Ragazza Magica Renza Veneti
Chapter Six: Midnight

With thanks to Gnarker of the Spacebattles forum, for the German language assistance.


A/N (03/06/14): Done some cleanup, editing and whatnot on the earlier chapters (particularly the first two: so long, plotholes!); if anyone's been planning a re-read, now would be the time.

Please also note the Spacebattles version of this story has been moved to the sister forum Sufficient Velocity; go there if you want translations of foreign phrases and any artwork I manage to throw up there.

Half-way through now! Can't believe it! -Guessy


Cast in the fading light of evening, the Caglican sky burned heavy and red with the gathering clouds; a palette of smudges and blurs, stretching their colours far and wide across the vast horizon.

Somehow, she felt confused to see it.

I'm awake? Asleep? Alive?

Blinking brought it to focus. The world felt so quiet. Or... muffled? Maybe? Were there words for a situation when you didn't know what the situation was?

A heavy impact on her chest jostled her into reality.

"-You're alive! Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou-"

Renza blinked. Looking down at the tangle of blond hair and pigtails wasn't difficult, but she couldn't imagine why she thought it should be.

"...Camarr?"

Why was- oh, right.

"O-Odi...?"

It felt like someone had stolen the filing index to her memories and thrown them all to the floor, leaving the old and the new to mix and confuse themselves interchangeably. Odette missed the slip. They were in Valezorro's Industrial District? Strange...

Something seemed to be hammering, knocking at the back of her mind as Odette helped her sit upright. Some instinct; some thing that hammered and screamed for her attention. That something about this scene was wrong.

Then she noticed the Incubator, sitting distantly at one side with its tail aswishing, and realised just what her friend was wearing.

And then everything slotted back together, and started to make horrible, horrible sense.


She sniffled, leaning off as her friend sat upright.

Renza seemed to stare, like she was bewildered or half asleep, but she was alive and all in one piece and not smeared across the walkways or falling off into the-

She crashed into her again, hugging desperately. Her friend was real, solid, warm, alive.

Odette sobbed into her shoulder.

"Y-You're alive!"

It felt almost too absurd to be true. Not after what she'd seen happen right in front of her.

Her friend patted her awkwardly, gloved hand sliding off metal plate. Heavy and solid in a way Jackets simply weren't.

"...Odi."

She hugged her tighter.

"...Odi, what did you do."

She frowned, confused. Something in that tone felt a little too-

"I saved you!" Odi defended. "You died, Renza!"

Renza hadn't shifted an inch. "Then, how did you save me, Odi?"

Odette stared. "I..." No. She had to know. After all- they were the same now, right? She glanced at the little white creature - 'Cúbay' he had called himself - sitting just off to the side, tail a-flicking. She had to have done the same thing, right? She had to understand what was happening here so-

...So the only way her question made sense was if she was hoping it would not be true.

She felt her stomach turn to ice.

"Odette Camarr contracted to bring you back to life." Cúbay 'spoke' helpfully, making Odette jump. "Now there are two of you; you won't have to fight alone anymore. That's good, isn't it?"

Renza had been fighting alone-...? No, that... yes, that made a lot of things make sense now, but...

Oh. Of course. The injuries, the isolation and secrets. That was... and she'd just thrown herself straight into it...

...And now I'm involved with a Lost Logia.

Evidently, all this had shown on her face, because Renza abruptly pulled her into a near-bone crushing hug.

"R-Ren-?"

"I'm sorry!"

...Wait, what?

"H-Huh?" Was the most Odette could manage, winded, trying to gently push on her friend's shoulders to make her ease off.

"I-I'm sorry! Tengo toda la culpa! Perdóname!-"

"R-Renza that's enough-!"

"-Perdóname!"

"I-It's alright! It's alright I forgive you- Renza, I forgive you it's alright-"

She hugged her back desperately, rubbing her shoulder blades and trying to get her to relax, her mind in complete deadlock.

Her friend had quite literally died trying to save her, and now she was apologising that it wasn't enough.

She shuddered, and hugged her closer.

"It's okay. It's alright."

Around them, Industrial was impressively and disarmingly normal. The sun, now setting, had the haze at an angle; cutting through it in reds and yellows. She hadn't realised they'd managed to find themselves this high up; the heavier smog curled and swum further down below.

A brief flash of blue to her right distracted her for a second; Samara's Jacket reactivating itself. The girl was still unconscious, splayed out on the walkway; Odette's oxygen condensing spell still shimmering about her head.

It didn't look too comfortable. They should at least move her-

Her mind locked up again. But what do we say?

...I-Irrelevant. Samara needed... well. Would she wake up? Was she unconscious? Asleep? Coma? What were the rules here? The Clinico or the Church would have a better idea but first they'd have to move her-

Not to mention; Renza hadn't let go yet.

"...Renza," she put a hand on her shoulder, pushing gently, "let go."

No response.

"We need to check on Sam, okay?"

The arms loosened.

She stood, but Renza didn't seem to follow. Trying to pat her head in a reassuring manner, she hurried past; clanging across the gantryway.

T-That response was... no. Thinking about what she'd just gotten into could come later. Samara was still unconscious on the walkway. This wasn't the time.

