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signs of a coming War

((This will not make sense if you haven’t read the Stonefire Arc.))

//

35 seconds past 2310 hours, XX/XX/2010. Roughly one year prior to W-Impact Event. Special order of operation on behalf of the Incubator of the First Officio Assassinorum with the assent of the Warmaster of the First Officio Assassinorum.

Operation: Executed, successfully. Minimal casualties.

Side Objective: Executed, successfully. Minimal casualties.

Second Objective: Executed. Objective(s) confirmed. Assets involved to be debriefed; solution to be assessed and ascertained.

//

“Yo, Mel! Sorry for the rush briefing, and the somewhat-abrupt semi-kidnapping, but this job’s a good one, I promise… and it’s also an order from the top. We’re to be embedded into an independent international task force special forces unit comprising of American, Syrakhani, British, French, and Russian soldiers en route to an abandoned military complex within the violent disputed border region based on the salt flat made from the former Lake Chad, set between Cameroon, Niger, Chad and Nigeria.

I’m to be deployed in one squad, you’ll be deployed in another alongside your, ah, current comrade-in-arms, Oug’di al-Gawa’a (or whatever they’re calling themselves today). This special international task force is being deployed following reports of a known terror cell meeting with WMD specialists in the disputed, lawless area - the same fundamentalist terror cell responsible for those brutal attacks in Paris and London a year or so ago. This was originally enough for some level of intervention; however, this has since changed - as intel came in that the terror cell was under attack from a seperate terrorist organisation: the infamous ultranationalist zealots that’s been tearing most of Central Africa a few new ones. These guys, if anything, are more of an interesting threat - given that they are confirmed to have access to WMDs, and used them at least once (and were potentially involved in the supplying of the weapon used in the Hizawi tragedy).

However, while destroying terror cells and extracting important intel is certainly good for a laugh… I’m damn sure you can guess that you’re not just here to spray bullets. Our more specialized expertise has been requested, predominantly because we were in the area, for a seperate objective - direct from the higher-ups.

Your primary objective (as opposed to the secondary objective of turning terrorists to paste on the walls) is the location and extraction of a particularly important asset, who we can only refer to as Asset I. That’s an i, not a 1, friend. If you wanna be pedantic, call them Iota.

Neither of us are actually cleared to know what the details surrounding I actually are - but, somehow, the Asset was either captured or was simply, for some reason, located on-site at this facility. Therefore, the higher-ups need us to infiltrate with our assigned squads, and secure the Asset - ensuring no harm comes to them from either side of the battle. Once you have confirmed the asset's safety, and the special forces units have confirmed their own tasks, the independent task force will issue a command to allied Syrakhanistan Air Force and Navy units on standby to bomb the area to smithereens.

God is with us. Blessed is She.”

//

You are Mel Anna, formerly known as Three. You are a magical girl (formerly an unofficial hire before your exemplary performance landed you a true contract with the Sixteenth Officio Assassinorum), and you’re currently in free fall above a hostile combat zone following abrupt orders from your superior and erstwhile friend, Colonel Kiryu.

You've just jumped from a High Altitude Low Opening position from a modified Russian/former Soviet supersonic aircraft (the aptly named "Black Canary" for it's near-prototype status; an upgraded Tu-160 chassis built with prototype Tu-144 equipment, then further modified by American engineers before being... acquired... by Syrakhanistan), directly into anti-aircraft fire.

So much for taking advantage of two opposing enemies fighting each other - now both of the ground-forces of the terrorists were attacking you all, too.

Luckily - no pun intended - this was to be expected. As in, you'd already predicted this. Your powers from your wish (some powers of which you'd just activated with a small flash of light to help defend against the onslaught of firepower) allowed you to perfectly predict the future - often to either brilliant or terrible results, to the point that you'd been repeatedly advised to only use your primary wish-granted power only when given explicit permission from higher-ups.

This prediction was clearly enough to give some a sense of easy security. Your assigned co-worker and partner-in-crime, the ever-confusing Oug’di al-Gawa’a (commonly known currently as the more simple Ogawa; A shapeshifter and cloner by magical nature, wish unknown, and especially talented Callidus assassin currently contracted with the elusive Twentieth Officio, who has changed name (having previously been known as, among others, Ougi Kumahara, Di Mario, Kagali Ojigawa, Publius Maximus, and Gabriel bin Darra), history, and even flesh and mind several times over - in the short time you'd known them, let alone before your assignment together) was currently posing for an unseen camera while nearing terminal velocity. They noticed your gaze amidst the flak bursts and gave you a cheerful wave, much to your chagrin.

As you descended to the military facility built into the already corpse-ridden salt flats, you threw out a few of your personalised magical tarot cards towards your allies desperately attempting to maneouver out the way of the anti-air fire, the cards flipping in the air and turning into small shields of energy, protecting them.

"Deploy PWSS on my mark." You say over the comms as the wind rushes around you. "Mark".

Your equipment deploys, alongside the other members of the squad, activating into a quasi-wingsuit, quasi-parachute mechanism (you’d forgotten to actually ASK what PWSS even meant), allowing you to accelerate faster down to your destination but with more control, as well as to hit the ground in such a manner that you WEREN'T reduced to a splatter on the concrete.

You hit the ground with a solid thud, going straight into a forward combat roll, as the soldiers operating flak cannons on the rooftop of the complex turned to fight your incoming group.

A flick of your wrist, and cards from nowhere spin out, cutting the throats of several enemy combatants, while Ogawa swung around behind them, cloning instantly, each one holding weapons - knives, guns, even a machete - and carving a line across the rooftop.

The gunfire and missiles continued to stream away nearby, even as your squad regrouped after clearing the area.

You motioned towards a set of doors (the other set on the roof being left clear for either another squad such as Colonel Kiryu’s, or for exfil), and the group moved into the complex, slowly checking corners, clearing rooms, checking for mines and traps.

One set of doors turned into another, each corridor going on and on, each filled with an endless stream of enemies, flies to the flame that they were.

The hallways, the rooms, the floors, all of them began to blur together, a strange feeling lurking at the back of your mind.

Like, this place was a LOT bigger than it should have any right to be.

It was built into the flat salt of a former lake; surely such ground would be hard, and less than perfect for underground structures?

Yet it just kept going. Further and further you went, meeting each floor filled with more and more insurgents, more and more corpses, more wasted bullets and more wasted energy.

You’re glad you’d asked for the extra few Grief Seeds before the mission.

The deeper you went, ironically, the more lit up the halls were. Electricity seemed to be concentrating somewhere deep below, so power seems to have been rerouted to whatever, whoever, wherever this “Iota” figure was, or whatever cage they had been imprisoned in.

Of course, the enemy also become more and more entrenched as your team descended. Your equipment indicated that by the time you reached an impressively fortified bunker-like position complete with underground towers - somehow - you were close to nearly a few solid kilometres below ground.

That’s impossible, unless…

You motion to Ogawa, giving an old hand signal and pointing to one of your comrades, between hails of gunfire from the towers.

Ogawa looks confused for a brief moment, before confusion turned to concern as the Callidus performed the check on the soldier you’d motioned towards.

Ogawa nodded. Shit.

Somehow, the bunch of you had got caught inside a Labyrinth. Either that, or the Labyrinth had been built around Iota, or perhaps to contain Iota. A Witch, and a relatively powerful one, must have manifested here - or, if not fully manifested, then a Seed must have been used in some way.

The Kiss sigil burning black on the soldier’s exposed neck gave your theory enough credence to be wary.

You radio into your comms, praying that the influence of a Witch wouldn’t impact the hardened equipment you had.

“Daisy Hand to Siren, do you read? We’re confirming unknown-class interference close to the predicted location of Asset Iota. Confirm acknowledgement, over.”

“…tua… res… fi… ack…”

“Daisy Hand to Siren, repeat last, over.”

You tut irritably, ignoring yet another round of bullets fired your way.

…well, you tried.

“Ogawa! I need cover while I do my thing!” You shout between bursts of fire.

“Did you get—”

“Nope! But I’m gonna do it anyway, otherwise we’re gonna be up to our necks in shit at this rate, let alone whatever’s up with Iota - if the Asset is even still around.”

