Planet Earth (U6/Timeline 2)

[Kuroza]

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The bitter cold of the howling wind would claw at the synthetic flesh that covered the Android's body as he extended a white gloved hand out, as was customary, as he firmly grasped the hand of Tolue. The audible gasps of the Officials behind Kuroza and Hana went unheard, as the wind began to blow harder, masking the sound of Kuroza's sensors picking up on a flux of energy from the android before him. Unbeknownst to the horrors that were expelled from Tolue, Kuroza would nod to Tolue's question.

"Alright men, you're dismissed."

Signaling a salute, in a rather hurried fashion, the group would immediately vacate the helipad, seeking for the warmth of the base, as well as the security of their offices. Kuroza's eyes would scan the helipad as he began to lead Tolue into the large bay door. Gesturing for Hana to be dismissed as she began to walk ahead of the pair of androids. Walking into the Bay doors, the large ice-covered doors would begin to lurch forward as they began to close, the force of the doors capable of crushing a vehicle with ease, as the ice became like powdered snow after crunching against itself and the force.

"But of course, but first allow me to offer a change of clothes, after all, there is no need to keep formalities when in the presence of company."

The warmth of the heaters within the closed bay would begin to thaw and melt the ice around the edges of the doors, and along the tracks of the ships, should the wind have blown any snow in. Kuroza would begin to walk into door as it opened upon their arrival. The damp boots of the two Legionnaires would track in remnants of the elements from outside as the two entered into an elevator. Punching in his code, Kuroza would look back toward Tolue.

"I prefer to adopt a change of wardrobe when patrolling outside of the base. Call it an odd habit, but I tend to get less looks when I'm out of uniform."

As the two reached the penthouse level, the familiar red carpet would line the floor as the two passed by Hana's vacant desk making their way into Kuroza's personal quarters and office.

"I know it's not much, but I think I have a few outfits that I think you may fit."

Stepping behind a screen, the Legionnaire would begin to change his clothes folding over the top of the tri-folded object as he spoke.

"Color me curious... you came from North Branch, right? You wouldn't happen to know a Doctor Latte? The guy's famous for making androids."

The shadow of Kuroza would grow still as he began to adjust his trademark red bandana around his neck as he awaited Tolue's answer.
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[Jeru Yasai]

Jeru finished gathering the last of the groceries, his cart overflowing with items. After paying and loading everything into several heavy bags, he made his way back to the house. He kept his head down, carefully avoiding eye contact with passersby. His hood remained low, casting a shadow over his face as he walked briskly along the sidewalk. Reaching the house, he unlocked the door and slipped inside, setting the bags down on the kitchen table. With a sigh, he began unpacking, placing the perishables in the fridge and organizing the rest on the shelves.

“Hm.” he muttered to himself as he closed the fridge door. Something didn’t sit right—he couldn’t put his finger on it.

As he finished up, the distant sound of a crowd reached his ears. It was faint at first but quickly grew louder, accompanied by the crackle of speakers amplifying a voice. Curious, Jeru stepped outside to investigate. The street was alive with activity, a parade moving through the heart of the town. Banners and flags bearing the emblem of the Red Ribbon Army flapped in the wind. A voice boomed from the speakers, extolling the ‘heroic sacrifices’ of Red Ribbon soldiers, claiming their actions brought ‘prosperity to humankind.’ Jeru scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. “Yeah, right…” he muttered under his breath, his hood shielding his expression. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned to head back inside, but something caught his eye.

A large truck rolled slowly through the parade route, distinct from the rest of the procession. It stopped briefly in an alleyway, and Jeru noticed men in Red Ribbon uniforms unloading mysterious brown crates. Their movements were deliberate, their eyes scanning their surroundings as if ensuring they weren’t being watched. Jeru’s brow furrowed. “What’s with the secrecy?” he whispered to himself. His instincts kicked in, and he began to quietly follow the truck, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. As the truck started moving again, Jeru kept his eyes locked on it, maintaining a steady pace. He stayed close enough to track it but far enough to avoid suspicion. Once the truck cleared the city limits, he broke into a sprint, flash-stepping over rocky terrain to keep up.

The truck eventually stopped at a small, isolated town—Pulp Village. Jeru crouched on a high rocky platform, watching intently as the men climbed out of the truck. They pulled off their Red Ribbon insignias, tossing their hats to the ground and chuckling amongst themselves.

Jeru’s eyes narrowed. “What… they aren’t Red Ribbon soldiers?” he murmured, the pieces not quite fitting together.

One of the men opened a crate, revealing tightly packed bags of a strange orange powder. Jeru tilted his head, confusion and suspicion bubbling within him.

“Is that some sort of spice?” he wondered aloud. Jeru remained still, his mind racing with questions. His gut told him this wasn’t ordinary cargo, and whatever it was, it might be tied to something much bigger. He decided to wait.

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The group of thugs gathered around the opened crate, their eyes gleaming with greed and excitement as they stared at the tightly packed bags of orange powder within. One of the men, a burly thug with a scar running down his cheek, let out a low chuckle.

“Heh, we got a whole crate of Orange Stardust! This stuff’s gonna sell like crazy on the market.” he said, his grin widening. He leaned closer to the crate, inhaling deeply as if just the sight of the substance gave him a rush. “But first, I say we owe ourselves a little bit of fun with it.”

The others murmured in agreement, their laughter carrying a sinister edge. However, their chatter quieted when a figure approached—a man with an aura of authority and danger that silenced any dissent.