Rolling her friend over into a more comfortable position, she brought Holda over to run a check and... mentally stumbled.

Holda could be a rosette, and Holda could be a polearm. Technically, it still was the latter, but the blade had never been solid - shining silver-red in the falling evening - and the rosette had never been present in the pole form; big, solid and mounted on her forearm in a way she somehow just knew was meant to deploy into a shield at a moment's notice.

It was correct and not-correct, with an alien weight both heavier than it should have been and yet light as a feather to wield.

"H-Holda?" This was still Holda, right?

[Ja?]

...Well then.

"Are you alright? Diagnostics?"

[Ich bin sehr lebendig!]

...That was not a comforting response.

She looked between Holda and her friend upon the catwalk. Sure, the only injury she had a broken ankle but that didn't leave you unconscious. And then there'd been the exposure in Industrial...

...No. Let the professionals in the Serenita handle it. It wasn't worth the risk; not with unpredictable magic.

The irony of thinking that now wasn't lost on her.

A scrunch of cloth and a rattle of chains behind her. Renza had stood up.

Odette whirled. "Are you-?"

"I'm fine."

She walked across, mechanically stiff, to crouch at Samara's side. "How is she?"

...Odette stammered. "She- she's unconscious. The ankle's still broken but I don't-"

"She'll be fine."

"-know..."

The wind rattled at the chains holding up the walkway, catching at Renza's hair lengths and flicking them into the breeze. Odette went silent.

"Daemons want to drain people," Renza began, abruptly, "so letting them die doesn't make sense. Like diseases; just a side-effect. The Miasma should actually have cleared the air; she shouldn't have been exposed to any pollution."

Odette blinked, trying to make sense of the collection of words and Important Sounding Nouns her friend had seen fit to hit her with.

"The unconsciousness is normal; she'll wake up. The Jacket thing too. Nothing... nothing works right with Miasma so magic breaks down and- I'm not sure why yours worked I guess it was the Potential thing and-"

"Renza-"

Her hands were fidgeting, fingers scrabbling against each other. "T-There's a lot you- there's so much you need to know, you should have known before you- there's your Soul Gem and you'll need to keep it with you and I don't know what's going on with your Device and-"

"-Renza!"

She broke. "I-I'm sorry!"

Odette grabbed her by the hands. "Renza! Easy! Slow down- it's going to be alright!"

Renza folded, burying her head in her shoulder. "...I'm not good at this, Odi." She whispered. "I'm no good..."

She found herself hugging her, once again. "It's alright. You're not alone now, okay? We'll figure things out."

Over the top of Renza's head, she caught the flick of a white tail darting off over the side of the walkway. Wait, Cúbay? Where was he running off t-

"Roche." Renza had said, suddenly.

Odi blinked, distracted. "-Huh?"

"Roche. You remember her, right? She was one too."

Roche... Ro-oh. Her? She'd thought she was just a friend from the docks-

-Wait. Past tense. That icy feeling returned to her gut.

"...How's she doing?" Odette asked, fearing the answer.

"She's dead." Renza's voice was barely a whisper. "She's dead and I wasn't able to save her." A sob. "Straight into the canals..."

The world seemed oddly chill. Roche... Roche was a face should could barely remember - looked a lot like Samara, she'd thought at the time - but...

She'd seemed such a cheerful girl. A good person. Someone she wouldn't mind meeting again.

And now, would not.

"H-How long...?"

"One month ago." Renza's voice felt dead; almost rote. "On patrol. It just... happened. Neither of us reacted in time. That was it."

...Odette fell silent.

"We kill the Daemons, the Daemons kill us." Renza shrugged, shaking slightly; quiet and barely audible over the whistling wind, but with a finality she couldn't ignore. "Neither of us have any control over it! They can't stop. We can't afford to stop. So we fight, and we die. And when we do..."

Renza nestled her head into her shoulder, looking away from the world. "...It just keeps going."

There was another rattle of chains, and suddenly little Cúbay was there, depositing those black cube things from his mouth on the walkway. Two in all.

"She needs to use them." He told her calmly, his mouth never moving.

...Odette stared at them blankly, still reeling, Renza still quiet and eerily still against her shoulder. The cubes looked not-quite-real and yet somehow inert, though she couldn't explain how she could tell. Wait, no- there'd been something like this in the warehouse, hadn't there? Shortly before-

The cubes were solid, and an immediate concern. Odette shuddered. Renza needed to use these, whatever they were, and she didn't know how.

"What are they?"

"Grief Cubes." Cúbay informed her, his telepathic voice quite dissonant to the situation.

Renza pulled away, looking at the two inert cubes wearily.

"...If I use those," she stated, "I'll have to fight again."

"If you don't use them," Cúbay replied plainly, "you won't exist anymore."

Renza sagged forward; an exhausted weight on Odette's shoulder.

"...I don't want to keep fighting. Just let me stay here. Let me just be Renza Veneti."

Odette's voice caught in her throat-

"-Renza!"

"I'm sorry, Odi. I don't want to die like that..."

She froze.

"Then live."

She'd said it - ordered it, even - before she'd even thought about it.

And how much have I been doing that already?

