Arthur found Power in the Outpost's recreational district, sprawled dramatically across a bench with her arms flung wide and her blonde hair cascading over the edge. She looked like someone had personally offended her by suggesting physical activity.
"Commander!" Power sat up immediately, her expression shifting from theatrical despair to aggressive enthusiasm. "Save me from the colorful menace!"
"The colorful menace?"
"Alisa." Power pronounced the name like a curse. "She wants to do *team bonding exercises*. With ribbons. And matching uniforms. And a friendship song she wrote herself."
Arthur suppressed a smile. "That does sound terrible."
"It's torture!" Power stood, adjusting the rocket launcher slung across her back. "I demand you assign me different quarters. Somewhere far from enthusiasm and rainbows."
"You could just tell her you need space."
"I tried that. She said space was perfect for 'getting to know each other better' and suggested we build a blanket fort." Power shuddered. "I'm a warrior, not a child playing house."
Arthur's omni-tool chimed with a message from Alisa: *Have you seen Power? We were going to make friendship bracelets!* Three heart emojis followed.
"Walk with me," Arthur said, gesturing toward the shopping district. "We'll give Alisa time to find other bracelet enthusiasts."
Power fell into step beside him with obvious relief. "Finally, someone who understands suffering."
They hadn't made it fifty meters before a familiar voice called out from a side street.
"Well, well. If it isn't the famous Commander Cousland."
Drake emerged from the shadows with the deliberate swagger of someone who'd practiced the movement extensively. Her Matis uniform was slightly askew, and her expression carried the particular smugness of someone who believed themselves very clever.
"Drake," Arthur acknowledged. "What brings you to the Outpost?"
"Villain business." Drake gestured expansively. "Recruitment for my union. We're building an organization of like-minded individuals who reject society's oppressive rules."
"You mean the Matis squad members didn't want to join your roleplay group."
Drake's swagger faltered slightly. "It's not roleplay. It's a legitimate resistance movement against—" She stopped mid-sentence, her attention fixing on Power with sudden intensity. "Who's this?"
"Power. Devil Hunter."
"Power," Drake repeated, circling the blonde Nikke with analytical focus. "I sense great potential in you. The aura of someone who refuses to bow to societal constraints. Someone who understands that true strength means taking what you deserve."
Power straightened, clearly enjoying the attention. "Obviously. I'm the strongest Devil Hunter. Possibly the strongest Nikke in existence."
"Exactly!" Drake extended her hand with dramatic flair. "Join my villain union. Together we'll reshape this corrupt system into something worthy of our superiority."
"I accept," Power said immediately. "But I'll be the leader."
Drake's hand froze mid-shake. "What?"
"You heard me. I'll join your union, but only if I'm in charge. Someone as powerful as me can't take orders from lesser beings."
"Lesser beings?" Drake's voice rose dangerously. "I founded this union! I developed the entire operational framework!"
"Then you should appreciate having superior leadership." Power crossed her arms. "I'll transform your little group into something truly formidable. All humans will become my servants, bowing before my magnificence."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting this encounter.
"Power," he said carefully. "If you're the leader, you'll have to handle all the administrative work. Scheduling meetings, filing reports, managing budgets, resolving disputes between members, coordinating activities—"
"Wait." Power's confidence wavered. "Reports?"
"Extensive reports. Daily status updates, resource allocation spreadsheets, incident documentation. Plus you'd need to attend leadership councils with other organizational heads."
"That sounds like work."
"It is work. Significant work. Leadership means responsibility."
Power's enthusiasm deflated visibly. "On second thought, I'll just be a regular member. Drake can handle the boring parts."
Drake's smugness returned in full force. "Welcome to the union, subordinate. Your first assignment—"
"Is to find more members!" Power interrupted, already moving down the street. "Come on, Drake. Let's recruit people who recognize true villainy when they see it."
Arthur followed the two Nikkes with mounting resignation as they headed toward the A.C.P.U. station. This was going to be a long afternoon.
The holding cells were quiet when they arrived, most residents being law-abiding enough to avoid arrest. A single occupant sat in the furthest cell—a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a remarkably unfortunate mustache.
"You!" Drake called out. "Criminal! How would you like to join a villain organization dedicated to overthrowing societal oppression?"
The man looked up with desperate eagerness. "Yes! Please! I was unjustly imprisoned!"
"All criminals claim injustice," Drake said dismissively. "What's your crime?"
"I bumped into someone. Accidentally! They fell down some stairs and spent eight months in the hospital."
Drake's interest evaporated. "Eight months? That's excessive even by my standards. You can rot."
"Wait!" Power pushed forward. "We need members. He's available and already imprisoned, which proves he's willing to break rules."
"He's clumsy, not villainous," Drake countered. "There's a difference."
"A warm body is a warm body."
"Quality over quantity!"
"Says the person whose union has three members counting yourself!"
