‘—ah, forgive me, I’m used to my audience filing out in disappointment rather than sticking to ask around,’ he jests, before turning back to his task and setting his back to you. ‘Unless, of course, you’re here to talk about Azur Lane or anything directly pertaining to my involvement regarding The Wisdom Project … which I, unfortunately, am not able to disclose, nor even in the event that I am able to, refuse to. I said as much at the beginning and I say as much …’

Cidolfus turns around to face you again, his lips still wry and his gaze calculative and penetrating.

‘At the end.’

‘Actually, I was hoping to,’ you start, bringing out a notepad, ‘well, hoping to clarify a few things regarding the … research that you’ve done as a digger and spotter. I … had no intention in hammering you for details in relation to your involvement in the Wisdom Project … or Azur Lane.’

The portly man blinks, clearly surprised.

‘That’s a first,’ Cidolfus remarks. ‘In that case … ah … fire away.’

He turns his attention back to his collection of trinkets, mumbling to himself.

‘Go on, then. You have questions, don’t you?’

>>4309668
>‘You said that you foresee a great leap forward, tech-wise. What does that mean?’
>‘Wouldn’t you say that a futurist would have a bone to pick with your regarding your … tendency to glorify the past and using it as a stepping stone? Aren’t we already moving forward?’
>‘You disagree that Saul Kata Expedition takes exclusive credit regarding their contribution towards The Wisdom Project. Why?’
>‘Is there a reason that you’re so … against the topic of talking about the Wisdom Project and Azur Lane? You’re rather vocal about those terms.’
>‘Your discouragement of specific applications of refractor technology is well-known, but considering your past arguments, it seems a little contradictory to your opinion of us using these discoveries to push us forward.’
>[Write-In]

>>4309670
>>‘Your discouragement of specific applications of refractor technology is well-known, but considering your past arguments, it seems a little contradictory to your opinion of us using these discoveries to push us forward.

(What is a refractor? I’m guessing is not just a lens.)

>>4309676
It's a crystal. It has many purposes, but power source is the main purpose of it. They come in all shapes and sizes.

‘Your discouragement of specific … applications of refractor technology is well known. However, considering your past arguments, it seems to run a little contradictory to your opinion of us using these technologies to push us forward. How do you reconcile both perspectives when they run in such opposition? On one hand, you’re practically campaigning for us to proceed with our innovation … but at the same time, you’re critical of us expanding our current limits in regards to the same tech. Pardon my aggression, but it just sounds like you’re cherry-picking the avenues of progress. Why would you need to be so adamant regarding just how we’re progressing?’

‘Because those who do not learn from the past merely place themselves in the same position as those that came before, and only in preparation of the same failures.’

‘Isn’t that being a little too … pessimistic?’

‘Perhaps,’ Cidolfus concedes, clicking his carrier case shut. ‘Perhaps not. Humanity is picking up the pieces of a devastation that we have survived by the skin of our teeth. A calamity that, knowing what we do, in all likelihood, have only ourselves as the true culprit. Irregardless of the how, we are aware that, at the very least, the who has gathered to the point that it is beyond implication and a whisper away from absolute certainty. The world is blue, round and filled with danger … and we can’t even say that it isn’t because of us. Bandits, rogue warlords … you can hardly say that the ruins and the corrupted reaver units bear the brunt of that responsibility. If I am a pessimist by that definition, then I might as well throw my lot in with the paranoiacs, because, my young man, in measuring and embracing the destructive potential that we have so eagerly unearthed, I believe we are, just as on the cusp of progress, flirting with our second destruction.’

‘Is that the same perspective that prompts your antagonizing of Azur Lane? Of the Wisdom Project?’

Professor Cidolfus lets out a bellow of laughter.

‘Was that your intention from the start?’

You shake your head.

‘Think of it as an applicable conjecture in the line of questioning,’ you muse, the corners of your mouth threatening to stretch into a grin. ‘You can’t argue that it’s not from out of nowhere, though.’

He snorts. ‘Indeed … and yes, I suppose that you could conclude that much, but I believe that would only scratch the surface of my opposition. I will not indulge the matter further; I do hope that answer satisfies you. However you take it.’

‘It … does, somewhat,’ you admit. ‘Thank you, sir.’

He peers at you curiously.

‘What about you, then?’

‘What … about me, sir?’

‘What do you think of Azur Lane?’

>>4309782
>'I ... don't know what to think. They protect our waters and our settlements and ... that's about it.'
>'I believe that they're a necessary step forward. Their modus operandi is unorthodox, but ... before you can go forward, you have to be sure that that "forward" is secure.'
>'From a purely observational viewpoint, it'd be hard to not be fascinated with them. The concept of a sentient existence being derived from replicator data ... it's incredible.'
>'Well, they keep us safe, so that's good, right?'
>Don't answer
>[Write-in]

>>4309789
Combination of 3 and 4
>the concept of sentient existence....
>and they protect us, do they not? That has to count for something.

Or is he implying they’re somehow sinister, or to be blamed for... whatever bad is going on?

>>4309789
>'I believe that they're a necessary step forward. Their modus operandi is unorthodox, but ... before you can go forward, you have to be sure that that "forward" is secure.'

>>4309871
>>4309885
How should I decide tie-breakers?

>>4309887
You can:
>wait for another vote to come in
>flip a coin
>rule in players’ favour/disfavour
>combine the votes
Ultimately it’s your call though

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4309895
I'll roll evens and odds. That way everyone can see.
>>4309871
>>4309885

File: This Is The Most Bishoune(...).jpg (218 KB, 904x882)

218 KB JPG

‘From a purely scientific perspective, their existence at all is … remarkable,’ you declare, putting your hands on your hips. ‘The concept of a sentient existence made achievable through human hands at all would have been pure fantasy a decade ago; that we were able to reach these sort of heights … it’s like something right out of a video game, or even a book. I’m almost frightened at the potential, but … at the same time, I guess I’d say that I’m thankful that they’re pretty benevolent. They protect us, keep the fishing boats and airships coming in, so … that’s good right?’

Cidolfus snorts, lifting his carrier case and placing it on the floor, pulling the handle and clicking its wheels into place.

‘Yes, that is a good thing,’ he replies; the tone that he takes, however, is cryptic enough for you to give a slight raise of your eyebrow. Not enough for you to comment on, however; whatever his opinions are, they are his own, after all … and you came here to listen, not to talk over the one speaking.

A quick glance around the hall has you noticing that the two of you were now, indeed, the last two people left in the wide chamber.

‘Well, young man, I hope that you were able to take away something to call your own from all that,’ said Cidolfus, his tone turning instantly upbeat, if a little hurried. ‘It’s always a welcome sight … seeing young ones like you, ready to make their own mark in the world.’

‘Thank you, Professor Cidolfus.’

His gaze moves up and down in a scrutinizing fashion … before turning around and diving into his knapsack of scrolls, slides and other documents, producing a leather-bound tome with the insignia of the Archaeologist’s Guild emblazoned on top, the title pronounced in steady, bold lettering: Digs, Discoveries and Doomsaying: An Unfiltered Outlook by Brannigan Cidolfus.

‘A signed copy,’ he declares, handing it over to you. ‘With compliments.’

>YOU RECEIVED: A SIGNED COPY OF DIGS, DISCOVERIES AND DOOMSAYING

You thank him.

‘Professor,’ a man—the same man who had manned the projector during Cidolfus’ lecture, you notice—calls out from up high, hoisting what appears to be a mess of electronic equipment, ranging from a recording camera to microphones to stands. ‘The faculty’s gone off first, they—’

‘Yes, yes, Gasket,’ he grumbles, waving a hand and dragging his carrying case behind him, moving past your presence to join the stocky man at the top of the hall. ‘Do you have everything?’

You turn your attention away from the duo, making your way out of the hall and into the open air plaza of Neo Ruminoa, searching for your jacket-clad friend, who—

‘No, I’m not in a relationship.’

You let out a sigh. Of course there’d be a chorus of girls around him. How could you doubt such certainty?

>>4309967
>'Link!' [Call out to him]
>[Wait for the girls to finish up with him]
>[Write-In]

>>4309969
Approach the group, and if he doesn’t notice us, announce ourselves:
>>'Link!' [Call out to him]

‘Link!’ you shout, extending your arm upwards in an attempt to negotiate his attention.

Link, upon instantly noticing you, waves the girls off with a small smile and a notification of his departure, peeling away from the sighing masses with an elegance that had to be experienced to be believed. The girls, however, stay in their stiff gaggle of five, sighing and staring after your friend as he moves to join you, the air of the open sea practically caressing his locks in a manner that has you wishing for a pair of scissors to scatter them to the four winds. Your friend, noticing this, wears a slight smirk over his features, leaning into your shoulder with wickedness practically oozing from his lips.

‘Jealous?’

‘As if.’

The two of your chortle before making a start in departing the south-end commercial dock, the airships slowly floating above you towards the central pillar. Despite its name, Neo Ruminoa was as rustic and lazy as ever. A bustling city, but hardly a place one would willingly drop by for a good time. A township built literally around a titanic pillar sticking out of the ocean with ruins underneath (in the middle of the vast sea, no less), Neo Ruminoa’s name was made on its reputations as one of the few—if not only—S-Class docking hubs along the major airship charts. Formerly a mere hub for fortune-seekers some hundreds of years prior, the rise in pirate and reaver unit encounters spilling out all over the globe had called for a reinforcement of sorts … and out of the necessity for a population to supplement the demands of a rapidly-shrinking world, Neo Ruminoa had been erected upon the backs of the old world. Being a top-class docking hub with proper defences meant nothing for the restless youth, however … not that that had been a large issue. There was no shortage of work needed around Neo Ruminoa; from engineers to fisherman, the industrial ecosystem discriminated none. Even the children could make some extra pocket zeny (a substantial amount, as you’d experienced in your youth) picking off stray parts and selling them back to the engineering and maintenance units or even assisting in the lower levels and helping catch stray cats and dogs.