She grabbed Renza by her dress anyway before she could lose her own momentum. "Then live, Renza! You died before, didn't you? I brought you back from that, didn't I?"

If this had just put her in the same situation- she swallowed, eyes screwing shut.

"You don't want to throw that away, do you?!"

It had come out more as a beg than she'd hoped. She had to pray it would still across.

When she forced herself to reopen them, she found Renza staring back at her in complete surprise.

W-Was it too much, to demand that? Well- no, she'd just saved her life, possibly... done something terrible to achieve that. Her grip on the dress tightened.

She had every right to demand her friend stayed alive. To not waste... w-whatever it was she'd just given up.

That she might not like what that thing was, was a suspicion she didn't want to confront right now. The consequences were a dark and terrible weight... that would have to be confronted later, even if she couldn't help but sense them hanging in the wings.

So she trembled, looked Renza straight in the eyes, and prayed.

Eventually, almost shell-shocked, Renza turned, and scrambled for the two cubes, Odette watching her the entire way.

Her grip on the dress vanished just as the dress did; that baggy orange emergency gear flickering into sight for a moment as her friend's Jacket - her actual one, Odette realised; if it was just changing modes it wouldn't have to completely reinitialise like that - reformed around her. She rocked back onto her knees, watching in mute incomprehension.

An egg-like Device, almost pitch black in Renza's trembling hands. Odette blinked. That was the same thing she'd been using before, on the way to Industrial. The thing that had given her such foreboding about this whole endeavour.

Almost instinctively, her eyes flickered down. There was a ruby, built into the armour on the back of her left hand. Set inside another rose motif against the silver plate.

It flashed in the fading light.

"This..." Renza spoke, almost hesitantly, regaining Odette's attention. "...This is a Soul Gem."

...It looked very dark. Slick viscous fluid, like oil or tar, seemed to flow and churn within it, flecked by odd colours of paint; purple, blue and red. It gave you an icy chill, just to be looking at it.

"You said Soul-?" Odette began, a horrible, sinking suspicion creeping in. Renza shushed her with a raise of her hand.

"These are Grief Cubes, like the Incubator said."

She spared a glance at little Cúbay, still watching the proceedings - 'Incubators?' - but immediately had to look back when she saw what was going on.

Before her own eyes, a thin little trail of roiling darkness pealed free of the Devi- Gem in Renza's hand, connecting to the cube she held up in her other. It was like watching a dark star siphoning; there was no crack or hole in the gem, but the darkness seemed to diffuse out of it anyway.

She watched, in confusion and awe, before it abruptly cut out. The same darkness seemed to be clinging to the cube now; the tiny thing practically radiating malice.

"...Renza...?"

"Daemons drop these." Her friend explained, holding it up. "When they die, you'll need to collect them. You need them to recharge your Gem."

Odette stalled. That didn't look like recharging to-

Renza continued: "They, er... they don't take much individually though. You need a few to completely..."

Renza's eyes glanced down at her gem, and Odette's followed.

...She blinked. It actually looked a little brighter. Or... like the bottom of the ocean, less contaminated.

Wait...

"When the cube is full, just give it to Cúbay" - she got a feeling Renza was pronouncing it differently - "and he'll dispose of it. Another Daemon will spawn if you don't."

Um. "You keep talking about Daemons, but... what are...?"

Cúbay decided to answer that one. "They are born from grief and despair, and seek to spread it as their means of reproduction. By contracting Puella Magi, and recovering the Grief Cubes, we; the Incubators; inhibit their spread."

She blinked at him.

"...O-Okay..." That really did sound like some cartoon. Only... she'd seen them, fought them, and the... she glanced across at Renza. The repercussions of their existence were plain to see. As absurd as it sounded, it was impossible to deny. Not now, anyway.

Renza shrugged wearily. "Like it said. Daemons kill people, so we hunt Daemons. In exchange, we get a wish."

And hers was right in front of her.

She was about to ask something, but Renza threw the blackened cube to one side; some instinctive gesture. Before she could even ask, Cúbay had ducked down, catching it with his tail, and flicking it straight into a doorway that opened on his-

Odette screamed, and nearly scrambled off the walkway.

...Cúbay tilted it's head. The doorway or whatever that had been was gone now but that- that was-

Renza was smiling sadly. Nostalgia, she suddenly recognised.

...It belatedly occurred to her her friend had almost certainly gone through the exact same thing.

"...Sorry." Renza apologised, a little late.

"U-Um-!"

"Were you going to ask something?"

"U-Um..." Odette scrambled, mentally. What had she been about to-

"The... the cubes! And the gem, they... it looked like something was coming out of the gem, so what was that...?"

"Grief and despair." Cúbay answered again, quite unconcerned with recent events or the words he was transmitting. "The same as Daemons form from. It generated as a waste product from using the magic of your soul."

Renza was standing.

"We can discuss this later, however." Cúbay concluded, unhurried.

Her friend dusted herself off, as Odette tried to process that. 'Magic of the soul'? From a 'Soul Gem'...

Instinctively, her eye was drawn to the ruby on the back of her palm. Before she could even ask, the ruby - all the armour she was wearing even - burst into motes of light, hanging a few centimetres out before whirling around her as if sucked into...

