A/N: To anyone still reading this story, I apologize for the very, very, very long delay. I plan on updating this story on an irregular basis, and I still plan on finishing this story…eventually.

And without further ado, let the story continue…


If There's Something Strange, Who You're Gonna Call? [1]

Just outside the Morrison Home…

The black-and-white police car slid to a stop next to the curb just outside the suburban home. Two police officers then stepped out of it. One was tall and thin with a pleasantly polite look on his face that revealed everything and nothing at once, and the other was short and stocky with a perpetual frown on his.

"I'm telling you, of all the weird things I've heard over the years, this has got to take the cake," the short officer grumbled.

"Oh, I don't know. There might've been stranger things that've happened," the tall officer pointed out.

"Hah! What can you think of that's crazier than someone saying they were kidnapped by magic sorcerers with magic…magic?" the shorter officer finished, on a much lamer note than he'd intended.

"Remember what Mrs. Peabody did to Mrs. Dunkelman's poor cat with a garden hose, a banana, and a rubber chicken?"

The short officer paused mid-step in thought. "Okay, that might do it. Jesus, that was one crazy old lady. She tried to bite my ear off when I was arresting her, you remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I remember. You still have the scars from that. I didn't know anyone could bite that hard with just dentures."

The short officer unconsciously reached up to the broken lines of pink–spaced equally apart and following a crescent-shaped path–on his left ear, and then shuddered. "Okay yeah, weird things just happen. Let's just get the weirdness over with quickly so we can go back to the non-weird things."

At the door, the tall officer knocked three times in a very polite manner. "Hello, this is the police. Hello? Somebody called?"

"Oh, for crying out loud," the short officer muttered. "Are you a policeman or a boy scout?"

"Well, I was a boy scout in middle school. They taught me that 'A boy scout will always endeavor to be polite. It costs nothing, and gains everything'," the tall officer recited, as though he were reading off an imaginary boy scout's pamphlet in front of him.

The short officer rolled his eyes in disbelief, and then proceeded to knock on the door again. Only it was less knocking and more like banging as hard as he could.

"Hey, open up! We got a kidnapping report here, and if nobody opens up in five seconds, I'll-"

The door then suddenly swung open, revealing a young woman with auburn hair standing in the doorway. Her hair was wet and her clothes seemed to be on the moist side, suggesting that she'd just gotten out of the bath. Either that, or this place had an indoor swimming pool.

"Ah, gentlemen. I have to say, this is the first time I've ever been this glad to see a policeman in my life," the woman said in a faint British accent, and with a small smile.

"Well, it's nice to know that we can make people happy to see us, madam," the tall officer replied warmly. "Now, what's this about a kidnapping here?"

"Ah, yes. We've already have the perpetrators subdued and awaiting arrest inside."

The two officers gave each other a look before looking back at the auburn woman.

"Thank you for saving us the trouble, ma'am," the tall officer said politely.

"Yeah, yeah, good citizen's arrest and all. There was something about a kidnapping?" the short officer asked gruffly.

The auburn woman nodded. "Yes. Would you kindly follow me now?"

The two officers followed her into the house, where they ended up in a living room with three teenage boys tied up on a sofa and two other young women–one blonde and the other brunette–guarding them with-

"Hey, hey, hey! Put down that knife and bat, okay?" the short officer said to the women, one hand reaching towards his holstered pistol. "We don't want anyone getting hurt here."

The two women immediately dropped their improvised weapons.

"Sorry, officers," the blonde woman apologized sheepishly. "We were using those in case they, ah, tried to escape or attack. You know how it is with teenage boys."

The short officer took one look at the plastic zip ties binding the boys' arms and legs together. "I'd say the chances of that are somewhere between "Never" and "I could, but it'd be very difficult and likely involve a lot of pain," he said.

"Hey, when you're dealing with magic, you can never be too careful. Like in those stories where some robbers try to rob a helpless woman alone on the road, only to get their asses handed to them when she turns out to be a witch? Yeah, you're better off safe than sorry when magic is involved," the blond woman said cheerfully.

The short officer carefully went poker-faced at that comment. You had to be careful dealing with the crazies. There's no telling what they'd do if you accidently poked a hole in their little fantasy world.