You’d be hard-pressed to find anything actually fun to do here, however.

‘What’s up?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ you sigh, making your way towards one of the external elevators. ‘Just thinking about tomorrow.’

‘Why? You’re not going, anyway.’

You throw Link a glare and an elbow. He accepts it in good nature.

‘Yeah, I guess this is as much fun that I’m going to be having for the season.’

Link gives your a good-natured pat on the back as the both of you stand in front of the elevator grill, waiting for the next one to descend.

‘You really can’t clear a full twenty-four hours for yourself?’

>‘Unless you want this place to sink to the ocean floor and get swarmed by swimming reaver units, then no.’ [Profession: ENGINEER]
>‘It’s the season and my father’s a little short-handed. I don’t like the idea of him going out to sea with anything less than a four-man crew.’ [Profession: FISHERMAN]
>‘Believe it or not, my mother’s actually seeing some business.’ [Profession: COOK]
>‘No negotiating guard duty.’ [Profession: GUARD]
>‘The store needs some proper tidying up. My parents want to scrap some stock before they go on another dig.’ [Profession: JUNKER]

>>4310722
To note: each of the pathways open certain dialogue options and scenes that would be unavailable to the others.

>>4310722
>‘The store needs some proper tidying up. My parents want to scrap some stock before they go on another dig.’ [Profession: JUNKER]
Dirty ol junker job perfect

‘To answer your question: no,’ you mumble an aside, right as the elevator comes to a halt at a very familiar level. ‘The store needs some proper tidying up. My parents want to scrap some of the overflow before they go under for another dig. It’d be irresponsible of me to just let them sort the stock-scrapping out all by themselves while I go out to have fun.’

The doors slide open. The both of you step out of the elevator.

‘Ever the dutiful son,’ your friend comments, his tone playful and sympathetic in its quality. You snort in amusement … and prepare yourself for an intake of a familiar, pungent odour.

You are, in a word, home.

If one had a mind to comment on the rusted, aged state of the main pillar and the surrounding districts, one would definitely have an essay’s worth of opinions regarding the underbelly of Neo Ruminoa. Located a mere level above the city’s support systems, B4 lay down here as both the heartbeat and the digestive tract of the citizenry. A colourful, if aesthetically dour, cast of characters walked about the wide open corridors and spaces of the level, which played host to the guarded entrance of the ruins underneath. Shifty eyes followed you and Link as you made your way down the main street, past lines of run-down sundry palaces and other places of ill-repute. You pay no heed to any of them, of course; you were used to making your way down here … after all, you’d been part of the diorama for the pretty much your whole life. Dim lights, hidden shadows and keeping your head down; it had been a pattern that had been carved upon your bones at this point.

You turn your head upward as you reach your destination, the blinking, horizontal sign too bright in some places and not lighting at all in others.

HIPPOPOTAMUS JUNKERS

Your family shop.

Home, sweet home.

‘This place hasn’t changed a bit,’ Link comments, making an attempt to pure through the tinted film of the shop’s windows.

You’re tempted to agree with your friend.

Hand on the door, you give it a light push—triggering the semi-automatic mechanism—and head inside, revealing a dimly-lit open area, lined with—as the name above the store suggest—all manners of junk. Hoses, servos, reaver unit heads, broken-down refractor funnels, half an airship convertor, an old piston collection … the only thing that you could say with confidence that you didn’t have was probably a working C-Class system adapter, because your mother had sold it off the month before. Your eyes rest on the padlocked gate to the rest of the stock, only viewable through the fence—

‘Welcome to Hippopotamus Junkers!’

A petite, middle-aged woman clad in a worker’s apron and clothing stained in oil and grime rises from behind the counter, slamming what looked to be half a reaver unit onto the surface, dusting her hands off after.

‘Oh? Back so soon?’

>>4310864
>‘I’m home, mother.’
>‘It went a little quicker than expected. The symposium wasn’t very … interactive, for the most part.’
>‘Mom, are you starting the stock-check without me?’
>[Write-in]

>>4310869
>‘It went a little quicker than expected. The symposium wasn’t very … interactive, for the most part.’

‘It went a little quicker than I thought it would,’ you inform her, absently picking a wide antenna on the ground and setting it upon one of the shelves. ‘The symposium wasn’t very … interactive, for the most part.’

Your mother, her face covered in grime and her nose donned with a bandage, giggles as you approach the counter, before turning her attentions to your companion.

‘Oh, Link,’ she calls out, placing her hands on her hips and puffing out her chest. ‘Didn’t expect for you to come all the way down here. I would have gotten some muffins fired up.’

‘It’s nice to see you too, ma’am,’ Link responds, as eloquently as ever. He drops into a slight bow, offering a gentlemanly smile. ‘You look as radiant as ever.’

You roll your eyes as your mother giggles, her cheeks turning pink. ‘Oh, what are you saying to a lady like me; how scandalous,’ she responds, before turning to you again. ‘Well, I have to sort the salvage rights on these babies before we actually start with the stock-taking … why don’t you boys head on up first? I’ll bring you some seaweed tea and salt crackers to munch on in a few.’

‘Mother, are you—’

‘Yes, yes, it’s all right,’ your mother fusses, pointing to the half-open wooden door, leading to the living area upstairs. ‘Shoo, shoo. You tend to your guest now.’

You tightly nod, sparing Link a glance. He doesn’t protest to the offer … and you don’t protest the command. Your mother had a strange thing when it came to the law of hospitality—or so she called it—namely that if you didn’t abide by it, she wasn’t above clonking you over the head with a cooking pot. Link thanks her for her welcome, following right behind you. You slight slide the doorway open, making your way up a familiar, rickety old pair of wooden stairs that had been hastily installed and never improved upon or mended.

You’re in the upper hallway (if it could even be called a hallway; more of an attic and a half) before long, with a hand on your door knob, turning it and heading inside without comment.

It’s as it’s been: stacks of old junk parts compressed into dirty brown boxes, a recently-purchased futon on the floor covered with magazines and comic books, a television set that had seen better days rested in the corner with a second-hand gaming system plugged in and, last but not least, a myriad of old books on archaeology and refractor technology neatly stacked against the wall.

Link pays no attention to any of that, however.

‘I thought that you would have taken that poster down by now.’

He indicates a poster on the wall, barely held together by tape.

‘Why would you think that?’

Your friend fixes you with a flat stare, his finger toying with the frayed edge of the—

‘If you tear it, you’re buying me a new one,' you warn him, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘You know I will.’

You stare straight into his eyes, promising him extremely painful consequences if he proceeded any further.

‘It’s going to fall off on its own,’ he reasons.

‘I don’t care,’ you grumble, dusting your pants off and sitting yourself down on the floor. ‘Leave it.’

He chuckles, but otherwise pulls his hands away.

‘You know, you never struck me as a … well …’

>‘An Eagle Union fanboy? Why wouldn't I be?’
>‘A Royal Navy enthusiast, of all things?’
>‘As someone enchanted by the Iron Blood?’
>‘Having the Sakura Empire as my favorite of the Four Prime Divisions?’

*If you guys don't know what those are: https://azurlane.koumakan.jp/Category:Nations

>>4310956
> Eagle Union
Freedom!

>>4310981
Is this a selection of the Eagle Union choice or are you just commenting?

>>4310998
It’s a vote. Although in fairness each of the factions has great characters. It feels almost wrong to single one out.

>>4310956
>‘A Royal Navy enthusiast, of all things?’

>>4310998

let's go with these if the tie persist, okay? No need to roll then.
>>4311079

>>4311126
Well, unless there is a specific story element about only being able to have one faction. I'm not one to mind.

File: [YOU HAVE SELECTED] Eagle(...).png (33 KB, 340x340)

33 KB PNG

‘An Eagle Union fanboy? Why wouldn’t I be?’

Link strokes his chin, seemingly considering his own counter-point.

‘Well, no indication would warrant such a conclusion,’ he confesses, the both of you sliding against your respective walls and parking your bottoms on the faux-tatami floor. ‘I just didn’t think that you’d be a fan of the Eagle Union’—he gives a small nod towards the battered poster emblazoned just to the right of his head—‘Division of all things. I would have been proud to welcome you into the embrace of the Sakura Empire.’

‘Don’t impress your own preferences upon others,’ you remark, wearing a slight smirk. Your friend brushes his bangs away from his face, rolling his shoulders slightly.

‘They don’t really stand out, do they?’

‘What are you saying? The Eagle Union Shipgirls are plenty—’

‘From a technical perspective and an eye on performance,’ he reconstitutes himself, extending his index finger and pointing it in your direction. ‘The average Eagle Union vector doesn’t actually have any specialities in any direction, does it? They’re don’t set the bar on offensive capabilities’—no, that was his beloved Sakura Empire—‘break any strides regarding support and unit coordination’—of course not, that was the Royal Navy’s cap—‘or even keep a steady lead over the others through a solid tech advantage’—Ironblood—‘on a foundation of innovation. They’re the one Division that doesn’t really stand out. At best, they come in a distant second behind Ironblood, so I suppose what I’m trying to make sense of is that someone as technically-minded you are gravitating towards the one Division that … isn’t.’

You could almost laugh.

‘They are, though,’ you counter pointedly. ‘The Eagle Union has the most varied deployment rate and task variation of the four Prime Divisions. Their speciality is in having no speciality. They may not be the best in any specific capacity, but they can plug themselves into any situation at any pace better than the other three. Just because they don’t excel in a particular area doesn’t equate them to being incompetent in others, you know?’

