Two Wrongs Make a Right Ch.25

It’s rather frustrating that I keep dealing with the same recurring problems. The solutions I can provide are practically band-aids, but thanks to my talents, I keep discovering new and increasingly effective approaches to these challenges.

I know I have said it before, but I don’t want to be perpetually confined behind a desk, which is precisely why I find myself back at the Company trade hub, specifically on the floor where generic companion contracts are displayed. The credits from Penny’s capture have finally been credited to my account, and from my short expedition to Mistral, I earned just a little over 20 credits. Not a fortune, but enough to explore better possibilities in the contract options now.

I slide left on the tablet, pausing at the 40k Servitors contract. A dozen lobotomized cyborgs that require a very specific set of instructions and unorthodox operation methods... I would need to acquire a Tech-priest if I wanted to use them effectively, and from what I can remember, having a member of the Mechanicus in Remnant would bring far more problems than advantages.

So no, definitely not worth it.

I could purchase another villager contract. An extra pair of hands never hurts, but then again, I cannot justify taking potential jobs away from my people. It would be counterproductive to my long-term goals. They need to achieve self-sufficiency and develop independently, not be perpetually babysat.

Maybe I should look into the DLC options for my current contract? Although, since the villagers can learn, just inserting in their mind new knowledge would be a waste of credits and squander their potential growth.

I continue scrolling through more contracts. There has to be something useful here besides the usual combatants and monsters. However, I stop scrolling when my eyes land on a picture showing a small group of cats… Well, small bipedal cats, dressed as a chef, blacksmith, and soldier.

Ah, they’re called Lynian, Felynes to be specific.

I must admit that they look quite adorable in their job outfits. Although more than being just cosmetic, their attire represents their capabilities, as this contract includes a detailed description of everything they can do and learn.

And reading a bit more, they belong to the world of Monster Hunter…

I freeze as memories of recent encounters flash through my mind. That behemoth from last week, coating everything with explosive slime, those ominous glowing spots before detonation. Then there was the aquatic behemoth observing us during our sail to Menagerie, and that bizarre Grimm that rolled into the quarry, consuming everything before departing.

Activating my HUD interface, I navigate to the companion tab and type “Monster Hunter” in the world filter and I’m greeted with a large selection of massive monsters. And the similarities are impossible to ignore. The rock-eating behemoth matches the Radobaan and Uragaan entries perfectly. The aquatic Grimm bears an uncanny resemblance to the Somnacanth, and that explosive nightmare... undoubtedly the Grimm variant of a Brachydios.

I dismiss the HUD and return my attention to the tablet.

These Felynes, their contract details reveal, possess generations of experience with these exact creature types. Not Grimm variants, true, but the original beings they seem to be derived from. They’ve developed extensive knowledge in countering these threats, supporting hunters, crafting specialized equipment, and preparing essential provisions. They thrived in that dangerous ecosystem.

Tapping into their contract, I expand the information even further.

Their skill sets are impressive. Combat-enhancing cooking, though I’m unsure how that would translate to our reality besides just being delicious food, the ability to forge and maintain specialized equipment created from monsters parts, combat support capabilities... These guys aren’t mere mascot as they appear to be. They’re survival specialists who’ve mastered dealing with massive ecological threats, the same threat that has become our reality.

The contract options appear as I scroll down. An initial offer of 13 credits for a dozen Felynes, or 58 credits for an entire tribe, which translates to at least a hundred of them.

The cost is substantial given my current budget, but considering the knowledge they could bring to Menagerie... It would be an investment in both our immediate survival and long-term development. Particularly with the island’s behemoth population, which has limited our places where to start a new settlement.

They could significantly assist Pod with monster material harvesting and forging. Though they likely wouldn’t contribute to the broader world conflict – which, honestly, I’m fine with. Grimm remain Remnant’s true threat.

Yet I hesitate. I’d be introducing an entirely new race to a Remnant that has proven to be... less than welcoming.

And how would I explain their sudden appearance?