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KAITO!
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Kaito, the captain of their organization, stepped forward. His black coat swayed slightly in the breeze, and the sharp, piercing look in his eyes demanded respect. Kaito was a name feared in the underworld third to Akuma and their boss Ryuga, one of the leaders of The Purgatory as Captain, a group infamous for its ruthless pursuits of wealth and power. Ranked fourth in the criminal underworld hierarchy, The Purgatory was a mixed syndicate of humans and demons who cared nothing for loyalty to their kind—only the promise of profit and domination.

Kaito stopped a few feet from the group, his serious expression freezing them in place. For a moment, they exchanged uneasy glances, unsure if their captain was about to reprimand them. Then, to their surprise, Kaito let out a low, dark chuckle.

“Hehe… that’s fine by me.” he said, his voice cold yet calm, sending chills down their spines. “You boys did a good job securing the crates. Go ahead, enjoy yourselves.”

The men relaxed, their grins returning, but Kaito wasn’t finished. He raised his hand, gesturing toward the town. “Take what you want. Grab any woman you like. Use them however you see fit. We own this town.”

The thugs erupted into cheers, their malicious excitement filling the air. Some immediately started rifling through the crate, pulling out small amounts of the Orange Stardust, while others headed toward the unsuspecting town with wicked intent.

Kaito, uninterested in their debauchery, turned on his heel and began walking back toward the heart of Pulp Village. His strides were deliberate, his mind already focused on his next move. He needed to report to the underboss, a demon named Akuma, whose ambitions and cruelty were only matched by his desire to rise even higher in the underworld’s ranks.

As he walked, Kaito’s lips curled into a smirk. The Purgatory was growing stronger, and with their influence spreading further, the Red Ribbon Army wasn’t the only power Jeru had to contend with. The underworld itself was a dark, sprawling beast, and Kaito intended to carve out his place at its very core.

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Jeru crouched low on the platform, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene below. He had heard the thugs’ vile words and witnessed their cruelty firsthand. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, trembling with restrained fury. “Woah… these guys are bad news!” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. “I know the Red Ribbon Army is bad, but this… this is beyond cruel.”

As the thugs dispersed, some heading toward the town and others remaining with the crates, Jeru slid off the platform with practiced stealth. His boots made only the faintest sound as they touched the ground. He kept to the shadows, staying low and blending in with the bustling town. Walking through the town, Jeru’s sharp eyes observed the townsfolk. Many had pointy ears and skin tones unlike humans—hues of green, blue, and even pale lavender. Despite their unique appearances, it was the hollow look in their eyes that struck him the most.

The adults were gaunt and weary, with deep bags under their eyes and hollow cheeks that spoke of malnutrition. Their movements were slow and robotic, as if life had been drained out of them. Even the children weren’t spared—thin frames, ragged clothes, and expressions that should never belong to someone so young. They clung to their mothers or huddled in groups, their laughter nonexistent, their innocence stolen.

Jeru’s heart tightened painfully at the sight. The despair of the townsfolk weighed heavily on him, but what made his stomach churn with anger was the treatment of the women. Unlike the others, the young women appeared well-fed and groomed, but it wasn’t out of kindness. Their vacant, terrified expressions told Jeru everything he needed to know.

“This is sick…” he whispered, his voice shaking.

He ducked behind a stack of barrels as a pair of thugs sauntered by, laughing loudly. One carried a bottle of alcohol, sloshing its contents carelessly, while the other gestured toward a group of women being herded into a building. Their vulgar remarks and laughter made Jeru’s blood boil.

Jeru gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm. He couldn’t act recklessly, not yet. If he was going to help these people and stop The Purgatory, he needed to be smart about it. He moved deeper into the town, sticking to the shadows and keeping a low profile. The more he saw, the angrier he became. This wasn’t just a town under the thumb of criminals—it was a prison, a place where life had been stripped away, leaving only despair in its wake.

“I’ve got to do something…” Jeru thought, his hands balling into fists.


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[Story]

SAGA 1: FORGED BONDS BEGINS
CRUCIAL MOMENT CONTINUES..
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The sound of footsteps would echo as a shadowed figure began to enter into the now illuminating room. The image of the feminine silhouette came into view as her more prominent features extrapolated from the darkness. Teal blue skin, bright orange hair, and an otherwise beautiful and youthful appearance belied the ancient Witch, and the millenia esoteric knowledge and power she possessed.
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???: I came as soon as I received your summons. I pray I am not too late, My King.​

Descending from the ceiling, the horned figure of Bael, would appear a crystal ball in hand as his armored feet found placement upon the alabaster tiled floor.
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Lord Bael: Your arrival is nothing short of punctual, Obura. It is reassuring to know there are still capable members within my Legion who answer my beck and call.​

Obura: My, my~ Have we some troubles within the rankings again? Surely nothing overly serious.​

Lord Bael: Nothing of the sort. But let's cut to the chase of why I have summoned you here.”​

Obura: Very well, if that is what you desire. What is it that you seek of me, my Prince.​

Lord Bael: Firstly, you’d do well to correct yourself while in my presence. Secondly, there is something I require of you, let us call it a true test of merit.​

Obura: My King, surely you jest in the way you speak. I am far older than you or your Father. Let not my outward appearance deceive you. As for my correction, you will always be the Prince of Hell. Whether you’re the King, God, or other of this realm is another title, another matter altogether. You regard as Demon Prince holds the highest regard for-​