He snorts, turning his nose up at you.

‘Whatever.’

The both of you turn your gazes upon one another again, your tired orbs fixing upon his cold irises before … bursting out laughing.

‘I’m going to miss this,’ he says, sincerely, hitting the back of his head against the dirty wall.

‘I’m not,’ you joke, leaning forwards. ‘I hate you always trying to pick at what I like.’

‘Not my fault you have terrible taste.’

You shoot him a warning look in jest.

‘Hey.’

‘For the road … preferred composition.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Come on,’ he prods.

>'Destroyer-Type Vanguard, Battleship-Type Main.'
>'Destroyer-Type Vanguard, Carrier-Type Main.'
>'Cruiser-Type Vanguard, Battleship-Type Main.'
>'Cruiser-Type Vanguard, Carrier-Type Main.'

>>4311145

>Cruiser-type Vanguard, Carrier-Type Main

>>4311145
>'Destroyer-Type Vanguard, Carrier-Type Main.'
I'm inclined to a destroyer vanguard but eagle union is well known for having some of the best carriers out there.

>>4311161
Welcome to the quest.
>>4311079
You, too.

>>4311145
>'Destroyer-Type Vanguard, Battleship-Type Main.'

>>4311152
>>4311161
>>4311164
Judging by the majority, it seems to be Destroyer, Carrier. Are people okay with that or do you want the tiebreaker roll?

>>4311178
I'm ok with that

>>4311178
Sounds fine to me

I'm a massive Baltimorefag but let's go with

>Destroyer to tiebreak

‘Destroyer-type Vanguard, Carrier-type Main.’

‘Huh …’

Round two begins almost immediately.

You and Link shoot the breeze for at least two hours, lamenting the passing of your irresponsible days and the dawn of adulthood. It is an odd emotion that you feel: not too long ago, the both of you had been wide-eyed, naive dreamers, plotting journeys you’d never take and speaking of far-off lands as if they were little more than myth. Now, here the both of you are: on the cusp of the rest of your lives, wherever they would take you. Link’s limits seemed to belong beyond the sky itself: handsome, well-educated, intelligent, amicable and off good stock, he is every bit the picture of the Guild Master’s son … and more. Prescience wasn’t required to know he was destined for things beyond Neo Ruminoa’s seas and the main pillar’s walls. For these hours, the confines of your room allow you to dream more freely than you’d ever imagined, hearing his hopes, pouring your own insecurities and mingling both with the occasional jab. You laugh, you argue … and you discuss the merits of thighs, breasts and bottoms so loudly that your mother sets down your snacks with nary a comment.

Then he leaves.

With a wave and a bump of your knuckles, you say your farewells … and return to your responsibilities.

Donning the shop’s apron and dusting your gloves, you move behind the fence, ready to commence your—

‘I’m sorry.’

You turn to face your mother, her back to you as she noisily goes through the assortment of junk in the reaver unit’s torso. Every movement that she makes is deliberate, excessive; her elbow joints move almost violently as she appears to tear the innards of the reaver apart, pulling its board and converters out in fierce succession, allowing them to clatter against the counter surface.

‘You should have as much of an opportunity as he does,’ she laments, without turning to face you. ‘I know that you want to go with him … that you want to go make something of yourself … instead of being down here with us.’

Your hands squeeze the panel, uncertain of how to answer your mother’s words.

‘It’s all right,’ she soothes you, going back to work, spearing the inner shell of the reaver. ‘Your father and I would have done anything to have given you the chance to go out there, beyond that horizon, but I—we—suppose that this is as far as we’re able to take you.’

You stare at your mother’s back, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I’m sorry, my son.’

>Return to your task, don’t answer her
>‘Apology accepted.’
>‘What are you talking about? Leave the two of you? It never crossed my mind.’
>‘I don’t want to talk about this.’
>‘I’ve never held that against you … either of you.’
>[Write-in]

>>4311219
>‘I’ve never held that against you … either of you.’

>>4311219
>‘I’ve never held that against you … either of you.’

>‘I’ve never held that against you … either of you.’

‘I’ve never held that against you … either of you,’ you answer, clearly enough that you’re confident of her hearing, steady enough to reflect your own feelings. ‘I’ve never, at once, ever thought that you came up short to what you offered me. This rickety old shop, sweeping those dirty corridors and trawling myself up and down from the elevator to school and the outside … I knew that you were always trying to give me your all, even when both of you had so little for yourself. So, even if my dreams stretch high above, beyond the platforms and across the horizons … I want you to know that I never doubted that you or father did your best to help me reach your dreams. Such thoughts do you disservice, mother, so I … at least believe me when I say … thank you, for trying and for … being my parents.’

‘Oh, my beautiful son!’

‘Eh?’

You find yourself wrapped in the octopus-like embrace of the short, grease-covered woman that had carried you to term, threatening to crush your lungs and shatter your rib-cage. She is a sobbing mass of comical strength, pressing against your diaphragm with such force that you wonder if there was any part of her that was truly human left. You’re lifted off your feet, flailing side to side as the hysterical apron-clad gorilla-woman bawls to the degree you almost mistake her for the evacuation siren.

You endure a good fifteen—perhaps even twenty minutes—of your hysterical mother, who only releases you upon realizing that no work was being done in her outpouring of emotions; you muse that it’s one of the few instances that you’re glad for your mother’s workman persona returning to the fore.

Never has that unsorted upper shelf looked so welcome.

The customers that do come in (because your parents believed that opening hours did not require compromise) are mostly of the type to sell … and the rest are curious browsers from the upper level. You manage your duty just fine, of course, through all this, sorting and ticking boxes according to your parents’ written wishes (which are in letter box print and clipped to a pad for ease). The more difficult portion of this stock-taking task would be on the morrow. The salvage and depreciation accounts were a nightmare to manage every year, and if your father didn’t—

‘Pardon us.’

Your and your mother look up to find two trench-coat—

‘Inspector Javert,’ your mother speaks up, right as the man lifts his hat.

‘Sorry to bother you ma’am, but we just came down here to ask you if you’ve seen anything suspicious down here lately.’

Your mother tilts her head.

‘Suspicious?’

You bite on your tongue as hard as you can, unwilling to fall for such an obvious call.

>‘Yeah, Inspector. They just walked in. I think one of them has a hole in the bottom pocket of his trench coat.’
>‘A suspicious person? In B4? Impossible!’
>[Stay quiet]
>[Write-in]

>>4311397
“Nothing out of ordinary, sir. Anything specific we should be on lookout for? Anything bad happened?”

>>4311403
Welcome to the quest, anon.

>>4311403
Supporting

>>4311403
+1 to this write-in.

OP, is it me or is this taking references from Megaman Legends?

Seeing that shipgirls survived the end of one world brings me joy though.

>>4311429
Welcome to the quest, anon, and yes, the setting IS indeed, the world of Megaman Legends. Specifically, around 500 years after Rock and Sera left Earth.

File: Inspector Javert.jpg (15 KB, 360x360)

15 KB JPG

‘Nothing out of the ordinary, sir,’ you respond, setting down the cracked reaver unit helmet in your hands. ‘Anything … specific that you want us to be on the lookout for?’

Inspector Javert glances at you, then to his companion, receiving a nod and turns back to you again.

‘I guess there’s no harm telling you folks what’s going on,’ he replies. ‘The Airship Traffic Investigation Bureau’s reported several disappearances along authorized, chartered courses under the city’s jurisdiction. The higher-ups suspect that it could be sky-pirate raids again, but so far, we haven’t been able to come up with anything concrete. Since B4’s usually where the bad news happens to pop up, we thought about doing some rounds down here ourselves. Thus far, we haven’t had any luck.’

‘The ramen stalls are as delicious as ever, though!’

Javert looms over the other gentleman, shaking a large fist. ‘Can it, Sergeant!’

The man turns his attentions towards the ceiling, wisely heeding the Inspector’s command. The Inspector, meanwhile, adopts a troubled expression as he wheels around, crossing his arms over his chest as he resumes eye contact with your mother.

‘That’s the story, ma’am,’ he mutters, frowning. ‘Have you heard anything? Seen anyone you’d like to report in?’

‘Nothing outside of the usual,’ your mother reports, mimicking his troubled look. ‘Ruffians, drunks and fights, but nothing about disappearing airships or anyone that looks especially suspicious.’

Javert hums sightly, stroking his chin … before giving a satisfied nod. ‘All right,’ he replies, turning his back and heading towards the door, but not before sparing the both of you one last glance. ‘Sorry to disturb your evening. We’ll be on our way!’

‘I hope that the ramen stall coupon’s good for a second visit on the same day!’

The Inspector grabs the Sergeant by the ear, his yelps of agony audible even with the door shutting behind them. You can’t help but feel tense at the new information. Disappearing airships? The possibility of rogue pirates plundering air routes? It was almost …

‘Good grief,’ your mother grumbles, placing her hands on her hips. ‘Pirates? Disappearing ships? Suspicious folk on our doorstep? Things were a lot quieter when I was younger. Really now, this is the last sort of thing that I need. I suppose I’ll have to round up the neighbourhood watch and—’

The phone on the counter rings, interrupting your mother’s rambling. She swipes the mess of parts and tools off the surface of the counter, a loud series of sounds rattling against your eardrums as you fix the back of her head with a look of disapproval. Holding the receiver to her ear, she speaks into the phone.

‘Hello? Oh? Yes?’

You walk towards the new mess on the floor, grumbling at the additional work. Just because they were due for scrap didn’t mean that she—

‘HE WHAT?!’