She stared. The 'Gem' in her hand (her hand had instinctively turned over to catch it, she noticed) looked bright; ruby red, colourful, the light of her soul and-

She froze up. She hadn't thought of that comparison. It hadn't even occurred to her; it was just as if it was the only way her mind could describe it.

But that had implications.

She looked back up at the dark, black thing Renza still cradled.

"...Renza, use the other cube."

"You need to practise-"

"Use the other cube, Renza."

Like a child scolded, Renza shuffled, and crouched down to scoop up the last cube. Odette made sure to watch; the darkness siphoned away, some of the inky blackness drawing out; like she thought, it was as if Renza had her own private ocean in there; the oily darkness and the waters unable to mix and churning around each other.

She cast a second glance down at her own. Hard to tell through the light - a little hard to look at, actually, Kaisers - but she thought she saw...

...Petals. Petals were what were swirling and drifting within the light of her soul; as if lifted and carried on a gentle summer's breeze.

She wondered if the rose motifs were Holda's fault.

There was another 'kyip!' sound as Cúbay consumed the other cube. Odette suppressed a shudder, glad she at least wasn't watching this time.

"Odi..." Renza began quietly.

She stood, facing the friend she'd saved.

"I... if I don't come back..."

Odette grasped her by the shoulders. "You're going to live, Renza." It was a promise.

"If. I- I don't want to die either, believe me, but if."

...She softened. "If it happens, I'll take care of your father."

Renza nodded her thanks, eyes averted. "Look after Sam, too. T-There's..." Renza broke, for a moment, "there's a shrine; for Roche; in the Basilica. Cúbay can show you where it is. It'll need moving soon."

She pulled her into a hug. "It's alright. I'll take care of it; you can show me yourself, remember?"

"Try not to fight with Penne, too."

She nodded- then blinked. Wait-

Renza was pulling away. "Take Sam back to the Serenità, won't you? She wake back up in a few hours."

"-Huh-?"

She smiled, backing up against the railing. "I'll see you again soon."

-This felt too much like a goodbye-

-"Wait-!"

But she was already gone.

Odette Camarr gripped nothing but the wind, hand outstretched towards the rattling railing in front of her. Just her on her own, with the evening sun.

Cúbay abruptly scampered up her armour plate, making her jump as he sat on her head. Samara was still lying out on the wire mesh floor.

She let out the breath she'd been holding shakily, before walking over. "...R-Right..."


She staggered into his bola in the late evening, with the sun hung red in the sky.

Through the cigarro smoke and the stench of old alcohol, sweat and engine oil, Jacque Cassot took one look at her and nearly dropped his Device.

"Chica-"

In through the doorway, to slide across the wall into a creaking chair; a mess of weak limbs and ragged breathing. The entire bola was tellingly empty; just blankets and food all in close proximity, easy to tie together and toss onto the back of the waterskiff that took centre stage on its suspending wires, held above the hatch in the floor that lead into the sloshing waters below.

A familiar room. Safe.

Natalie wheezed, keeping a firm hand pressed against her side. Still bleeding, even after the heals. Damnit.

"Chica what happened-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine! I'll-" ow "-be fine."

Jacque, somehow, did not believe her. "The Tosca-?"

"Nah, nah," waved him off. Ow. "Not the..." she breathed, "not the Tosca."

Jacque went quiet. "...Judi?"

She winced. "No. Weren't human. Fuck knows, some kind of construct I think-"

Had to gasp for air. Seriously, ow, what was taking those healing spells so long- "-i-it's something else. Somethin' that ain't the usual."

She waved him off when he moved forwards, his own hands starting to glow as they moved towards her bleeding side. "Don't, probably overdid it myself anyway."

That was an unpleasant truth behind magical healing. Use it too much, and the cure got worse than the disease. She didn't want her insides being screwed up even worse from mana over-saturation much. Yeah, those action flicks were probably exaggerating when they made people explode from it but still.

Besides, she had a real good idea she was going to need that mana later.

Jacque lowered his hands; towering slightly even when he was crouch down to eye level.

"Know what it was, chica?"

She closed her eyes. "...Got an idea."

She thought back, considering the things she'd seen. The bizarre, pencil crayon world, the bizarrer, towering giants.

The E-Ranker, who could shoot through the sky with axes in hand, hacking her opposition apart into ribbons at speeds you made an S Rank out of.

She'd been winged by one of the light barrages, and had to flee before she saw the end of it, but the images remained.

There'd been a Device; Renza was using it. A Summons too, by the looks of it; that little white thing with red eyes she swore saw her at least once, even if the two kids didn't. It explained so much, even as it threw up even more questions.

She opened her eyes again, shifting her injured side, and met Jacque's concerned look with her own.

"Tiny little fucks, tiny little island; you were wonderin' what the Tosca were playin' at, right?"

He nodded. She swallowed; the revelation had been bitter even to her.

"What if they had a Lost Logia?"


It was late by the time she'd reached the shoreline. Sitting atop the bola, a black, craggy mass rested, silhouetted against the dying sun.

She smiled. Ciardo was waiting for her.

The sun being swallowed by the horizon was a dull, solid-red glare. At this time of the evening, the shoreline felt oddly silent; only the occasional call of gulls or the water lapping against the stilts down below. The creaking of flakboard underfoot stood out starkly by comparison.