Actually, that question isn’t so difficult. The island hasn’t been fully explored – vast swathes of Menagerie’s interior remain uncharted, even if they are sterile land. They could be presented as a new discovery, perhaps a civilization that has remained isolated in one of our unexplored valleys. Or even as the original creation of the God of Animals before the Faunus came to be, a small piece of forgotten history emerging from the shadows.

No, explaining their origin wouldn’t pose the real challenge. It’s their introduction that remains the unpredictable variable. Remnant’s history with new intelligent species is... complicated at best. The Faunus struggle even now for basic rights and recognition. It would have to be a leap of faith, and those rarely end well.

Even if I acquire them, news of their “discovery” will inevitably reach the other kingdoms, particularly Atlas. That would be extremely problematic – their military might far exceed ours. We couldn’t stop them from claiming “research rights” even if we wanted to. 

This means I need to increase my military power and defenses first. The original plan still stands: I have enough to purchase a ship girl, cruiser variant, to complete the fleet. That would secure our coastal defense for a long while, at least again Grimm and other kingdoms, but still wouldn’t help much against the Atlas Air fleet.

I lean back into the worn leather of the sofa, staring at the white ceiling while rubbing my chin as I contemplate this dilemma – opportunity cost. I believe it’s called. The choice between immediate defensive capability and long-term investment with the Felynes.

The prudent, safer option would be to stick with the original plan: complete the naval fleet before considering the introduction of an entirely new race to our dystopian world. The seas around Menagerie must be fully secured first. Too many of our people have died from coastal raids and sea Grimm attacks before the arrival of Kawakaze and Asanagi.

There is little that can be achieved with a boat, after all.

Once I’ve made things safer for my people, then I can consider bringing the Felynes to Remnant. Their presence would be a significant change in expanding and colonizing the island, but it would mean nothing if we can’t protect them or our new borders.

Yes, that should be a solid plan for now.

With that decided, I return the tablet to the mini table and head for the elevator, my boots echoing against the polished floor as this place is pretty silent. I press the button, watching the chrome doors slide closed, listening to very generic music until I reach the food court.

The food court remains unchanged since my last visit – same bright neon signs with their brand names glowing against the walls. So I go for the obvious choice – a Big Mac combo.

Make that two combos, actually.

I suddenly remember that I technically gave my word to somebody.

Picking up the two trays of food, I head to the nearest table, take a seat, and place the second tray in front of me.

I simply eat my food and wait, enjoying this small pleasure.

Time passes, and I finish my meal, but Wilma, the witch, has yet to appear. I suppose I should have expected this from someone who’s been extremely unlucky – or rather, quite stupid. Even I know to never deal with natural tricksters.

“Oh my gods, you actually came back! I thought I hallucinated our whole conversation!”

The familiar frantic voice comes from behind, making me slowly turn to find the pale girl with bright glowing eyes, her small wings atop her head fluttering wildly in what I assume is excitement.

I shrug, turning my attention back to the table. “Had some business to handle here, anyway. Food’s yours, if you still want it.” I gesture to the McDonald’s combo that has already gone cold.

“Cold McDonald’s is still better than no McDonald’s! It’s been weeks since that Happy Meal and Big Mac you gave me and I—” Wilma practically launches herself into the seat, her words cut off as she tears into the wrapping like a starved animal. Her hands are shaking so badly she almost drops the burger, but she manages to take an enormous bite that fills her cheeks. She doesn’t even bother to chew properly before reaching for the fries with her free hand, stuffing them into her already full mouth.

I watch as she alternates between massive bites of burger and handfuls of fries, hardly pausing to breathe. Her small wings atop of her head flutter erratically with each bite. I can safely assume that she really hasn’t eaten since our last encounter and for some reason she’s making small weird noises of satisfaction between bites, apparently forgetting, probably not caring, that she has an audience.

Again.

At least she didn’t choke and practically threw up her food like the last time.

A few tears escape from the corner of her eyes as she continues to devour her meal, though she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. The sight is both pitiful and fascinating in a way. This is how low a contractor can fall it seems.