You drop the metal plate at the sound of her angered shrill. Raising your head, you watch your mother slowly morph into the modern equivalent of a sabre-toothed tiger, her cheeks turning purple as whoever was on the other end of the call fed her with the unsavoury details that were key to her transformation. She doesn’t even say a word in return, drumming the fingers of her free hand against the surface of the store counter, the occasional groan and sigh escaping visibly through her lips. It’s like watching the ventilation process of a burning furnace more than anything in recent memory.

After what feels like an eternity, your mother sets down her phone, massaging the space under her eyes as she appears to attempt to digest whatever it is that she’d just been informed of.

Had it been about the—

‘Your father’s in the infirmary,’ your mother informs you, her tone flat. ‘He tried to jury-rig an excavation module with a reaver unit’s converter without a refractor adjustment cross.’

You have nothing to say to that.

‘Oh.’

Or, perhaps … you did.

Your mother discards the apron, picking up a dirty rag from one of the hanging buckets on the wall, giving herself a hasty clean-up before moving herself from behind the counter and into the open floor of the store.

‘He doesn’t have his license on him, so I have to go up to the Guild and get his documentation from the office. I’ll be a while.’

You can imagine.

She bends over the counter, pulling out her raggedy hand-bag and slinging it over her shoulder, making a march towards the store entrance.

‘Take care of the store, all right? Everything that you need to do is right there on that piece of paper and there’s some leftovers from this afternoon in the fridge if you’re hungry.’

>‘Just go already.’
>‘Dad tried to jury-rig an excavation module?’
>‘I will, mom.’
>‘And close the shutters if you’re not back by closing time. I know.’
>[Write-in]

>>4311521
>>‘And close the shutters if you’re not back by closing time. I know.’

>>4311521
>And close the shutters if you’re not back by closing time. I know.’
>How badly is he hurt? Will you be returning together?

>>4311543
adding my vote to this, it seems fitting.

>>4311521
>‘And close the shutters if you’re not back by closing time. I know.’
>‘I will, mom.’

The faster Mom can get Dad's papers, the faster they can bail him out of there. Better not delay her any further.

Leave any questions for when Dad actually gets back.

>‘He tried to jury-rig an excavation module with a reaver unit’s converter without a refractor adjustment cross.’

Sounds like he connected something to a energy source much, much more powerful than usual... and not putting in an adapter.
Like directly plugging in a 110 volt hairdryer into a 220 volt outlet.

‘And close the shutters if you’re not back by closing time: I know.’

You’d followed that up with a brief inquiry in regards to your father’s health, to which your mother reveals to you: a broken ankle, some lacerations, fume poisoning (Type-C), nausea … after which you decide to stop being such a curious cat and hurry her off to go tend to his immediate needs while you minded the task of sorting the stock and salvage. The labour was, surprisingly, the easy part. While you’d been practically raised on the oil, grime and broken refractors that littered the floor of the store, you hadn’t expected to have to refer to your parents’ to-do list every time you tossed another set of couplings into the scrapping pile. Neither did you expect to burn a whole hour trying separate the external panels of a reaver unit’s shell because of incompatible screws being burnt into the dead unit’s main board and circuitry. It didn’t help matters that your parents, experienced junkers with a whole lifetime’s worth of experience and a half ahead of you didn’t even bother classifying the sub-types to keep and had elected to use general terms as reference instead.

So it takes your four hours to merely separate them.

Your mother and father didn’t return by the time the closing hours arrived. A call arrived in their stead, with your exasperated mother informing you of further complications regarding your father’s license and the Guild Master’s unavailability … which, compiled with your father’s injuries, had you electing to follow your mother’s preliminary commands: to call it a night and lock the shop up. You were at least a time-table behind schedule as things stood … and you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere without your parents making sense of their—incredibly disorganized—chart.

Shutter hook in your hand, you step back onto the streets, night and day, midnight and dusk indistinguishable under the ceiling lights. The pungent odour of Neo Rumina’s underbelly hits your nose again as you scan the pavement and observe one of the three working light pillars snuffing out at the end of the plaza. You shake your head; the annual checks couldn’t come soon enoug—

‘Come on, little missy, this ain’t no place for a pretty little thing like you …’

‘I’m-I’m all right, thank you!’

You turn to your right, observing a trio of young men, clad in raggedy, oversized jackets, caps and baggy shorts and pants, standing over an apprehensive-looking girl. Purple hair, petite frame and with an expensive-looking sweater draped over her shoulders … you could tell that she wasn’t from around here. The aesthetics screamed that she belonged to either the upper platforms or one of the visiting airships. Much too clean for the average B4 denizen.

File: purple haired girl.jpg (1.45 MB, 1535x2126)

1.45 MB JPG

‘No, no, it’s not all right,’ one of the ruffians—a boy with his lips pierced with a gaudy green jewel for emphasis—declares in an over-dramatic, affected voice. ‘This place is dangerous, see … we gotta get you to one of ‘em … what’s that again? Yeah … one of those security stations.’

‘Right; not very healthy to go around, prancing about at this hour …’

One of the boys shifts to her back as another steps aside, allowing for the one with the green jewel to take point. The girl shrinks visibly, even obscured from your view.

‘O-Oh …’

‘Hey, you know what? We’ll take care of you, so if you just …’

>‘NEIGHBOURHOOD ASSOCIATION: FREEZE!’
>[Calmly approach the group]
>[Leave them be]
>[Write-in]

>>4312376
On one hand, even if we approach her now, she might just look at us the same way as the guys already harassing her. As complete strangers.

On the other hand, no way we're just leaving a kid (like us) in trouble, right?

Approaching them with any improvised weapon in-hand seems a little heavy handed as well.

Fuck it. Refuge in audacity it is then.

Vote:
>‘NEIGHBOURHOOD ASSOCIATION: FREEZE!’
>When the punks leave, tell the girl that this place ain't for kids like her, especially at this hour.

>>4312390
Support this.

>>4312390
>>4312397
Where are you guys from? Timezone-wise, I mean. These must be wee hours for a lot of /qst/.

>>4312429
AZN time over here.
Being stuck indoors due to quarantine also helps.

>>4312433
Taiwan?

>>4312437
I'm a UTC+9:00 person.

I'll be here for a while.

>>4312446
Glad to have you on board. Hope my quest doesn't bore you to death.

>>4312447
Just keep calm and write on, OP.
Still waiting on how the MC will make further contact with the Azur Lane side of the story.

File: Waaa I'm Sorry I Didn't M(...).jpg (69 KB, 433x456)

69 KB JPG

You take a deep breath, clutching the shutter hook … and hope that your plan worked.

‘NEIGHBOURHOOD ASSOCIATION: FREEZE!’

The three of them scamper away in an instant, disappearing into the dark corners of B4 to the ambience of their own curses. Shouldering the shutter hook like a blade, you approach the proper-looking girl, the top of her head, you realize, barely came up to your sternum. There is a strange sort of innocence to her, highlighted by her ethereal turquoise irises, staring up at you in what you can only assume to be … fear.

‘This isn’t a place for kids your age,’ you chide, her expression morphing from fear to general anxiety; a step down, in any case. ‘Especially at this hour. A lot of unsavoury characters down here. If you’re looking to have a good time, the upper floors would be a better bet.’

‘Y-Yes, thank you …’

She drops into a courteous, if hurried bow, her purple ponytail bobbing up and down in tandem with her attempts at following niceties. You follow this up with a quick introduction of yourself, stepping slightly to your right to give you a good glimpse of her store as you notice her leaning right for a peek. She is … an odd one, to say the least. While most tourists (and you mean that as both a disparaging remark and a relevant tag to visitors) generally had a curious attitude regarding the … underbelly of Neo Ruminoa, none of them were quite so … colourful and attention-grabbing. The ones who came down here on business were, in most cases, aware of the dangers and dressed themselves accordingly and the ones who came down to sate that curiosity didn’t come in wearing bright metal bangles and expensive-looking sweaters that practically marked them for the picking of ill-minded opportunists.

Channelling your father, you make it a point to tell her all this.

You’re able to get as far as twenty syllables, as her cowed look is too much for you to bear by then.

All the more baffling that she is down here at all.

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologizes, turning her gaze downward. ‘I … I came down here with my friend.’

‘Your friend?’ you repeat, in pure disbelief: there was another one of her wandering about B4 at this hour?

‘I … I was just curious,’ she practically sniffles. ‘We’ve never really been out before and she said that we’d be making a lot of people angry if we did, but I wanted to see the city anyway and we just went around and decided to check the lower levels—’

‘Why?’

‘H-Huh?’

‘Why here?’

‘B-Because I … I-I never had ramen before … and I wanted to try it before we left …’

You stare at her, incredulous.

>‘That’s stupid. Why would come down here just for ramen?’
>‘Oh, that ramen lady’s advertising campaign’s really making its own money back.’
>‘We need to go find your friend. It’s not safe here. Let me just close the store first.’
>‘Well, you’re on your own. Good luck finding her.’
>[Write-in]

>>4312466
>>‘Oh, that ramen lady’s advertising campaign’s really making its own money back.’
>>‘We need to go find your friend. It’s not safe here. Let me just close the store first.’

Either that, or the ramen is really just that good.
The MC should know; he's a local.

Still, sneaking out into the city's underbelly just for some (probably pretty good) food is dangerous, she and her friend should probably let this be the first-and-last time.

>>4312466
Support>>4312466

>>4312537
Welcome to the quest, anon. Hope you have fun here.

>>4312541
I’m actually these guys, just phone posting. But thanks OP.
>>4309676
>>4311403

>>4312466
>‘Oh, that ramen lady’s advertising campaign’s really making its own money back.’

