Syd Barrett was busy shoveling pasta into his mouth with visible joy when—
Grab.
A hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind. He turned around to find none other than Jody Johansson.
She had two plates and a cup of coffee in her hands. Without asking, she set them down next to him, pulled out the chair, and plopped down beside him—using his shoulder to balance herself as she sat.
…This girl…💢
"I brought you a present. Ta-daa~"
Jody revealed a pink carton of his favorite strawberry milk.
Syd didn't even realize it, but his pupils visibly dilated the moment he saw it.
Heh… adorable…
"Where'd you get that?!"
"Over there."
"How did I not see it?! Wait—they have strawberry milk here now!? Whoa!"
He started to rise from his seat, but she stopped him.
"Nope. You're not allowed more than one carton a day."
"What? Hey, who gave you the right to make that decision?"
"Too much sugar spikes your blood levels."
"So? Who cares?"
"I do."
"…Oh."
"And you're eating this, too. I picked it for you."
She slid a plate of salad in front of him. Again.
"…Wait—no! Are you crazy? Why are you messing with my food?!"
"I'm not asking you anymore."
She scooped the greens right onto his pasta.
"Hey!! Jody, what the hell?! Why would you do that?!"
He screamed so loud the entire dining hall turned to look.
"For your health."
"..."
He stared at her like she'd just signed her own death warrant.
"You don't have to eat it. I'll scoop it off for you. But in my eyes, you'll be five years old forever."
…And so, he ate every last bite.
Just because of that one damn line.
Damn it… down from six to five now. Great.
If she ever found out about his obsession with Gokaiger, he'd be down to four…
Syd clenched his teeth and fists, resisting the memory of how pathetically flustered he'd been that night.
—
Not long after, Mickey joined them, followed by Sera.
If one paid close attention, they'd notice Sera's plate had noticeably less food than the others. It was unclear why, but it might've had something to do with her weigh-in earlier that morning.
Time passed—45 minutes left before their scheduled briefing.
Syd was the first to finish and was now lazily scrolling through his phone at the table.
Jody could tell he was sulking, so she decided to break the silence.
"You know that pasta you ate? It's considered American cuisine now."
"…"
Syd glanced up from his phone. Mickey and Sera looked up too.
"…What are you getting at?"
"Hee~"
Jody didn't answer. She just grinned. But he already knew.
"Pasta came from China, okay? Doesn't count."
"But today? It's an American breakfast staple."
"America has no original culture besides stealing land from Native Americans."
"Ugh…"
Jody clutched her chest, playfully wounded.
"It's just a remix of everything from around the world, isn't it?"
"Exactly. That's why we're number one."
She smiled.
Jody wasn't usually one to boast about her nationality, nor did she judge people based on where they came from. She believed that assholes came in every flavor. But when it came to Syd, she'd gladly make an exception.
"Yeah… number one in every category. Including degeneracy."
Still got some bite in him.
"Well, if it's not illegal, then it's our right, right? But you're not wrong—some of us take it too far. Even fellow Americans feel secondhand embarrassment sometimes."
She continued, "So what about Thailand? Tell us more about it."
"Ugh… don't make me. Just thinking about home gives me a migraine."
"Seriously? It's that bad?"
"The day I'm satisfied with life, I'm moving to Australia. I'm never going back to that shithole of a country."
"Yikes…"
Sera and Jody both froze, mouths shaped like perfect O's.
Sure, Syd insulted just about everything. But they hadn't expected him to go off on his own country.
"Are you really that hopeless about it?"
"Ask Roxxy. She'd say the exact same thing. Garbage government. Rotting systems. Beyond repair. The more I talk about it, the more exhausted I get."
"Then why are you still there?" Jody asked.
"Because Thailand's more fun than Australia. And besides… look around. It's not like I live there full time."
"What about being independent? How's that work?"
"Our 'thick skin' isn't quite up to New Yorker standards. Yours are made of concrete. Ours are more like… printer paper."
"So Thai people are shy?"
"Not just Thai. Most of Asia. Big difference is that we care more about what others think."
"You just don't like being talked about," Sera chimed in.
"Exactly. You Westerners don't give a damn. Asians care—a lot."
Syd leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
"From everything I've seen growing up in Thailand, if I had to name one defining trait we do really well… it's flexibility."
"Flexibility?" Jody raised a brow.
"Yeah. Thai people are masters at going with the flow."
He said it proudly.
"We're not hyper-independent like Westerners… but we're not repressed either. We're somewhere in the middle."
He gave an example.
"Like punctuality. Thai people are so lazy it's painful. Tell them to meet at 2 PM, they show up at 8 PM. But for serious meetings or important stuff? Dead on time. Or—say you get pulled over for a ticket. If you're smooth enough, you might talk your way out of paying altogether."
He paused.
"Of course, there are extremes on both ends—some people are beyond saving, and others are way too rigid. But what's rare? People willing to speak up."
"I feel like people everywhere are becoming the same now," Mickey said.
