Kiyomasa slammed the last marble into the tray.
It clicked against the others—small, clean sound—then settled.
For a second he just stayed there in the push-up position, arms locked, shoulders trembling. Sweat ran down his jaw and dropped onto the floor below him. His breathing was loud, uneven, like he couldn't quite get control of it yet.
Then he pushed off the ground hard and jumped up.
He landed a bit off balance, stumbling back half a step, but he didn't care. His chest was still rising fast, but his face had that uncontrollable grin like something heavy had finally been lifted off him.
Jade stood a few steps away, arms crossed, watching him like he was something mildly annoying that finally finished loading.
She clicked her tongue.
"Yo… why you jumpin' like you just got crowned or some shit?"
Kiyomasa wiped his face with his sleeve, still smiling. "I did it, Miss Jade."
Jade smirked, tilting her head slightly.
"Yeah. Took your ass like… what? Four damn months. Four. Don't act like you just speedran life or somethin'."
Kiyomasa's smile didn't drop. If anything it got worse.
"Still… thank you."
Jade looked at him for a second longer, then shrugged.
"Eh. You got somewhere at least. I'll give you that."
Kiyomasa straightened slightly, shoulders still rising and falling.
"What's next, Miss Jade?"
Jade's eyes narrowed slightly like she was thinking, then she stepped closer.
She tapped his shoulder once.
Kiyomasa felt a sudden chill and looked behind him, his smile faltering into a look of mild terror.
"Tell me, elementi... you know how to sew?"
Kiyomasa started sweating for an entirely different reason. He shook his head frantically.
"I do... a little...but—"
Before he could finish, Jade grabbed him effortlessly by the collar with one hand, hauling him toward a side room.
"Good enough. Time for your next evolution in the art of not breakin' shit."
"Wait! Where are we going?! Miss Jade, wait!"
She threw him into a small, quiet room overflowing with bolts of fabric and various textiles.
Kiyomasa stumbled, looking around at the piles of wool and cotton. "What is all this?"
"You see that pile? You're gonna sew me a sweater. A nice one," Jade commanded, pointing to a stack of needles.
"But here's the caveat, the 'however' of the situation."
"However?"
Kiyomasa asked, dread pooling in his stomach.
"Your job is to finish the garment without breakin' the needle. Not even once."
Kiyomasa tilted his head, looking confused.
"Is the challenge just... not gettin' holes in my fingers? Because I can handle a little poke."
Jade didn't say a word. She picked up a standard sewing needle and took Kiyomasa's hand. She lightly—barely even a flick—tapped the metal against his finger. The needle didn't pierce him; it shattered into three pieces.
"These are normal needles, shawty. If you apply even a microscopic amount of disproportionate pressure, they snap like dry twigs. It's an exercise in extreme calibration, precision and patience."
Kiyomasa sat down on a stool, exhaling.
"Okay, so it's another test of strength control. I guess this one is better than the push-ups."
Jade's smirk turned predatory.
"I forgot to mention the most delectable part. Every time you snap a needle, the progress you made on that sweater? It goes back. You start the whole section over. Call it a temporal reset for your incompetence."
"WH-WHAT?! WHAAAAAT?!" Kiyomasa screamed, his voice cracking as he stared at the fabric.
Jade laughed, a sharp, barking sound. "Get to work, tailor-man. You gotta make me a whole sweater without breakin' a single needle. And since we don't have an infinite supply of hardware in this joint, you better make 'em count. Good luck."
Kiyomasa fell to his knees before collapsing flat on his back.
"I'll just stab myself with the needle," he groaned to the ceiling.
"But the poor needle would be the only one suffering in the end."
---
Jade left Kiyomasa to his misery and made her way to the simulation hall where Ai was training. She arrived just as Ai stopped a punch mid-air, inches away from a target. Ai opened her eyes, and the virtual opponent flickered out of existence.
"How's the progress, Miss World?" Jade asked.
Ai stood straight, wiping her brow. "It's good enough, I suppose. But I still can't purposefully choose what to adapt to and what to ignore. It's like my body is still making the executive decisions behind my back."
Jade burst into a loud, raucous laughter.
"Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you just flip a switch and master the most complex biological code in the universe? Of course it ain't that easy, shawty."