The first thought that crosses your mind … is that that ramen lady’s advertising was really paying for itself. The second thought that crosses your mind … is if there was a second girl just like her wandering around, that you had no time to waste. It is no exaggeration of your own perspective: B4 after dark really was no place to be for anyone, never mind pre-teen tourists who prioritized sating their thirst for adventure. Sighing and hoping that your parents wouldn’t mind you breaking the Neighbourhood Association’s curfew … you come to a decision.

‘We need to go and find your friend,’ you declare urgently, turning your back and trudging towards the store entrance, hooking the top of the shutter with the tool in your hands. ‘Let me just finish up and we can go.’

‘Um … uh … all right.’

You glance over your shoulder at the fidgeting pre-teen, slightly confused as to why she’d trusted you so easily.

>‘And don’t trust people so easily. I could just as easily be one of those ruffians.’
>‘You really don’t get out much, do you?’
>[Don’t comment]
>[Write-in]

>>4312570

>You don’t get out much, do you?

>>4312570
>‘You really don’t get out much, do you?’

>>4312570
>>‘And don’t trust people so easily. I could just as easily be one of those ruffians.’

The MC probably doesn't need to say it, but just a friendly bit of advice.

>>4312570
>Leave a note in the store saying where we went in case we don't return by the time Mom does

You gesture for the girl to follow you, which she does.

‘You really don’t get out much, do you?’ you posit, to which she tilts her head, jogging to a spot right next to you.

She hangs her head, seemingly embarrassed. ‘No,’ she answers, her lips forming a thin like as her expression turns downcast. ‘This is actually the first time that we’ve been out on our own. I’ve been to lakes and beaches, but this is the first time that I’ve actually been in a place with so many … people. Is it true that Neo Ruminoa is built over a ruin?’

‘It is,’ you answer absently, prompting a gasp from your companion. ‘My parents do monthly digs down there. No one’s allowed in without a license and a slip from the Guild Master, though. Neo Ruminoa’s Expeditionary Association’s the only one that has exclusive rights regarding access to the ruins; it’s not like the other digs where any license with a class rating gives you express permission to enter.’

‘Have you been inside?’

‘I’m not allowed,’ you answer, absently glancing at your grime-covered hands and regretting not bringing a cloth to address the rapidly discomforting issue. ‘You need to have a license to go inside, after all … and only the Guild Master hands those out. I think they stopped giving level-one tours around the time I was old enough to go to school, so now only authorized archaeologists, diggers and junkers are allowed past security.’

‘Ah.’

She nods, seemingly satisfied.

Then .. it hits you. There was one key thing you hadn’t asked her yet.

‘By the way, do you have any idea where your friend could be?’ you finally ask, slightly embarrassed that you hadn’t tabled the query before just dragging her off.

The purple-haired girl … scratches her head, emanating a troubled sound. She then, in what you find to be a rather exaggerated manner of expression, clutches the sides of her head, the troubled sound giving way to an exertion of great effort, manifested in the strange cross between a grunt and a hum. She bends her knees into a squat, halfway through to a foetal position as she appears to process your current query, intent on giving you a satisfactory answer.

‘I,’ she starts, furrowing her brows and biting her bottom lip, ‘I think I lost her around the time we got off the elevator. I went right and … I don’t know where she went.’

That wasn’t much to go by.

‘I brought her down here so we could try some ramen, so … maybe that’s where she went,’ she proposes, before shaking her head. ‘Although, seeing as she probably doesn’t even know where the stall is …’

The purple-haired girl stand up, stroking her chin.

‘Do you even know where the stall is?’

Her shoulders droop as she hangs her head.

>‘Come on, I know where it is.’
>‘You lost her at the entrance, right? Let’s head there.’
>[Write-in]

>>4312608
>‘Come on, I know where it is.’

>>4312608
Let's check out the ramen place first, then if she's not there we head to the elevator and try to track her from there.

Unless we do have in character knowledge where else to look...?

>>4312613
It depends on the friend. Might I suggest we ask her name?

>>4312623
Yeah, we should ask what both their names are, and what her friend looks like.

>>4312608
>>‘Come on, I know where it is.’
Might be a good idea to start from the stall, then work your way towards the elevator?

While doing so, ask details like what >>4312626 suggested.

File: Dine and Dash - Laffey.jpg (77 KB, 530x462)

77 KB JPG

‘Come on,’ you sigh, perhaps a little too loudly and keen to get this little incident over and done with. ‘I know where it is.’

She nods timidly, following you without another word.

The food court is as bustling as ever. Stalls and carts line up against one another, the aroma of food repelling the unwelcome—yet native—smell of the dank pipes and filth-ridden floors. The engineers and custodians make up the bulk of the customers; a demographic distinguishable even through the thick smog of open air grills and simmering pots. The purple-haired girl next to you lets out sounds of awe and wonder, sniffling the air and surveying the charcoal grills as though they were ruin treasures.

‘How amazing! That smell! That—’

‘Look, girl, this isn’t a charity, all right?’

The enraged bark is audible even in this loud, packed with grease-covered men and women. Your eyes turn up to see your destination … and large, bearded man grasping a young girl by her coat. You instantly recognize the bearded man as one of the ramen stall’s cooks … surrounded by a crowd of amused gentlemen, watching the spectacle and giving the ladle-wielding man a large berth, likely afraid of drawing his ire … or just too invested in the sick humour of the situation to do anything about it.

‘Come on, Mr Waku, she’s just a kid,’ one man, a grease-covered engineer indistinguishable from the rest of the patrons, call out, wearing a wide grin.

The cook, one Mr Waku, pulls the girl—whose purple hair is quite a spectrum lighter than the one belonging to your companion and tied into two messy twintails—roughly, bringing her practically nose-to-nose with with him. The girl lets out a light whimper as he lifts her onto her tip-toes, the cry for calm from before only further incensing him.

‘You ordered a seven-crab super fresh stir double special with a side of strawberry milk. You’re paying up, one way or another.’

‘I … I told you,’ she coughs out, keeping her voice as steady as she can manage it. ‘I must have dropped my purse somewhere. If you’d let me find it—’

‘As if I haven’t heard that line before,’ he growls, shaking her like a rag-doll. ‘All you tourists are the stinking same, coming down here and—’

‘LAFFEY!’

Laff—

The twin-tailed

‘Huh? You’re this brat’s friend?’

‘I … of course! Let her go!’

‘She owes me the full price of a seven-crab super fresh stir double double special with a side of strawberry milk! Pay up!’

The twin-tailed girl looks down guiltily. ‘I’m sorry, Javelin … I must have dropped my purse somewhere …’

‘I-It’s okay, Laffey,’ the girl—who you now know as Javelin—comforts her forlorn friend, reaching for her wallet. ‘I’ll pay for it, the—eh? M-My wallet? Where’s my wallet?’

‘What? You can’t pay either?’

She wilts slightly under his gaze, struggling for words. ‘Um, uh, I …’

>‘Oi. Charge it to Hippopotamus Junkers.’
>’Hey.’
>[Leave them be]
>[Write-in]

>>4312654
>‘Oi. Charge it to Hippopotamus Junkers.’
With a note to sigh deeply and facepalm as well.

>>4312654
Pay for the girls / put it on stores' tab if we don't have money on us, and discuss the next steps with the girls. We could take them to a guard station where they could tell the authorities about all that befell them, though chances of getting the wallet back from a pickpocket seem slim. Or we could escort them to a less wild area, or at least to the elevator. Or we could give them a tour if they insist and we feel up for it at this hour.

(Did we recognize them as the destroyers?)

>>4312661
>Did we recognize them as the destroyers?
You don't recognize Javelin, because you didn't choose Royal Navy. You don't recognize Laffey either, but the name does ring a bell and is plot-relevant, as the next post will show.

I wonder if Ark Royal would buy some stuff in our store, considering her steampunk aesthetics...

>>4312654
>>‘Oi. Charge it to Hippopotamus Junkers.’

Yep. They should really don't do this a second time.
That or properly secure their wallets money next time.

‘Oi,’ you call out, stepping forward and calmly looking at the enraged boar of a man in the eye. ‘Her meal … charge it to Hippopotamus Junkers.’

‘I’m not—’

‘We have an account with you,’ you press on, emphasizing every word as the spectators turn their gaze upon your person. ‘Just add what she ate to the total.’

He fixes you with an ugly glare, before, seemingly satisfied, throws the girl upon the muck-stained floor. Javelin rushes to approach her friend, her distress apparent.

‘Laff—’

‘Ptuh!’

Laffey shrinks away as the cook’s spit hits her forehead with a disgusting splat. The perpetrator sneers at her, rubbing his nose as he turns away.

>‘Hey.’ [Rise in anger]
>‘Come on.’ [Move to leave]
>[Write-in]

>>4312700
>"You do your business disservice." (comment)
>Then take the girls away. And we're finding another food stand to buy food at from now on.

That was extremely unprofessional.

Well, that was uncalled for.

>>4312701
Supporting this.

>>4312701
Support this.

Who the hell spits on customers

>>4312701
Very much support
Worked years in catering, and rule number one is never be hostile to customers. Assertive if needs be, but never hostile.

>>4312706
>>4312713
>>4312719
The questers have spoken!

‘You do your business disservice,’ you let out, as calmly as you can manage. The twin-tailed Laffey’s attempts at wiping the saliva away are met instead with resistance from Javelin, who uses her own sleeve to do the same; sparing the stall—and its denizens—one last, distasteful glance, you gesture for the girls to come with you, navigating yourselves right out of the food court.

You’re back in the rank corridors of B4 before long, passing by loiterers and old custodians who pay neither you nor the two girls any heed. Every now and then you glance at their shaken forms, the slightly taller Javelin placing a comforting arm around the unkempt Laffey. The girls don’t speak at all, more than likely affected by their treatment at the hands of the cook.