"Padre." She greeted warmly, as she arrived.

Weatherbeaten and tired, Ciardo looked up. She saw his features soften.

The ladder they'd gouged out of the plaster up onto the roof was a rough as always. She climbed it anyway. Side by side, father and daughter watched as the sun fell out of the sky.

Just the gentle waves beneath, and Ciardo's regular, rumbling breathing. The cool sea breeze tingling against her skin. The most relaxed she'd felt in days.

"How have you been?" He asked, voice quiet.

"I've been fine. You?"

Ciardo sighed wearily. The delay felt natural in the timeless, lazy evening. "Well enough."

An easy silence fell between them, as they watched the ships sailing past in the distance. Even the closing storm clouds couldn't diminish the view.

She rested her head against his giant, craggy arm.

"I'm sorry I'm not home very often." He apologised.

"It's alright; I understand."

"Work has... become busy lately."

"I know."

He moved the arm, pulling her into a gentle hug against his side.

"You're staying safe?"

"Mhm."

"Good. Camarr and LeBien?"

"They're doing alright."

He nodded. "Look after each other."

"We will."

The sun was almost down beneath the horizon.

"Will work take long?"

He rumbled contemplatively. "It shouldn't." She felt him lean back, looking up at the stars coming out above. "Should be over soon, I'd think."

"Mhm..."

She nustled into his embrace, watching the sun sink, leaving only pink and reds stretching out on the distant horizon.

"Say, Padre?"

"Si?"

"Can you tell me about mother?"

A rough, heavy hand patting her head. "Of course."

Even if she knew all about her already, hearing her father talk about her would never be tiring.


Cúbay had stuck with her all the way through the Serenità, all through stumbling through explanations to the Schwester-doktoren, all the way to riding home on a hired barca in the late evening. Later than usual evening. Oh Kaisers, this was going to be fun to explain...

Bizarrely, no-one had commented once on how she had a little white animal sitting on her head. She'd been waiting for that the entire time.

Now she'd come home and...

She flashed Holda's rosette form in front of the scanner at their front gate, and it transferred her the news. Mother would be staying overnight in the office again, then. Taken the housemistress too.

Oh well, that... simplified things. And a reminder that there was fresh pasta and vegetables in the fridge, which she knew already.

She sighed, rubbing her thumb against the ring on her finger, and decided cooking could be attempted on another day.

She'd been trying to avoid thinking about it, and felt she had a masterful job, but it was a quiet evening, and the contemplative air was getting hard to miss.

The gate locked behind her, the security spells around it reactivating with a low, ozone hiss. Set a little high, she thought, but then were still peals of smoke rising in the distance.

...If she was some sparkly frilled heroine of justice, did that mean she'd have to deal with that too?

Granted, as a Mage-Knight Cadet, she had every expectation of 'dealing with that' in her near future... emphasis being on future, once the 'Cadet' part had been dropped off the end. This was all too soon.

She considered if fighting the Tosca would be more or less scary than that hectic fight against the Daemons, barely... what? Five hours ago?

She stopped, in the front doorway, feeling almost akin to deja vu. It felt so much longer than that.

I really...

The first fight of her life. Three people, herself included, had almost died tonight, and one actually had until she'd-

She shut the door behind her before the shakes could set in. Somehow, she felt grateful the house was empty as she slid down it into a sitting position, facing the empty lobby.

I really... could have died tonight...

Samara almost died tonight. Renza really did die tonight, but had been saved by nothing less than a miracle.

She rubbed the ring on her finger. The rules and laws of the universe had literally been twisted, to give her that second chance.

And they had done so at the wish of Odette Camarr.

A terrifying thought. They, all of them, were terrifying thoughts. And this was... this was what Renza had been doing? Day after day?

It slot together. Horribly, it all slot together. As it were all she could think of; all the little winces and grimaces when her friend thought they weren't looking, the hospital visits and random absences, the way she'd slowly just... stopped being there... all the little white lies and the desperate pleas not to worry...

That had been her friend's life, for three months, all on her own. And now she'd jumped right into it.

She exhaled, resting her head on her arms, propped up on her knees. Cúbay jumped off with a barely detectable motion.

It wasn't something she could regret. She'd saved a life; saved Renza's life, but...

...A chance to have thought it over first would have been nice.

She looked back up, and saw Cúbay looking right back. Tail a-flicking.

"You could have told me, first." She accused.

"There wasn't time."

"Renza killed the last two Daemons in that suicide crash; I wasn't in any danger."

"Your Potential was very time dependent. If we had attempted to explain, it would have impaired your ability to make a wish."

My, that sounded so very reasonable.

"And I suppose that's true of every girl you 'contract'?"

"Mhm!" Cúbay nodded cheerfully, that blank smile making it seem happy to be understood.

Her hands tightened.

Cúbay's head tilted. "You fit the statistical curve. In your situation and in our experience; had we said anything, would you have listened?"

That blue comet, crashing into the laser barrage. The blood and debris, crashing into the Daemons. Her hands tightened into fists.

"Does that even matter?!" She felt herself roar.