Lord Bael: Obura!​

The Witch would adjust her stance as she took an air of silence from explaining herself. Something had changed in Bael’s demeanor, perhaps the last semicentury, all of the pride, arrogance, and glory had gone to his head, and not for the better. A petrified cane would manifest beneath her hands as she grasped the object with her left hand.
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Obura: What is it that you desire of me now, my King?​

Lord Bael: In the days of my youth, I heard stories of Djinn, fierce harbingers of destruction, the true pride of the demons, earning their title as Majins respectfully. What I seek is for you to create one for me.​

Obura: A Majin?! You can’t be serious. Such chaos would throw the very throne you sit upon, let alone the entire universe into a path of sheer destruction. You should heed my warning and never seek to bring about such a creature into existence. What will you do if you cannot control-​

Lord Bael: OBURA! Your ideals are outdated, your usefulness showing fault. Without your help I would’ve never made it to where I am, and now that I seek to lay claim to my throne as threats grow upon the planet’s surface, beings who seek to dethrone me, you cast me to the wolves?!​

Obura: You’re hubris blinds you of any logical conclus-​

Lord Bael: I WILL DECIDE what steps are necessary to be taken. I have already planned for such possibilities.​

The Demon Overlord would begin to lift away his cloak, revealing a necklace fabricated of three eye shaped jewels. A black and red aura faintly radiated from them as his body began to react. Veins within his arms, legs, and head would protrude from his flesh as it began to shift into hues of green.
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Lord Bael: The Eyes of the Gorgon will grant me the necessary strength I require, and if nothing else, I have you to ensure they are created in such a manner that they will have nothing but loyalty for me.​

Obura would tremble where she stood, a bead of sweat formed upon her brow. Her hands lifting suddenly as she cast a spell of paralyzation upon Bael, before the jewels that adorned his amulet hovered toward her.
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Lord Bael: O-OBURA YOU WENCH!​

Bael’s strained voice spoke telepathically to the witch as his body failed his commands.
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Obura: Now then MY Prince…. You will know your place when I stand within your presence. I see now why you impede such a harsh reality upon the mortals below, their hatred and suffering acts to fuel these artifacts. No doubt the same work can be said about those Wishing Orbs you ordered Guiro to create.​

Lord Bael: HOW DID YOU-​

The Witch would laugh, bringing a hand to her mouth, before the slammed her cane onto the ground, causing a slight quake within the lookout.
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Obura: You think I was born yesterday, my Prince? Everything I did was for your benefit, but now I see that my own interests with you have left you a haughty, spoiled brat. You’ve become the man you once swore to destroy. You and your Father are one in the same. Though unlike him, your dreams have allowed you to cross into the realms of delusion. Remember what I told you, Prince Bael. Nothing is without its consequence. Continue on this path and truly nothing will be left for you to rule.​

Suddenly the mysterious jewels would blink from existence as they were sent throughout the world.
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Obura: As Punishment, I will confiscate these medals. Use those true eyes of yours to see just how powerful they are, and how quickly they are to corrupt even a lesser being’s mind. Even if these “threats” as you say do happen to crop up, there are always bigger fish in the cosmic sea, Prince Bael.”​

Turning on her heels, the Witch would begin to make her way toward the door as the spell upon Bael, keeping him at bay began to lift, the radiating aura he previously exuded waning as his power levels returned to their normal states.
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Lord Bael: OBURA! Make another move and I assure you, you will not live long en-”​

A telekinetic grip would begin to tighten around the Overlord’s throat as he began to choke upon his own words.
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Obura: Hm? What was that my Prince? Ah, yes, the Majin…..I will begin my work with due diligence My Liege. You need not worry yourself, after all what could POSSIBLY go wrong? Let us pray the Wishing Orbs Guiro created are powerful enough to correct the errors of overzealous Demon Kings. Ohohohoho.~​

Lord Bael: GRAH!​

Rushing to wring the Witches head from her neck, Bael would find his hand sail harmlessly through the air as the mysterious Obura vanished from sight. After a moment, the throbbing veins upon his flesh would begin to shrink as his mind became clear again. Stopping to think for a moment, the Overlord would motion to tap his finger upon the orb as he returned to his throne. A holographic projection would begin to display a mass of rainbowed silhouettes as each of them stood as if they were able to listen and watch the events that had just transpired. A distorted male voice would pipe up from the far left, a horned, winged devil of a man began to gesture a bow toward their honorable Leader.
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???: My King, if it is loyal servants you need, all you need do is give the command, my Clan and I are more than-​

Another gruff voice would interrupt the devil, as he spoke out. A holographic figure of a Makyan would make his presence known amongst the crowd.
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???: Hah, trust me we’ve heard enough about the insurmountable failures of your clan, Fang.​

Lord Bael: Silence, both of you.”​

Bael would speak in turn, quickly cutting the growing tensions between rivals. Causing a hushed silence to sweep through the throne room.
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???: Sir if I may.​

A robed figure would stand out amongst the crowd. Two horn-like protrusions circumvent the extent of his hood, allowing for only his beard to be perceived. As he reached for a coiled staff that was soon brought into frame as it rivaled in comparison to the giant of a man.
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???: If Madam Obura is indeed to follow through with her promise, be it hallowed or not, she will no doubt require energy to feed the creation. As a fellow practitioner and scholar in ancient magics, I too know the limitations one has in creating such a creature. Her actions in confiscating the Eyes of Gorgon, while treacherous on the outside may prove to work to your best benefit, My King.​

Bael’s eyes would shift as he examined the robbed man, unfamiliar with his voice.
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Lord Bael: Reveal yourself, who is it that speaks to me. You are not Guravi. Explain yourself at once.​