"Right then," the tall officer said pleasantly and politely before pulling out a notepad and pen. "I will need statements from each of you on what exactly has happened, and that will be including you boys-" The tall officer then peered closely at one of the boys: the black-haired one that looked like he would've been right at home in Transylvania talking about 'vanting to suck blud' if not for the fact that he was trembling so much that he looked like a one-man earthquake.

"Alan?" asked the tall officer incredulously.

Alan Morrison looked up at the officer and smiled nervously. "Hi, Carrot," he said with a nervous giggle.

Officer "Carrot" raised an incredulous eyebrow to match his incredulous tone. "You do realize that you and your friends are being accused of kidnapping, right? You're not helping your cause here."

The boy sitting next to Alan, the orange-haired one Officer "Carrot" knew as Argus McAlistair, opened his mouth. "But we didn't, I mean, we sort of did, but we didn't mean to-"

"Do you know these young men, constable?" the auburn-head woman asked suddenly.

"That I do, Miss," Officer "Carrot" pointed a pen straight at Alan. "That is Alan Morrison, one of the people living here and also the Chief's kid. The other two are Argus McAlistair and Robert Fuller, both here on student visas from the UK. It's kind of a funny story. You see, they-"

"Hold it, hold it!" shouted the short officer. "This is all very interesting, but we got a call about a goddamned kidnapping here, so I really want to get to the bottom of this right here, right now, okay!?"

Officer "Carrot" nodded. "Right, I believe that's in all our best interests. Now, if you three ladies would be so kind as to state your names for us, please?"

The auburn woman nodded. "Very well, may I start, Officer…should I call you Ferguson or "Carrot"?" she asked, looking at his nametag.

Officer "Carrot" Ferguson flashed a perfect Good Cop smile at the auburn woman. "Either one will do, miss. Now, your name, if you please?"

"Very well, then. My name is Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke. I am-"

"Uh, hold on. Could you please spell your name out for me for the record?" Ferguson asked.

"Oh. Of course. M-I-N…"

A few minutes later, Ferguson finished with: "…C-K-E. Alright, now what were you saying?"

Minna cleared her throat. "As I was saying, I am an Oberstleutnant in the Luftwaffe of the Empire of Karlsland, JG 53, Wing Commander in the United Nations Joint Armed Forces, and commander of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing."

"-commander of the 501st joint fighter wing," Ferguson said quietly, pen scratching on his notepad. "Now will you two tell me your names?"

"Gertrud Barkhorn," the brunette belted out, as though she was addressing a superior officer. "Hauptmann of the Luftwaffe, Jagdgeschwader Zweiundfünfzig. Currently assigned to the 501st Joint Fighter Ving as a Flight Leutnant."

"I'm Erica Hartmann," the blonde said with an air of casualness that seemed a bit too casual. "Oberleutnant, Luftwaffe. Flying Officer, 501st Joint Fighter Wing. Oh, and I'm Ursula Hartmann's older sister. You know, the world famous striker technician? So you know, close relative of minor celebrity and all? Jog your memory?"

The short officer had to restrain himself to avoid giving a barrage of incredulous looks to Ferguson, who had remained silent the whole time save for clarifications on spelling. The short officer had to content himself with stepping out of the room for a moment to quietly call for another squad car. Or two.

And when the shorter officer finally returned, he had to restrain himself some more.

"So let me get this straight," Ferguson said as he finished writing down the last pertinent details of the women's rather…unusual story. "All three of you are…witches? Serving in the military of…Carl's Land? And you're fighting aliens called…New-roy?"

"Yeah…Mister…Slow…Officer," Erica intoned, prompting Gertrud to smack her on the back of her head.

"Don't mind her, offizier. She is a…difficult person to be around," Gertrud said apologetically.

"Will that be all, officer?" Minna asked politely.

"Not yet, ma'am. I would like to hear these boys' stories first. So, how about you, Alan?" Ferguson asked pleasantly, then frowned when no answer was forthcoming. "Alan?"

"Hu-whazza-wha?"

"Alan? May I have your and your roommates' story here?" Ferguson asked again.

"Um, well, there was a…a…book," Alan finished lamely.

"A book?"

"Yeah, it was like this spell book thing!" Argus shouted. "It was covered in leather and stuff, and Latin! It was in Latin! And it bloody worked!"