“Ah... sorry.” she manages to say between bites, crumbs falling from her mouth before she wipes it with her wrist. “I know I look like a total mess right now, but just been imagining eating food after what you gave me... and well, actually eating something real is just—” She stops to take another massive bite, followed by a gulp of soda that’s almost half the cup.

Surprisingly, not choking on it.

“At least you aren’t eating from the floor.” I comment, watching as she downs more of her drink. Her desperation is evident, but at least she’s pacing herself slightly better than during our previous encounter.

She lets out a sound that might be a laugh or a sob – it’s hard to tell with her mouth still full. After swallowing, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing some sauce across her cheek in the process. “You know what’s really sad? This is probably the highlight of the... Week? How much time passed again? Whatever.” She picks up a fallen fry from the tray, examining it with an almost philosophical air. “Did you know the Fae don’t actually need to eat? They think it’s hilarious that I do. Keep suggesting I try photosynthesis.”

Why is she even telling me that useless bit of information?

Actually, she just brought a point regarding food.

“How have you not starved to death?” I ask, recalling her mention of going long periods without food.

Wilma pauses and puts down the burger before hugging herself.

“I... I am a witch. Well, a witch from Maggots Baits, as you know. We aren’t like the normal witches of stories, like we do magic and wear pointy hats and ride a broom. We are different, VERY different. And while I can eat normal food as a witch in my universe, I must consume… fluids to survive.” 

I only stare at her, my jaw slowly dropping in surprise as the realization dawns on me, before that turns to disgust as I understand what she’s actually implying by fluids.

“Wait, wait! It’s not what you think!” Wilma waves her hands frantically, bits of fries scattering across the table. “I just lick the floors and walls where the slime contractors have been! You know, like the mucus trails they leave behind...” Her voice gets smaller as she notices my expression growing more disgusted with each word. “They’re... actually quite nutritious... and there are a lot of contractors with slug-like bodies around here...”

She trails off, her wings drooping as she sees the disgusted horror on my face only deepen. Her earlier enthusiasm deflates like a punctured balloon, and she sinks lower in her seat.

“I’m... just going to stop talking now,” she mumbles, picking up her burger again and taking a much smaller bite, her earlier ravenous energy replaced by obvious embarrassment. She keeps her eyes fixed firmly on the table, her pale cheeks now tinged with a mortified deep blush, and since she has pale white skin, that blush is very glaring to look at.

“Just... let’s change the subject,” I say, making a dismissing wave with my hand while fighting back the urge to throw up. The mental image of her licking residue mucus, or much worse, off the floors, is something I desperately want to forget. “Finish your actual food.”

Wilma nods quickly, seemingly grateful for the chance to move past her admission. She returns to her meal, though with considerably less abandon than before, her earlier uninhibited enthusiasm dampened by the embarrassment.

I try to focus my thoughts on literally anything else while she eats. The neon signs suddenly become fascinatingly interesting.

I clear my throat, pushing aside the lingering discomfort. “You must have been in the trade hub for quite a while.”

Wilma nods, swallowing her current mouthful before responding. “Going on... I don’t know anymore. Time’s weird here. And my brain, still a shoot here and there… Yeah, it’s been a long ass while since I escaped here.”

“Whatever the case. Before getting restricted from pretty much everything, you must have at least found some points of interest or important places worth knowing about.”

She squints her eyes in thought, then they suddenly widen. Her wings start fluttering rapidly again as she nods frantically.

“Oh! Oh yes! Yes, I do!” Wilma perks up, some of her earlier energy returning. “There’s the full immersion game floor!”  

“Right now everyone’s going crazy over Helldivers 2! I’ve only watched from the observation area, but it looks amazing!” She gestures enthusiastically with a half-eaten fry. “People running around in powered armor, fighting these huge hordes of alien bugs and killer robots. I didn’t even know there was a Helldivers 1, but watching them coordinate orbital strikes and scream ‘For Democracy!’ is pretty fun.”