“…fine. But using that, it’s on your ass, you hear?”

You hear, alright.

As the rapid deployment of Ogawa’s shadows began to move forward into the enemy ranks, you close your eyes, and concentrate.

Breathing in, and out. You blink.

+ Predict where the Witch is. +

You project out to the abyss, your consciousness wavering, surfing along the very edge of the accursed realms between reality, searching for an answer.

Your predictions will always be correct. You will always get the answer that will occur.

Even if it’s a terrible one.

A feeling, a nudge, a scar opening, crackling of flames, laughter, the sky falls, beating heart, cruel knives, the dead live, seas of blood, a sick jokes, corridors endlessly fading into a pit of—

There. That one. But what did…

You shake yourself back into reality, discerning and paraphrasing what little you understood.

The Witch…

You look between the Towers, through the Maze that continued behind the enemy encampment, past the bullets -

There! You fling a single card—

“Got it!” Ogawa shouts, revealing themselves amidst the horde of clones, firing a single shot following the glowing trail your card had left.

Between the towers, past the camp, past the bullets, through the corridors, hitting the Door’s window.

A screech, like the rending of metal, before fading away, the breathless agony of another dead creature - whether a natural one or an old comrade, irrelevant.

The building’s doors didn’t have windows. Ironically, unlike most Witches that bury themselves within the depths of their Labyrinth, this one had created an endless loop of rooms, spreading itself thin to create a seamless world to trap victims in.

The labyrinth dissipated, the lines of enemy soldiers vanishing in mere moments. It appeared only a dozen odd insurgents had actually been in the building; but the Witch that had either imprisoned them, or had been employed by them, had made the enemy seem insurmountable.

The illusion shattered, you and your squad find yourself in a far more spacious but still all-too corridor-like room.

A room with doors, but in particular one rather bulky looking and rusty one.

As Ogawa passes by the few corpses, grabbing the lone Grief Seed that had fallen to the floor, you once again grab your comms equipment - only to be interrupted once more by the sounds of gunfire.

Ogawa pockets the Seed, and together with your surviving comrades, you take positions next to the door which the sounds were coming from.

“Anyone home? We could use a hand!” A familiar voice shouts behind the door between the combat noises.

Your expression softens, and, ignoring your team’s surprise, you unloosen the bolt on the door, letting your friend through.

The Colonel herself immiediately shuts it behind her, a grim look on her face. “Cheers, pal. ‘Twas getting a bit hairy.”

You nod to Ogawa to keep watch on the exit doors alongside the rest, while you help Kiryu out with her many, many wounds, as the two of you walk towards the clearly suspicious larger door while fixing up the comms equipment.

“—and, do you read? Do you read or not? Over.” The comms finally crackled back to life, the Field Commander’s excitable but determined tones coming through.

“Siren, this is Daisy Hands and Chairman, we read you loud and clear. Interference has been eliminated, and we have located the probable location of the Asset. Confirmation on how to proceed? Over.”

A chuckle. “Aha! Finally! You had me worried for a moment there - not sure why, mind.” Audible throat clearing, before - “Daisy Hands, your position is getting more dangerous by the moment; we have confirmed enemy reinforcements from both OPFOR groups, and much of your backup outside has been worn down. So I need you to listen closely, over.”

“Boss, it’ll be faster if you could get on with it!” The Colonel shouted irritably, long hair swinging from side to side.

“That’s former Boss, and current Field Commander, to you - Chairman. Now then…

The location of Iota should have a massive metal door, locked down nice and tight. However, there’s a knack to opening it - besides several tonnes of high explosive, that is.”

You… didn’t like where this was going.

“The door will only open with the confirmed death of a magical girl.”

There is a soft sigh, before the Field Commander cut off the comms.

…ah.

The Colonel and you exchange the smallest of glances - right before you both bring a weapon to one another’s throats.

“I outrank you, Mel. That’s just how it is.” Kiryu murmured angrily, blade steady.

“I still haven’t got what I became a magical girl for. I won’t die in such a miserable manner as this.” You respond, with an equal level of malice, no magical weapon or card in your hand - just a simple 9mm pistol drawn from your side in the fastest of motions.

There’s a brief moment of tense silence, only occasionally broken by gunfire.

Before being properly broken by an extremely agitated Callidus.

“What the FUCK are you two doing?!” Ogawa cried aloud, sprinting towards the two of you and rolling between your raised arms.

“Out of the way, Ogawa. Otherwise it’ll be your head we take.”

“Yeah, kid, whatever you’re calling yourself these days. Go back to your position, you’re outta line.”

“Head? What? What the hell are you talking about?” Ogawa shouted, refusing to budge.

“Goddamnit, we don’t have time for this—” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Ogawa, our new orders require the death of a magical girl to open the door.” The Colonel says, her eyes still on you.

Ogawa pauses. “Bodily death or soul death?”

The two of you hesitate, before you both look at the bemused assassin.

“Oh, screw this!” Ogawa shouts down at the two of you, before roughly shoving you both out of the way.

Before you can move, Ogawa has approached the hulking metal door, and produced a Very Sharp Knife; you recognise the brand, since you’d bought it as a birthday gift - straight from the forges of KilianInc, your personal favourite Swedish arms manufacturer.

Ogawa kneels down, while Ogawa remains standing.

Oh! That’s… will that work?

Ogawa swiftly decapitates the fleshy shadow clone, neck stump spraying viscera onto the door as the head rolls onto the floor.

There’s a few moments of tension, breaths held - before your prayers are answered, as metal began clanking against metal, the doors swinging open with a rough and screeching noise.

A noise only rivalled by the equally loud gunfire outside.

Without any hesitation, you three rush into the open bunker, while the remnants of your squad continue to fortify against the next enemy assault outside.

The location where Asset I was being held was, in a word, cramped. The brief hallway that contained the vault door quickly ended and abruptly interrupted your intrusion with wall after wall of expensive-looking electronics; servers, open laptops, entire sections with fuse boxes and nothing else.

There was barely any lighting in here, the only lights glowing a dim red - like that of an emergency generator - and occasionally seeming to flicker, and almost appearing to move deeper inside. A veritable sea of wires seemed to endlessly connect every port and cable, the floor packed with them, all running to the end of the bunker.

And, at the end of the bunker, lay your presumed target. A large cylindrical metal capsule, cold to the touch, with a jewelled engraving of a single letter:

I. Styled in a Roman numeral.

The flow of glowing lights and wires all seemed to be pointing to a small panel of buttons that lay next to the capsule.

Your curious gaze was broken by the sound of an explosion; the enemy was attempting to breach the room before the bunker. More gunfire, and the occasional grunt and scream.

You’re the first to move, rushing to the computer terminal, panel, whatever it was, while signalling the other two to give cover while you inspect it.

There are a whole lot of buttons on this surprisingly small computer… thing… and none of them have labels - or, at least, labels in any language you actually understood. Some of the symbols even hurt your brain trying to look at them for some reason - but you get the feeling that the ominously glowing one on the right hand side of the machine is your objective.

In for a penny, as they say…

You press the button.

There’s a pause, before all the few lights in the room shimmer, before following a pattern and seemingly moving from electrical thing to thing all the way to the button you pushed. Finally, after some whirring and mechanical humming, something begins to stir.

The capsule slowly creaks open, and something - someone - flops out unceremoniously; falling to the ground onto their face, sticky and cold liquids gushing out from the machine and covering them and the floor with a fleshy-stinking ooze.

The person, presumably Iota, is utterly soaked in the freezing cold liquid paste; however, they’re also covered head to toe in some sort of metallic armour, with only their mouth being uncovered, and a dense band of red painted metal acting as a blindfold. Their armour seemed to act like an extension cable, given how many more wires seemed to be popping out from them. Armour that…

Appeared to be underneath what seemed to be a girl’s bear onesie. Somehow not soaked.

You’re somewhat taken aback by all this, even as the gunfire and combat grows louder outside.

“Mel! Whatever’s going on over there, get it done fast! We’re up to our necks in shit over here!” The Colonel shouted between bursts of semi-automatic fire.

You barely hear her, as you continue to look down on the Asset.

All this… for a sticky dead girl?