"Nooo!" Alan moaned. "I didn't want this to happen!"

"-in Hogwarts outfits! We did it in bloody Hogwarts outfits!" Argus continued with all the exuberance of an overeager child.

"Can everyone calm down, please?" Ferguson asked in his best Good Cop voice.

"Magic! Magic! We did magic!" Argus continued yelling like a kindergartener with too much sugar in the tank.

"Wait, where's the book?" Alan asked suddenly, looking around in growing panic. "Has anyone seen the book? Where's the book?"

"Woo! We're magicians!" Argus whooped, completely unaware of what Alan just said.

"Uh, people? Could you all calm down? Please?" Ferguson asked in a hopeful tone, the Good Cop voice being lost in the din.

It was at that moment that Robert, who'd been quiet this entire time, finally Snapped.

"WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!?"

Robert's fury echoed around the room, reverberating until it had finally lost the energy to continue. Everyone uncovered their ears, in particular the two girls, who let out a collective sigh as the sound finally died and ceased its assault on their sensitive ears.

"There now, that's better," Robert said calmly. "Now officers, let me explain what'd-wait, where's the blonde?"

"Huh, so this is the book? Looks really old, and yucky. Hey, is this Latin?"

All eyes turned to the blond girl named Erica Hartmann, who appeared to be trying to read a sodden leather-bound book whole holding it in such a way that the least amount of her fingers was coming into contact with it as humanly possible.

"That's it!" Alan said, making a move for it.

It was most unfortunate that a puddle of water on the floor just happened to be in between Alan's foot and the floor.

As Alan sailed towards Erica like a cannonball, she reflexively tossed the book to Gertrud to keep Alan from getting it. Gertrud, being completely surprised by the move, did the most natural thing that came to her when confronted with a largish object being thrown towards her: swat it aside.

And so she did, unconsciously activating her powers at the same time. The unfortunate book practically exploded as it met a forearm being swung with the force and solidity of a crowbar, backed by muscles enriched and reinforced with magic energy.

"Wow, now that was an old book," Ferguson noted as the remains of the book splattered all over the floor.

"Or a very strong arm," the shorter officer noted, eyeing the brunette with caution.

All this was interrupted by the sound of sirens outside as two more police cruisers slid in next to the parked cruiser. By now, the neighbors were all heading outside, many still in their nightclothes, to see what was going on.

"Oh, good. Backup's arrived," the shorter officer announced cheerfully. "Alright, everyone out and into the cars. You boys will get into one car, and you girls will get into another."

Minna gave the officers a troubled look. "Excuse me, Officer…De Luca, but are we under arrest?"

"Oh, no, no, no. You're not," De Luca said calmingly…or tried his best at any rate. "We're just, uh, bringing all of you down to the station for some proper questioning on what happened, that's all. I mean, these three aren't exactly coherent, you see, and your own stories are…"

"What?"

"What my colleague is trying to say is that it's standard procedure for kidnapping victims to take statements in the station," Ferguson said quickly, cutting off De Luca before he could make himself even more suspicious. "As a military officer, you must also understand why we must go through proper procedure with everything."

For some reason, Minna winced. Ferguson also noticed the other two girls wince, and wondered what nerve he'd hit.

"Alright. We'll go," Minna said quietly, giving a "Follow me" gesture to the other girls.

The three boys and the three girls were a study in contrast as they were led outside by the police officers. The boys were looking down at their respective feet, trying to avoid the looks from their neighbors as they got into one of the waiting police cruisers. The girls, on the other hand, marched in perfect lockstep, like soldiers on parade. They stepped into the police cruiser the same way.

"Huh. They really think they're soldiers, don't they?" Ferguson said as he stepped into the driver's seat of his and De Luca's police cruiser.

De Luca responded by making a looping motion over his head with his index finger: the American gesture for "He's (or in this case: they're) out of his goddamn mind!"

"Well, if they're going to be unreliable at best, at least we have Alan and the boys. As soon as they calm down, at least," Ferguson said as he gave a look at the rear-view mirror, reflecting the image of the three boys looking dejected in the back seat of the police cruiser.

De Luca suddenly gave a shudder. "Ugh, that reminds me. Someone has to tell the chief that his kid is being accused of kidnapping three teenage girls. Three wacko teenage girls, sure, but still three teenage girls."