‘I’m sorry.’

You stop in your tracks, turning around to see apprehensive-looking Laffey, her red eyes on the verge of tears.

‘I … I really did lose my purse.’

‘Laffey, it’s all right!’ Javelin comforts her friend, wearing a warm smile.

>‘What she said. It’s all right.’
>‘You should have been more attentive, then.’
>‘Neither of you should be down here in the first place. Can’t you stick to what the rest of the tourists get up to instead trying to be adventurous?’
>[Write-in]

>>4312773
>Well, there's no getting it back now. Maybe the pickpocket would discard it after they took the currency. Did you have anything irreplaceable inside? (if yes, maybe we could try looking for it in trash along her route - I'm guessing she lost it before being accosted by the ruffians)
>I'm sorry your adventure took such an unpleasant turn. But I guess you have enough excitement for a day. Can I see you safely to the -- where exactly are you from, anyway?

>>4312778
Supporting

>>4312773

Going with this:
>>4312778

Suggestion: try asking Laffey if she remembers the path she took towards the stall? If she can't remember, might as well walk them to the direction of the elevator out of B4. It might have been dropped there.

Hopefully, she only put zeny in that purse, not keys or any IDs.


Hope all this crap happening to them won't darken their view of downtown... too much.

‘If you’re intent in recovering them … I’m sorry to say, but that’s going to be almost impossible to find your purse and your wallet down here,’ you sigh, trying to sound as sympathetic to their plight as you can manage; you remember when you lost a single low-value refractor in your youth … B4 was merciless when it could choose to be. ‘Do you remember bumping into anyone? The most you can probably expect is to find it empty and lying around above some drain grates in some cor—’

A glance at their horrified visages has you cutting your description short.

You gesture for them to follow you, intent on bringing them top-side as quickly as possible. There was also the astronomical possibility of one of the security officers finding their belongings lying about, of course … with an emphasis on astronomical. It was a rare occurrence—if not borderline miraculous—for an honest head to prevail down here … and you didn’t want to get either of their hopes up. You decide to make a beeline for the elevator and allow them departure from the events that had transpired down here; they were only transients, anyway. Hopefully this incident would amount to little more than a bad dream down the road.

‘Your belongings … is there anything of import among them?’

Laffey shakes her head; Javelin, however, looks thoughtful. ‘Nothing that I can’t get a replacement for,’ she mumbles, before letting out a sigh. ‘Enty’s going to be mad at me for sure …’

‘Enty?’

Did she mean … aunty?

Javelin wears a troubled expression as Laffey silently regards her.

‘We snuck out without telling her …’

You can’t help but snort; you had half a mind (or rather, have) to chastise her yourself. It was one thing to just walk out without your guardian’s permission; that the both of them had snuck out and decided to venture down to B4 of all places … you’d have words for them if that cook hadn’t practically overloaded their side with sympathy by being such an appalling excuse of a human being.

‘Well, that would generally make people angry.’

A glance above tells you that the south elevator is a mere corner away.

‘I’m sorry,’ you start, prompting two surprised, bright irises to lock with your own. ‘That your adventure took such an unpleasant turn.’

Javelin waves her hands rapidly in front of her, her cheeks an embarrassed pink.

‘N-No, don’t be! If you hadn’t come along, we … who knows what could have happened!’

Laffey gives an energetic nod in affirmation. You can’t help but smile as you turn a corner, now within a rock’s throw of the elevator area. Something about that determined expression the twin-tailed one wore warms your heart … despite the fact that she was, in all likelihood, about to be the reason of an allowance deduction from your parents.

>>4312815
>Enty
we're gonna fanboy so hard and spill so much spaghetti that the ramen lady will call trust busters on our ass

File: Eyes.png (123 KB, 470x144)

123 KB PNG

If you were honest with yourself, though … you don’t believe that it’s such a bad trade-off.

‘By the way, where are the two of you f—’

You’re slammed against the wall with such force that you wonder if an airship had hooked your back and unwittingly taken you from a ride. Groggily, you try to raise your head, the whole elevator corridor fading between the twinkles and bright configurations of colour for the next few seconds. There is a … weightlessness in your current state. Save for the wall against your back, you can’t orient yourself properly, the force of the slam making you feel like you’d just gone a few rounds with a prize fighter.

That’s when you see it.

A pair of …

>Beautiful?
>Striking?
>Demonic?
>Cold?
>[Write-in]

>>4312823
>>Striking?

>>4312823
>Purple
Am I wrong?

>>4312823
>Cold?

>>4312823
Gosh I can't decide on what the quality of eyes they have...All?
Probably would just vote for something that's been voted so
>Striking?

>>4312823

>Striking

Enterprise Waifu route go!

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A pair of striking purple eyes glares into the depths of your very being.

The sensation of gravity returns … and with it, your orientation. Air, however, seemed to be a luxury now. A tight hold is felt around your neck, which, with the return of your capacity for sight, you are now able to conclude is due to, of course, the hand of the master of those striking purple irises. A sharp nose, symmetrical, lightly curved cheeks and thinned lips conquer your vision, interlinked into one admittedly impressive package of femininity. Each and every one of those aspects, however, are tipped by the edge of what you understand to be a mix of restrained anger, frosty regard and disgust … directed at you.

‘I have half a mind to blow your head off right here,’ the woman snarls, baring her fangs at you in the most literal of ways.

You open your mouth to try and highlight your innocence in … whatever it is that she had somehow warranted your decapitation. The tight hold of the her hand around your neck—and the shocking amount of strength in that one arm of hers, lifting you half a foot off the ground and pinning you against a wall—however, prevents you from even grunting out a protest.

‘I can only hope that justice will—’

‘ENTY, NO!

Enty?

‘Eh?’

Javelin and Laffey sprint up to the much taller woman, extreme panic written all over their faces.

[GIRLS ARE EXPLAINING … PLEASE WAIT WARMLY]

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>>4313404
>'Look, it's all right, really ...'
>'Maybe next time you'll assess the situation before charging in.'
>'Calm down already, why don't you?'
>[Don't say anything]
>'Well, if things are settled, then I think I'll be on my way.'
>[Write-in]

>>4313410
>'Calm down already, why don't you?'

>>4313415
Welcome to the quest!

>>4313410
If she’s still holding us:
>Gasp for air in terror and confusion
If she put us down:
>Good God woman what is wrong with you?
If we realized who she is:
>squeeee...can I have an autograph?

Still catching up but omg mega man legends quest!

You let out a cough, trying to regain your capacity for speech as you observe the grovelling, embarrassed form of your assailant, flanked by your two freshly-introduced acquaintances. Clutching what appeared to be an absolutely titanic—and elegantly designed—compound bow, now neatly folded in her hands, the woman named Enty bows at a pace unprecedented, her actions attracting the looks of curious passers-by (although none hold their interest long enough to stay and see where it goes). Finally regaining your breath, you move to put a stop to this, unwilling to let this stretch any further than it should have been: back when you decided to play the curious cat and mouthed your voluntary assistance of Miss Javelin.

‘Calm down already, why don’t you?’ you sigh, more exasperated than angry.

The cap-and-tie-clad young woman, one Enty, immediately stops, tucking her bow into its latch upon her belt, allowing it to dangle loosely behind her, no longer than a baton. Your hand absently caresses your own throat, the shock finally subsiding and giving way to an apprehensive, intimidated state of being. The young woman’s heels clatter across the wet, dirty floor of B4 as she walks over to you … and bows again.

‘I apologize for my actions,’ she repeats, for what seem to be—or in all likelihood, was—the hundredth time. ‘I just … I assumed the worst and should have assessed the situation properly before initiating in a—’

Irritated—and tired—you raise your hands, palms forward and facing her, before slowly lowering them. Thankfully, it achieves its immediate objective: to bring a stop to her prattling.

‘Calm,’ you start again, taking a slow, deliberate drawl with the word, ‘down.’

She takes several breaths, intake and exhalation moving in rhythm with the rise and fall of your hands. It was an absurd development, to be sure: not too long ago this … utter monster of a woman had a hand wrapped around your throat and your back pinned to the wall with your toes dangling half a foot off the ground.

‘Are you calm?’ you enquire, your voice almost as robotic as those automated prompts above.

The woman named Enty … nods.

‘I,’ she starts again, this time in a steadier tone, ‘thoroughly apologize for my actions against you, civilian’—you raise an eyebrow slightly at that title, but don’t comment otherwise—‘and … if there are any charges you wish to press against me regarding my conduct, I will refer you to my—’

‘I thought you were calm,’ you jest, cutting in and peering at her uniform, as … informally-worn as it is. ‘Military?’

She hesitates for a moment, before nodding.

>‘Look, just … I think you should get going. This level isn’t very … tourist friendly.’
>‘There’s no need for that sort of formality.’
>‘A hand on your throat’s practically a welcome wagon down here. You’re fine.’
>[Write-in]

>>4313563
>’A hand on your throat’s practically a welcome wagon down here. You’re fine.’
Then
>‘Look, just … I think you should get going. This level isn’t very … tourist friendly.’

>>4313563

All of them sound like good responses, so...

>‘There’s no need for that sort of formality.’
>‘Look, just … I think you should get going. This level isn’t very … tourist friendly.’

>>4313597
>>‘A hand on your throat’s practically a welcome wagon down here. You’re fine.’
voting for this

>>4313563
>”Don’t worry about that, I sort of understand. You were worried for the girls and assumed the worst. Although I’m not aware of doing anything... threatening.”
>“I’m just glad this is cleared up.”

>>4313563
>‘There’s no need for that sort of formality.’

>>4313597
>>4313604
>>4313633
>>4313771
>>4313792
Wow, everything's all over the place. Haha.