His tail swished, unaffected. "A Puella Magi is powered by their emotion. Their wish, doubly so. It makes little sense from a logical perspective, but from our statistical observations-"

"...Shut up."

Thinking about it made her head pound.

"Just... shut up."

The Incubator fell silent.

She breathed, trying to let the anger out, resting the back of her head against the door. It took a shuffle to get her braid out of the way; she found herself fiddling with it as she thought.

The things she'd said; the promises they'd made on the rooftop replayed through her mind.

Ciardo, obviously, she'd do what she could - mother was always looking out for Myedoans anyway it couldn't be that hard - and Samara... well, Samara would be fine. She was a strong girl... usually...

Whatever that Lovelace thing had been about - it was the first name basis that bugged her - she had no idea.

Beyond that, though, there was one question that had never been asked.

"...What did you wish for, Renza?"

"We'd like to know too."

Odette jumped in her skin, and accidentally bashed her head against the door.

"You were listening-?!" She hissed, wincing.

The Incubator paused, mid-lick of its paw. "You asked a question; of course."

Well... yes, but...

She starting to form a worrying impression that the Incubators just didn't get humans very well.

"W-Well, I wasn't!" She retorted in a huff. Ow, the back of her head hurt...

The Incubator looked at her for a second, then went back to licking his paw. Once again, she had the almost irresistible urge to punch him into the wall.

Wait- "You don't remember the wishes you made?"

"If you're referring to the wishes we grant, then no; we keep record."

...Odette tried to think about that, then held her head and groaned. Great.

"Of course, if she were to confide it with you, then-"

"Shut up, Incubator."


"Caff?" Freiderike offered, returning with their cased Devices in one hand and a cardboard cafeteria box in the other.

Domhnall blinked awake, then took the box carefully, feeling both limbs and chair creak. "Thanks."

Still sitting in the lower hangers; filled with teams and Dispatch squads milling around and waiting and getting in all the engineers' collective hair as they readied as many birds for takeoff as they could manage on this short notice. Between the havoc within the Polizern and the paranoia of the Internal Group, it just wasn't worth trying to move around that much.

He grimaced; the place had only become more hectic and overcrowded since. The Judiciary... wasn't used to mobilising like this. Either people were panicking trying to do too much with too little time, or they were like the two Ispettorres, with nothing obvious to do and all the time in the world not to do it. Fred had volunteered herself to find where their Devices were at on the basis they'd be needing them.

"They hadn't even scanned though them yet." She explained, half bemused, half despairing, taking the next chair and cracking her case open. "When I asked at the checkin desk, they just waved me at the storage room."

...That was a little depressing. And he could think of at least a dozen potential security holes that could crop up right there.

"You had to sign them out at least?" He asked, hopefully.

Fred nodded, sliding her gloves back into place and inspecting all the finger joints.

...He should probably get to that himself, actually. Leaning forward, he caught Diarmuid's case as Fred nudged it closer with her foot. Opening it and letting the blocky Device reattach to his arm was a familiar process.

"Well, anything?" He queried.

[4 important case notifications and 31 new messages, mo Rí]

Naturally...

Something to read, at least, even if his ability to actually do anything from here was significantly impaired. He flicked through them as - he could instinctively tell - Fred was doing the same, or something similar. There was just a look people tended to have when interacting with holographic interfaces only they could see.

...Huh, interesting. One of the people involved on the periphery of the Veneti case - the daughter's side - had been logged activating her Barrier Jacket and passing through the Office of Environment's shield on the border to Industrial. Three hours later - barely thirty minutes ago, actually - the same had checked in at the Policlinico, carrying the other friend with a broken ankle and suspected pollutant inhalation.

There was a story there, almost certainly, though how relevant it would be remained to be seen.

Still, it would have to wait, and neither of the two involved looked to be going anywhere.

...His mood dropped, once again. And the Veneti case looked set to be closed by this evening, anyway.

"Anything, Fred?" He asked, quietly.

"More skirmishes, by the sounds of it." She replied, still working and catching up through her own Device. "I think they're digging in."

He nodded, weary, taking the caff out from the cafeteria box.

The Tosca had to know they'd be coming.


They came down once the sun had faded completely. He couldn't carry her down the steps, of course, so she'd been risen to climb back down.

Below under the protection of the bola roof, they exchanged quiet words; nothing much, just coordinating between brushing teeth and setting up the bedding. Ciardo hung his hammock off the hooks in the ceiling.

"Padre buonanotte."

"Buonanotte mia belle."

Renza laid on her sheets, thinking of roses, waves and old Castilla. One of the Incubators slipped in to curl up by her side. Warm and fluffy, even if it didn't feel to weigh a thing.

On a whim, she let the soul on her finger reform in the gem it was supposed to be, tipping onto its side amongst the sheets along with her.

Though dark, the waves within were calm and still.

At peace.

She smiled, and closed her eyes.


Exhausted under blankets and rags, one person fell into a dreamless sleep with the reassuring sound of the waves.

Confused, one person stayed awake, watching the ceiling of her bedchambers, the dancing red light of her soul in her hands.

Hearts in their throats, two people made ready in the darkness of an underdock for the greatest catch of their lives.

With minds of steel, an army waited, poised on the wing within the Polizern Judicia.

