Silver Tribute, Captain's Quarters...
On the right was a skilled pianist. Maybe not virtuoso quality, but enjoyable to listen to and skilled at playing the keys.
On the left was an eager but clumsy player, knowing all the keys by heart but hitting them stiffly and inaccurately.
They played in perfect synch, going through the music one note at a time in harmony. Neither would stop for any misstep, acting as if nothing wrong had occurred. To them, there was nothing wrong with the music as long as they played together.
"Captain Silvania."
Silvania ÆæØøÅåß (pronounced Abby) Véulunar sighed and stood up from her lovingly-maintained harpsichord, looking down at her hands and flexing her fingers. The ones on her right curled immediately; the metallic, artificial replacements on her left moved slowly, the joints gently grinding against each other. She'd need to take a look at them later, she thought as she walked over to the intercom, the voice of her assistant, Steve, emerging.
"What is it, Steve?" she asked, gently applying a bit of lubricant to her left hand.
"I know you were up all last night trying to get used to 'Kobber Hours' as you put it, but applicants for the jobs are here. Figured you, uh, might want to talk to them yourself. Maybe."
The owner of the Silver Tribute hotel and the Accidental Hero bar sighed inaudibly and nodded as she began throwing on her work clothes. For years, she'd mostly tended the bar herself. She'd had a bigger staff back when she'd first gotten into the business, needing it to attend to the large amount of adventurers Agama had, back before a lot of the exploration outside the capital had dried up and factory farms for the most crucial alchemical components had been established. She'd tended the bar herself for almost a decade after that, she thought fondly, taking care mainly of the needs of students from the various magical colleges.
Then Agama had been 'discovered'. A bold proclamation considering the Agamans had known where they themselves lived for ages. Contact had been renewed with the outside world and almost immediately a group had come to her asking for business deals. Zoofights, they'd called themselves, seeking contracts and agreements to accommodate a group called Kobbers. Not a race of people or a Secret Society she'd ever heard of, but they'd agreed to refurbish the old grounded airship with something called "WiFi" and energy plug adapters in exchange for providing these...Kobbers...with favoring room and meal rates.
Silvania sighed at the memory of accepting the deal. Hopefully she hadn't come across as too desperate. She'd had arrangements keeping her afloat, but...change HAD been needed before she'd completely stagnated. Now though...now she was having to hire more help after reading a bit about the Kobbers and their strange hours. An all-day bar and kitchen? Even the students slept eventually. She herself hadn't been able to pull the kind of shift needed to accommodate these newcomers; as much as she hated to admit it, she WAS getting old. Thus...she had put out a call for applications, Steve, with more experience with the outside world, getting a small chuckle as he hung up something called a Neon Sign saying Help Wanted.
Help Wanted. Whether she liked it or not. Still...new customers meant new stories and she loved new stories.
"I'll be down soon, Steve. Give 'em a water or something while they wait."
A moment to put on her leg and she was off.
~
Elsewhere in the Silver Tribute...
"Don't see why we gotta get you set up now," Zeldoten Renstim complained, hauling a box of stuff into one of the suites ZFCorp had reserved for Brawl champions. "Kobber stuff doesn't usually start for another couple of months."
Behind her, Doktor Lucy DeMonde carried a similar box, wiggling a couple of fingers to magically open the door. "We didn't have someone starting up a business in Olympia or Kuwahawi," she answered, bringing the huge box in and setting it down as gently as she couple. "But Missy has her Midnight Shop or Store or whatever it's called to get ready too, so I wanted to get our new home set up before she has to deal with a rush of those miscreants."
Zeldoten nodded as Nibbles happily chittered behind them, carrying most of the items himself. The Master Thief had been a bit annoyed to have to interrupt her world tour with Sumireko, but family was family.
"No bu! No bu! No bu!"
She stepped aside as the last member of the loading crew marched past, Pudge carrying a small box with her own things in it. Zeldo was certainly surprised by the cow costume though.
"Why does she get to wear her pajamas while doing this?" the grown-up adult Tiefling asked her mother with a bit of petulance.
The doktor paused for a moment as she began opening the box to start getting out her alchemy kit, the corners of her lips twitching as she shrugged. "What, do you need permission? You haven't asked for that in years."
Defiantly, the doktor even took a moment to step out of the room, re-entering in a t-shirt and sweat pants, continuing the unboxing without giving her daughter so much as a glance.
"Alright, alright. Point made," Zeldoten sighed, looking over at her tumor familiar with a shrug. "Alright, Nibs, let's hurry up and get this place in order. I've got a date tonight with the esoteric and then we're going to look for a Minhocão."
