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Snyderverse Neptunia Snippets by Derald Snyder Snippet 68- Nuns In The Night Timeline- After Snippet 64. *Lastation Guild HQ* Uni couldn't help but yawn as she walked into the briefing room. "You know, I would have liked to get a few z's in before you called me..." "I'm sorry, Miss Uni," a Guild NPC shook his head. "I understand you've had a long day, but Agent Duane really wanted your help with this one..." "So where is he...?" Uni asked as she plopped down on a nearby chair. "Getting suited up... oh, here he is." As he said this, the door opened, revealing Brian Duane in his familiar Batsuit, though he hadn't donned the cowl yet. "Oh... if I had known you were in such condition, I would have just gone to handle this one myself," Duane said upon noticing the CPU Candidate's fatigue. "It's fine..." Uni shook her head. "That one Quest took a bit longer to handle than I thought... (yawn) but I can just grab a nap on the drive over..." "...Well, if you insist," Brian sighed. "Basically,

It is a haunting image. A boy; a teen, puppy fat still prevalent, kneeling— wailing over the corpse of an elderly. It is a haunting image. Not because this is his mother, or grandmother or aunt. His skin is tinged green, tears streaming down his face. He is sobbing—great, heaving sobs that show how inhuman he is if only because he doesn’t stop for breath. It is a haunting image to spectators—but especially haunting to those who know the child. Well. He can hardly be called a child, now can he? This is not his mother. Not his grandmother, not an aunt. This is someone else, someone who he held dear to his heart, if only because she was his sister. His brave, fearless older sister. Not older by much—barely 2 years, and yet. And yet. There is grey streaked in her hair. He sobs. He wails. He keens. King Phantom grieves because his last remaining family member has not risen. She will never rise again. It is a haunting image.

I’ve always been the type of person to arrive early to things, early to meetings, early to class; the anxious type. But I had mostly fallen out of my early practices as college went on. Some things had changed that. I can’t help but think I must be so obvious, that my face must’ve gone that bright red it does at praise when she’d told me “I think you can handle it”. And my usual quick tongue stuttered and I didn’t ask what else I could handle for her. I wonder if she would’ve done that eyebrow raise. The bench is cold under my legs, leggings not much insulation, and neither is my shirt. Glancing down in what I hope is a casual manner at my own cleavage I feel self conscious. She might not even notice and I would probably be bending down in front of students all lecture. Crossing my arms in front of me doesn’t help any and I resort to messing with my hair instead. I wonder if she’ll like it green. I wonder now if I put way too much effort in and if it’ll show. The fact that I