A vein popped in Ai's forehead. She glared at Jade.
"I'd prefer if you didn't bother me while I'm actually trying to focus."
"Relax, you've gotten proficient enough that I'm gonna start bequeathing my personal art unto you," Jade said, jumping onto a nearby equipment table and swinging her legs.
Ai stopped, her curiosity piqued.
"I remember you mentioned something about your 'art' when we first met. What exactly do you mean by that?"
Jade leaned forward, her expression becoming uncharacteristically technical.
"Pretty much all abilities operate via the same mundane method—converting vana into specific elements or physical buffs. But mine? My shit was unique. It was an entirely different paradigm where I'd draw the raw, unrefined vana outside my body."
Suddenly, Jade's skin began to glow with a violent, pulsating red aura. The air around her hummed with a terrifying pressure.
"It looks simple to just pull the energy out, but it's an intricate mess. Taking it out is the easy part; keepin' it localized around your frame is the bitch. The moment you extract it, that vana wants to dissipate into the atmosphere like steam in a hurricane."
Ai frowned.
"That makes sense, but what am I supposed to do with that information? I don't have your ability."
Jade smirked.
"You're gonna learn to control raw vana, so you gotta understand its backbone. Its fundamental architecture."
Ai tilted her head, pointing at herself.
"You're talking to me? Learning to use raw vana requires either your specific ability or centuries of training. I don't have that kind of time."
Jade nodded. "True. But what's your ability again?"
"Total adaptation," Ai said. She paused, her eyes widening as she snapped her fingers. "Wait... are you planning to make me adapt to the act of using raw vana?"
Jade jumped off the table, a glint in her eye. "Bingo. It'll also act as a catalyst to help you get better at manual adaptation control. Hold your hand out."
Ai lifted her arm, and Jade grabbed her wrist. "What color you want? Since we're paintin' your soul today."
"Pur—no, pink—no, wait," Ai stuttered, flustered by the suddenness. "White. I'll go with white."
A brilliant, blinding white energy began to bleed from Jade's hand, wrapping around Ai's arm like a translucent gauntlet. The energy flickered violently.
"Focus," Jade commanded.
"Try to make it sit. Don't let it escape. Hold it against your skin like it's your own heartbeat."
Ai closed her eyes, her face scrunching in concentration as she tried to force her body to adapt to the sensation of external, raw vana. Jade didn't let go, her voice a low rasp.
"Keep at it. Don't let the flux deviate."
The scene shifted. Hours had passed. Jade let go of Ai's arm, and the white energy immediately evaporated into the air. Ai was drenched in sweat, her breath coming in heavy, jagged gulps as she rested her hands on her knees.
"That's enough for today's curriculum," Jade said.
Ai nodded, but a visible shroud of disappointment settled over her face. She looked at her trembling hands.
"What's with the long face, shawty?"
Ai shook her head, wiping sweat from her eyes. "It's nothing. I just... I thought I'd make more headway."
Jade placed a heavy, grounding hand on Ai's shoulder.
"Don't get discouraged. This ain't some microwaveable success. It's a long, arduous process of reconfiguring your very essence. We'll keep grindin' till you get it."
"I will," Ai replied, her voice firming up.
Jade turned and walked toward the heavy exit doors, stopping just before she reached them.
"Follow me."
"Where?"
Jade clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes.
"Shut yo' trap and just follow the leader."
Ai hurried to catch up, her shorter strides working twice as hard to match Jade's long, confident gait.
"What's Kiyomasa doing?"
"Don't worry 'bout him. He's neck-deep in his own domestic nightmare right now."
"I see," Ai nodded. They walked through the corridors for a few moments in silence before Jade spoke again.
"Why are you so obsessed with attainin' power, Ai?"
Ai looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Don't try to obfuscate the truth, I can tell. We've been roommates in this hellhole for months now. I see the hunger."
"But I honestly don't understand," Ai said. "I want to be strong, but it's not an obsession. It's just... the goal."
Jade looked at her sidewise as they walked.
"Is that right? Then let me pivot the question: Why do you want to become strong?"
Ai answered without hesitation. "Isn't it only natural? If I'm strong, I can fight remnants more effectively. I can contribute more to the protection of humanity. I can do my part."
Jade suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Ai stopped, too, blinking.
