AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, sorry for such the delay guys, had a lot of things to take care of over the past several days, and after all this is just a hobby. Anyway, I'll be picking up progress soon enough. That, and inbetween culling an entire chapter that looked more like it belonging in "GTA: Gallia" than this and an extensive rewrite of the one below, things got a little slow to publish. Progress should pick up after this, so hope you guys enjoy. Also, don't forget to Leave a Review if you can


Act 1/Chapter 6 – Sins of the Past

"I do apologize for my Lieutenant's mistreatment of you, miss...?"

Isara looked up from the table that the guards had handcuffed her to, staring into Wollcroft's crimson eyes, ignorant of her paled skin and silver hair. Wollcroft's leather coat served only to aid the black void encompassing her in Isara's eyes.

"You're the host, why don't you introduce yourself first?"

"Subject C-27, is that good enough for you?" She smiled, concealing any truthful emotion of the name's weight, "And what of you, Spy?"

Isara held silent, thinking of how to buy herself time until Luger arrived. With that in mind she was glad Luger shunned his Darcsen identity, everyone here would probably lynch a Darcsen on sight. Wollcroft paced around the desk, ripping Isara's sunglasses off her face with the greatest impatience. To the other guards' confusion, Wollcroft stared into Isara's bare and unhidden blood-red eyes with a certain shock gripping her face.

"This can't be- Nikolai, alert the General that we may have a situation. Terrance, stay outside with weapons ready. Everyone else, return to posts."

"Of course, my comrade. You three, you heard her!"

Isara turned around, scanning at the face of the one she had referred to as Nikolai. His hair was jet black, his beard covered his face as if he had not shaved in at least a month. It looked like an easy fire-hazard for the cigarette he was smoking. It was then that Isara realized the true irony of referring to Darcsens as 'Dark-hairs' when there were plenty of light-haired Darcsens and even more non-Darcsens with hair that was pitch black compared to any Darcsen.

"You talked tough about Darcsens but you look more Darcsen than half of the Darcsens in Fhirald."

Nikolai pistol whipped Isara, leaving the room mumbling about how 'Nicole's father would tear apart anyone who dared to compare a Fhiraldian to a Darcsen'. It was obvious that idea didn't work out too well. Angering him enough to lash out would delay Wollcroft's interrogation long enough, and thus extend her life. It wasn't like he would dare kill Isara when he was told not to and was right in front of the person who said so, and at that someone who was bragging about how they could turn people to ash or even less. Wollcroft sat down, sighing to herself as she shook her head.

"…And there he goes again, acting like my father would have been a good man for the revolution."

"Tyermaillin Wollcroft, one of the three soldiers of the Azurblauterzett, and the only one to survive the Second Europan War while General Bles and another who's name escapes me went out in an explosive blaze of glory and a hail of MAGS rounds from every angle, respectively. Only for him to be killed by a single bullet to the head from a well-trained assassin? Ty the Immortal I think not."

"Don't you dare mention him!"

"Truth be told I didn't think there really were male-valkyria, but to be honest if the files didn't directly classify him as such I'd have assumed he was nothing more than some pathetic jackass who carried unhealthy amounts of Ragnaid on himself."

"There are no 'male valkyria'! The term for males is Aryan! Grammar is everything!" Wollcroft yelled, noting the dictionary on the shelf behind her as her face began to become red with exasperation.

"Sorry to disrupt your little party, Ms. Grammar-Elite, anyway, you're obviously a Valkyria because of him… But, one of the major components can only be passed down by the mother… And assuming your mother had any of the traits, I'd assume that makes you exceptionally dangerous. And exceptionally cocky too. You can quit with that codename, 'C-27', I've read an entire file on you, Nicole Wollcroft."

Wollcroft's eyes jumped to attention at the name, almost insulted by Isara's bluntness. Her hand slowly moved down to her holster, ready to rip it out and empty its loaded magazine into Isara.

"On the contrary. C-27 is the legal name your government effectively gave us when they sold us off to that wretch Foerster and her shady little medical firm!"

Isara held herself back from smiling as she heard Wollcroft's fatal slip. This was by all means the greatest opportunity that had come up for her to keep Wollcroft distracted by herself for as long as she needed. Wollcroft had already managed to crack her emotional shell all by herself, why would someone like Isara not want to press her more? The worst that could happen is that Wollcroft would lose it and have her beheaded, after all, worse things could happen than quick death. Besides, all Isara had to do at this point was play The Shrink until Luger arrived to handle the situation. That, or as Isara noted, simply handle it herself with her one free hand as 'Those idiotic excuses for guards forget to check for weapons'.

"I look into your eyes, and I know exactly what you are, Spy. You and I are alike, yet I have never seen you once before. I never saw someone such as yourself in the prison my late brother and I had been held in. Would you care to explain how you somehow were not taken for their experiments by Foerster and Ivanov's men?"