The robed man would pull away his hood revealing a stylized mohawk and two horns framing either side of his head.
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Serif: Most astute of you, My King. Yes I have recently stepped into Guravi’s position on account of his recent, and rather….unfortunate demise. I am humbled by your call. I am known by none other than Serif. As I am sure all of you are aware, the Gorgon’s Eyes are quite potent in bringing out the negative emotions harbored within one’s heart, mind, and soul. Thus giving way to an augment of strength in otherwise untapped potentials. This could be used to farm the required energy needed to create not only one, but two Majin. Surely one will possess enough plausible loyalty to you to circumvent the destruction the other may bring. If you would allow me, My King, I would be more than honored to aid you in creating a Majin capable of not only dealing with celestial threats, but even those who dare question your right to the Mortal Realms, in this Universe, or the others.​

The hushed murmur of voices would erupt from the projected holograms of each member of Bael’s Legion. A moment of silence would wash over Bael as he began to ruminate over the possibility of ruling not over one Majin, but two. A sickening smile would etch its way across the Demon Overlord’s face as he began to laugh.
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Lord Bael: A very endearing motive you have there, it seems your teacher was careful in passing on his wise and albeit maddening philosophies. Very well Serif, allow us to test your knowledge. However, I have but one question for you. What of the Eyes of Gorgon?​

A silence would shift through the throne room as all seemed to turn their attention to the robed wizard.
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Serif: What of them? You possess a human form do you not? Your own powers are rivaled by a mere few. The name Vekarot comes to mind as one such being. All you need to do is have someone assigned to create vessels to contain the Kili you are able to gather from the battles that are soon to come. This in turn not only ensures your ability to thwart those who may grow to rival your power but also gives you the ability to see the potential of these interlopers, and reign them into our side. Even if we are not able to gather more than a couple hundred Kili, the rest can be augmented with not only the Wishing Orbs, but with all of our offered strengths together.​

An audible gasp would expel from the other members of the Legion before their holograms blinked from sight.
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Lord Bael: Perhaps my faith in Obura was misplaced… What I require is someone of your caliber to counsel my decisions.​

Serif: Your words are far too honorary, My King. Nor do I believe your trust in Lady Obura is completely without its merit. She is an ancient being, one albeit stubborn and stuck in her ways, however, I, like you, have adopted the new philosophy. There is no such thing as Good and Evil, there is only power, and those too weak to accept it.​

Lord Bael: I welcome you to the Lookout, Serif. When you are ready, please feel free to watch over as I see to it that our plans are cemented.​

Serif: I accept your offer, humbly, my King.​

The holographic projection of Serif would blink as the Crystal Ball upon Bael’s throne returned to a dormant state as the magical broadcast was cut. Bringing out his hand, Bael would channel his energy into his palm, as he began to waft his hand before his form, as it began to change and alter. His body compressing into a pale form as his long white hair cascaded down his back, as a flash of light initiated the materialization of his black outfit and armor, as he motioned to grasp his sword that hung behind his throne, which too in turn underwent a metamorphosis as it too changed, it’s crimson blade, shifting into a golden serpent before a steel blade emerged from the creatures tail as it contorted into the blade’s hilt. A fur cloak replaced his otherwise red cloak as he began to make his way from the Lookout’s Throne Room.
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Lord Bael: I believe it’s time for Zabu’s return from the Heavens… Time to check in on Brigadier General Snow, and this Red Ribbon Army.​

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[Baldman024]

Watching as all the soldiers leave due to Kuroza's orders, Tolue stands silently for a moment before following Kuroza. The two androids walk side by side, moving deeper into the base, further away from the cold air and swirling snow that had blown in upon Tolue's arrival. When they step into the elevator, Kuroza casually enters a code on the keypad. Tolue's eyes flicker briefly, his sharp gaze focused on the sequence of buttons being pressed. Though he has no immediate use for the code, his training and programming compel him to take note of every detail in his surroundings. The subtle glow of the keypad, the rhythm of Kuroza’s fingers pressing the buttons—nothing escapes Tolue's watchful eye. The elevator begins its way up toward penthouse level height. The soft hum of machinery filling the silence between the two. Tolue glances at the reflective surface of the elevator wall, catching a glimpse of Kuroza’s relaxed expression. His demeanor is calm, almost nonchalant, yet Tolue senses an undertone of curiosity in his companion.


After a few moments, Kuroza breaks the silence. "I prefer to adopt a change of wardrobe when patrolling outside of the base. Call it an odd habit, but I tend to get less looks when I'm out of uniform."His tone is casual, but there's a knowing edge to his words. Tolue chuckles softly, leaning back against the elevator wall. He doesn't respond immediately, his face betraying no emotion. After a pause, he replies, his voice flat but with a hint of calculated precision. " You seem used to the job over here, Kuroza."


When the elevator finally comes to a halt and the doors slide open, a red carpet lines the floor. Adding an air of unexpected refinement to the otherwise metallic and cold base. The two androids step out, passing by Hana’s desk, which appears untouched but meticulously organized, as though awaiting her return. Tolue silently notes the pristine state of the surroundings. As they continue, Kuroza leads Tolue into his personal quarters and office—a room that feels more like a reflection of Kuroza's personality than an official workspace. A neatly folded stack of clothes rests on a nearby chair, which Kuroza gestures toward. "I know it's not much, but I think I have a few outfits that might fit you." Kuroza says casually, motioning to the clothing. Without waiting for Tolue’s reply, he disappears behind a partition to change.