Ferguson's face froze in a rictus of horror for a moment before it returned to neutrality. "I don't suppose you could do it?" Ferguson asked hopefully.

"Nuh-uh! Nooo way! You're the Good Cop here. You're better at this than me. You tell the chief. You know where he's staying for his honeymoon, right? Somewhere in California or something?"

"Yeah, I have his number for his hotel in Santa Barbara. I'll make the call at the station," Ferguson said as he finally started the police cruiser. "At the very least, the drive will give me time to prepare. I think I'll need it."


501st Joint Fighter Wing Headquarters

Pescara, Romagna

Squadron Leader Mio Sakamoto walked into the briefing room, and was greeted by a tense atmosphere so thick you could slice pieces off and spread it on your morning toast. Undeterred, Mio walked up to the podium and looked over her audience.

On her left near the front were Flight Lieutenant Charlotte Elwyn Yeager–otherwise known as Shirley–and Flying Officer Francesca Lucchini. In contrast to their usual relaxed mode, both of them wore serious expressions on their faces. Mio had seen Shirley with that kind of expression before, but this was the first she'd seen the usually happy-go-lucky Lucchini with that face, and she wondered just how badly affected by the Karlsland Trio's disappearance the young Romagnan was.

Sitting on the table to her right were Flying Officer Perrine-Henriette Clostermann and Maggiore Carmine Serafini da Messina. The former was a familiar sight to Mio, but the latter's presence was one that rarely graced this room. Carmine's craggy and tanned face was a stark contrast to Perrine's grace and beauty, as was the Romagnan's calm and controlled expression versus the Gallian's nervousness.

Sitting on the table behind Shirley and Francesca were Flight Sergeant Lynette Bishop and Sergeant Yoshika Miyafuji. They weren't newbies anymore, but they were still young and naïve compared to everyone else, and it showed on their faces. They looked completely out of their depths, but were clearly worried about the disappearances of their commander and wingmates.

Sitting behind Perrine and Carmine were Flying Officer Eila Ilmatar Juutilainen and Flying Officer Aleksandra Vladimirovna Litvyak, also known as Sanya by the rest of the squadron, who'd had her routine night patrol cancelled due to the present emergency. In addition, sitting on Eila's shoulder was Merja Seppänen: the tonttu that accompanied Eila when she first came to the 501st and had been continuing to do so since then. All three of them wore serious expressions, though the former two seemed to always have serious expressions so there wasn't much of an apparent difference now. Merja's serious face though, in contrast to her usual roguish grin, emphasized how serious the situation was.

Mio cleared her throat and began. "Now that we're all here, let's begin with a summary of yesterday's events-"

"Hey!" Shirley yelled. "Everyone here already knows what happened, so can we just skip to the how and why?"

"Flight Lieutenant Yeager!" Perrine reprimanded. "Show some respect to the squadron leader! If she wants to brief us, then let her brief us!"

"Like you have any right to order me around, Flying Officer Clostermann," Shirley taunted.

"Why you little-"

"Can I interrupt this fight of yours?" Eila asked, causing both parties to turn to her. "Some of us here have only heard of what happened from secondhand accounts or even outright rumors, so a full briefing would be greatly appreciated."

Shirley sighed. "Alright, then. Let's have it, Mio."

Silently, Perrine fumed at the disrespect Shirley had so casually given to her when she accorded Eila so much greater respect.

'What does Eila–a commoner!–have that I don't?!' she thought, glaring at Eila.

Eila, for her part, didn't notice. Or pretended not to.

Mio cleared her throat once more. "As I said then, let's begin with a summary of yesterday's events. At 1800 hours, Wing Commander Minna Dietlinde-Wilcke, Flight Lieutenant Gertrud Barkhorn, and Flying Officer Erica Hartmann were seen entering the bath by security personnel, according to Maggiore Serafini. At 1815 hours, Miyafuji and I entered the bath via the same entrance. In the time between then, none of the security personnel saw Wilcke, Barkhorn, or Hartmann exit the bath, and there is only a single entrance by which the bath may be accessed. In addition, their clothes were still in the changing room. Despite this however, they have somehow disappeared from not only the bath but the base as well."