She pauses to take another sip from her cup… which seems to be endless from the amount she has been drinking from it. “It’s also pretty fun watching them getting shredded or eaten alive by the bugs!” She lets out a small laugh. “The automated turrets are less entertaining though, those are just sad. But hey, at least they can respawn, unlike some of us.” She adds with a self-deprecating chuckle.

The insectoid witch continues, gesturing with her hands. “Oh! There’s also this weird little shop in section D-42-F that sells nothing but different types of doors. Just... doors. Nobody ever buys anything, I think, but the shopkeeper – some floating big eye thingy with tentacles – just sits there all day staring at people. Super creepy. And hot if its tentacles can do something else, if you know what I mean.”

Is she fucking serious?

She takes another quick sip of her soda. “And there’s this weird food court on level 67-M that only serves food that isn’t technically edible for any known species. I saw someone try to eat what looked like a crystallized bottle once. His tongue started aging backwards and then he imploded!”

Her hands shoot up as she gets more animated. “Oh, and you know the meditation garden on level 45-J?”

No. I literary know nothing about anything you are talking about.

“The one with the floating rocks?”

Even less, you stupid woman.

“Total scam. Those aren’t real plants – they’re just very confused contractors who are in plant form. They mostly gossip about people who walk by.”

She pushes the last few fries around her tray. “There’s also this one bathroom that’s actually a portal to somewhere else. Floor 89-B, I think? I don’t know where exactly it leads, but sometimes you hear screaming from the third stall. And occasionally someone throws out company lottery tickets from under the door. They’re always expired, though. Which is supper weird, how can stuff be expired here?”

“Stop,” I cut her off sharply, my patience already wearing thin. “I meant actually useful places. Like where to get specific information, exotic goods or anything of importance. Not whatever nonsense you’ve been spouting.”

Wilma quickly shrinks in her seat, her attitude evaporating instantly. She stares down at her nearly empty tray, her small wings drooping against her head. “Oh... right. Sorry. I just thought... never mind, whatever.”

“What about that floor you mentioned before? The one where they handle contractors that have broken the company rules?” I ask, steering the conversation in a more useful direction.

“Oh!” Wilma slams her fist into her palm in realization, then immediately shrinks back, her wings pulling tight against her head. “Yeah, I... I found that place by accident. Floor 73-R. But I wouldn’t recommend going there.” She pauses before she visibly shudders. “You need all the company mental defenses to even watch what happens there. I didn’t have any and... let’s just say seeing what the Company does to contractors who break the rules...”

She wraps her arms around herself, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “There are things you can’t unsee. My world is a paradise compared to THAT.”

Not ominous at all.

Nevertheless, I do consider visiting that floor out of morbid curiosity once again, but shake my head. With only first-level mental defenses, it’s not worth risking permanent psychological damage from whatever horrors are displayed there. Better to take Wilma’s word for it.

“Have you noticed any interesting tendencies during your time here? Popular trends or patterns?” I ask her.

Wilma squints again, rubbing her chin and humming thoughtfully before snapping her fingers. “Oh! Astolfo waifus are super popular in the Company!”

I give her a confused look, not understanding what she is trying to refer.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Her wings perk up as she launches into an explanation. “See, there was this one Astolfo version that got super popular, or more like infamous, that the Company loved how much entertainment they got from him, well mostly sadistic pleasure because of the outrage and chaos it has caused. So they basically made it the standard Astolfo waifu! He’s like a double trap – the usual sexy trap thing, plus he’s a trap for clueless contractors who think they’re just getting a cute femboy waifu.”

She leans forward, clearly enjoying sharing this piece of gossip, ignoring the confusion plastered on my face. “If you don’t subdue, meaning you top him, quickly enough, he’ll take over your entire harem and might even become the contractor himself! The Company thinks it’s hilarious. They even added a special clause in his contract that makes the takeover completely legal!”

She crosses her arms, nodding sagely. “I’ve seen a few of them around, dragging their former contractors like pets, both male and female ones. The really funny part is watching new contractors who didn’t read the fine print realize what they’ve gotten themselves into. There was this one guy last… month or year? Whatever… who thought he was being clever getting an Astolfo for his harem. Two weeks later? BAM! He’s wearing a maid outfit!”