"That's because I have *standards*—"
"What's going on here?"
Poli appeared from the administrative office, her expression mixing confusion and irritation as she took in the scene. Her uniform was still slightly singed from yesterday's terrorist attack, and her patience appeared equally frayed.
"Recruitment," Drake announced proudly.
"For a villain union," Power added helpfully.
"In my holding cells." Poli's eye twitched. "Commander Cousland, please explain why Devil Hunters and Matis are attempting to recruit my prisoners into criminal organizations."
"I'm asking myself the same question," Arthur admitted.
Poli pointed firmly toward the door. "Out. All of you. Now."
They retreated under her glare, regrouping on the street outside.
"That went poorly," Drake observed.
"We need a better recruitment strategy," Power agreed. "Something that demonstrates our villainous capabilities."
"A crime!" Drake's eyes lit up. "Something audacious that announces our presence to the Outpost."
"Perfect. What should we rob?"
They surveyed the street with calculated assessment. A fast-food restaurant—Burger Command, proudly advertising "Military-Grade Flavor"—occupied a corner building with large windows and minimal security.
"That," Power declared. "We'll steal all their food. The people will tremble before our burger-thieving prowess."
"An excellent first operation," Drake agreed. "Simple, achievable, sends a clear message."
They approached the restaurant with exaggerated stealth, completely ignoring Arthur's presence as he followed with weary resignation. But before they reached the door, it burst open and a teenager sprinted out clutching a cash register.
The thief made it three meters before Power tackled him with excessive force, sending both tumbling across the pavement. The cash register clattered free, spilling credits everywhere.
"My robbery!" Power shouted, pinning the struggling teenager. "You stole my robbery!"
Drake seized the opportunity, scooping up the scattered credits with practiced efficiency. "Excellent work, subordinate. We've successfully stolen—"
"That's evidence," Arthur interrupted, his Cerberus prosthetic hand closing firmly on Drake's wrist. "Which you're going to return. Along with the thief."
The restaurant manager emerged, taking in the scene with bewildered gratitude. "You caught him? Thank the Goddess! He took the entire register!"
Drake and Power exchanged glances, clearly calculating whether they could still salvage some villainy from the situation.
"Actually," Arthur said before either could speak, "if they return everything and turn in the thief, you might consider rewarding their... civic assistance."
The manager's expression brightened. "Of course! Free meals for life! It's the least I can do."
Drake's resistance crumbled instantly. "Free meals?"
"For life?" Power's grip on the teenager tightened possessively. "All the burgers we want?"
"Within reason," the manager amended quickly.
Twenty minutes later, Arthur sat in a booth watching Drake and Power demolish burgers with frightening efficiency. The thief had been transferred to A.C.P.U. custody, the register returned intact, and the manager had personally thanked them three times.
"This is acceptable villainy," Drake announced through a mouthful of fries. "Acquiring resources through strategic intervention."
"We're basically criminal masterminds," Power agreed, reaching for her third burger. "Next time we meet, we should cause even greater chaos."
"Agreed. Something truly villainous. Perhaps we'll steal a whole restaurant."
"Or declare ourselves rulers of the shopping district."
"Or both!"
They laughed together—theatrical, exaggerated villain laughs that drew stares from other patrons. Arthur buried his face in his hands, silently praying to whatever deity might be listening that Drake would return to Matis headquarters and never visit the Outpost again.
"This was fun," Power said cheerfully as they finally left the restaurant. "We should do villain activities regularly."
"Absolutely. I'll contact you when my union plans its next operation." Drake extended her hand formally. "Until then, subordinate."
Power shook it with equal ceremony. "Until then, slightly-less-subordinate-than-me colleague."
Drake departed with a final dramatic flourish of her jacket. Power watched her go with satisfaction, then turned to Arthur with unexpected vulnerability.
"That was better than friendship bracelets," she admitted quietly.
"I'm glad you had fun."
"Don't tell Alisa. She'll want to join and ruin everything with positivity."
"Your secret's safe."
They walked back toward the residential sector in comfortable silence. For a few hours, he'd watched two Nikkes play at villainy and discover friendship in the process. In a world defined by war and trauma, maybe that counted as victory.
"Commander?" Power's voice carried unusual seriousness. "Thanks for not stopping us. Drake's weird, but she's... interesting. Different from Devil Hunters."
"Everyone needs different kinds of friends," Arthur said.
"Even villains?"
"Especially villains."
Power grinned—genuine and unguarded. "Then I guess I'll be the best villain the Outpost has ever seen."
Arthur watched her head toward her quarters with renewed energy, already planning her next encounter with Drake. Future would bring Vapaus complications, Modernia confrontations, and the weight of command decisions that might determine the fate of corrupted Nikkes throughout the Ark.
But today had been burgers and laughter and two damaged people finding unexpected connection.
Sometimes, that was enough.