Oh, right - she might not be dead. You kneel down, and try to search for a pulse, or something. Difficult to do beneath layers of metal seemingly surgically attached into her.

She isn’t breathing. Nothing coming from her mouth or nose, shit.

Wait, there’s something! Her mouth is, well, full. Which is odd. Maybe it had more of the ooze? Trapping her airways, maybe?

You grunt, ignoring the stench and texture, before shoving your fingers into the girl’s mouth.

You know that feeling. This object. You carefully hook your fingers around it, and pull.

Of course.

The Soul Gem comes out from her mouth, wet with saliva and gunge, the soft hue and glow already slightly illuminating the room. And that almost biological feeling of it, that notion that the jewel is alive, an artificial beating heart, sets off a feeling of tension in you.

As you hold it in your hand, another explosion nearly deafens you from outside.

“FUCK! They’ve breached! Hold the line!” Ogawa screams.

“MEL, GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE AND DO SOME KILLIN’ ALREADY!” The Colonel commands you, her voice audibly concerned.

Even as super-soldiers empowered by the powers of aliens, even as highly trained professionals - you were by no means Gods. Sure, you could kill dozens with your bare hands; hundreds with the right equipment; but there are only so many bodies you can bring down before their weight brings you down.

So, following the Colonel’s command, you place the Soul Gem gently onto the ground, and move to grab your rifle—

There’s a flash, a surge of electricity. The bunker seems to come to life in a single moment - a single moment where you feel your sleeve being tugged.

“Killing is not something that comes naturally… not something that SHOULD come naturally. Those who kill lose part of themselves, and gain something that no human should ever be comfortable with. Makes us even less human than we already were. I do not enjoy killing; it is a necessary evil, something I do because I must.

Because death has brought me new life on this day.”

The voice, quiet, barely a whisper, pierces your mind, speaking eloquently but eerily. You look down to your quarry, and see the previously angelic look of someone fast asleep being replaced with a creepy grin, skin stretched to the human limit.

Another surge of electricity - and it’s now that you begin to hear the screams.

“What the… fuck…?” You hear the Colonel audibly exclaim.

You manage to break off your state from Iota’s salivating smirk, and look to the entrance of the bunker.

It was absolutely soaked in blood. As you watched, the previously shot down corpses of enemies were now being joined en masse by new corpses. Seemingly from nowhere, enemies began to explode left and right, spraying blood and pieces of flesh around the room.

It’s then that the dots connected in your head:

Whatever Iota’s powers were, they were causing electrical surges around you; pulses of power, continuing to flow from her barely functioning body. And those same pulses were also being sent to the enemy - specifically, their own equipment: radios, earpieces, flashlights, phones. Anything that could be accessed with electricity - perhaps with radio frequencies, or wifi, or infrared, or SOMETHING - was now effectively being turned into a bomb.

As you gazed in awe at her handiwork, the girl herself began to stir, gripping onto your arm to steady her feet. She sniffs the air, looking around - or, perhaps, the motion of looking around, given the heavy metal blindfold.

“My thanks.”

She says softly, clearing her throat, her words still barely escaping her lips. She manages to find her footing, before slowly moving forwards, the trail of wires somehow following her every move. You follow in her footsteps as she approaches the confused Colonel.

“Ah. Ah. Resting. Besting. Testing. Testing. One, two. Yes. Good.” She begins. She speaks oddly, her accent stilted, like she knew how to speak but didn’t usually speak with human flesh. You… don’t know quite how to easily put it; if a baby was born instantly with speech abilities and the full knowledge of the lexicon, this would be like that.

Sort of.

The Colonel nods to the Asset. “Greetings. We have orders pertaining to your extraction.”

The girl listens, pausing, and nodding. “Acknowledgement. Confirmation: Colonel Kiryu, Sixteenth Officio. Yes slash No?”

The Colonel blinks a few times, taken by surprise. “Y-yes? That’s me?”

“Confirmation - Colonel Kiryu, extraction of Asset Iota: Iwakura Lain. Package is in transit”.

You blink a few times, stopping in your tracks.

Lain… Iwakura?

Your line of thinking is made concrete by a similar expression flashing across the Colonel’s face, head quickly turning to yours, the briefest of head shakes directed to you, before returning to silence.

Iwakura. The same surname of the girl you’d killed on your last mission as a (barely) human.

Iwakura. A dynasty of magical girls, a practical family lineage.

Iwakura. The surname of someone extremely powerful related to computers that Colonel Kiryu had explicitly told you to avoid.

Your only hope is that you hadn’t spoken yet nor could she see your face. If she could identify the Colonel so easily, then you just had to stay as quiet as a mouse.

+ Ogawa, no time to explain. Whatever you do, don’t speak to me. The Colonel can explain later. +, you project to Ogawa.

A brief look of confusion on Ogawa’s face flickers, while the Colonel appears to be explaining the situation to Lain, before clearing and a small nod responds to you.

“Alright, Asset Iota…” The Colonel begins before being interrupted.

“Assent: Identity is Lain Iwakura. Polite: Feel free to call me Lain. Good?” Lain speaks, her voice growing more normal with every spoken word.

“Lain, then. We’re on the move to the extraction point. Please be careful, there are some steps.” The Colonel said, motioning her head to the approaching staircase.

“Request: Could your subordinate/subordinates lift me? Body… is still malfunctioning.” Lain says, still almost mechanical, but with the smallest hint of humour.

The Colonel stops in her tracks, giving a small chuckle. “A… piggyback ride, then? I mean… Eh, if that’s your order.”

She nods to Ogawa, who blinks a few times, shrugs, and lifts the girl up. Not quite a piggyback ride, but still, Lain appeared content.

Even as the four of you moved upwards through the building, gunfire appeared to sporadically begin in earnest only to swiftly end with barely audible puffs of electrical explosions. Lain, her wires still trailing slowly behind the group, appeared to continue to be guarding the squad with her powers.

You nod to the Colonel, and signal towards your comms equipment. She acknowledges the motion, and you turn it on.

“Siren, this is Chairman. We have extracted the Asset, proceeding to Extraction Point B on the roof of the facility.” The Colonel spoke over the comms.

“Chairman, Siren acknowledges. Asset already made contact the moment you completed your objective; she speaks highly of your actions this day, particularly of your willingness to perform your orders. Over.”

“Willingness, sir?”

“…To kill Daisy Hands like that in order to open the magically sealed door, that was brave. Your commitment to the commands of your superiors is commendable. Her sacrifice will not be in vain. Over.”

The whole group stopped at this. Ogawa in particular seemed to almost be holding in laughter.

“…Roger that. Will continue towards extraction and explain during debriefing. Over and out.” The Colonel spoke softly, before reaching over to you and turning off the comms.

The group continued to move, with you guarding the rear, but there was a notable silence.

Naturally, Lain broke it.

“Apologies, but… Was I out of line in some way?” She queried pointedly to the Colonel.

“N-no, Iwakura-san, not at all. I was just surprised that you had already made contact with HQ.” Kiryu responded diplomatically.

“…Iwakura-san, eh? Not Lain?” The wired girl spoke, almost disappointed. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

There’s a barely noticeable undertone of joking irony in her words. Did she…?

She probably did, you think. You did have all the comms equipment on you; and the other two also had their own. Given that she hadn’t blown you up yet as an unauthorised set of feet following behind, she must have known you were a friendly.

But did she know you were her youngest sister’s killer?

If she did, why hadn’t she killed you yet? Was Kiryu’s intuition wrong?

You suppressed a sigh, and continued watching the group’s back - not that it was strictly necessary, given Lain’s seeming omniscience, with more than enemy exploding just as they turn a corner, moments before you shoot them yourself.

Finally, you all reach the final flight of stairs, and Ogawa pushes the heavy-set metal doors to the roof open.

Extraction comes in the form of a single experimental prototype, the Bell Boeing V-2905 Kite, a heavily armoured and rather early-stage quad-rotor aircraft designed especially for movement under harsh conditions. You’d only seen one once, refuelling when you’d been posted as a security detachment for a diplomatic summit in Nigeria - one of Syrakhanistan’s own (albeit stolen originally, but since heavily modified) mechanical works.