"The world's open. Everyone sees everything. And in the end, we're really not that different."
"Wow. Look at you getting all deep," Sera said, suspicious.
"Didn't you say you hated Americans?"
"He never said that," Jody noted. "He said he hated America."
"…Oh."
"You think this guy only hates America?" Mickey snorted.
"He hates China too. He hates everyone. He even trashed his own country. Don't let him start ranting about politics."
Jody: "…I see."
Syd: "So what?"
"I've got a goal now," Jody said. "Before I die, I'm going to take you on a full tour of America. That's a promise."
"No fucking way, bitch. Learn to walk again before you make travel plans."
—
On the way back, Syd veered off to grab his jacket from his room.
"The meeting room's freezing."
"Didn't you say you hate the cold?" Jody teased.
"Shut it, Jewboy."
He left the girls with Mickey.
"Still got some time. I'll show you around. That way you won't get lost later."
He led them through the hallway.
"Gonna keep the mop look forever, Mickey?" Jody asked, half-teasing. He'd tied it back into a bun, but it was still pretty long.
(Glancing at Sera) "Nah. I'm cutting it. Field ops don't mix with long hair."
"…Don't look at me. You had that coming, Mannix," Sera muttered, flipping him off.
"C'mon. This floor's just rooms and the cafeteria. Let's head down—gonna show you something good."
He called the elevator, and the three of them descended another level.
They didn't know how many floors there were… but it was clear this base was deep underground.
Mickey: "I heard you're into fitness, Jody."
"…Yeah."
Ding…
The doors opened—revealing a massive, fully equipped gym.
It had everything: high-end machines, advanced facilities, even a crowd of agents and staff in workout gear actively training.
"This place is open 24/7. Crowds vary. Time it right, and you'll have the place to yourself."
As Mickey led the way inside, heads turned at the sight of the girls—but quickly looked away once they saw they were with him.
Sera scanned the room left and right.
There were a lot of attractive people in here. Whether it was gorgeous, tempting, or just plain shameless, there were plenty of distractions swinging from bars or running on treadmills. Anyone with a weak heart would find it impossible to focus.
"Everyone here's in crazy good shape, huh, Mannix?"
"We don't just sit around eating all day."
"…Ugh 💢"
She felt that one was aimed directly at her.
"But there are exceptions. Some folks have conditions that cause weight gain. It's not always their fault."
"Yeah… you can't blame someone for that," Jody added.
She was clearly impressed with the facility, glancing around in awe—just as Mickey predicted.
Eventually, as they moved on from the gym, Jody picked up on a sound.
"…Gunfire?"
It was faint, almost inaudible—but thanks to her passive ability, she could hear it.
"You heard that already?" Mickey blinked.
"Barely."
"Hmm… might need to report that."
"Why?"
"The shooting range is on the other side of this level, sealed with soundproof walls. Ask Sera—did you hear it?"
Sera: "Nope."
"…Might need better insulation."
Jody grinned slyly. Whether it was a jab or a compliment, no one could tell.
They reached the shooting range. As the doors opened, a wave of gunfire and muzzle flashes lit the room.
The place had every firearm imaginable. Unlimited ammo. Targets ranging from 10 meters to over 50, with dynamic setups for moving and shooting simultaneously.
Agents were already hard at work.
Everything here screamed elite.
"Yo~ Mickey!" a beautiful agent called out.
"…Hey," he replied calmly as she passed.
"Done with your round?" another male agent asked.
"Yeah."
"You know a lot of people, huh?" Sera noted.
"Trained with most of them," he said, turning to her. "I'll bring you here sometime. Teach you how to shoot."
"I'll shoot you first, you freak."
They moved on to the third area—the swimming pool.
Jody and Sera stared at the massive, Olympic-tier pool stretching the length of the room. There was even a thirty-meter diving platform.
Luckily, it was still early, so no one was around. The space was quiet, save for the gentle ripple of water.
"Do you swim?" Mickey asked Jody.
"Do you count flailing like a drowning puppy as swimming?"
"So that's a no."
Which made sense. Swimming required full-body coordination—especially the lower half. Jody's brittle bones made activities like that nearly impossible.
"No worries. Once you're officially enlisted, someone will teach you. You'll swim like an Olympian."
"How deep is this thing?"
Sera asked.
"Six meters, I think."
"Hm…"
"What's up? You're a pro swimmer anyway," he said.
"…How'd you know?"
"The shark tank incident. Anyone who couldn't swim wouldn't have kept their cool like that."
Not to mention when Fitz baited her into freefall off the bridge.
"If a shark charges at you and you don't panic? You're elite."
"…True."
Jody hadn't realized it until now.
Sera had never shown any fear around deep water. Even after being attacked by sharks and freefalling off a bridge, she was perfectly calm. No PTSD. Nothing.
The truth was, Sera was a skilled diver—certified as a Master Scuba Diver, no less.
Sera: "You saw my IG post, didn't you…"
"There's only one photo."
"Stop stalking my IG. It's creepy."