"Slipped through? Debatable. I got to know Ivanov for some time, that's how I have the job I have now. And, you truly are grammar-elite, if I may note."

"Indeed, I suppose I have Foerster to thank for that. Still, you didn't spend your childhood as someone's experiment. You had a name, not a number.

"You're right. A seven-digit ID is certainly a name compared to a two-digit one. Nah, just messing with you."

Wollcroft sat silent, ignoring what Isara had just said as she contemplated on her memories of the facility. Isara looked, trying not to smile as Wollcroft continued to forget the fact she had made a massive slip and effectively failed any attempt at interrogation she had planned before she could even start. Rule one of torture and interrogation, be anonymous, be an unknown. This was practically Isara's perfect chance at escape and embarrassing who might very well be the most powerful Valkyria since Selvaria Bles. Maybe it was for the best that Isara didn't get to see whether or not that hypothesis was correct though.

"Tell me about this facility you were in, Nicole. It must have been horrible…"

Wollcroft's face gripped with horror again as she thought about it and looked into Isara's eyes. What remained of her poker-face was completely disintegrated by thinking about it. It was then that Isara realized how wrong her hypothesis was. Wollcroft was weak. Wollcroft was… Inferior. Inferior by all ways that could be possible.

"Drugs, needles, everything. Injecting small Ragnite crystals into our veins, or stick us in a contained room with burning Ragnite to test physical reactions. Some died from Ragnite poisoning or rapidly developing cancer soon after. I didn't know what they wanted. Was it to test some new version of Ragnaid, or to make the ultimate soldier?" Wollcroft shook her head thinking about it.

"Oh, that must have been horrible to endure." Isara replied, forcing herself not to use a sarcastic tone and ruin the progress she had made so far. It was getting harder and harder for her to withhold even the slightest hint of a smile that could give a subtle clue to Wollcroft's failure.

"I couldn't trust anyone there. The others were older than me, my late brother included. The doctors were all complete assholes, the only reason they remotely cared for our well-being was to make sure we were still useful for collecting data. They'd pretty everything up whenever Gallian inspectors came in, but the moment they left town it would be business as usual yet again. One by one most of the others died from their experiments, be it from lethal Ragnite poisoning or once even from spontaneous combustion. And just like that they were discarded like they never existed. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a mass-grave somewhere in Gallia where they dumped the bodies. Most of the others were just completely innocent orphans, a few of them were teenager who had highly above-average physical traits expressed, like exceptional resilience or near-instant reaction times."

A tear began to fill Wollcroft's eyes as she started to think about what she had to say next. Isara coughed, trying her damnedest to mask the laugh that had came out as she saw Wollcroft slowly break down into tears. Isara was beginning to doubt if it was worth it to hide how hilarious this all was, after all, was Wollcroft even paying attention to her, or was she penned up and lost in her dark memories? Memories and emotion, Isara noted, had no place in war, and Wollcroft was living proof of that notion.

"Fourteen years ago I escaped narrowly when Foerster deemed me redundant and ordered that I was eliminated, although that was probably because I was too powerful for her lust for control. Back then I didn't know who- Or more importantly, what I was. I was a fugitive with no past of my own, left to wander in search of answers and a home. About five arrests for vagrancy later fate took me to Fhirald, where I met The General at a peaceful rally wanting secession from the Empire which needless to say ended in a lot of dead civilians. Not long after that, The General told me that he had realized who I was when looking through old records of one of his Lieutenants who by coincidence of fate was my father." Wollcroft's emotions slowly turned to an embarrassing facepalm as she recollected what she remembered about him.

"Turns out when I finally met him he was just some slobbering drunk albino bastard who wasted his time in some cockroach-filled pub telling hyperbolized stories about the Second Europan War about how he wiped out entire units singlehandedly and survived multiple hits that would instantly kill everyone else around him. I remember the story I heard him telling was about some time in Kloden at night where he hunted down and slain two Gallians and a mole who helped them – After he got shot in the head twice and shelled by his commander's poorly aimed artillery. Needless to say he didn't count on me factchecking his stories with a read-through of that one Irene Koller book, forgot what it was called though. By the time I tried to actually talk to him though, he yelled at me about how he never had any children, that he had no recognition of me, and then screamed at me to leave him alone for being some 'stupid vagrant trying to scam the hero of the Empire'. Some 'Ty the Immortal' he was, more like 'Ty the Disgrace'." She shook her head, completely embarrassed to think someone like that was her father. She could only imagine if her mother was any better.

"I shot myself after that, after all, what was there in this world to live for? That, and I found out my mother was some spoils-of-war trophy from the takeover and occupation of Vasel. Turns out fate disagreed. Not much later The General gave me the truth of what I was and began mentoring me like one he had known before. Now, here I am, second in command of the rebellion to free what has become my home."