~
?????
Her footsteps echoed through the halls of the old facility as she gave it one last inspection. Her plans were proceeding quickly now that Shin Godzilla was once more within her custody, currently sitting in a forced coma deep within the bunker. So many memories, good and bad, played through her mind. You could almost call it nostalgia, except nostalgia was inefficient, the unwillingness to give up the past in favor of more efficient methods a human trait she thought she'd purged from herself. Now the entire place was nearly empty, most of the machines having been moved to the new Agama installation with its access to the specimens needed to continue her work, the natural resources available for exploitation.
And magic. Oh so much magic. She didn't understand it much herself, but she would eventually. She hadn't earned degree after PhD after Doctorate for nothing. She would study, catalogue, and master it just like every other field she'd applied herself to.
"Doctor Bergman."
Melissa Bergman, formerly of the CURSE and now a self-employed scientist, turned to face an approaching figure, seven feet of armored muscle marching professionally towards her. The doctor looked up, hands behind her back.
"Report," she said simply.
The suited figure saluted and nodded. "There's been a discovery in one of the old store rooms: a storage container with a Synth inside."
Bergman snorted, one of the human gestures she preferred. "A Synth is nothing special here, Yukine."
"Indeed," the figure replied. "But it's a Mark III Synth, Doctor. It appears to be human, but the container's records indicate that it is in fact a Synth."
Bergman curiosity was now piqued. A Mark III Synth, one designed to mimic a human in every way. A Synth like herself. She could have sworn she'd gotten rid of the rest of them. She'd personally confirmed the destruction of the rest of her production line. This one though...completely off the records.
"Very well. Show me this mystery Synth."
The two went back down the hallways, passing by room after empty room, stripped of everything useful and shipped off to Agama. Soon enough, Bergman noted, all that would be left was the one laboratory chosen to contain Shin Godzilla, the last experiment and use the old bunker would serve. The walk was quiet, the armored guard knowing the doctor's preference against small talk and, as far as the doctor herself could tell, shared it. An excellent acquisition, she thought to herself, satisfied as they entered a room that was still quite full, packed with countless crates full of old technology: energy weapons and armor that for now lacked a force to use them. It was almost anticlimactic when Doctor Bergman was led to a corner, well lit but as far back into the store room as one could get.
Motioning for her escort to stay back, Doctor Bergman stepped forward to look into the pod. A synthetic human, appearing to be a blonde girl in her mid-20s. She looked familiar, though not matching any of the personnel files of the bunker's previous owners. Fully developed, in perfect condition according to the monitoring equipment. No serial number, no identification, no records beyond a date and a name.
Polendina.
"Curious..." the doctor said, looking over the Synth. Reading that name filled her mind with a flurry of emotions, making her tempted to pull out a laser rifle and bring its existence to an end there and now. There was a reason she'd killed every other Synth like her and Polendina had everything to do with it. Something about this one though...wasn't quite right. The diagnostics weren't telling her anything yet; the files regarding this Synth's condition encrypted far more heavily than expected or necessary, considering how deep into The Institute they were. Curiosity began getting the better of the doctor, her need to know overriding her desire to pull out a weapon and end the Synth's existence before it could cause her problems.
"Doctor..."
Melissa looked over her shoulder and shook her head. "Grab a rifle if it makes you feel better." The doctor began to work, putting her sophisticated codebreaking techniques she'd been 'born' with and ones created by herself beginning to decipher the locks and crack the encryption. Whoever had hidden this Kirika away hadn't wanted anyone to find her and wanted even less for her to be woken up. Why? If there was something Bergman hated more than anything else, it was not getting to know what she wanted.
The container began to hiss as its defenses were breached, the guard raising a laser rifle in a firing stance, ready to gun down a potentially-dangerous weapon. Melissa stood patiently, watching the door swing open, hydraulics hissing quietly. Cautiously, the Synth lifted itself from the container, looking about with equal parts amazement and disappointment.
Melissa cleared her throat, calling over the Synth's attention. "My name is Doctor Melissa Bergman. I am in charge here at The Institute. What is your designation?"
"My des...what?" it asked, confused.
"Your name. Your identification number," the guard said from behind Bergman. "What do we call you?
"Ooooooooh! Des!" The Synth paused, its eyes glowing for a moment as it searched its memory. "You can call me Kirika, Des! Akatsuki Kirika!"
Neither guard nor Bergman seemed to know what to make of the new Synth, Kirika, especially after she began doing cartwheels around the storeroom. She was an odd device to be certain, but - quirks or no quirks - her secrets would be revealed, eventually.