Out from the back steps a surprising figure, a lone girl with a messy bob of brown hair (although it appeared to be going grey rather early) in full dress uniform, one arm sticking out of a military jacket covered in medals.

“Ah! Bloody well done.” Admiral Torresa von Akiyama, Field Commander of the operation, and former Warmaster of the Sixteenth Officio Assassinorum, says with a small curtsey, before saluting properly with her sleeved hand, her loose one still by her side. “I hope that my agents didn’t toss you around too much, Iwakura-sama?”

Akiyama always was an oddball, at least if the reports from Kiryu and others were accurate; a magical girl who barely ever used her powers, who shied away from overusage of Contracted assets in preference from basic materiel operations, and who apparently never truly warmed to the role of Warmaster - to the point that when she was offered a ‘temporary position’ by the Primus inter Pares, she accepted without any hesitation.

A temporary position she’d now been occupying for a relatively long time for a Mahou Shoujo.

Saying that… ‘Iwakura-sama’? From a(n albeit former) Warmaster?

“Confirmation: Colonel Cornelia Kiryu and her two subordinates performed admirably under fire. Commendation: recommended!” Lain responded, almost cheerfully. “Irritation: I’ve told you before that the honorific is unnecessary when we speak the lingua franca. Especially since - Truth: I am no more Warmaster than you anymore.”

“Ah, pish-posh. Quartus and Dammekos both still sing your praises, and you know how much SHE has come to rely on—” The Admiral chuckled, before stopping herself. “Ahem. Let’s keep up appearances, eh?”

She turned away from Lain, and back to the three of you.

Three.

Her gaze turned to a scowl. “Wait, the fuck…?”

“Pardon?” Lain responded, still blindfolded and almost hopping to turn around, nearly tripping over a loose wire before Kiryu caught her.

“How…?” Akiyama began, her hair blowing in the breeze, right before being interrupted by the sound of artillery fire.

“I’ll explain on the ride back, Commander. I suspect we should exfiltrate the AO as soon as possible.” Kiryu spoke cautiously.

The Admiral’s gaze hardened, before relenting. “Alright. Yeah, alright, you’re right. Let’s go. And besides - I’ve got a little treat lined up for the bastards still crawling around down there. Although, before I forget…”

She pauses, and turns back to Lain. She places her hand on the nape of her neck, seemingly fidgeting, searching for something. A finger flicks open a piece of metal, and she appears to type in a code.

With a small puff of smoke and the grinding of unseen gears, the armour that Lain had been wearing as well as the Bear Oneside fell apart like a crumbling cookie, the metal disintegrating upon impact with the ground.

She’s even shorter than she looked before without all the accoutrements. Skin as pale as snow - no, paler, even colder than that of the most frozen Siberian plains in the Motherland - and soft brown eyes that seemed to never focus on anything at all. Her hair flickered a little in the breeze, still sticky from the cryogenic fluid and from sweat. All she wore under the armour was a simple white nightgown—

And, uh, yet another Bear Onesie…? Is that one of her powers? Can she just teleport those in?

You’re distracted by the Onesie, and completely miss her unfocused and wary brown eyes coming to rest upon your form hiding at the back of the group.

Your eyes meet.

There’s a moment, just a small moment, where you feel something on your back, crawling, nails skating along your spi—

“Let’s go, people! AO’s gonna get real hot soon!” Akiyama called out, breaking your gaze and grabbing Lain by one arm while Kiryu grabbed the other.

The smaller girl gave a funny little yelp at this, being unceremoniously picked up and thrown into the VTOL aircraft, much to Ogawa’s amusement.

You’re… not quite in the joking mood, as you hop into the aircraft, noting a nod of acknowledgement from Kiryu as you take a seat near the exit - as far from Lain as possible.

The aircraft quickly lifts off, seemingly quite blasé about the incoming RPG and machine-gun fire. As the complex and salt lake begin to shrink into the horizon from behind your tinted glass window, Akiyama waves to the group.

“Hey-ho! Just gonna call something in. I’d suggest averting your gaze from the windows for juuust a moment!”

…

Somewhere in the Red Sea. North of Socotra.

“That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear.”

“Receiving authentication code…”

“Authentication: 6 dash 7 dash 4 dash 2 dash 5. Authenticate?”

“Code authenticated. Read as Crimson. Authenticate?”

“Authentication confirmed. God is with us, and she will not be as merciful as we are.”

…

“Three, two, one - impact, now!” Akiyama shouted, right as—

The sky fell.

Lights, shattering, stars falling one by one in a crescendo of colours burning the backs of your eyes, even trying to not look directly out the window.

You’re forced to turn and look, both out of curiosity, and because it seemed pointless since it was so bright anyways.

Hundreds - no, thousands, of burning lights showered down on the distant salt lake. Dark red, like drops of blood in the shower (only far, far swifter), each one coursing through the sky with a sound akin to thunder, making impact and liquifying wherever it hit. The cloudy sky you had fallen from merely hours ago was physically disrupted by the waterfall of blood-red artillery fire.

If you could call… that… artillery. You’d heard reports about the end of your war, a great calamity befalling Elbrus leaving naught but a smoking crater… but this felt even worse than that. Like a dragon had been woken from a slumber, fire beating from it’s ancient chest for the first time in millennia.

What had Akiyama used…?

“Ya-hoooo!! Now THAT’S fuckin’ awesome!” The girl herself screamed aloud, practically wiggling behind her seatbelt. “Fuckin’ hideous, so wonderful and beautiful!”

…maybe now wasn’t the time.

“Ah, Akiyama, Admiral-Sir. You wanted an explanation of—” Ogawa began, before being bluntly shushed by Kiryu.

“Hush. Let her have her fun.” Kiryu spoke cockily, seemingly enjoying her former Boss’s little moment.

You wonder how Lain was rea—

Oh, Gods. She’s still looking at you.

…

The quadcopter finished it’s final approach, landing softly and quietly on the helipad of the skyscraper.

It’d taken a few hours - and one rather excitable Admiral - to reach the place that Akiyama was apparently ordered to bring Lain for extraction. Not exactly the most close point to the AO, but you’re sure Command has it’s reasons.

The large metal tower was a newer development in the older city of Tébessa, near the Borma Exclusion Zone, and decidedly out of place amongst the far more proper-looking and even Ancient architecture.

All for the sake of ‘progress’, as always, in Syrakhanistan.

Her pet project - and, speaking of Her…

A sight you weren’t sure you’d ever see again struck you as the leaders of the squad began to leave the aircraft (you and Ogawa were on maintenance duty, as well as checking on the pilot) . In the corner of your eye, you saw a single pale-haired woman was relaxing against a wall near the entrance of the helipad, uncharacteristically content as appearances go.

Quite the contrast from the immediate salutes from Colonel and Admiral alike…

…and the sprinting running hug from Iwakura.

“H-hey! Iwakura-san, it hasn’t been that long…!” The First, Warmaster Hazuki, laughed warmly in response to the gratitude from Lain.

“Hazuki-chan~! It’s always too long to see you, you know!” She responded, a more pleasant grin on her face (as compared to the one from earlier). She let go of Hazuki’s broad shoulders, and gave a more proper - if somewhat mocking - salute.

“…well, as long as you’re happy, then so am I, Iwakura-san.” The First said, a small snort of suppressed laughter coming out near the end, luxurious silver hair moving like waves with each slight motion.

She cleared her throat, and approached the Admiral-Colonel pair. “Akiyama-san, it’s been a while.” She greeted them, shaking the smaller girl’s hand. She looked at the Colonel, smiling: “Ah, and… Colonel Kiryu, right? Is Jyubey still giving you the run-around?”

The Colonel shook her head, not wishing to bring the ire of the loud-mouthed Incubator to bear. “Ah, he’s always good, sir. I’m… honoured you remember me.”

“Naturally! We’re all comrades-in-arms, here.” The Warmaster spoke cordially, smiling. “Speaking of which, weren’t there more of you on the aircraft?”

Akiyama nodded, while Lain’s interest perked up, and the Admiral moved to wave us over, yet—

“Ah, I think they’re busy with work in there right now! My apologies.” The Colonel spoke suddenly, interrupting the Admiral.