“Sometimes they form little groups too. While I exploring I saw three Astolfos comparing their former contractors in the lounge. They were rating them on obedience and fashion sense. It was... very fucking hot, I admit.” She finishes, fidgeting in her seat.

What the fuck?

The dumb witch slump back into her chair. “So yeah, word of advice: if you ever need a femboy for whatever reason, just don’t pick Astolfo unless you are the Seme in the relationship and ready to destroy his cute little ass.”

“I deserved that for being too vague about what I meant by ‘interesting.‘“ I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Whatever entertainment value Wilma finds in these Astolfo situations, it’s not the kind of information I’m looking for.

“Hey, don’t judge!” The failure raises her voice, “Traps and femboys were peak content back on Earth. Good stuff. Like really good shit. Getting like the femboy wife or hubby was the ultimate goal.” She catches my increasingly annoyed expression and shrinks slightly in her seat. “But uh, maybe that’s not the kind of information you were looking for?”

My hand turns to rub my temples. The headache I feel coming isn’t worth pursuing this line of conversation any further.

“Actually…” Wilma starts, looking me over thoughtfully, her glowing eyes focusing on my right arm. “Since you’ve got that whole cyborg thing going on, you should check out the tech floor. I mean, every fandom floor has a tech section already, but the actual tech floor? That’s where all the crazy shit is.”

I nod slowly. Finally, something potentially useful. “Which floor?”

“Floor 156-T! Right above the—”

“I REMEMBER NOW! NANOMACHINES, SON!”

She jumps from her seat, slamming her hands on the table with such force that the empty containers rattle. Her wings flutter frantically as a wild grin spreads across her face. 

“FUCK YEAH! REVENGEANCE REFERENCE!” someone yells from a few tables over.

“Like yeah, there’s the Metal Gear floor, but the tech floor?” Her eyes practically sparkle. “They’ve got Metal Gear tech but cranked up to eleven! The prices are insane, but holy shit, the stuff they’ve got up there is worth every credit. I used to watch these enhanced Armstrong versus Raiden reenactments with all the new augmentations and improvements.” She’s practically vibrating with excitement. “And the memes! They actually integrated the memes into the fight! That shit was so fucking peak, you have no idea!”

“MEMES ARE THE DNA OF THE SOUL!” 

Can someone shut whoever is yelling?

Thankfully, my silent plea is answered as a woman walked over that direction and a strangled cry followed soon after.

I’m starting to regret asking her anything, but at least the information about the tech floor could be worthwhile. Even if it comes wrapped in her... unique way of delivering information.

“Did you know they even have—”

“Wilma,” I cut her off before she can start another tangent. “The tech floor. Any specific sections I should know about?”

“Well, not really? Can’t really remember much about it, just that there were lots of cool stuff over there. Everything there is really fucking cool as fuck.” She waves her hand vaguely in the air while grinning. “Like this one time I saw this contractor testing some gravity manipulation tech and they just—” she makes explosion noises with her mouth while gesturing wildly.

At least I have something to look into later. However, knowing Wilma will probably continue down another tangent of useless information, I decide to change the subject.

“Have you worked out anything regarding your situation?”

The effect of my words is instant. The pale witch deflates like a punctured balloon, her face dropping onto the table with a soft thud. She makes a series of incomprehensible whining noises that sound like a mix between a groan and a sob.

exist,“Nooooooo….” she whines into the table, her wings drooping pathetically. “I tried asking around but apparently my contract situation is…” She lifts her head slightly to make air quotes, “‘uniquely fucked.’ Even the contract lawyers, because yes they exist much to my shock, just laughed at me. One of them actually paid me five credits to leave their office because I was, quote, ‘making her brain hurt.’“

Her voice becomes even more miserable. “I was actually excited about those credits, you know? First time I’d had any in… forever! But then the Fae just...” she makes a grabbing motion with her hand, “took them as ‘partial contract repayment.‘ Which somehow put me even further in contractual debt because of some interest clause and repayment fees, and now I’m even more fucked than before.”