"Why did you stop?"
Jade turned to face her. Her eyes began to bleed a viscous red vana, and a sudden, bone-crushing pressure fell upon the hallway. Ai froze, her lungs seizing.
I can't move... what is this weight?
Jade walked closer, her voice losing all its playfulness, becoming strict and terrifyingly serious.
"That's not the real reason. Don't lie to me with that scripted, textbook bullshit."
Ai's legs began to shake under the immense gravity of Jade's vana. She could barely keep her head up.
"Wha—"
Jade leaned in, her face inches away from Ai's, her red eyes burning into Ai's soul.
"What is your purpose? Why do you want to become strong? Give me the truth, or we're done here."
Ai clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white as she resisted the urge to collapse.
She forced her mouth open, the words coming out strained.
"It's... it's because I want to protect my family."
Jade didn't blink. "If you ever had to choose... would you choose humanity, or would you choose your family?"
Ai froze.
The question was a blade to the heart. The hallway felt colder.
"I can't just bequeath my art to a facade," Jade said.
"Answer me."
Ai's fists tightened further, her entire body trembling as she shouted against the pressure.
"I—I would choose my family!"
Jade stared at her for a long, silent beat. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the pressure vanished. Ai collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, her chest heaving as her heart hammered against her ribs.
Jade reached down and helped her up.
"Is that so?"
"You nearly killed me," Ai wheezed, clutching her throat.
Jade shrugged carelessly. "Just a little diagnostic test," she said, continuing to walk.
Ai regained her composure and ran to catch up. "But... wouldn't you be mad now? That I gave such a selfish answer?"
"Why would I be mad? You gave an honest answer. Truth is the only currency I accept."
"Yes, but I chose a few people over the entire world," Ai said, looking down.
Jade stopped before a blank wall and tapped a specific sequence. Suddenly, both of them were teleported to the top of a massive brick building. Below them lay the sprawling, steam-punk architecture of the city, illuminated by amber lights and rising steam.
"Teleportation?" Ai asked, looking around in awe.
Jade nodded. "This tower is my sanctuary. People can't see us up here, and the wind has a nice, chill temperament. I set a teleportation anchor here a long time ago."
She walked to the railing and looked out.
"Now, where were we? Right. What's wrong with choosin' your family over the world? I think it's a perfectly logical, petty conclusion. Why would you bother sacrificin' your heart for a bunch of strangers you don't even know?"
"That's not it," Ai argued softly. "I want to save as many people as I can, I do. It's just..."
Jade waved a hand, dismissing the apology.
"I understand, shawty. But your answer was better than that 'save humanity' garbage.
You know why?"
Ai shook her head.
Jade smirked.
"A human can't survive in a vacuum. We need anchors. We need a tribe. That's just the biological imperative. If you choose your family, you'll be able to maintain your sanity for much longer in this world of perpetual bloodshed."
Jade glanched at Ai, "The longer you keep your soul intact, the longer you'll actually be able to protect anything at all."
Ai looked down at the city lights, feeling the weight of the words.
"Is that so?"
Jade placed her arms on the railing, her gaze turning distant. "You know, I don't have anyone. I call the people in the facility my family, but it ain't the same."
"What happened to your family?" Ai asked quietly.
"I don't know for the most part," Jade said, her voice devoid of its usual bravado.
"I think they were killed. I don't know by whom. I don't even remember their faces, their names, or what name they gave me. They were just... erased. I grew up as a street rat, stealin' and scrapin' just to sustain my existence.
Then my whole district got decimated in an attack, and I was brought to Earth as a refugee. I worked my way up from the gutter to become one of the most significant powerhouses in the world."
Ai looked at her with newfound respect. "Where did your name come from then?"
"My name?"
Jade laughed, a dry, cynical sound.
"Like I said, I was a beggar, a thief. The boss of the crew I was with—the big man at the top—he gave it to me.
Apparently, there was a brand of cigarettes called 'Jade' he was smokin' at the time. He just looked at me and dubbed me after the box."
Jade burst into a fit of laughter, clutching the railing.
"How fuckin' hilarious is that? Named after a pack of smokes."
"Is it really funny?" Ai asked, her voice soft.
Jade stopped laughing and placed a hand on Ai's shoulder.