The entire helipad seemed to freeze in that moment.

Admiral Torresa’s gaze seemed to rapidly move towards Kiryu, her often comedically happy expression swiftly turning to a far darker look, something like that of a predator finding a lone mouse.

Lain, for her part, simply stopped, blinking a few times. Only the smallest flicker of a scowl brushed against her eyebrows, a mere twitch.

Kiryu, for her part, stood firm. You’re unsure why she’s taking the brunt of this for you - after all, Lain could have already killed you half a dozen times over, and the Warmaster had probably already forgotten about you.

You’re… not even surprised by Ogawa’s reaction.

Finally, Hazuki herself stood there, her hair flowing in the wind. Expression stoic, frozen. A pause, before a blink, and a nod.

“I see. Well, it’s… good for them to attend to their duties. Save the grandstanding for the higher-ups, I suppose. A work-ethic we should all aspire to.” Hazuki broke the silence, one of her hands brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

The other hand - well, how you hadn’t noticed is odd, but… She didn’t appear to have the other hand. In her entire other arm’s place was a massive metallic thing. A heavy metallic glove or gauntlet of some kind, reflecting a radiant gold in the Tunisian sun, with claws the size of katanas on each finger.

How…? You could have sworn she hadn’t been wearing that when you touched down on the helipad.

“Well! No matter. I trust your judgement on this, Cornelia-san, since they’re your subordinates.” Hazuki spoke with a light chuckle, her clawed hand waving and gesturing gracefully in the air as she spoke, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Akiyama seemed to have calmed down, expression becoming soft once more, while Lain nodded silently.

“My thanks, Warmaster. It’s been a long day for them, after all. I think a bit of recreational cleaning and boot-polishing is a fine enough reward, rather than chatting niceties with us old folks.” Colonel Kiryu responded, still firmly holding her ground.

+ You owe me for this. + She spoke telepathically to you.

+ I… never asked. + You respond.

+ The fact that you didn’t ask is what makes this even more worrying and favour-requiring, fool… + Kiryu indicated, somehow scowling at you telepathically while keeping a silent straight face.

You nod to nobody in particular, a silent response.

“On that note, I believe the Admiral - ah, I suppose Field Commander is more accurate for the moment - is to debrief you before your return to Jyubey. Myself and Lain will now begin extraction.” Hazuki continued, slowly turning away from Akiyama and Kiryu, alongside the Aircraft, and waving goodbye with her gauntlet-covered arm, while Lain followed suit.

“My personal thanks for all your hard work today. Oh, Lain, do be a dear and say thanks to your rescuers too, eh? Don’t be a stranger, now!” The Warmaster stopped momentarily, giving a warm gesture of thanks and telling Lain to do the same.

“Acknowledgement: my thanks for your assistance this day.” Lain spoke politely, nodding her head, before giving an odd laugh and grabbing the Warmaster’s hand - the Clawed one. This even seemed to surprise Hazuki, who gave a genuine laugh in response to Lain’s affection.

As this occurred, Lain leaned into Hazuki’s ear. You have a talent for reading lips, so you’re surprised when the only thing she says is a single letter:

“W.”

A solemn nod is all Hazuki gives in acknowledgement.

She patted Lain on the head, like one would a dog, before turning once more, waving a human-handed goodbye to the squad, and—

They vanished. No teleportation smoke, no activation signal, nothing. The Warmaster and Lain disappeared, as if never having been there at all.

As you take note of this, you glance around the cabin of the aircraft - and only then do you notice the ever so slight burn mark next to your seat. The smallest, barely noticeable, little thing - but clearly not a bullet hole or from an RPG.

Odd. How deeply odd.

===

ADDENDUM A: Absolution

//

(A month or so later. Aboard the Sixteenth Officio’s Private Military HQ, en route from the Mediterranean to a new heading. Bathroom No. 26, Floor No. 5.)

//

You find yourself washing your hands.

You and your squad had been debriefed and interviewed repeatedly since the Operation’s end. The Field Commander, and the Officio’s own former Warmaster, had apparently been tight-lipped surrounding the operation, initially out of concern for the timeframe involved, but since the Op’s end, she’d merely claimed privilege based on the vague orders from the First Officio, and then proceeded to return to Syrakhanistan and maintained radio silence.

You, Kiryu, and Ogawa attempted to explain the situation - the Witch that had oddly manifested, the Wired Girl who’d been your target, the Glassing of the Salt Lake (something which Jyubey took an EXTREME interest in), and the Warmaster of the First’s curious relationship and reaction to the two other (former) Warmasters.

As per usual, it appeared there was little to no proper communication between Officios, especially between the First Officio and their quote-on-quote ‘equals’ down on Earth. God, the whole process was a bore. Fuck this bureaucratic nonsense.

You don’t know why, but you’ve been waking up earlier and earlier over these past few days since the operation.

“Guilty conscience, perhaps?”

The voice pierces into your head, and you spin rapidly to respond—

“Relaxation: Chill, Mel Anna-san. Eversor of the Sixteenth (although I would disagree with that classification in your case); or perhaps, I would call you Three?” The white-dressed girl tossing her legs side to side from the top of a toilet cubicle spoke, a smirk on her face.

“Asset Iota… Lain Iwakura-sama.” You respond cautiously, bowing your head in respect.

“Just Lain will do, Eversor. No ‘sama’ necessary; my position these days is far more loose and without title, and certainly not worth the courtesy of a Warmaster’s honours.” The girl said, flipping down and landing in a swift motion next to you, right before hopping onto the sink counter.

“…are you here to kill me?” You manage to say, her eyes boring through you.

“Kill you…? Why would I do that?” Lain said. Her voice betrayed what appeared to be genuine curiosity.

You blink a few times, before responding quietly; you know you have to be honest, since she was almost certainly reading your mind. “I… I’m the one responsible for your sister’s demise.”

“…which sister?” Lain responded, cricking her neck with a questioning look.

“Wh-which sister? How many do you have? And how many have DIED?” You reply, somewhat aghast.

“I have several! And how many… Hmm, I dunno. Stopped counting after the second one; only really cared for my first, after all.” Lain spoke, answering each question in quick succession.

You… what? Eh?

“I… I was told that… that she was your youngest sister? Or was it a cousin? Girl with light powers? I was told to avoid others called Iwakura who might seek revenge…” You say diplomatically.

“Oh! Yes. I… barely remember that one. But I know of her; knew of her.” Lain spoke.

She seemed to make a typing action, and what appeared to be some sort of electronic form appeared on the mirrors next to the two of you.

“Let’s see here… Ah, yes, I remember this report! Quite a laugh, actually. KIA ‘in honourable combat’, my ass! Killed by a non-contracted girl using regular human munitions in a one-on-one duel. Disgraceful!” She spoke, a cruel and mocking tone to her words.

She slammed her hands shut, and turned back to you. “However, it certainly reflected well on the killer - I had actually wanted to meet her in person to offer congratulations and perhaps even give her access to an Incubator for contracting, but I was told a certain white-haired demigoddess got to her first.”

She grinned, looking down on you from the counter. “Well! This is a rather good turn of events then, isn’t it? I’d had a hunch when you awoke me that you were somehow related to me by events or some-such, but to think you had Iwakura blood on your hands? Impressive!”

She holds out a hand, smiling.

You’re… deeply puzzled. Concerned, even. You don’t turn down the handshake, mind—

Or, you wouldn’t, if your hand didn’t phase through her hand instantly.

“Eh?” You grunt in bemusement.

“Oh! So that’s how that works!” Lain acts coyly, getting down from the counter.

She walks towards you, and taps the side of your head. Somehow, this does elicit a reaction.

“Yeah, you never went for a full physical check-up after your contract, did you? They sewed your head back on, gave you a touch up, and when you contracted you seemed good as new.” Lain spoke, her finger somehow visibly poking into your eye - painlessly, mind, if rather uncomfortable - from your ear. “However, seems neither you nor they accounted for all your cybernetics that you’d had put in. Cybernetics that have now long since folded into your internal organs, regrowing with magical healing, and essentially being grafted into your biotics.”

You’re not sure how to respond. “So… I’m a Magical Cyborg Girl?”