This is girl is seriously fucked. The universe must hate her.

“At least it isn’t credit debt because the two are completely different things and do not mix, thank whatever big guy above!” She points to the ceiling with one finger. ”Otherwise the company would have come for me and destroyed my ass a long time ago. They do not fuck around when it comes to debts.”

She lets her head thump back onto the table with a defeated groan.

I stare at Wilma for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck. She’s clearly more trouble than she’s worth, but... she did point me toward this special tech floor. That alone makes this conversation somewhat worthwhile. Probably. And while her way of delivering information has a lot to be desired, she clearly knows her way around the Company’s facilities. Perhaps she could be useful as an information source, if properly guided.

I need to head back to Menagerie soon, but investing a little time in this connection might pay off later.

Hopefully.

“Listen.” I begin, choosing my words carefully. “I need to head back soon, but—”

“Wait, you’re leaving already?” Wilma’s head snaps up, eyes wide with panic. She practically lunges across the table, hands reaching out. “Please don’t go! You’re like, the only person who’s actually talked to me in we- months! I promise I can be useful! I know lots of stuff! I can—”

I push her back into her seat with one hand, maintaining a firm distance. “Let me finish. I might have some use for your knowledge of this place.”

She freezes mid-flail, her expression perking up slightly. “R-Really?”

“Yes. I need you to keep track of anything related to city development. Infrastructure, management systems, anything that could help build and maintain a settlement. Also in defense against a hostile world.”

“Oh! Like SimCity or those kingdoms building games?” Her green eyes glow brighter. “Where you start with nothing and build these huge cityscapes and manage resources and—” She catches my blank look and quickly backtracks. “I mean, yes! City development! I can totally do that! I spend most of my time wandering around anyway. I can find all that stuff for you!”

The term ‘SimCity’ triggers a vague memory from my second set of memories, but I just nod. “Exactly. Keep track of anything useful in that area.”

“And in exchange,” I add, watching her eyes widen further, “I’ll bring you real food when I return.”

“Real food?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, as if afraid speaking too loudly might make the offer disappear. “Like, actual real world food, like an apple or a stew not of this delicious fast food shit?”

“Yes. Real food.“ A bag of apples might be a great incentive for this failure of a witch.

She looks like she might cry again, but for entirely different reasons this time. “I’ll be the best city development scout ever! I’ll learn everything about infrastructure and settlement management and resource distribution and—”

“Wilma.” I growl.

“Right! Sorry!” She straightens up, trying to look professional despite her pathetic demeanour. “I won’t let you down! When will you be back?”

She doesn’t need to know that. And not like I can actually give a date since the time here is so strange.

I stand up, already done with this conversation.

“Wait! When will you—”

I pull out the green sphere from my pocket, ignoring her increasingly frantic attempts to get my attention. There’s a familiar flash of light, and suddenly the food court’s fluorescent lighting and Wilma’s voice are replaced by the warm sunlight streaming through my office windows in Kuo Kuana.

The quiet of my office is a welcome change from the ambience of the Company trade hub. Though I have to admit, despite Wilma’s scattered nature, the trip wasn’t entirely unproductive. The tech floor could prove useful, and having someone track city development options, even someone as unstable as Wilma, might provide valuable insights for Menagerie’s future.

I settle back into my chair, already mentally organizing my next steps. There’s still much work to be done.

There is always work to be done.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I tap my finger rhythmically on the desk. Atago is seated across from me as we wait in silence. The afternoon sun casts long shadows through the office windows, highlighting the distinctive fox-like ears.

At the end I carried out my objective and finished the naval fleet, Atago being the cruiser of choice, also because she turned out to be quite popular in the catalog, so I guess it was a safe pick from the rest. Now I need to expand on the two battleships and one carrier to have the most complete and dynamic fleet. I already informed Sienna about this, so she is just working and dealing with the paperwork.