>>4310956
Fuck I'm too late. We bleed iron damn it! Ironblood all the way.

>>4313983
Welcome to the quest. Hope you don't miss the next prompt!

>>4313962
All of the options sounded correct for the current mood, OP. Can't be helped.
Or it's the fault of us players for not thinking of any other witty response. Either way.

‘A hand on your throat’s practically the welcome wagon down here,’ you chortle wryly, offering her the most casual smile that you can muster. ‘You’re fine. If I started blowing steam out of my nose over every threat and throw-down on this level, I wouldn’t last a week. There’s no need for that sort of formality down here, either; it’s not like you I’m worth getting into a tizzy over or worth whipping the red rug out for.’

Enty bites her lip, her apprehension briefly showing.

‘If you … all right.’

While you could do without the bowing, perhaps it was asking a little too much too soon.

Not that you had to pay it any heed for much longer, however.

‘Well … anyway … look,’ you exhale, hanging your head and regarding the trio, ‘you should get going. I don’t suggest staying down here anywhere near or past midnight or even … well, I wouldn’t suggest coming down here at all. It’d be better if the three of you got a move on and head back to the upper levels. Play cards, roll chips … whatever it is you tourists do when you have to dock overnight. Really, it’s not worth coming down here to scratch whatever itch you think you’re having … especially if it involves something so frivolous like stall-broiled ramen.’

‘Ramen?’

A sudden rumbling noise hits your ears, you immediately cast your gaze upon the culprit … whose cheeks are as red as wine.

Javelin says nothing, covering her stomach in embarrassment.

>‘Well … so long, then. Take care of yourselves.’
>‘Hungry?’
>[Write-in]

>>4314016
It's okay. It's not like I can't just mix in all three, anyway. >>4314017 see? No harm, no foul.

>>4314017
>‘Hungry?’

>>4314019
Point taken. Nice.

>>4314017
>‘Hungry?’

Though before I hit that reflex response of offering food, does the MC even have enough food in the fridge? I recall Momma saying:
>‘Take care of the store, all right? Everything that you need to do is right there on that piece of paper and there’s some leftovers from this afternoon in the fridge if you’re hungry.’

Unless the MC knows of another restaurant/diner nearby where they can eat? Should have good food, quietly and with little fuss.
Otherwise, a BBQ/burger stand or something would be nice.

>>4314017
Do we actually know a place to go to? Because I’m against ever setting foot in that spitting joint ever again. And more importantly, can we afford it?

>>4314031
(Although if we realise we’re talking to w living legend I guess that would be something all pocket money of a season would be worth sacrificing for)

>>4314031
>>4314045
Welcome to the quest, you two. Hopefully, you'll enjoy your stay here.

Also ... I hope I didn't make your avatar too arrogant/smart-alecky for your preference. I'm going for the "street-smart" persona, but I'm sorry if I ended up making you sound like someone who's "above it all" rather than someone who's lived a working-class life.

>>4314053
I guess it's fine, since we were able to become close enough friends with Link.

Link, the socially savvy guy who has friends in all the right places.
And us, the seemingly normal guy who's quick on his feet and knows his way around the city.

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‘Hungry?’

Javelin nods.

‘Javelin,’ Enty scolds her, making her hang her head in embarrassment. ‘Honestly, we should—’

Another rumble, louder and deeper, echoes through the corridor. You tilt your gaze a little higher, making an attempt to spare the taller woman her embarrassment.

‘Enty …’

>‘Well, have a good night. Try not to lose anymore purses or wallets.’
>‘It’s not fancy, but my mother has some leftovers from this afternoon back at my place. If you don't mind, that is ...'
>[Write-in]

>>4314070
>It’s not fancy, but my mother has some leftovers from this afternoon back at my place. If you don't mind, that is ...'
If they don’t mind slumming it. Wonder how it’ll measure up to mre’s


I’m assuming we have enough for at least the girls even if we go hungry.

>>4314074
(This is still me the phone posting samefag btw, no need to welcome me OP)

>>4314070
>>‘It’s not fancy, but my mother has some leftovers from this afternoon back at my place. If you don't mind, that is ...'

Hey, it's Mom's Cooking!
Might not be gourmet cuisine, but at least let's not let them come home hungry.
(Except Laffey who already ate an extra large ramen. Do we have coffee/brandy at home?)

>>4314070
>‘It’s not fancy, but my mother has some leftovers from this afternoon back at my place. If you don't mind, that is ...'

>>4314070
>>‘It’s not fancy, but my mother has some leftovers from this afternoon back at my place. If you don't mind, that is ...'
Invite the three young ladies to our home, nothing like home cooking.

Hey guys; it's me. Sorry for the lack of updates. Was enjoying my weekend. Probably should have left a note.

>>4316582
That's alright, just glad to know you are not just vanishing

>>4316634
I'll drop another post as an apology. My bad.

>>4316582
>>4316645
It's alright. We're at the prologue part of the story, so things going slow might be normal.

>>4316645
No worries OP, choose your pace you're comfortable with.

By the way, I wouldn't mind if you guys leave any preliminary criticisms of this quest. I'll try to do better as we go along.

>>4316796
Not sure if criticism, but it really does feel like we're in a JRPG starter town.
Nothing crazy happening yet, MC establishing his personality, walking around and talking to people he knows, and meeting people he doesn't know.
Since we have a civilian background, it's understandable that we're not going to see any action any time soon.
Unless we somehow "fall into the cockpit", so to speak.
The others might not agree though, and would like more immediate action.

>>4316800
Personally I am fine with it as it is, stories need time to build themselves, otherwise the true value of large events can be missed.

>>4316796
I see no issues that would be bothering me. I'm enjoying myself.

>>4316796

Needs more Zuikaku, who is best girl

God Enty is so cute we should bully her more.

‘There’s nothing fancy that I can offer you … but my mother had some leftovers from this afternoon packed away back at my place. That is, if you’re willing to stick around a little bit longer and don’t mind foregoing your tourist pallet for a fuller stomach …’

That is what you had said and thus, offered them.

You pull the shutter back down behind you, clicking the lock from the inside before turning back around to face your apprehensive-looking guests.

‘There’s no need to get your panties in a twist,’ you assure the trio as you move past them, absently wondering about just what your mother had left in the fridge. ‘If I don’t lock the thing down at this hour, I’m probably going to have to start cleaning up stains over the windows that I’d really rather not bother with at all. If you’re worried that I’m going to do anything unsavoury just because we’re behind a partition … I can only question as to why you’d be having doubts now instead of then.’

‘W-We’re sorry.’

You wave it off, grabbing the sliding door leading to the staircase heading upstairs.

‘We usually clear out the space around here to set it up for meal time,’ you notify them, lacing your tone with a tinge of apology and absently eyeing the folded table against the wall, behind a set of unsorted metal poles. ‘You can head on up to my room; it’s the only one with the open door … and if it’s not, it’s the one with the one futon that looks like it doesn’t belong in there.’

Turning your back to the three of them, you stride towards the kitchen … and immediately remembering something important.

‘Make yourself at home.’

It doesn’t take long for you deduce what your mother had meant by leftovers: a plate of plastic-wrapped fish pies, each about the size of your palm. You discard the plastic wrap and slide the plate into the microwave, twisting the timer before raiding the cupboards for some tea leaves and mugs (making great care not to touch your parents’ commemorative mugs in the process) … because what kind of host would serve their guest a batch of pies without some hot tea to wash it down with. The preparations are done within a matter of minutes, the dull twang of the decade-old microwave giving you notice of the pies coming to term, the mugs and the filled tea jug already in place.

It’s more of a struggle bringing the damned things upstairs. The stairs didn’t give much room to manoeuvre, and even with the short distance between the kitchen and your room, you find the need to steady yourself with every slide and shake of the tray’s contents.

You absently wonder how your mother manages to make it all look so effortless.

Still, you’re in front of your door before long, hot tea and hot pies—

‘—most of these are parts catalogues … or at least I think they are …’

Were they reading your magazines?

>Listen in for a bit
>Go inside
>[Write-in]

>>4317036
>>Go inside

>>4317034
>Go inside

>>4317034
>Announce yourself before going in so that you don't startle them and spill the promised dinner all over the floor

>>4317078
Supporting
Let's not mom's spaghetti this. Even if it is mom's pies instead.

>>4317085
Spaghetti?

>>4317078
Actually this is good switching to this if I have too.

>>4317036

>>4317078
+1 to this response.

An effort to not look like a fool in front of girls is hardly wasted.

‘I’m coming in,’ you declare, stepping through the doorway.

You find the three girls seated upon the floor, curiously pondering over, indeed, an old catalogue of junk parts. One from last year, in fact.

‘Sorry for the wait,’ you proceed, kneeling and setting the tray of hot pies and tea upon the floor, doing your best impression of your mother. ‘I’m sure that you’re probably used to fancier digs up on high, but I hope that these are able to leave your bellies satisfied.’

You turn slightly pink at that remark.

Perhaps you could afford to dial the impression back a little.

‘Oh!’ exclaims Javelin, practically hovering over the steaming hot pies, a trace of saliva threatening to leak from the corners of her mouth. You can’t help but wear a slight smirk upon your own lips, a light snort sounding from the cavity of your nostrils as you begin pouring the tea, wondering if this was the kind of elation that your mother felt every time you and Link wolfed down the snacks she’d prepared …

‘Javelin!’ Enty exclaims, scolding her friend. Javelin, appearing to remember her own manners, instantly recoils, her cheeks red from what appeared to be a lapse from the norm. You let out an amused chuckle, throwing the silver-haired young woman a small glance as the sound of a rumbling stomach hits your ears.