“Pfft! If you want to call it that, go ahead.” She said, extracting her invasive finger. “Thing is, it allowed me to see you far better than anyone else upon extraction. You’re lit up like a damn Christmas tree to my eyes; so, before we left, I did a little digging of my own.”

Of her own…? Wait—

“Yup - I wasn’t staring aggressively out of any hate or whatever rubbish you thought; I was interfacing with your augments and installing a little something of mine own make.” She spoke cockily. “A little piece of Iwakura is now permanently inside you!”

As if to prove her own point, you watch in horror as one of your own eyes twists in the socket to stare into the mirror, colour changing to match that of Lain’s, blinking, before returning to normal.

“I believe we’re getting distracted.” You manage to say, tearing your gaze away from the cursed vision of yourself.

The illusory Lain claps her hands. “Ah, of course! What I wanted to say if I ever met you, my sister’s killer - was a simple congratulations.” She nods, an impressed look on her face. “A non-contracted individual, even heavily experimented on and trained well, is usually barely a match for a Magical Girl when one faces down dozens, even hundreds - a lone individual killing a Magical Girl in single combat would be laughable to most.”

She gazes into your eyes. “It was a fine kill. You did well, and the Incubators made a good choice in making your contract.”

Even as the words of praise came, all you could feel was an increasing sense of horror. “But… she was your sister…?”

“And? What difference does that make? She was weaker than you, which makes you better than her.” Lain says, smiling. “As I’m sure you’re fully aware by this point in your illustrious career, we live in a world defined by survival of the fittest. The weak die; the strong prevail. I told you myself before - killing is not a good act, but it is through death that people like myself gain more and more. A necessary evil, something I take no pleasure in, but something I recognise as a tool to be used.”

Lain nodded, an illusory hand brushing your cheek in a prideful manner. “You killed one with the Iwakura’s blood, on her home turf while serving as a Marine no less - and without any magical abilities. You are a wonderful, definitive example of my beliefs.”

You gaze back into those eyes, your own horrified expression reflected in them.

“…your thoughts betray your revulsion towards my opinion.” Lain said, seemingly disappointed. “But that’s fine. Given your background, I had somewhat hoped for a kindred spirit, unified in our love for the mechanical and the battlefield… but such is life.”

You shake your head to this. “I may love the thrill of the fight, and I may enjoy the benefits of my augmentations - not least now because my Contracted body lets me use them without any downsides - but I still have respect for familial ties. Those who I once called family were taken from me; those I used to call comrades were butchered, some of whom fell at the hands of those I now find myself allied with. I do not forgive, and I most certainly do not forget - Iwakura-SAMA.”

Lain observed your expression, determined as it was, before harrumphing somewhat dramatically. “You do you then, EVERSOR.”

She began to wave goodbye, before stopping and turning back to you again. “Wait, I completely forgot the whole reason why I wanted to talk to you!”

You pause in your disparaging stare. “Which was…?”

“Twofold. A message and a warning.” Lain said, raising two digital fingers in response. “Your Officio may not know about your unauthorised usage of Astropathic abilities to find the Artificial Witch, but myself and certain others most certainly did.”

“Artificial…? So it was—”

“Yes, yes. Call it a [REDACTED]-special. Even in their little quandary they continue to fight against, they do occasionally fulfil their obligations and tithes.” Lain speaks casually of the abomination you fought. “I deployed it following my… unfortunate capture… to protect my incarcerated remains.”

“How DID you get captured, anyway?” You manage to interject.

Lain waves a hand, while suppressing a giggle with the other. “Classified. But let’s just say it involves a few too many drinks on the wrong train ride, and leave it at that…”

That… doesn’t even remotely explain it.

“Anyways! I could have taken out the insurgents and other combatants myself, but I was without decent transportation - and, frankly, I was feeling a bit bummed out. Lazy, perhaps.” Lain spoke casually.

You flinch a little, suppressing an instant thought of mocking at her lackadaisical attitude, hoping she didn’t take note of your mental admonishment.

“Getting back on track. While I understand that you and your comrade were getting frustrated, you would have figured it out eventually; my humble opinion would disparage your usage, were it not for Ogawa’s clever dispelling of the Door mechanism on my bunker-capsule… and if not for your own other visions within your momentary lapse of judgement. That part in particular I took note of when looking back at your memories through this—” she taps the side of her head “—somewhat disruptive format.”

You recall it vaguely in tandem with Lain. Visions seen while floating atop the waves of the damned dimension of endless energy, searching for an answer to your prediction. Visions of flame and laughter.

“I didn’t report that particular part to any of my own comrades, and I have no doubt you didn’t either.” Lain comes to a stop.

“Why? You can understand why I wouldn’t have done so in a pragmatic sense - but why wouldn’t you?” You bleat out, to which Lain responds with a satisfied nod of acknowledgement.

“Allow me to be frank - something bad is on the horizon. Something related to why I’m seen as such a classified and important asset… something you’ve witnessed even a slice of.” Lain speaks quietly, looking over her shoulders for unseen intruders.

You narrow your gaze in suspicion. “Like what?”

Lain looks back at you. “A Witch the calibre of witch is only seen once every few centuries or so. Something one could accurately call… A Calamity.”

Calamity… What, like from—

“Exactly.” She says, clearly reading your mind. “You witnessed a mere fraction of the hell it brings with it; I’d estimate we have… about a year, given my own calculations.”

“…why are you telling me this?”

“Honestly? To get you to tell others.” Lain spoke frankly. “My humble opinion is only shared by a few others in my, ahem, escalated ranking. Luckily for me, some of the ones that really matter are on my side. But we also don’t want to… how do I say - disrupt the balance?”

You’re… not sure how to interpret that, except as...

“So… you want me to do something?” You work out.

Lain snaps her fingers. “Pretty much. Nothing too drastic, no names, no shouting in a crowded cinema. My people and I will be doing the same with various other inroads, but people on the ground floor - so to speak - tend to help spread bottom-level info faster.”

“So I risk charges of spreading unfounded rumours and getting people riled up at the prospect of a mythical and ancient enemy returning, in return for…?” You ask.

“For keeping your life, dipshit.” Lain snarls back, expression changing on a dime, before switching back to that single horrifying grin you saw back in her bunker. “By all accounts the unauthorised usage of your ability as explicitly banned by your higher ups AND THEIR OWN HIGHER UPS should bring the hammer down on you, no questions asked. Your life continues solely at my, and by extension my allies, convenience and express permission. Should you try anything dumb, like trying to reveal my involvement, or besmirching the good name of the Officios administrative apparatus, or so much as look funny at the wrong Rank Leader, and Most Holy help me, I’ll heat your cybernetics up so hot and so fast the ensuing detonation wouldn’t even leave your ashes for burial.”

You initially flinch, before nodding in understanding. “Honestly… not even surprised.”

Lain laughed at this. “You shouldn’t be! Your little life has gotten pretty used to accepting death as a penalty for misbehaviour, hasn’t it?”

You nod, sadly. “Probably isn’t good for the ol’ noggin though, is it? That type of stress?”

Lain actually groans at this in agreement. “Ugh! You’re telling me; there’ve been petitions for at least some sort of basic Inter-Officio counselling network for DECADES now, let alone actual Magical therapists… Trying to explain the concept of mental health to the Incubators is like trying to squeeze lemonade from an orange. It took us YEARS to even get permission for Inter-Officio Postal Services; hell, the cross-Officio digital communications system is still barely functional…”

You giggle at this, a moment of brevity in the dark. “Not so inhuman then after all…?”

Lain scoffs. “Don’t be silly; it’s just all too inefficient for Mahou Shoujo to be blowing their brains out instead of dying in battle or Witching out properly. Efficient oiling of the cogs of bureaucracy was indeed the thing that finally got the Incubators to give us what little healthcare they do provide…”

You laugh again at this.

“…But we digress. My request is simple: spread rumours of an apocalyptic disaster being relatively imminent. Back it up with vague hints of prophecy; a bit of Blessed Lady spice never hurt anyone - and in this case will probably do the opposite.” Lain nods, satisfied with how the conversation was progressing. “I can’t offer solid rewards currently, so it might seem like I’m offering all stick and no carrot, but allow me to promise you that having me in your good books will bring you benefits at some point along the line… If you live that long, mind.”

