Arthur woke to knocking at his door. He checked the time—0730—and rose from the bed he'd salvaged after Jackal's initial destruction spree. The knock came again, more insistent.
"Commander?" Rapi's voice carried through the reinforced door. "We're coming in."
Arthur pulled on his tactical coat as the door slid open. Rapi entered first, assault rifle slung across her back, followed by Scarlet, Nyx, Anis, and Lyra. Their expressions ranged from concern to curiosity as they filed into his quarters.
Then they stopped. Five Nikkes stood frozen in the doorway, staring.
Jackal sat cross-legged on Arthur's intact couch, shotgun propped against the armrest beside her. The coffee table bore no fresh damage. The desk remained unbroken. Even the entertainment console—previously shattered—had been replaced and showed no signs of destruction. She looked up at the assembled Monarks with her characteristic red-eyed stare, platinum blonde hair falling around her shoulders.
"Morning," Jackal said.
Anis blinked. "What."
"I'm waiting," Jackal explained, as if that clarified everything. Her gaze shifted to Arthur. "You said you'd be back with breakfast. Where's breakfast? I've been sitting here for twenty minutes. That's a lot of waiting. I deserve extra treats for—"
"Jackal." Arthur crossed to her and placed his hand on her head, stroking once. "Good job waiting."
She leaned into the contact, a satisfied hum escaping her throat.
Scarlet stepped forward slowly, examining the undamaged furniture like it might be an illusion. "You're telling me this is the same Nikke who destroyed this room three times in four days?"
"She's making progress," Arthur said.
Nyx circled the coffee table, then tapped it with her boot. Solid. Intact. "I don't believe it. There's no way. This has to be some kind of trick. Maybe she's sick?"
"I'm not sick!" Jackal protested. "I just learned that waiting gets better results than breaking things. Usually. Sometimes. When Commander's involved, anyway."
Lyra knelt beside the couch, studying Jackal with the analytical precision of a sniper assessing a target. "Fascinating. A complete behavioral modification in seven days. Commander, what methods did you employ?"
"Positive reinforcement," Arthur said. "Treats, structure, clear boundaries. And headpats."
"Headpats," Anis repeated flatly. "You tamed the chaos incarnate of Squad Exotic with *headpats*."
"And Splendamin bars," Jackal added helpfully. "Don't forget those. They're very important. Also that restaurant we went to. That was amazing. Can we go again today? Please?"
Arthur retrieved a wrapped package from his desk—breakfast rations he'd picked up earlier. He handed it to Jackal, who accepted it with both hands and immediately tore into the wrapping.
Rapi watched this exchange with something approaching disbelief. "She's actually listening to you."
"She listens when she wants to," Arthur said.
Between bites of ration bar, Jackal looked up at the assembled Monarks. "You're all staring. It's weird. Stop it."
"We're staring because you're not destroying anything," Scarlet said. "That's unprecedented."
"Yeah, well." Jackal shoved more food in her mouth. "Turns out not destroying things means people feed me better. And don't chase me with brooms. Or call A.C.P.U. It's pretty nice actually."
Nyx shook her head slowly. "If I hadn't seen this with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it. Crow's going to lose her mind when she finds out Arthur actually pulled this off."
The mention of Crow made Jackal's chewing slow. Her expression shifted—something almost melancholy crossing her features before she forced it away and resumed eating.
Arthur noticed. He noticed everything.
The Monarks stayed for another ten minutes, asking questions and marveling at Jackal's relative calm. When they finally left—still exchanging bewildered looks—Arthur turned to Jackal.
"Ready?" he asked.
Her enthusiasm dimmed. "Do we have to?"
"You know the deal. One week. Crow's expecting you."
Jackal set down the half-eaten ration bar and stood, collecting her shotgun. They left Arthur's quarters together, walking through the Outpost's corridors toward the AZX station. Nikkes they passed did double-takes at the sight of Jackal moving calmly beside Arthur, not destroying infrastructure or causing chaos.
At the station, they boarded the train in silence. Arthur selected seats in the back corner. Jackal pressed against the window, watching the tunnel walls blur past.
"Something's bothering you," Arthur said after several minutes.
Jackal kept her gaze fixed on the window. "No it's not."
"You're quieter than usual."
"Maybe I'm practicing patience. Isn't that what you wanted? Me being quiet and patient?"
"Jackal."
She turned to him, red eyes reflecting the tunnel's emergency lighting. For a moment she looked young—younger than her apparent age, vulnerable in a way that didn't match her manic energy or goddesium teeth.
"I don't want to go back," Jackal said quietly.
Arthur waited.