Tolue glances at the stack of clothes for a moment, his expression neutral as he assesses the practicality of the garments. However, instead of reaching for them, he raises his right hand and places it over his chest. From his palm, a thin energy wave emanates, glowing faintly as it spreads outward across his body. The energy flows smoothly, covering him from head to toe in a matter of moments. Using his magic materialization ability, Tolue crafts a completely new outfit with precision and ease. When the energy fades, Tolue is clad in a long-sleeved white shirt tucked into a pair of black cargo pants, complemented by matching black boots. Over this, he materializes a sleek black coat that falls just below his knees, adding a commanding air to his appearance. To complete the ensemble, he creates a black cap that neatly conceals his long, pointed ears and stark white hair.

After magically altering his outfit, Tolue adjusts his coat and cap before hearing Kuroza speak up. "Color me curious... you came from the North Branch, right? You wouldn't happen to know a Doctor Latte? The guy's famous for making androids." Tolue’s gaze shifts upward, his eyes fixating on the ceiling as if searching for clarity in the distant memories that suddenly resurface. With a deep sigh, the memories flood his mind like an old film reel. He sees vivid images of Doctor Latte at work—constructing android after android in the North Branch's sterile labs. Around 80% of the staff at the North Branch are androids, most of them products of Dr. Latte’s expertise. Tolue recalls witnessing the meticulous care Latte devoted to his creations, as well as the unfortunate failures—androids who malfunctioned, becoming violent threats to their creator and peers. These moments stick out the most, the times Tolue was forced to step in. Swiftly eliminating the rogue androids before they could wreak havoc. Each time and every time he took action without hesitation against his fellow androids. The aftermath, however, lingered like a shadow. Tolue remembered the way Dr. Latte’s gaze would settle on him after the chaos—the glimmer of gratitude mixed with something heavier. Guilt, perhaps. Or maybe regret. "Each time and every time.." Tolue finally answers, his voice quieter now, but sharp with clarity, "I didn’t think. I acted. That’s what I was made for—decisive action. No hesitation. No second-guessing." Speaking to himself as if Kuroza wasn't in the same room as him.


"Yeah, before I was sent here, my last post was at the North Branch, though I've been to the other branches in the past as well." Tolue's eyes scan the room, taking in every detail as he continues. "I know Dr. Latte well, I’ve worked closely with him before. Thanks to his efforts, the North Branch is almost entirely staffed by androids. To be honest, it’s his work that made that possible. Why do you ask, Legionnaire Kuroza?"



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[Kuroza]

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Kuroza would listen intently as Tolue began to speak to himself, an eyebrow raising as he slowly motioned to moved outside of the screen as he made the realization that the North Base's Legionnaire had already changed into something that resembled an outfit he himself would wear. The Neo Machine Mutant's eyes would light up with interest as Tolue continued to speak, his cadence carrying so matter-of-factly. Much more machine than human it seemed. As Kuroza turned corner and began to walk toward him, the male would be dressed in what could only be described as he usual Fall-like attire. Despite the frigid temperatures that continued to persist outside.

"Ah I see, so you've been to other branches as well? Guess I've nothing to worry too much about since you make your rounds. It only makes sense they would save the best for last. Come, let me show you around."

While the information about Tolue being from the North City Base, as well as the information regarding Dr. Latte, was all common knowledge to him, the real dirt was gained through Bis' and Creme's memories. A rather meticulous human, who often found his work diverging into chaotic derailment due to exhaustion, or mental disposition. Kuroza would motion to place his gloved hand upon Tolue's shoulder.

"Lets just say there was a time when the Doctor kept a close eye on me. Though I must say those clothes look rather good on you, Tolue. Tell me, are you an android created from nothing, or did you have a donated vessel?"

He'd brush his hand across Tolue's shoulder as he kept his forward momentum, Kuroza's attention focused on the doorway to the office. He wished to dig deeper into this Android's memory banks, really get a feel for the being who was overseeing his progress for the unspecified allotment of time.

"Come let us not have our conversation keep us from exploring the finest Base of all of Red Ribbon. Don't let our humble placement fool you, while Central definitely has some cool things going on, I've insured the men and woman here are able to live out their dreams, striving to lead us into yet another era of technological advancements."

Kuroza would continue his pace toward the door, as his hands shifted into his pockets, his head shifting backward to ensure his compatriot was in tow.

"We'll begin our tour with the base floor, as you've already seen the plane hangars. Once you see one, you've seen 'em all. I wouldn't want to bore you with the other couple we have. Then we'll move down to the basement floors, B1-B4 and then we'll look at the weapon's depot. Could even try out a few blasters if you wanted. Dr. Cappu is a genius when it comes to developing new weaponry."

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[Jeru Yasai]

Jeru’s lips were parted, about to whisper something, when a soft but firm hand clamped over his mouth. His first instinct was to fight, his muscles tensing as he prepared to wrest free, but then he looked up and froze. It was a woman, her face weary but strikingly calm, her raven-black hair falling messily over her shoulders. She brought a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. Jeru studied her for a moment, his instincts on high alert, but he didn’t sense any malice. He nodded reluctantly, relaxing his body to show he wouldn’t resist. The woman leaned close and whispered in his ear, her voice barely audible. “Follow me. Quietly.”

Jeru hesitated for a brief moment but complied, trailing behind her as she led him through the back alleys and side streets of the ruined town. She moved with practiced ease, navigating the shadows to avoid the prying eyes of the thugs patrolling the area. Eventually, they reached a small, dilapidated house at the edge of the village. The walls were cracked, the roof sagging from years of neglect and damage, likely remnants of the battles that once ravaged this place. She opened the door and ushered Jeru inside, quickly shutting it behind them.