You nod, performing a mock salute. “I accept your orders, Iwakura-san.”

Iwakura chuckles, lightly tapping your shoulder with a friendly (if incorporeal) nudge. “Hey, you’re just as much Iwakura material as any of my cohort these days, especially with the amount of firmware I put into you.”

“Speaking of which,” Lain continues, “you’ll probably sleep better now. Sorry - my interference in your head was probably what was ACTUALLY keeping you up.”

You’d surmised as much. “Lain-san, I’m assuming that whole spiel was the warning part - but what was your message?”

Lain smiled. “Oh, that one’s more simple. Your benefactor just wanted me to let you know, ahem…”

She cleared her throat, before putting on a decent impression of a certain woman’s imperious and impenetrable demeanour.

“‘You’re not too subtle, are you? Keep at it - we’ll have a chance to talk without interference one of these days.’, is what she said. Presumably in reference to your little ‘hiding and cleaning’ routine you did on the helipad.”

You remember it well. She continues:

“Seriously, you and your boss were lucky Akiyama-chan didn’t blow a damn gasket. She gets REALLY annoyed at people disrupting her dramatic moments; she wanted to reveal you and Ogawa, the stars of the hour, all dramatic-like - but Cornelia-san trod all over her neat little plan.” Lain rattled off in an almost list-like manner.

“Apparently she wasn’t always like that…” You murmur, mostly to yourself. Lain catches on, and nods.

“Yeah… anyways; suffice to say, everyone most definitely DID notice you and Ogawa’s little schtick, but only Akiyama was really frustrated. The Warmaster of the First was mostly just saddened she didn’t get to chat to you for the first time since your little fateful encounter - and she also wanted to personally praise Ogawa for that neat little trick. Even implied to me later that there’s a promotion in the works for that quick-thinking…”

Lain’s train of thought trails off, as she seems to tap her chin while thinking aloud.

“Ah! Anyways, I’m keeping you too long. Don’t want any of your new friends thinking you’re any more loony than you actually are, right?” Lain cackled. “Just remember - spread the word of the End Times, know that both myself and your Guardian Angel stroke mysterious benefactor are still in your corner, and that we WILL blow your head up into little pieces if you fuck up.”

You nod graciously. “I’m… aware, Iwakura-sam.”

As Lain motions to ‘leave’ (a superfluous action given her digital state), you hold up a hand. “Also… for what it’s worth…” You begin. “I might not agree with your motivations, but I am thankful that you’re not full of wrath at my killing of your sister. I make no apology nor request for absolution - but you still have my condolences none the less.”

Lain shrugged. “Think nothing of it; I already consider the matter closed - and besides, this is more a case of recycling!”

You cock your head in bemusement as Lain chuckles.

“I’ll make an Iwakura out of you yet, Three-chan~” The girl sing-songs mockingly, before throwing herself into the sink’s mirror and vanishing into a puff of smoke.

You say, as if she’s not still actively in your head.

How odd.

===

//

ADDENDUM B: Sleepwalker

//

(Personal log. Dated only a few days after the operation. Location confirmed to be government black-site Project Sleepwalker, near Dyvasyab in the proximity of the Damavand Volanic Power Facility.)

//

The Fourth Officio always did share Quartus’ flare for the dramatic.

Those were your first thoughts as you descended once more to Terra, this time by the more traditional route that singed your senses with the stench of burned ozone and fried synapses. As much as you’d ‘prefer’ (something you hesitate to think, given that your little trick certainly had caveats) to take your personal shortcut over this stomach-churning and blunt method of transmission…

There was a certain formality necessary for things like this. And besides - the Fourth, and Iwakura-san, DID seem particularly proud of it’s seeming impenetrable nature. You wouldn't want to insult their fine work by demonstrating how easily someone with your calibre of training could find a way in.

You find yourself thrown through the Immaterium from the cold comfort of Luna into a machine-like but beautifully decorated interior, golden mechanical cogs twisting and turning inside tubes of clear shining crystal, a marble floor encrusted with gems glowing and humming with electrical currents.

“WELCOME, [GUEST]. IDENTIFY IF YOU PLEASE OR RISK INSTANT OBLITERATION.” A tannoy declared loudly, if politely.

“Authorisation Override Code: Mike-Iota-Kilo-Alpha-One.” You respond with well-rehearsed diction.

“OVERRIDE CODE CONFIRMED. GUEST VISIT: DELETED. WELCOME, #*#^',^*#*^[#**#^}”, the tannoy responded, the last segment being static-filled gibberish.

Rules were rules, after all. The Warmaster of the First Officio never left Luna except in the most dire circumstances, or with express Incubator permission - something which was increasingly difficult to get a hold of. Officially, you were currently currently performing routine maintenance as part of ceremonial training - unofficially, everyone was covering for you while you took a moment of respite. Extra unofficially, your Equerry was covering for you while you investigated a particularly concerning report from an old friend.

“W.”, she had said. That single letter still sent shivers down your spine. Even the strongest of soldiers should never forget their sense of fear; even you could still hold respect for the Witch of Witches from yore.

However, it was the small gesture as she held your hand prior to activation of the Shortcut, the few taps of Morse Code onto your grasp, that brought you down to Terra on this most unpleasant of days.

You move through a basic foyer (basic by Fourth standards - so gold, jewelled, and absolutely plastered with wiring and metal cogs), ignoring the occasional look from menials and servo-bots alike, and press a hand (the correct hand, that is) to a panel next to a flat plane of glass. A whirring motion occurs, indicating yet another identity scan - yet another thing to scrub from the records - before the glass slides open with a soft whumph, revealing a solid silver tube with only a single glass sheet as a door-stroke-window. An elevator.

You begin your descent. Several hundred metres underground, beneath dirt, beneath an active volcano, beneath DOZENS levels of dense tungsten, steel, and Most-Holy-knows what other protective materials. It had been worth the cost to build this surveillance black-site, for several rather pressing reasons. National security for your little pet project of an empire-slash-abomination, international decryption protocols, backups of all digital data across 200-odd nations... Even the Incubators from all Twenty-

Wait, no. You forget yourself... Not Twenty anymore. Eighteen? Or was it Seventeen, following the Ninth's little war?

Either way, the whole Officio system had their own little chunk of processing power for itself in this towering feat of engineering, the Fourth more than any other (mostly since your own First didn't exactly need the extra space, given how deep Luna's pockets continued to go)... And, of course, the girl it was all hooked-up to held the lion's share. The girl who other nations' interference seemed to indicate an actual artificial intelligence planning the economy and suggesting national policy - a rumour you'd allowed to run rampant and even leaned into, since the alternative was perhaps even worse.

As the elevator descended further and further in, the glass revealed floor after floor of massive server farms; all humming ominously, chittering away to one another in binary. Servers of every kind; military-grade, prototype cloud storage, supercomputers, quantum computers, even an entire floor dedicated to experimental biological interfaces (live subjects included). An endless chasm of machines, all bending to that girl’s will, her every beck and call.

She deserved it, honestly. She'd... She was a good one; a miserable existence, rumoured to be a near-deity for those who spent too long on certain sites, and certainly an object of impressive praise. The only known Mahou Shoujo to have contracted with an Incubator over the Internet rather than in person - to rather obvious and extreme effect, such so that policy henceforth changed to ban it outright.

The elevator reaches it's final destination, glass sheet flowing open to reveal a dark grey corridor, filled with wires, plugs, random open digital interfaces...

You tread carefully through to the simple wooden entrance at the end, making a mental note to lightly disparage Lain for this firehazard accident waiting to happen.

The plain wooden doors swung open with the slightest push, revealing what appeared to be a simple garden full of trees, plants and flowers; a greenhouse, with the occasional flutter of butterflies.

Iwakura-san, Lain, still liked to pretend to be human. Even just a little.

Flesh wires, like a flower, or perhaps a wedding dress, all flowing out from behind her. Slowly but surely, she turned around to face you, making sure none of her wires damaged her precious little slice of Eden down beneath the machines.