"I mean, I do. Crow and Viper are my squad. But..." She picked at the edge of her shotgun's stock. "This week was the best week I've had since becoming a Nikke. Maybe the best week I've ever had, period. People didn't run from me. Didn't yell. Didn't treat me like a disaster waiting to happen. And you—" She stopped, swallowed. "You actually cared. Not because I was useful. Not because I could break things for you. Just... cared."
"I still care," Arthur said.
"But you're sending me back anyway."
"The deal was one week. Teach you patience and boundaries. I can't keep you from your squad."
Jackal's hands clenched. "Then come with us. Join Exotic Squad. You'd fit right in—you're already friends with Viper and Crow likes you enough to make bets with you. We could all work together and you could keep teaching me things and—"
"Crow won't allow that."
"Why not? You're amazing! You're a great commander and you actually treat Nikkes like people and you have those cool prosthetics and you're really good at headpats—"
"Jackal." Arthur's voice was gentle but firm. "Crow made it clear. I'm not part of Exotic Squad. You are."
Her energy collapsed inward. She slumped in her seat, shotgun cradled against her chest. "This sucks."
They rode the rest of the way in silence.
The Outer Rim greeted them with its characteristic grime and neon. Arthur led Jackal through familiar streets to the alley where they'd met Crow before—a narrow passage between two entertainment venues, trash bins stacked against graffitied walls.
They waited.
Jackal paced in tight circles, energy returning but channeled into restless movement rather than destruction. Arthur leaned against the wall, watching her wear a path in the alley's dirty floor.
"She's late," Jackal announced after fifteen minutes.
"She'll be here."
"What if she forgot? What if something happened? What if—"
Shadows shifted at the alley's mouth. Crow stepped into view, dark eyes taking in the scene with her characteristic intensity. She wore her usual gear—combat vest, weapons concealed beneath a long coat. Her gaze locked onto Jackal first, then Arthur.
"Well," Crow said. "You both showed up. How responsible."
Jackal bounded forward. "Crow! You won't believe what happened this week! Arthur taught me all these things and we went to a restaurant and people didn't scream and I learned to wait and—"
"Breathe," Crow interrupted. "You can tell me later. First, I want to see these supposed results."
She looked at Arthur, eyebrow raised. Arthur straightened from the wall and caught Jackal's attention.
"Jackal," he said. "Sit."
Jackal dropped into a seated position immediately, cross-legged on the alley floor despite the grime. Crow's expression remained neutral, but Arthur caught the flicker of surprise.
"Stay," Arthur commanded.
He walked to the far end of the alley—twenty feet away. Jackal remained seated, though her fingers drummed against her knees.
"Come."
She sprang up and rushed to him, stopping just short of collision. Arthur patted her head once. Jackal leaned into it.
Crow crossed her arms. "Cute. You taught her tricks. Very impressive. Truly, you've transformed her into a well-trained dog."
"That's not—" Jackal started.
"She has a point," Arthur said, cutting off Jackal's protest. He reached into his coat and produced a Splendamin bar. Jackal's eyes locked onto it immediately, but she didn't move. "This is the real test."
He held the bar between them. Jackal's hand twitched toward it, then stopped. She looked at Arthur, then at the candy, then back at Arthur.
Crow circled them slowly. "Take it, Jackal. It's right there. Just grab it."
Jackal's breathing quickened. Her fingers flexed.
"Nobody's stopping you," Crow continued, voice smooth. "Arthur's just holding it. Waiting for you to take it. So take it."
"I—" Jackal's voice cracked. "I should wait."
"Why? You're hungry. The candy's *right there*. Take it."
Jackal's hand shot forward, stopped an inch from the bar, pulled back. She was shaking now, caught between impulse and training. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
Then her expression cleared. She looked at Crow.
"If I steal it," Jackal said slowly, working through the logic, "I get one bar. Then I have to run away so Arthur can't be mad. Then when I'm hungry again, I have to steal more food, and run again, and then A.C.P.U. catches me, and I escape, and I run some more, and I'm always running and stealing and hungry."
Crow stopped circling.
"But if I wait," Jackal continued, "Arthur gives me the bar. And then later, he gives me more bars. And he takes me to restaurants where they serve me. And nobody chases me. And I get to sit and eat and be full. And I don't have to run."
She looked back at Arthur, hands clasped behind her back.
"I choose waiting," Jackal said. "Even though it's hard. Because waiting gets better results."
Arthur handed her the bar. "Good girl."
He patted her head. Jackal unwrapped the candy and ate it with deliberate slowness, savoring each bite instead of devouring it whole.
Crow studied them both for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice carried genuine surprise.
"I'm impressed," Crow admitted. "I didn't think you'd actually pull it off. She's still chaotic, still impulsive, but you gave her a framework. A reason to choose restraint over destruction." She looked at Jackal. "You really learned all that in one week?"