"Life isn't that complicated, Ai. In fact, it's rather elementary. You can't let a dilapidated past dictate a bad future. The only one with the agency to make it better is yourself. Findin' joy in the smallest, most ridiculous shit... that's what keeps us alive."
Ai smiled, a genuine one. "Yes. I understand. Thank you, Miss Jade. I'll remember that."
Jade smirked. "Good. Don't let the world grind you down."
Ai paused, then looked at her curiously. "Where did your... hard vocabulary come from? You use these massive words, but you talk like... well, like you're from the streets."
Jade rubbed the back of her neck, looking slightly embarrassed. "Ah, that. Well, you see, I was a disrespectful little brat growin' up. Not my fault, considerin' the environment.
To try and fit in with the high-society types later on, I started obsessively studyin' manners and literature. But in the end? It was all fuckin' useless."
She pointed a middle finger toward the sky. "I realized I'm gonna live for myself, however the fuck I want. That's what I told myself before I started actin' natural again. But that fancy vocab? It got so ingrained in my mental hardware that it just became part of the mix. My own unique way of speakin' my truth."
Ai smiled. "At first I was annoyed by it, but I think it's rather fun the way you speak."
Jade smirked, placing a hand on her own grin. "Look at you being all nice and kind."
"You're being rather nice and open today yourself as well," Ai replied with a strong grin.
Jade was caught off guard. Her face went blank for a second before her smile returned, and she waved her hand dismissively.
"Don't get used to it. It is a one-time thing."
---
The air in the high-rise office was sterile, smelling of ozone and expensive floor wax. Dennis moved with the silent, practiced gait of a man who spent his life in the shadows of power, his expression as stiff and unyielding as his pressed collar. He reached the heavy mahogany doors at the end of the hall and gave a single, sharp knock. Before his hand could drop, the mechanism hissed, and the doors slid open with clinical precision.
Inside, the room was vast, dominated by a desk that looked more like a command console. The man behind it didn't look up immediately; he was hunched over a document, his pen scratching aggressively against the paper. When he finally lifted his head, the light caught his eyes—they weren't human. His pupils were thin, vertical slits that pulsed with a predatory yellow hue, tracking Dennis like a cat watching a bird.
Gilgamesh dropped his pen, the metal clicking against the glass tabletop. "Would you look at that," he drawled, his voice dripping with a casual, toxic arrogance. "It's the remnant sucker."
Dennis didn't break stride. He stopped exactly three paces from the desk, his posture echoing that of a loyal yet weary butler. "It's not funny when you say it, Gilgamesh," he replied, his voice a flat line of professional boredom.
Gilgamesh's playful smirk vanished instantly. He slammed his back against his leather chair, his feline eyes narrowing into a glare. "What do you want?"
Without a word, Dennis reached into his coat, pulled out a thick manila file, and tossed it. It skidded across the glass, stopping just inches from Gilgamesh's hand.
"What is this?" Gilgamesh hissed.
"The consequences of your ignorance," Dennis replied.
Gilgamesh's jaw tightened, his fingers drumming a restless, violent beat on the armrest. "Stop beating around the bush and get to the point," he pressured, his voice rising in an octave of irritation.
"Apollo," Dennis said. "Does that ring a bell?"
Gilgamesh paused, his eyes flicking upward as he searched his memory. After a beat, he gave a dismissive nod. "Aren't those the people that call themselves 'The Sun' or something?"
"To be precise," Dennis corrected, "they are fanatics who believe the King—the false King, to be exact—is their light. They believe he will accept them and bless them with power if they provide him with enough sacrifices."
A sharp, mocking chuckle escaped Gilgamesh's throat. "What bullshit beliefs. Well? What do I have to do with it?"
"They've been causing a lot of ruckus," Dennis said, his eyes finally showing a spark of cold intensity. "Isn't it your job to handle them?"
The reaction was instantaneous. Gilgamesh's hand balled into a fist and slammed downward with the force of a falling mallet. The reinforced desk didn't just crack; it shattered, shards of glass and splinters of wood exploding outward.
"Don't tell me what to do!" Gilgamesh roared, standing amidst the wreckage.