The interior was no better than the outside—barely furnished, with a broken table, a couple of mismatched chairs, and a small cot in the corner. The air was heavy with the scent of damp wood and despair.

Jeru turned to her, his curiosity brimming. “What’s going on here? Why did you—”

“Shh!” she hissed sharply, cutting him off. “Do you have any idea how much danger you’re in? You don’t want their attention.”

Jeru frowned but lowered his voice. “I wasn’t going to do anything reckless. I just—”

“Boys like you don’t understand the world you’ve stumbled into.” she interrupted, her tone bitter. “Poking your nose into their business will only get you killed—or worse.” The woman said, with concern and annoyance in her voice.

Jeru’s fists clenched at her words. “But someone has to do something. You can’t just—”

Her eyes flared with anger, and she stepped closer, her voice rising despite her attempt to keep it low. “Do something? Do something?! You think we haven’t tried? You think the men of this village didn’t stand up to them?!”

Jeru fell silent as she continued, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and sorrow.

“They came with numbers too great to fight, weapons too powerful to resist. The strongest men in this village—the warriors, the protectors—stood against them. And do you know what happened? They were slaughtered like animals.”

Her hands trembled as she gestured toward the direction of the village walls. “Their heads were put on spikes, displayed outside the walls for everyone to see. A warning to anyone who dared defy them.”

Jeru felt his stomach churn at her words. The imagery alone made his skin crawl, and a wave of disgust washed over him.

“They took everything,” she continued, her voice now quieter, tinged with despair. “Our freedom, our dignity, our hope. They even take our children when they want new ‘recruits.’ The women…” Her voice cracked, and she looked away, unable to finish the sentence.

Jeru’s jaw tightened, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. “That’s… monstrous.” he said, his voice low but filled with conviction.

She turned back to him, her expression weary. “That’s why I pulled you away. You’re just a boy. You don’t understand what kind of world this is. What kind of monsters they are.”

Jeru met her gaze, his eyes burning with determination. “That’s exactly why something has to be done. You can’t just give up and let them—”

“Give up?” she snapped, her voice rising again. “You think I want to live like this? To see my people suffer every day? To watch the children starve while those animals feast?” Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath. “But I’ve accepted it. There’s no one coming to save us. No one strong enough to stand against them. This… this is our life now.”

Jeru stared at her, his heart heavy. He could see the hopelessness in her eyes, the resignation of someone who had fought and lost everything. But he couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t.

“They may have taken everything from you,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the fire burning within him, “but they haven’t taken your spirit. Not completely. I can see it.”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable.

“I don’t know how yet.” Jeru continued, clenching his fists, “but I’ll find a way to stop them. I promise you that.”

For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of his words hanging in the air. She shook her head slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re naive. Brave, maybe. But naive. You’ll only get yourself killed.”

Jeru didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The resolve in his eyes spoke louder than any words could.


​

 

[Baldman024]

Tolue looks at Kuroza, now dressed in a more casual, civilian outfit—something Tolue himself might consider wearing. When Kuroza remarks, "They saved the best for last" Tolue can't help but chuckle softly, a rare glimmer of amusement breaking through his usually composed demeanor.

"Lets just say there was a time when the Doctor kept a close eye on me. Though I must say those clothes look rather good on you, Tolue. Tell me, are you an android created from nothing, or did you have a donated vessel?"

The question interrupts Tolue's laughter and the brief smile on his face shifts into an expression of surprise or mild confusion. As they continue walking together, Tolue's thoughts turn inward, carefully considering how to respond. However, he deliberately decides to ignore the part about Kuroza being under Doctor Latte's watchful eye. Choosing instead to focus on a more neutral approach as Kuroza’s question hangs in the air. His gaze shifts to the ground for a moment before he looks back ahead, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of hesitation.

"I was... assembled, if you could call it that. Created from a blend of DNA from various races.... all of it put together for a purpose. No 'donated vessel,' as you put it—just a collection of fragments from others, built to be something new."

He glances at Kuroza, his tone sharpening slightly. They continue to walk through the base, their footsteps falling in perfect synchronization. Like the ticking of a clock, their movements mirror each other with uncanny precision. The soft echo of their boots against the metallic floor is the only sound that fills the long corridor, a rhythmic cadence that underscores the tension in the air.

"We'll begin our tour with the base floor, as you've already seen the plane hangars. Once you see one, you've seen 'em all. I wouldn't want to bore you with the other couple we have. Then we'll move down to the basement floors, B1-B4 and then we'll look at the weapon's depot. Could even try out a few blasters if you wanted. Dr. Cappu is a genius when it comes to developing new weaponry."


Tolue continues to listen intently to Kuroza’s words, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he halts in his tracks. The sudden stop should cause Kuroza to pause as well, glancing at him with mild curiosity. Tolue slides both hands into the deep pockets of his long coat, the fabric swaying slightly with the movement. Tilting his head to the side, his sharp eyes lock onto Kuroza’s as he finally begins to speak, his voice steady, carrying an almost mechanical calmness.


"Tell me, Kuroza... why does it matter to you? Whether I was crafted from nothing or a vessel was donated—does it change how you see me? "

After asking the counter-question, Tolue shifts his gaze forward and resumes walking, not waiting for a response, the faint sound of his boots echoing against the metallic floor. His pace steady, hands still buried in the deep pockets of his coat. For a moment, the only sound is their synchronized footsteps, like a metronome ticking away the tension. The dim lights of the corridor cast faint shadows on the walls, flickering slightly as the two androids continue their walk through the cold, mechanical heart of the base.