Jackal nodded, mouth full of candy.
"Does this mean Arthur can join us?" Jackal asked hopefully. "Since I learned everything?"
Crow's expression hardened. "No."
"But—"
"Jackal." Crow's voice carried command that made even Arthur take notice. "Arthur's not part of Exotic Squad. He has his own responsibilities. His own people to lead. You can't keep him just because you like his headpats."
Jackal's shoulders slumped. "That's not fair."
"Life rarely is."
Arthur stepped forward. "I have business in the Ark. Responsibilities I can't abandon. But—" He looked at Jackal. "I can visit. If you're willing to wait for me."
Jackal's head snapped up. "Wait? Like waiting for food?"
"Exactly like that. You wait patiently, and I'll come back. Spend time with you. Bring treats. Continue your training if you want."
"How long do I have to wait?"
"Depends. Sometimes a few days. Sometimes longer. Can you handle that?"
Jackal chewed her lip, considering. "If I wait... you promise you'll come back?"
"I promise."
"And you'll bring treats?"
"Yes."
"And give me headpats?"
"Lots of headpats."
Jackal bounced on her heels. "Then yes! I can wait! I'm really good at waiting now! You saw!"
Crow watched this exchange with something approaching amusement. Then her expression shifted, became serious.
"Before you go," Crow said to Arthur, "we had a deal. You upheld your end—taught Jackal patience. Now it's time I collect my end."
Arthur's jaw tightened. He knew what was coming.
"Your wrist," Crow said. "As agreed. If you succeeded, I get nothing. If you failed..." She gestured to Jackal. "She gets to gnaw on that fancy Cerberus prosthetic of yours."
"I didn't fail," Arthur said.
"No, but the bet was never about success or failure. It was about whether she could really learn. And she did." Crow smiled—sharp and predatory. "But I'm feeling generous. Jackal worked hard this week. She deserves a reward. So I'm giving her this anyway."
She looked at Jackal. "He's all yours. Do whatever you want with his wrist."
Jackal's eyes went wide. "Really? Anything?"
"Anything."
Arthur extended his left arm, the Cerberus prosthetic gleaming dully in the alley's dim light. His jaw was set, eyes closing as he braced for the inevitable pain. He'd felt Jackal's goddesium teeth on his skin before—during their first encounter, when she'd tested his limits. This would hurt. Possibly disable the arm entirely, requiring expensive repairs.
But he'd made a deal with Crow. And Arthur Cousland kept his deals.
Jackal approached slowly, almost reverently. She took his extended wrist in both hands, lifting it to examine the prosthetic's construction. Her fingers traced the seamless joints where synthetic skin met metal, the intricate mechanisms that allowed full range of motion.
Then she leaned forward and licked his palm.
Arthur's eyes snapped open.
Jackal was rubbing her hands against his, the gesture somewhere between affection and claiming. Her tongue had left a wet trail across his synthetic skin. She looked up at him with those red eyes, confusion clear on her face.
"Why were you closing your eyes?" Jackal asked. "Did you think I was going to bite you?"
Arthur stared at her. "You... weren't?"
"Why would I bite you? You've been nice to me all week. You fed me and taught me things and gave me headpats and took me to a restaurant where people didn't scream." She pressed his hand against her cheek, nuzzling into it. "I don't bite people who are nice to me."
Crow made a sound that might have been a laugh. "Well. That's unexpected."
Jackal continued rubbing against Arthur's hand, purring softly. "Besides, biting would hurt you. And if I hurt you, you might not come back to visit. So I won't bite. I'll just..." She licked his hand again. "Mark you. So you remember to come back."
"That's not how that works," Arthur said weakly.
"It works if I say it works."
Crow shook her head, genuine amusement crossing her features. "You really did break her, Commander. Just not in the way anyone expected."
Jackal finally released Arthur's hand and stepped back. "I should go now, right? Since you have important Ark business?"
"Right."
"But you'll come back?"
"I will."
She hugged him suddenly—a fierce, desperate thing that spoke of abandonment and hope tangled together. Arthur returned it, one hand coming up to pat her head.
When she pulled away, Jackal's smile was genuine. "I'll wait. No matter how long. Because waiting means you'll come back."
She turned and walked to Crow, falling into step beside her squad leader. At the alley's mouth, Jackal looked back once, waved, then disappeared into the Outer Rim's crowded streets.
Arthur stood alone in the alley, staring at his hand where Jackal's saliva still glistened on the synthetic skin.
And as Arthur made his way back toward the AZX station, he couldn't help thinking about Jackal's words: *waiting means you'll come back.*
Some promises, he realized, were worth keeping no matter what else demanded his attention.