"It's like a locked-room murder," Lynnette muttered. She then blushed when she noticed everyone staring at her. "I mean, without the murder, of course! It would be terrible if they were murdered…or something."

Mio cleared her throat for the third time to get everyone's attention again. "Bishop is partially right. We are considering this to be the result of criminal action. Since there is no method they could've disappeared by mundane means, we have to assume that magic was used in their disappearances. Serafini has already sealed off the baths until inspectors from the nearest magical crimes department could be brought here. In the meantime, the showers will be available for everyone's use."

"What?!" Perrine yelled as she shot up. "Are we expected to use the same washing facilities as the men?! That's…that's….indecent!"

"Someone is being a stuck-up princess today, isn't she?" Merja said to Eila and Sanya, not even bothering to be quiet. The former snickered, and the latter merely nodded in agreement.

Before Perrine could respond in her usual fashion, Carmine coughed to get her attention. "Scusi, but I can't help but wonder what you mean by that comment, Flying Officer Clostermann. After all, we normally use the baths too. Why do you think there are separate times listed for men and women? So what is the problem with implementing the same procedure for the showers?"

Perrine opened and closed her mouth as she thought of a rebuke, but found that the Maggiore had a point she could not counter. She sat back down in defeat.

Shirley waved a hand for attention. "That's nice and all, but what are we going to do about the disappearances of three of our top aces, one of which is our CO by the way? We're already overworked and understaffed as it is, and this is not going to make it better."

Mio nodded. "I was going to address that. Command has informed me that I am to take command of the 501st, and that I will be promoted to Wing Commander in the meantime as soon as someone can arrive with the insignia."

"So that command can maintain the legal fiction that we're a wing instead of an understrength squadron?" Eila asked.

"Ooh, good one," Shirley called to her.

Perrine glared at both of them before turning to Mio with an adoring look in her eyes. "Congratulations for the promotion, Mio. If anyone has deserved it, it's most certainly you."

Francesca pointed a finger into her open mouth and made a gagging sound, causing everyone in the audience to suppress their mirth. If Perrine noticed it, she didn't give any clue that she did.

"Command has said that they will try to assign new witches for us in the meantime to make up for our loss. Unfortunately, they didn't specify when this would be accomplished other than 'soon', so there will be some reassignments and changes in the formation in the meantime. In addition, I will need to assign someone to be my second-in-command now that I will be serving as the commander.

Perrine's eyes suddenly went wide. She started to stand up and clear her throat.

"Flight Lieutenant Charlotte Elwyn Yeager, starting now you are my executive officer. In addition, I am proud to announce that you have been promoted to squadron leader." Mio threw a small box to Shirley, who caught it deftly and opened it with a stunned expression on her face. Inside were the rank tabs appropriate to her new rank, still shiny and new.

"Congratulations, Squadron Leader Yeager," Mio said warmly.

For once, Shirley was at a loss for words. She rubbed the back of her head, and sheepishly said, "Thank you kindly, ma'am. I'll try hard to keep the 501st from descending into anarchy when you're not around."

Mio laughed. "I appreciate the effort, Yeager. Let's work well together."

Perrine suddenly stood and slammed her hands on the table. "Now wait just a minute, Yeager! Why are you getting promoted over everyone else? Why are you the one getting to stand by Mio's side and-"

"Flying Officer Clostermann," Mio said coldly.

The tone of Mio's voice made Perrine stiffen as though she had heard the sound of an executioner's axe, and she slowly turned towards the Fusoan officer. Perrine was shocked to see a face frozen with fury like a statue of an angry goddess.

"My choice is clear," Mio stated. "Yeager will be my executive officer. No ifs, ands, or buts. Understood?"

For a few moments, Perrine stood in silence with her mouth gaping open like a lamprey. Then she spoke, "Why though? I am one of the best aces in Gallia. My marksmanship is superb, and my flight skills are incomparable. So why is she being promoted to serve with you instead?"

Mio took a deep breath through her nose, and then let it out slowly through her mouth. It was only when she had emptied herself of anger did she begin speaking. "Combat skills do not necessarily translate to leadership skills. The most skilled warrior on the battlefield might perform terribly when given command roles. Just look at General Guderian's example when he was given command of Karlsland's forces in Orussia.

"And in your case, you've consistently displayed a distinct inability to command. You've allowed your emotions to rule your decisions on multiple occasions, including just now.