Night had fallen.


Telepathy could be caught; maybe not the words, but definitely the use. Whispering was safer; nothing but sound after all. Paranoia? Totally, but it could never hurt. Not on something like this.

"You got everything?"

Bobbing on the gentle waves, the waterskiff made more noise than they did; sloshing and undulating at the bottom of the underdocks.

"Si, si, of course I have!" Jacque hissed back, hunched in the bottom of the boat, movements quick, sharp and agitated. "You think I've never done this before?"

No lights. They were working entirely off the false-monochrome nightvision their Jackets had been set up to provide. At least she'd stopped bleeding.

As gently and quietly as she could manage - which was a damn lot, thank you - Natalie slipped tenderly aboard the skiffy, a magically reinforced kitchen knife her only weapon.

Her pink mana blade had a tendency to stick out, after all.

Both their Jackets had been set up to be as stealthy as possible, forgoing protection in favour of undetectability. Jacque was mostly visible only because he had an IFF overlay overlaid in her vision; Natalie's was emulating their environment similarly. Like that lizard animal she'd seen on broadcasts once, that... whaddyacallit. Camo-lion or something.

...Oh, who cared. Their Jackets were doing a better job at hiding them anyway. Jacque muttered something, using his bulk to hide the light of his spellcast, and the same stealthing spread to their boat, turning them all into an indistinct blur upon the waves.

She switched off the nightvision for a second, and grinned. In the dark of the underdocks, they were completely invisible. Three months had totally been worth the time learning this spell off of him for herself.

She shifted her position, trying to get comfortable on her uninjured side.

"You ready, chica?"

"Si, si, quit worryin'"

She could tell Jacque was looking at her. "I contacted the main group. They said "good luck!", but don't believe us, I think."

"Well, we'll show 'em." Argue her out of a membership after this.

"..'f you're sure, chica."

Another mutter, and the boat got underway.


The caff hadn't been enough. He almost stumbled boarding the catcher; Fred having to lend a hand to pull him in.

...I'm getting too old for this.

"Everyone set up?" The flight-leader called, moving down the mage stack and checking harnesses. At the low heights they'd be flying, falling out wouldn't be dangerous given their Barrier Jackets, but with none of them fliers it would considerably disrupt the flight plan to wheel back and recover them, and hence wasn't particularly on anyone's to-do list.

A chorus of 'aye's ran down the line. He and Freiderike joined the choir.

Bizarrely, it suddenly occurred to him he hadn't been in a situation that required his Barrier Jacket - the proper, hardened one - for quite some time. Months, possibly. Still in the day colours too, by an oversight on his part; he switched it over to bluer, more muted hues at a mental command.

Freiderike hadn't had to remember, of course; her dark and bulky armoured Jacket fitting in almost seamlessly with the rest of the Dispatch squad save for the differing trim colours and the emblem on her chestplate.

He checked Diarmuid, now in it's buckler form. As Ispettore, they were there to snatch-grab as much information as they could as soon as the area was secure. Outside of the Investigative classes, Defence spells were the best he could claim to have a speciality in, along with the basic healing methods everyone was supposed to know about. Freiderike's suite was more varied given their differing career paths, but hopefully they wouldn't have to rely on that; that was what the Dispatch squad was for.

A guttural shudder ran down the spine of the catcher bird as the primary anti-gravs whirred up to life. Evidentially, whoever had designed the thing had taken one look at the weight ratios and gone 'fuck it; it'll never fly'; if the anti-gravs kicked out, it wouldn't even glide.

He spared a glance at Freiderike, looking completely familiar with lounging in her harness waiting for takeoff. The anti-gravs on these things didn't kick out. Probably. Unless they were shot at, of course.

A small chirp, and a flicker in the corner of his eye announced a countdown being relayed through Diarmuid. Takeoff in ten, then. Flight crew and engineers scuttered away from the hangar line, as the rising chorus of spooling birds began to reach an unsteady, echoing whine.

He caught a few of them running right back, as another bird further down the line abruptly cut out, belching smoke, discharged mana and a lot of inventive cursing from those aboard. It was possible he wasn't the only part of the Judiciary feeling too old for this kind of thing.

Then a thud, and a lurch, and the sensation of his stomach dropping beneath him; the floor receded away as the rest of the flock kept steady around them. Like great migrating flocks; from the hangar bays, rooftops and the red tents of the Castillan units, the swarm rose around them; the whine of the anti-gravs becoming a unceasing roar.

The Polizern drifted away, and the Catchers of the Judiciary took wing.


They ran silent. They ran dark.

Valezorro had an underside, and not all of it was underwater; out in the bolas, at the city's edge, the stilt-houses had been raised up over what would originally have been shores and floodplains; the new city having outgrown the ruins of the old. It was even meant to be navigable; people stored their watercutters down here, as an easy access to the city's canalways. Not that trash and waste didn't - inevitably - find its way down here as well...

Personally, she was thankful for Barrier Jackets being what they were. Amongst other things, they could filter out the smell.

No lights. During the day people might spare the mana to keep the underside lanterns lit if they were in, just communal courtesy, but there was never any guarantee; any boat winding its way though here was expected to carry its own illumination. At this time of night, there were only one or two cutters working their way home, slow and steady; little winking pinpricks of yellow light dancing in the distance, bobbing on waves and intermittently hidden behind support blocks and poles.