Dennis didn't even flinch. A stray shard of glass whistled past his ear, but he remained as still as a statue. "I'm telling you because it seems you didn't know," he said, turning on his heel. "I'll take my leave. The details of their main base and other critical intel are in that file. If you fail to take care of them... I'll do it myself."
Gilgamesh stepped over the ruins of his desk, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "I wonder why you survived that day. You should've died with your worthless family."
Dennis stopped. A single vein popped along his jawline, pulsing with a sudden, violent heat. He turned his head just enough to catch Gilgamesh in his periphery. "Gilgamesh," he said, his voice low and vibrating with a hidden, terrifying strength. "Don't take my leniency for weakness."
He walked out, the doors sliding shut behind him. Gilgamesh clicked his tongue in disgust and sank back into his chair. "Fuck. I didn't want to deal with these painful bastards."
He began to rise, but a holographic screen shimmered into existence before him. On the display, Paul appeared, looking composed but weary.
"What flawless timing," Gilgamesh muttered. "I was about to contact you."
"Is it about those Apollo bastards?" Paul asked immediately.
Gilgamesh nodded, gesturing vaguely toward the door Dennis had exited. "That low-born just came here and threw this file at my face."
"What do you think?" Paul's eyes were unreadable.
"I say we let it be," Gilgamesh said, leaning forward. "Under current circumstances, Rhyes wouldn't be able to interfere while that trashy remnant is on the front lines. The others won't be a problem."
Paul let out a short, hollow laugh. "That's why you're still a child, Gilgamesh."
"What?"
"All the glory is being hogged by that remnant and Rhyes," Paul explained, his voice taking on a manipulative edge. "Our reputation has been falling. This is an opportunity."
"How so?"
"What do you know about Apollo?" Paul asked.
"Just some random criminal cult. What else?"
Paul smirked, a dark glint in his eyes. "That's not all. They have 'Awakened' with them."
Gilgamesh's eyes widened, his feline pupils expanding. "What? That means they are either remnants, or..."
"Or they managed to steal AMI marks," Paul finished. "Or someone supplied them."
A slow, hungry smirk spread across Gilgamesh's face. "This just got a lot more interesting."
"Now," Paul continued, "if we get rid of such a massive criminal organization, wouldn't that be a 'present' for the public?"
"And we can manipulate the media to make it look even bigger," Gilgamesh added, his ego swelling. "It'll bring us infinite glory."
"Exactly. But hurry," Paul warned. "We can't let that bastard Dennis deal with them first."
"Ugh," Gilgamesh groaned, pushing himself up from his seat. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen. I'll go there myself to take care of these Apollo." A heroic, staged smile appeared on his face. "After all, we have to protect others. That's our job. We are the heroes."
The call disconnected. On the other side, Paul's facade crumbled instantly. He sat down heavily, his expression becoming sad and grim. A single tear escaped, rolling down his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Gilgamesh," he whispered to the empty room.
"I'm sorry."
Outside the building, Dennis walked with a stiff, vibrating rage. He reached a concrete retaining wall and, without slowing down, drove his fist into it.
The impact sounded like a gunshot; the wall shattered into a web of cracks and falling debris. Passersby recoiled, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.
Dennis ignored them. He placed a hand over his forehead, shielding his eyes as he walked away into the shadows. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
"We'll see who dies," he hissed.
---
The air was humid, filled with the scent of wild greenery and the rhythmic clopping of hooves. Queen Elziora sat in her royal carriage, the plush velvet seats a stark contrast to the chaos outside. A blindfold hung lightly over her eyes, though she seemed to see the world with a clarity others lacked.
Suddenly, the carriage jerked to a halt. Shouts and the metallic ring of drawing swords erupted. Elziora didn't panic; she merely reached out and pushed the carriage door open.
A soldier rushed to her side, shielding her with his body. "Queen! Is there a problem?"
"What is the matter?" she asked, her voice airy and laced with a playful, dangerous curiosity.
"We've been ambushed, but the situation is under control!" the soldier shouted over the noise.
Elziora looked up at the treeline, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"The situation wouldn't be like that for long," she murmured. "They brought quite a lot of people with them."
She stepped past the soldier, her heels clicking on the dirt road. With a sharp, rhythmic snap, two obsidian fans appeared in her hands.
The gold-etched filigree shimmered like trapped sunlight. As she walked, her power rippled through the air, and the fans groaned with mechanical hunger.