"Instead of testing out a couple of blasters, why don’t we go all in and try the biggest ones against each other?"

Tolue’s voice carries a sharp, confident edge as he tilts his head slightly, his sharp gaze locking onto Kuroza. A faint smirk plays at the corner of his lips.

"Until now, I haven’t heard of anyone who seemed like they could actually be a challenge. What do you say, Kuroza? A friendly match between us androids?"

Tolue’s words echo in the hallway, the faint hum of the base’s machinery underscoring the tension in his suggestion. His posture is calm, almost casual, with his hands still buried in his coat pockets, but there’s a glint in his eyes—an eagerness, an unspoken desire to test his limits against someone of equal strength. He pauses mid-step, turning slightly toward Kuroza, as if silently daring him to accept the challenge.

"Unless, of course, you’re not feeling up to it?"

Tolue adds, his tone teasing yet deliberate, knowing full well the weight of his words.



​

 

[Kuroza]

​

---

An unspoken tension within the air would break as Tolue responded to Kuroza's question. While the inquiry was not to insight anything more than just to sate Kuroza's personal curiosity, it seemed to otherwise cause a stir within the metallic, and stone composure of Tolue. This interaction spoke volumes to Kuroza, not only confirming the Bio Android's origins in his words, but proving to him that despite the cold and matter-of-factly cadence in which he spoke was all by choice, and not by design. Kuroza would watch as Tolue motioned past him, only to break the silence once more as Kuroza kept his gaze upon the man.

"Forgive me if my inquiry seemed to be accusatory or insulting. Such connotations we're not inferred. I too was built from fragments...well a fragmented vessel. The body of the human you see before you was offered a second chance in life, and as you can see he was given it through cybernetic conversion. I couldn't tell you what his former name was, back when he was human, but he used to be addressed by a name that wasn't mine."

Kuroza's gaze would soften as he motioned to catch up toward Tolue who continued moving forward down the hall. Despite the rather populated Base, it seemed everyone was gathered on the second floor, perhaps to celebrate some sort of earth holiday, Kuroza deduced given by the decorations that had been put up for a better part of the year. This left much of the base unoccupied, free of prying eyes and ears. Such festivities didn't hold any interest or weight to him, after all, he himself as he was understood very little of the importance of such holidays. Perhaps they were an invention to break up the monotony of the living world, or perhaps to bring in some extra revenue to businesses. Regardless, right now Kuroza and Tolue stood at the forefront of a metallic sliding door as their travels lead them to the weapons storehouse and shipment depot.

"The reason why I asked of your origins is because it feels as if I am looking in the mirror, y'know, aside from the ears and the getup you wear. I just wondered if there were ever times where you felt alone? Not in regards to having meetings, conversing over the comms with co-workers, or even getting an earful from the boss. But in ways deeper than that, it's hard for me to completely grasp my hands around the concept, like the human part of me seeks more... more fulfillment in life."

The metallic sliding doors would open as the blistering howl of the cold wind meet them upon welcome. Within the warehouse large shipment crates could be seen organized, labeled, and currently being loaded onto trucks by loader bots. The Neo Machine Mutant would lead Tolue through the warehouse as he looked around seeing as the only employees that were on duty were the truck drivers, and more than likely they were only subsidiary employees.

"Since you seem to possess the same eagerness as me to really see how strong other Legionnaires are, lets make our exit here. Better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission, wouldn't you say?"

Kuroza would gesture to the gate just ahead.

"In that direction, there is a isolated area free of people. It won't be much warmer there than it is here unfortunately, but surely you were built to withstand more than just the cold, hm? Tolue?"

Kuroza would smirk as he jogged through the accumulated snow, boots buried in the depth as the bottoms of his shorts dragged along the top of the snow.

"It's about eleven or so kilometers from here, but you'll know it when you see it. It's a huge Crevasse!"

Without any warning, the silver-haired android would leap to the sky as he flew away kicking up a cloud of snow in his departure as he initiated the unspoken race between him and Tolue as he began to laugh to himself, soaring above the dark snow clouds as the warmth of the sun could be felt upon his synthetic flesh.

​

---

-Meanwhile in Orange Town-
​

---

The sound of a hover bike could be heard as Note could be seen standing at her designated parking spot at the Town Hall where she worked. Putting on her helmet, the raven-haired female would look toward the building before gesturing a middle finger within her mind. The majority of her day was spent dealing with paper work and unruly customers but thankfully she survived the day without blowing a gasket and maintaining her professional composure. As she lifted her leg to straddle her hoverbike, Note would begin to crank her wrist as the vehicle began to lift from the ground as she throttled the motor.

"Well that sure was something... At least it's all over now. Hopefully Jaku got all the groceries I had listed, I was so caught up with work that I forgot to call and check up on him... No worries I'll just see him once I get home. But first I need to charge up, I didn't have time to this morning and the battery's running low on this thing."

Revving her engine, Note would begin to dash from her work place as her hoverbike propelled her onto the street as she made her way to the nearest convenient store, approximately a half of mile away.