In the meantime, I have something to do first.

And it is a knock at the door that breaks the peaceful silence.

“Come in,” I call out.

Kawakaze and Asanagi enter my office and their reactions couldn’t be more different – Kawakaze’s usual stoic expression barely shifts, though her ears twitch slightly, no, they are more like flapping, while Asanagi’s eyes widen in surprise showing a lot more expression.

“Ara ara, if it isn’t Kawakaze-chan and Asanagi-chan!” Atago greets them warmly, a smile lighting up her face as she stands to greet them properly. “It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it? You both look well!”

“Atago-san,” Kawakaze acknowledges with a slight nod, maintaining her characteristic reserve. Her hand unconsciously moves to rest on her sheathed sword, but there is no hostility to that action I notice. I guess it is a reflex from her part.

“What are you doing here?!” Asanagi blurts out, then quickly catches herself, crossing her arms and looking away with a slight blush. “N-not that I care or anything! Just surprised to see you in this place. It’s not like I missed you or anything...”

What a brat…

“Still as lively as ever, I see,” Atago chuckles behind her hand, clearly amused by Asanagi’s response.

I clear my throat, drawing everyone’s attention as I stand up from my seat. “With the three of you now present, you now constitute Menagerie’s official naval fleet. I expect you to fulfill your duties to the best of your abilities in protecting our coasts from both invaders and Grimm.”

“Yes, Commander!” Atago responds promptly, standing at attention with a unique grace..

“Understood,” Kawakaze says with a curt nod, her posture straightening as she shifts into a more formal stance, hand still resting near her blade.

“Of course!” Asanagi declares proudly, puffing out her chest, then immediately deflates as she looks around the office. “Though the port hasn’t improved much since I got here. It’s still pretty basic and—”

“Asanagi-chan,” Atago interrupts sweetly, reaching over to pinch the destroyer’s cheek with practiced ease.

“Ow! Hey!” Asanagi yelps, her face flushing bright red as she glares at the older shipgirl before she bats ineffectively at Atago’s hand. “What was that for?!”

“Now, now,” Atago continues in her gentle but firm tone, still holding Asanagi’s cheek, “I’m sure our commander has his reasons and is working hard to improve things. We should focus on our duties first, shouldn’t we?” Her voice carries that particular mix of warmth and authority.

Kawakaze merely observes the interaction silently, though I catch the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth that might almost be amusement.

However, in my case, I find myself appreciating Atago’s presence more and more. Having someone who can manage Asanagi’s attitude will certainly make things easier and I won’t have to raise my hand to teach her some manners.

But first there is something to be done.

“You’ll patrol as a group from now on,” I instruct, leaning forward slightly. “The standing orders remain the same – contact me first and send pictures before engaging any threats you encounter.”

Now, with Atago’s firepower, I believe they can handle a behemoth if they ever encounter one, but it is still important to know what they are facing first.

All shipgirls all nod in acknowledgment.

“Dismissed.” I say with a firm tone. 

I watch as they file out of my office; Atago with a strange but graceful stride, Kawakaze’s measured steps, and Asanagi trying to maintain dignity while still rubbing her afflicted cheek. 

Soon enough, the door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving me alone once again.

Returning to my seat, I lean back and tap my cheek thoughtfully. With Atago added to the fleet, our coast has significantly improved. Her experience and demeanor should help balance out the younger destroyers’ personalities as well. Still, there’s much work to be done to bring Menagerie’s other defenses up to the level we need...

Now I need to focus on the ground defenses and aerial defenses. The army is growing at a steady rate, but soldiers aren’t enough. I need vehicles and heavier equipment.

I think it is time to start using my new contacts.

‘COMMANDER, BEHEMOTH HARVESTING OPERATIONS HAS BEEN COMPLETED. ALL MATERIAL HAS BEEN STORED AND AWAIT TRANSPORTATION TO MENAGERIE.’

What a timely message, Pod’s help is what I need at the moment.

“Good work Pod. Now come to my office.”

‘UNDERSTOOD.’