You set down the teapot, placing your hands upon your lap and regarding your present guests.

‘Please … go on ahead.’

Javelin and Enty lean forwards, a hesitant hand hovering above the plate.

‘Th-Then … thank you for the meal.’

‘Yes, thank you for the meal …’

>‘Miss Laffey?’
>‘You’re welcome.’
>[Say nothing, do nothing]
>[Write-in]

>>4318084
>‘You’re welcome.’

>>4318084
>enjoy your meal
>found anything interesting in there? (Nod at the excavated catalogues, make smalltalk)

>>4318084
>>‘You’re welcome.’

>>4318084
>‘You’re welcome.’

>>4318131
I think this would help make some conversation.

>>4318131
Supporting. Let's see if a little conversation will help the girls forget their embarrassment.

I'm sorry, I could only post once yesterday. I'm a little irregular, but I'll try to drop updates in when I can. Again, thanks for playing my quest!

>>4318084
>>‘Miss Laffey?’

>>4319376
Null sweat OP, this is supposed to be fun for you too, not work.

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‘You’re welcome,’ you reply, crossing your legs and setting yourself across from the feasting duo … and the singular body that sat between them, eyeing the meal but unwilling to reach for it herself. Either because she was full from the meal before or because she felt too embarrassed to reach for seconds is an uncertainty, but after channelling your mother so opaquely … you didn’t want to push anymore than you absolutely required.

‘Oh, it’s so squishy and slimy,’ Javelin exclaims, chewing loudly for emphasis. ‘It’s so good!’

‘Myne yow manneth, Jabbawin,’ Enty mutters, speaking with her mouth full and eyeing her friend with a wary gaze … while completely missing the crumbs tumbling from past her lips and sliding down her chin ...

>Wipe Enty’s chin
>Point out her hypocrisy
>[Say nothing]
>[Write-in]

>>4323128
[smile contentedly at success of your and Mom’s success]
Maybe offer her a napkin.
And tell Laffey to not be shy (it was not apparent to me she would... I thought singling her out would be chiding her for lacking manners)

>>4323142
Derp.
>...at success of your and Mom’s work being so wekl received]

>>4323142
+1. I have a strong urge to bully Enty, but we're trying to be a good host right now.

>>4323142
Support. We are a great host, dare I say the finest B4 has to offer.

You let out an amused snort, unable to hide the smile any longer. Here you sit, in the comfort of your wallpaper-less room, covered in cracking paint and old, wooden floor tiles permanently stained by dripping mechanical fluids … across from three strangers, likely tourists paying no more than a night’s lay-off and basking in their company. It really had been a while since you’d welcomed someone into your home like this, never mind your room … and what’s more surprising to you is that none of them had a single disparaging remark or comment regarding your living conditions! Even Link would throw the occasional barb … and in his first few visits, had made even his opinions on the matter into words.

‘Sho yew’re a Junker, are you?’ Enty mutters thickly.

You chuckle a little bit more, picking one of the napkins that lay upon the tray and presenting it to the silver-haired lady … who turns a slight pink at the gesture before nodding in thanks and swallowing her mouthful of food in haste. To her left, Javelin’s pony-tail bobs up and down as she tries to stifle her own amusement.

‘What I mean to ask,’ the former starts again, albeit with a thickness to her voice, still, ‘is that … what does a junker actually do? Do you just buy and sell salvage? Looks like quite a collection down there …’

You put your weight on your palms, rolling your shoulder slightly as you lean back.

‘You’re thinking of intermediary junkers,’ you explain casually, remembering how you had to make the distinction to a certain pretty-boy you were acquainted with. ‘My parents and I run a direct dealership. We’re junkers that actually work in first-hand salvage acquisition, digging, purchasing and re-selling. Intermediaries just do buying and selling … and don’t hold acquisition licenses or rights regarding old tech, like deactivated reaver unit parts, ruin appraisals, etcetera. So basically, we’re not really into the after-market side of things. We’re more used to getting things from the source.’

‘The catalogue outlined a pretty large collection of air ship parts and refractor-related engine; is … that what you specialize in … in particular?’

You tilt your head, thinking about it.

‘It’s … mostly the economics of the thing, I think.’

Enty mimics your action, as does Javelin and Laff—

‘Laffey, you can help yourself to a pie if you want.’

The twin-tailed girl blinks, but otherwise leans forward, like a cat ready to pounce.

‘Really?’

You give the plate a slight push in her direction. She turns her head upward for a moment, seemingly hesitant … before picking up a pie and giving it a great big bite, her inflated cheeks barely containing her delight.

‘So, this is your parents’ shop?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you’re going to be a junker too, I take it?’

Your mood darkens … if only slightly. It’s not like she knew, of course, the tourist …

>'Finish your food.'
>'Not by ... choice, if that's what you're trying to get at.'
>'Yeah, I guess.'
>[Don't reply]
>[Write-in]

>>4323305
>So it would appear. Such is the way of things.

>>4323306
>'Not by ... choice, if that's what you're trying to get at.'

>>4323306
>'Not by ... choice, if that's what you're trying to get at.'

>>4323306
>>'Not by ... choice, if that's what you're trying to get at.'
Let's try not be angered by acts done not in malice, but from ignorance of personal circumstances.

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OP, I need to know. Are we ever going to get to use Akashi as an onahole?

Requiescat in pace

>>4327770
If smut is what you want then you should head to anonkun, there’s several AL quests there intermittently active.

‘Not by … choice, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

The one named Javelin tilts her head, visibly confused.

‘It’s not like anyone down at this level is lacking in wanting to spread their wings,’ you sigh, refilling their cups. ‘You probably don’t need any … additional indicators that this isn’t a particularly nice place to set up your livelihood.’

‘The food’s nice.’

You stare blankly at Laffey for a moment, wondering if there were a few screws that needed tightening up there.

‘If you like that sort of thing,’ you sigh again, unwilling to argue against the tourist’s mindset so viciously, ‘but I’m … I don’t know, I love my parents and it’s not like I don’t enjoy tinkering with whatever panels, consoles or circuits that they drag on back. I don’t even mind the oil and the smell. It’s just that I feel like that there’s a whole world out there that’s blowing the winds by and I’m stuck in here minding the shop while everyone else is going on to bigger, better things.’

You consider your perspective for a moment, before chuckling wryly.

‘I’m probably the least unique in that mindset around here, though,’ you let out, slightly sardonic in your delivery. ‘I’m pretty sure everyone’s thought about that.’

‘No, no,’ Javelin retorts, frantically waving one hand as she deviated between chewing and interjecting, ‘it’s very interesting!’

‘It’s only human to want more for yourself,’ Enty responds thickly, the gravy of the pie dribbling slightly from one corner of her mouth. ‘One’s circumstances do not dictate what one wishes for themselves. It is in one’s nature to wish for that which they do not have.’

Javelin spares her friend a look.

‘That’s pretty heavy, isn’t it?’

‘It’s just as things are,’ Enty reaffirms, swallowing the last of the contents that lingered within her maw. ‘So you don’t really … want to be here, then?’

‘I don’t mind being here,’ you answer, leaning slightly back, ‘but I wouldn’t mind having a lot more options than junker-slash-shopboy. I mean … even if I had the chance to, it’d be a pretty cruel thing to leave my parents down here while I go about having adventures on the high seas and blue skies. I want more, but not if that means inconveniencing anyone else.’

‘So,’ Enty begins, ‘your father and mother haven’t given their blessings?’

You frown. She was quite the straight shooter for someone who you’d met within the last hour.

‘Well,’ you pause slightly, ‘they have, I suppose … but it’s not like it’s such an easy thing to send someone out up there without a proper support structure.’

‘Support structure?’

You let out another sigh, feeling oddly … fatigued.

‘Zeny. Academies, programs, attachments … not exactly a free ride.’

It almost felt dirty to say it.

You didn’t—

‘You a fan?’

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You’re almost relieved at the change of topic. Your eyes follow Javelin’s raised, extended finger, arriving at the plastered Eagle Union, right against the wall. Faded and worn, it still strikes some colour into your otherwise dour surroundings.

Yorktown is front and centre, her eagle upon her shoulder. Hammann’s back is to the viewers, but her eyes are not without edge, focus; she is to Yorktown’s left, guns at the ready. Houston hovers between the two, mid-air … and although the top of her head is obscured by the spread wings of Yorktown’s animal companion, the hat and blonde hair make Hornet and unmistakeable presence.

>‘Yes.’
>‘Definitely.’
>‘Indubitably.’
>‘Of course.’
>‘That’s not exactly a nice poster … they made Yorktown’s breasts too big. There’s a slight sag to them.’
>[Write-in]

>>4349399
>>‘Of course.’

>>4349399
>yeah

>>4349399
Probably for the best we don't mention Yorktowns saggy breasts in front of her sister.

>>4349399
Also
>‘Definitely.’

>>4349399
>[Write-in]
>'Damn straight.'
We've put up with too much of Link's shit to have anything less than overflowing pride in that poster.

>>4349399
>’Definitely’

OP, if you decided to keep going with this quest, now would be a good time to consider archiving it.

Hello, Questers! I'm sorry for such a delay and a lack of replies. A few things happened in that prompt before the last one AND the one prior to this, if you believe it.

a. I was actually able to get a job, so trying to work this Quest around a proper schedule is insane. I planned to properly make an announcement about the delay, but I just didn't have the time to do it.

b. When I finally worked a proper schedule and able to finally post, my laptop conked out. I then found out I had a faulty-slash incompatible power brick and it'd ruined my motherboard. Had to troll through a few depths to get a new one. It's a little better than my last one. Hopefully things will run smoothly now.

>>4351526
Don't worry. I asked how to archive. I'll be more consistent! I promise!