"Actually, it may be nice to get something takeout for Jaku to help him in his acclimation to his new life. Yea I'll do that. I'm sure he'll want something with lots of meat. Orange Chicken sounds good to me.... Yea, I'll do that."​

---

​

 

[Baldman024]

While the two continue walking, Tolue listens to Kuroza, his mind analyzing every word and even the way his tone is when he says them. Each sentence is analyzed for its meaning, intention, and any hidden implications. He remains silent as his eyes remain forward but suddenly a faint music filters through the metallic walls. But he only spares it a fleeting thought but putting no more attention towards it. After a couple more steps, the two would find themselves standing before a metallic sliding door. Its dull, reflective surface shines faintly under the sterile lighting of the hallway. The hum of music in the background seems to grow quieter, as if holding its breath for what comes next.

Just as Tolue expects the door to slide open, Kuroza’s voice cuts through the stillness, causing him to pause. His expression doesn’t change, but his gaze shifts slightly, glancing at Kuroza out of the corner of his eye, the faintest flicker of curiosity in his otherwise stoic demeanor.


"The reason why I asked of your origins is because it feels as if I am looking in the mirror, y'know, aside from the ears and the getup you wear. I just wondered if there were ever times where you felt alone? Not in regards to having meetings, conversing over the comms with co-workers, or even getting an earful from the boss. But in ways deeper than that, it's hard for me to completely grasp my hands around the concept, like the human part of me seeks more... more fulfillment in life."


Tolue stands silently for a moment after Kuroza’s words, his hands still resting in the deep pockets of his coat. His eyes briefly narrow, processing the question and the deeper meaning behind it. Then, without turning his head, he speaks in a calm tone, the faint echo of his voice bouncing off the metallic walls.

"You're right, we do share more similarities than differences, at least on the surface. But feelings like loneliness? Fulfillment?"

He pauses, tilting his head ever so slightly as if considering his own thoughts for the first time.

"Those concepts feel... detached. Like a language I wasn't taught to speak fluently."

His gaze shifts forward again, cold and unwavering.

"Alone? I’ve felt detached, yes. Purpose often replaces connection for beings like us. I was designed to lead, to protect, to serve a higher purpose. Those duties fill the space where others might place relationships or desires. When I try to think deeper about it, there’s just... silence. No yearning, no longing. Only my purpose. Is that loneliness? Or is that simply what we are?"

Tolue finally glances back at Kuroza, the faintest trace of something thoughtful—maybe even contemplative—crossing his face.

"Maybe that’s the real difference between you and me. Your human part... it seeks more. A life beyond orders and missions. Fulfillment. I wonder, would that drive make you stronger, or will it hold you back in the end?"

The faint hum of the sliding door behind them fills the silence that follows, as Tolue takes a step forward, his tone softening slightly.

"If you're seeking an answer, Kuroza, it won’t come from me. I wouldn’t even know where to begin."

A strong and cold wind blows over them, the heat from their exhales creating a faint cloud in front of them. Kuroza, who takes the lead and leads the way, shows around the warehouse and Tolue's eyes scan the room as they continue walking. Until they can see the one final gate which will lead them outside the base.

"Since you seem to possess the same eagerness as me to really see how strong other Legionnaires are, lets make our exit here. Better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission, wouldn't you say?"

With that said will Kuroza point at the gate ahead with his hand before continuing.

"In that direction, there is a isolated area free of people. It won't be much warmer there than it is here unfortunately, but surely you were built to withstand more than just the cold, hm? Tolue?"

Tolue stood still for a moment, watching Kuroza's smirk and carefree demeanor as he jogged through the snow. His sharp gaze followed the silver-haired android's every movement. After a brief pause, he finally spoke, his tone calm yet carrying an undertone of challenge.

"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission?" Tolue repeated "That depends on how forgiving they are when we’re done, Kuroza. But I suppose you’re right—orders can wait when there’s something more interesting at hand."

His hands slid out of his pockets as he took a step forward into the snowy vastland. He glanced toward the gate ahead, then back at Kuroza.

"An isolated area, huh? Free of people, but not free of consequences. You’d better hope you can back up that confidence, Legionnaire. If you think the cold will bother me, you’ll be sorely disappointed."

Tolue smirked faintly, the faintest flicker of amusement in his otherwise stoic apperance.

"Lead the way"

Watching Kuroza vanish into the sky, his laughter faintly echoing through the cold air. The snow around him swirled from the small shockwave of Kuroza's sudden takeoff. For a brief moment, Tolue simply stared upward, his sharp eyes following Kuroza's path through the clouds. A small smirk tugged at the corner of Tolue’s lips.

"Bold move, but don’t think you can outpace me, Kuroza"

He said to himself and without further hesitation, Tolue crouched slightly, the snow beneath his boots compressing under the pressure. A sudden burst of energy erupted from him, creating a gust of wind that scattered the snow around his feet. His energy flared, wild and intense, shrouding him in a faint glow as he launched himself skyward. The freezing winds lashed against his synthetic skin, but it didn’t faze him. The biting cold was nothing compared to the trials he had endured in his past. His coat billowed wildly as he propelled himself higher, breaking through the dense snow clouds. When he finally broke through, would Tolue's eyes lock onto Kuroza, who was flying ahead. With a burst of speed, Tolue shot forward, closing the distance rapidly. He could have overtaken Kuroza in an instant, but he chose not to—yet. Instead, he hovered just behind him, letting his presence be known.

"You’re not the only one who can appreciate an unspoken challenge, Kuroza"

Tolue called out, his voice calm yet carrying an undertone of motivated.

"But don’t think for a second that I’ll go easy on you, even for a so-called 'friendly' match."

With that, Tolue suddenly veered off, shifting his trajectory to fly just beneath Kuroza, weaving through the clouds with precision. His aura intensified, leaving a faint trail of energy in his wake. The race was officially on.



​