"Well, thanks for all that pointless exposition, Wollcroft. I'll make sure you're used as an example of the exact opposite of how to conduct an interrogation. Not that I can support your rebellion either, it'd be awful to see my grandfather Jonathan's work in helping to bring Fhirald under Imperial control – A cause he died fighting for go to waste because of some Gallian expat who found out her illegitimate father was Fhiraldian." Isara couldn't help it any more. This entire time was so embarrassing to her training – to see someone utterly fail when they have the upper hand of their enemy being handcuffed along with having the home field advantage. Big mistake, with fortunate timing in retrospect.

Wollcroft perked up, realizing the ruse set by Isara. Her pistol swung up, a few centimeters separating the end of its barrel from Isara's forehead. Her eyes slowly began to glow with rage as how blatantly obvious Isara's ploy was.

"But enough of this distraction. I don't have all night, do I? Enough answers, it's time for me to ask the questions!"

"Ask away then, I haven't got no answers to give you." Isara said, smug as she noticed the safety on Wollcroft's pistol was on – and jammed.

"How brave of you to spit a double-negative in my face, you Imperial pig!" Wollcroft yelled, getting ready to depress the trigger.

"I don't recall saying I was an Imperial, I just said my grandfather was." Isara said, laughing at Wollcroft's continued incompetence on par with a villain in a cheesy comedy.

"And whom would that be?" Wollcroft nearly screamed, growing more and more impatient and restless by the second.

"You can just call him Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan Melchiott, Imperial Army under the command of General Gregor, now not that you'll have much luck identifying me through his name, seeing as his only recorded family was his wife who was a civilian casualty of a Federation raid into the Empire, but You wanted an answer, so there you go, and like I said, I haven't got no answers to hide from Ms. Grammar-Elite."

"I might have fallen for your little mind-trick, but do you think I was stupid enough to get fooled by your run-on sentence, Melchiott?!" Wollcroft pistol-whipped Isara twice from both sides, leaving massive bruises on Isara's face as she lost herself to a rage brought on by Dr. Foerster's short-tempered upbringing of her, "Noone is coming to help you. If you don't mind answering one last question before I have you strung up for the others to see."

"Like I said, I haven't got- Alright then, ask away! You've made your point!" Isara yelled, feigning defeat from Wollcroft's heavy-handed melee. Not that it mattered, inbetween lies, Isara's counter-interrogation training, and the earlier distraction, Wollcroft's interrogation of her had gone, and would go nowhere.

"What a nice scarf that is you have around on your neck… I take it someone close to you gave it as a gift? It'd be a shame if they heard you went missing In Fhirald. Care to tell me who gave it to you so I can deliver the unfortunate news in person?" Wollcroft said, relaxing herself into a sadistic tone as she began to assume she had the advantage.

"Well, Wollcroft, if you really did fact-check your father's stories, as well as listened to one of your lieutenants, you might know who this scarf belonged to. Don't like that answer, why don't you just shoot me?" Isara said, smiling as she heard the sound of someone getting punched outside the door.

Isara grabbed her sunglasses off of the desk with her one free hand, putting them back on before Luger could break in, swinging into her coat to grab her pistol and shoot off her cuffs in one swift motion as Wollcroft fumbled with her poorly-maintained excuse for a pistol. Just as quickly the door broke down to Luger's boot, bringing with it the momentum for him to bring his own gun to Wollcroft's chest. Isara shrugged, standing up to point her own pistol that the guards failed to search for at Wollcroft, just as ready to pull the trigger as Luger was.

"Don't even think of dodging! We're taking you back to Gallia, Wollcroft, dead or alive!" Isara yelled, noting a certain irony to what she had just said.

"You wouldn't dare!" Wollcroft gave a piercing scream, clenching her fists and jaw, readied to fight. The azure glow of the Valkyrur enveloped Wollcroft, her iris turning from a dull crimson to a blinding glow of red like blood spurting out of someone who'd just been shot. In a blur she threw the desk to the side, lunging past Luger straight towards Isara. Isara sighed with what little time she had, felling the careless yet powerful Valkyria with a single uppercut to her chin.

"Thanks for showing up, Luger. Grab her and get ready to put us on the next ride to Fouzen." Isara monotonously said to Luger as he looked down on Wollcroft's body as she rapidly lost consciousness from the pain of nearly having her neck broken by the angle of Isara's punch.

"So, this is the legendary Valkyrur? I never thought I'd ever see one. Or that one would be so… Soft."

"Watch your grammar, Luger, she nearly killed me over a spelling mistake. Valkyrur refers to the males, Valkyria refers to the females. Remember that so she doesn't break her cuffs and snap your neck when we get around to interrogating her." Isara said, laughing. Luger shook his head, sticking cuffs onto Wollcroft's hands as Isara yawned.

With that she walked off, smiling at Luger's impressive non-lethal handiwork on the guards occupying the hallway, Nikolai included. She laughed to herself in a menacing tone for a moment, thinking about Luger's comment. 'Oh Luger, so so oblivious to your own partner…'.