The ribs expanded and locked, transforming instantly into massive, dual-circular blades. These midnight-stone rings hummed with a low, predatory vibration that shook the ground.
She gripped the golden hubs as the outer blades began to rotate, accelerating until they were nothing but a liquid blur of absolute darkness. The high-pitched whistle of the spinning obsidian tore through the screams of the forest.
Arrows hissed through the air, aimed directly at her chest. Elziora simply let go. The circular blades didn't fall; they floated, positioning themselves in front of her like loyal hounds.
They spun at such a ferocious speed that the arrows didn't just break—they bounced off the kinetic wall of the blades and shattered.
Elziora reached out and caught one of the spinning rings. With a graceful flick of her wrist, she launched it.
The circular saw tore through the air, cleanly lopping through massive tree trunks and the several assailants hiding behind them as if they were made of paper.
The blade curved through the air and flew back, and Elziora caught it effortlessly with one hand.
The rotation died down. With another snap, the weapons reverted to delicate fans. She turned back to the carriage, snapping one fan open to partially hide her face. "Let us proceed towards our destination," she commanded.
Settling back into the carriage, she watched the scenery blur by. "Where are you, Zephyra?"
She sighed, her tone shifting to that of a bored socialite.
"I'm so bored alone... and lately, there have been so many attacks on me. I hope I don't die before seeing you."
She crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks out in a pout.
"Screw that Zazm, taking away my best friend like that."
She paused, her eyes brightening. "Hey, wait a second. I can just call them."
She tapped the air, and a blue holographic screen flickered to life. She waited, humming to herself, until the connection established.
Zazm appeared on the screen, perched high on the thick branch of an ancient tree. The moonlight silhouetted his form, but his face remained as it always was—cold, stony, and utterly emotionless.
"What are you doing?" Elziora asked, leaning closer to the screen.
"It's my duty for the night," Zazm answered, his voice a flat, freezing wind.
"Oh, I see. You're with Neo and his team, right?"
Zazm gave a nearly imperceptible nod. "Is there something you want from me?"
Elziora shook her head. "Not really. I just wanted to talk to Zephyra. Where is she?"
The camera on the screen shifted, floating forward to show Zazm's lap. One of his legs hung off the branch, his foot crossed over the other.
Zephyra was there, her blackish-purple hair scattered across his thigh. Zazm was letting her use his other leg as a pillow; she was fast asleep, a few stray strands of hair falling over her peaceful face while others draped down toward the forest floor.
Elziora went quiet, staring at the scene for a moment.
"Why did you go quiet?" Zazm asked. When she didn't answer, he added, "Can't you see?"
He realized his mistake a second later. "My apologies. It's that she's out right now."
Elziora sighed, her playful pout returning. "Well, let me talk to her when she wakes up."
"I'll send her to you," Zazm said.
"Really?" Elziora's face lit up with genuine delight.
Zazm nodded again.
"Well, thank you then. Oh, by the way, Zazm..." The playfulness vanished from Elziora's eyes, replaced by a sharp, predatory intellect. She smiled like a woman who knew every secret in the world. "What are you planning right now?"
Zazm stared back at her, his expression unshaken. "What are you talking about?"
"You're planning to get rid of Supreme Commander Gilgamesh?" Elziora smirked.
Zazm didn't blink. "I suppose it's hard to hide it from you."
"I'm just messing around," Elziora giggled, though her eyes remained cold.
"If you hadn't done it, I would've anyway. Both he and Paul have been a thorn in our side. But I suppose your 'conversation' with Paul went well. What do you plan to do?"
"Apollo," Zazm said. "Have you heard of them?"
"I haven't."
"They are a criminal organization," Zazm explained. "Dennis killed their head and took his place. He provided them with AMI marks illegally to strengthen them."
Elziora tapped her chin, her mind racing through the implications. "So... you're planning to get rid of that criminal organization and Iron Halo all together, while framing Gilgamesh and the others as heroes who died fighting for the greater good?"
Zazm gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Yes."
Elziora smiled, a hint of mischief in her expression. "I would prefer if they didn't get such a glorious reputation, but... it's not a bad idea. It won't stir up much trouble. Well then, proceed with it."
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