Perrine sat back down in shock.

"You've recklessly endangered your comrades by forcing them to 'train' with live ammunition.

Perrine shrunk in her seat.

"You've even forced one of your comrades into a duel. With weapons firing live ammunition! What did you think was going to happen even if you had won?! Or even if you had lost! The only possible result for the victor would've been dishonorable discharge for murder! At best! What in Amaterasu's name were you thinking?!

If Perrine shrank any further, she would be a tonttu.

Mio performed another calming exercise before speaking again. "Therefore, you are not suited for command positions. Honestly, it was between Yeager or Yuu-ta-rai-nen–

Eila winced at Mio's mangling of her surname, but didn't make a show of it.

"–but Yeager had more experience. And that is why I selected her. There will be no more complaints from you, Clostermann, nor am I to hear of any more insubordination. Understood?"

Pale-faced, Perrine nodded dumbly.

"Good. Now-yes, Litvyak?"

"What is the status of my night patrols now that we are short of witches?" Sanya asked solemnly, with a hand raised as though she was in a classroom. In other circumstances, it might've looked adorable. With Sanya's dead-serious expression though, well…

"Indefinitely cancelled," Mio stated just as seriously. "We don't have enough witches for the day patrol as it is. Better to have you patrol with everyone else in the day."

Sanya nodded in response, internally breathing out a sigh of relief.

"And to be honest, I've never felt comfortable with Minna sending you out alone on those night patrols," Mio added. "This may be a rear line area, but I'd have been much happier knowing that you had at least one witch–or better: a flight of witches–watching your back out there."

Sanya nodded once more, this time smiling openly at Mio; a rare expression for the normally taciturn Orussian. "Bol'shoye spasibo. Thank you very much, Sakamoto."

Mio nodded back, smiling as well. "Good! Now I suggest you all get some rest. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow, so you'd best be prepared for it. Dismissed!"

As the witches got up and filed out of the room, Perrine could only sit in her seat, deaf to the world as she struggled to process what Mio had said to her.

"Hey, you! Big girl!"

Perrine was about to instinctively snap at whoever addressed her in such an impertinent manner, when she felt a sharp pain in her right index finger, as though something poked a needle into it.

"Yowch!"

As her hand shot up to avoid the sudden pain, she looked down to see Merja glaring up at her from where she stood on the desk, holding a sewing needle like it was a rapier.

"You keen on dueling? You think you can solve all your problems by killing them, bigshot noble? See, this is why we got rid of our nobles long ago. Our kings and queens too! So if you think you can try to duel your way out of a problem again, think again! I'll stab you with this here sword in a place more painful than your finger! Never forget that!"

Perrine didn't even manage to finish processing that she'd be threatened by a five-and-a-half inch tall tonntu before Merja turned around, jumped off the table to the floor below, and walked off to where Eila and Sanya had been waiting at the door. Eila gave her a look of…sympathy? Pity? Perrine didn't know which one was worse.

But it was Sanya's gaze that scared Perrine the most. Looking into the quiet Orussian girl's green eyes, Perrine could see nothing but cold fury, as though she were staring into the heart of a glacier in the midst of a howling blizzard. Perrine could almost feel the knife-sharp shards of ice flying into her, blown by the fierce winds of Sanya's anger. It only ended when Sanya purposefully looked away and walked off with Eila and Merja trailing behind her.

And when they had left, Perrine was finally alone. With nothing but her own doubt, fear, and guilt eating away at her like acid on metal. She'd never felt more miserable in her life; her misery so great that she didn't even notice the blood dripping down from her finger where Merja had stabbed it, staining the fine cloth of her uniform sleeve and beading the table with crimson droplets.

Perrine clenched that hand into a fist of determination. She made a vow to herself to find a way to atone for her actions, on her honor as a noblewoman of Gallia. For if a noblewoman couldn't keep a vow to herself, who else can she keep a vow to?


A/N: Re: Yes, I'm being very hard on Perrine. She, however, tried to get one of her own squadron-mates killed in a duel over petty jealousy. Whether it was out of stupidity or malice, you have to admit that it's pretty unforgiveable. Perrine here is going to have to work hard to earn back everyone's trust.


Addendum:

[1]: Hint: it's not the Ghostbusters.