"Thank you for coming, Warmaster-sama." Lain bowed - or, at least, made the attempt. The heavy weight of machines plugged into her made it somewhat difficult.

"Please, Lain-chan. Hazuki is fine. I think we're beyond the point of formalities, no?" You sigh breathlessly, exaggerated for effect, to which Lain responds with a light chuckle. "So, Lain. We have a few avenues for discussion, I believe?"

Lain nodded, motioning towards another set of doors - this one far more ornate and heavyset. "First, I should probably apologise for that whole mess."

"Nonsense! It made for a good training exercise for the knuckle-draggers; it also helped to visually demonstrate to Itchy the usefulness of the National project and the CONTACT Act." You laugh the concern aside. "However, I would like at least a summary explanation as to how you found yourself on the salty remains of Lake T'Chad?"

"Ah, that's... a funny story." She begins. 'A funny story that cost quite a few lives, you think to yourself'; the inefficiency of the operation still irked you, not the least because of Lain's admittedly understandable lax attitude. "I had been stationed within my mobile command centre--"

[SECTION CORRUPTED - CONTINUING FROM NEXT AVAILABLE SEGMENT]

"--explain the caterpillar farm...?" You respond, exasperated. She shrugs at this, a cheeky grin on her face.

The massive security tunnel finally ended, and the two of you exited the travelator, as the massive gates to Lain's digital sanctuary swung open.

The core of Project Sleepwalker - the culimation of humanity's surveillance technology and a monument to security paranoia - was a near-endless vacuum-sealed silo, stretching into the abyss from above as below. Lain's personal equipment slid into several interfaces automatically, practically autonomously, as the mechanism surrounding the small shelter she'd built herself came to life.

Lain's 'house', as she liked to call it, consisted of a single elevated metal platform with a small fridge, a flat but comfy futon, a worn-out wardrobe, and a central column connected to both ends of the Sleepwalker silo. The platform (essentially an elevator inside the world's largest elevator shaft) activated the entire system, the silo coming to life with a surprisingly quiet hum, lighting up from every corner with tens of thousands of digital screens.

You both knew what this was. The Panopticon of Jeremy Bentham had reached the apex of it's limits, and the world had become the inmates. Every single digital camera, every single internet-connected device, cell tower, CCTV, basic flip-phone, text message, radio broadcast... all of it accessible with a few button presses.

Lain rested her back against the central pillar, connected her final set of modems up, and the mechanical shelter began to descend as she commenced her search.

"Which news would you like first?" She spoke aloud, ignoring the cacophony of gears and digital interference.

"The bad news, preferably?" You respond. Peel the whole 'Laughing Apocalypse' plaster off before it begins to rot.

"Oki-dokey!" Lain says, lifting an arm to swing herself around, the platform following suit. The lift slowed to a halt, allowing it to face a particularly unusual set of screens. Numbers and symbols of long-forgotten languages scrolled by endlessly.

"The predictive technology of Sleepwalker, part of which had been involved in my little adventure, managed to hit a particularly juicy vein of intel. Bit weird, bit odd, bit bulky, but certainly juicy." She explains, fingers reaching out to brush against the screens, touching the occasional Witch-rune. Patterns began to be highlighted.

"Where is this all coming from?" You query. She sighs. "Surprisingly easy to access, but rather straining to understand... It's predominantly accessing and reviewing a rather select array of weather and radiostropic reports, including archived sources without digital versions that required extra interference. I combined this with our own Astropathic and Orbital equipment scanning for certain repeating signals, different waves, occasional spots of, to be frank, WEIRDNESS - all while attempting to seperate any possible interruption spreading from the Egg that could disrupt the results of my scans, and while avoiding other Officio suspicions, particularly those with Akashic Gates that I had to access or study." She finishes her arm-waving movements, and brings together a single pile of results onto one of the screens. A mass of migraine-inducing runes, all slowly being auto-translated.

"While this is obviously subject to... interpretation... Your command has born fruit. The analysis seems to indicate that within a year or two, the ancient Stage-Constructing Witch, Walpurgisnacht, the Laughing Apocalypse, is returning from a centuries-long slumber in the Akashic Realm. Where, I cannot say - rather concerningly, I'm getting results as far afield as Australia, the Antarctic, even one or two suggesting a spawn on Mars of all places." She declared with equal measures pride and horror. "If it's any consolation, most of the other searches you requested of me didn't come up with the same results; and most of the ones that DID are either accounted for (Luna), contained (Paris), or eliminated throughout history prior to your promotion."

"Walpurgisnacht..." You sound out to yourself. A terrifying prospect.

To you, even more than most.

However, her change in tone with the last few statements caught your interest. "Most... but not all?" You ask.

Lain nodded from behind her computer. "Yes. That's the other news - good news... maybe. I'm STILL not quite sure I understand your request, but... Well, it's better to show you."

A few taps of buttons, and the shelter-lift was moving once more, rising rapidly, up and up, until it reached another set of screens - these ones more obviously CCTV footage.

"As my little message to you tapped out..." Lain began, as you stared at the screens.

You... stared. There was no mistake.

'The Sleepwalker has Awoken'. The code Lain had tapped to you.

Your left eye quivers, squints a bit. A nervous reaction.

You clench a single metallic fist.

And--

You let go. Just for a millisecond.

That's all you could allow. It rapidly flows, inwards and outwards; the cacophony of electricity briefly went silent in response, the silo going dark for a small moment. Inside Lain's fridge, what sounded like a soda can popped.

You breathe in, and out. Lain manages to unplug herself, and stands to look at you. "Hazu... Hazuki? Warmaster? Are you... alr--"

"I am fine, Lain. Apologies... You've had a lot on your plate, particularly from me." You whisper calmly, delicately. Your words as honey, your actions as sublime gestures of goodwill.

"I... Yes, I have." She responds robotically, frozen like a statue.

"Thank you for your work. Unfortunately, this particular find didn't turn out to be anything significant." You explain slowly.

"No, it didn't. Shall I delete it, since it was so irrelevant?" She answers.

"No need, Lain. There's nothing there anyway - just some boring CCTV footage. No need for alarm." You state.

"Of course. It'll go with the rest, since there's nothing of interest there." She accepts your request, sweeping it aside lethargically.

You return to your regular demeanour. "Thanks for all that, Lain! Your predictions for Walpurgisnacht may well save thousands, if not more, of lives."

"What... Wal- Oh, yes! Thank you, Hazuki. I honestly couldn't have done it without your input, based on your reviews of the historical archives." Lain chatters, back to her usual self.

"I will bring what data you have on Walpurgisnacht back up to Luna with me; be sure to respond if and when I ask over the coming days. We have a lot to discuss." You smile, before turning away from her, putting a single hand through your hair absentmindedly.

"Of course. The First Prevails, always!" Lain cheers you on. "And only in death..."

"...does duty end. I'll be on my way - could you help me find the exit?" You respond.

...

Lain waves at you from behind the elevator's glass doors, as they smoothly close up.

The elevator begins to ascend, and you take a breath for a moment, before moving your--

[SECTION CORRUPTED - CONTINUING FROM NEXT AVAILABLE SEGMENT]

--found yourself in your Earth-bound Government Council Chambers, high above the busy skies of Neo-Kirkukihara. You lie back into your designated "Supreme Leader" chair with a soft and comfortable flop. You were glad you'd found this nice design and had it imported a while back.

It was ever so comfortable on your back, especially when the weight of the world found itself resting on your shoulders.

You suppress a laugh at the absurdity of it all. The mockery.

Fucking fantastic. Just fucking amazing.

As you flick open your battered old flip-phone, the one reserved for a few singular purposes, you find yourself unable to see the humour in the situation. Indeed, you could barely see the phone or the keypad behind the flashes of those single CCTV screens of something, someONE, that you never wished to see again. Thought would never come through. Or... You don't even...

And as you begin to type out a few small texts to an even smaller number of contacts, the only thing you do feel is an utterly horrifying sense of dread. A sense of genuine paranoia.

A feeling of pure, unadulterated rage, hate, and - most of all - malice.

An emotion of unbridled, twisted and cruel vehemence that could only be described accurately in a single word:

'Evil'.

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