That they were keeping their distance probably contributed.

She looked behind them, suppressing a grimace. The invisibility spell hid them, sure, but at best speed, the boat itself was leaving a painfully obvious wake in the water she'd never even thought about.

If they could have done a practise run...

But no. No time. If even they knew the Venetis were Tosca, the Judi couldn't be far behind. With Whatshisname a Myedoan caster as well...

She resisted the urge to tap her fingers. There was a time window on this, and it was going to be small. They'd barely have days, even. Little choice but to rush in.

She wondered if the Veneti girl's dad had made that thing, then laughed the idea off as ridiculous.

"How close are we?"

"They're on the shoreline." She'd had her Device set up a marker; a small pink circle overlaid in the distance. "Nearly there. Left by 10 at the next support strut."

Jacque grunted, and made the next turn. She shifted again, feeling a twinge in her side.

"Stop that; don't rock the boat."

"-Sorry!"

The little pink marker appeared to rise as they got close; the target point actually over their heads. This close, there wasn't really an 'underdock', just the bolas' own informal canals; struts and walkways; as exposed to the night sky as often as not. Their primary reason for sailing dark.

The marker was directly above, and the open sea directly ahead.

"Alright, we're here."

She couldn't see Jacque's nod as he brought the skiff to a halt and began to turn the boat around. "Buena suerte. Hope you know what you're looking for."


"All birds, all birds, fan to targets and maintain safe distances. Fly dark say again; fly dark. Pop and run and maintain force mobility. Designating squadrons from sunrise; Uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque..."

"Ferdinand-Niner, assignment to Quattro Group per flight orders. Flock with birds for dockside residential targets; five Magier-Ritter-Gruppen in reserve. Good hunting."

Orders and telepathic chatter came thick and fast, passing through their heads at the whims and organisation of the flight ops at station back in the battered Polizern, keeping everyone as informed as they needed to be.

Watching on Diarmuid's overlays, the Judiciary's response was spreading out in a wide, ragged circle. Denser at some parts - the ones heading for Commercial and the Residential Districts, thinner in others; towards Economic and Industrial. Their own little bird was just one highlighted dot in a swarm of many.

"Go bright on first enemy contact. Recall on prisoner capacity, severely injured or mechanical failures."

Rice Pascal, giving everyone their standing orders. One way to make an invigorating speech, he supposed...

"These people have caused some very deep wounds these past few days. Lets put a stop to it."

That sounded more like it. The Castillan contingent sounded particularly enthusiastic.

Domhnall breathed, as the catcher bird soared its ungainly bulk across the rooftops of the Commercial District out to the sea.

Arrest Ciardo Veneti. Take him in for questioning. They knew he had Tosca connections; he was sure he could gather enough evidence from the attacks on his daughter to prove a coercion case. Ciardo just had to concede, and give as many names as he could. They'd talked it over with Pascal, in the event the worst came to this. This wasn't how Valezorro and Caglica was meant to be. Not in the modern era.

The Delgado be damned; the Venetis wouldn't be left out to dry.

Even if they were about to crash down upon them.


The Veneti bola actually wasn't that bad. As far as holes to sleep in went, it was pretty well furbished all things considered. It had a roof, walls and everything.

Natalie picked through it all silently, one eye on the giant, gently swinging hammock taking up most of the room's space. Kaisers, she hadn't realised how huge that girl's dad was. Maybe it was a shipbuilding thing.

Whatever it was, it was making things difficult. It took her a moment to spot where the kid even was; if her daddy's prize sail ever broke that kid was going to get her ankles squashed. Made her wince.

Edging around the sides, but being careful not to actually touch the sides, she had to play a very careful balancing game; reach Renza Veneti, without touching anything else. Veneti's giant of a father was one landmine she definitely didn't want set off.

Her injured side was objecting to the strain. Objecting viciously.

D-Damn it...

Suddenly, she saw it. A little back egg laying in front of the sleeping Veneti's face, lying there on the sheets just like that. A little further up, the white Summons creature was curled up and still.

...And watching her.

Natalie froze, hand outstretched. The creature never moved. Red eyes tracked hers with eerie accuracy despite the camouflage layer her Jacket was maintaining. Like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar; it had to have been watching her since the moment she came in.

Papa Veneti's hammock swung gently as the giant man rumbled in his sleep. Flakboards creaked beneath her feet. The creature's tail made a little flick.

Impasse.


Pulling himself up onto the dockside with a faint wheeze, Jacque Cassot tried rubbing feeling back into his hands, eyes on the skyline.

...This was such a terrible plan.

But the chica was injured, and knew something was going on. Tosca's actions made no sense, sure, but a Lost Logia...

Either it was crazy, and the Tosca were just being idiots on a lost cause - what was new? - or it would be true... and the Tosca would be crazy, and still on a lost cause. The Church and the TSAB wouldn't exactly stand around at that, they had to know.

He shivered. The Valezi- mercy, anyone born or living on Caglica - had to know the dangers of Lost Logia. The Ocean Crisis alone should have taught them that. No-one would stand by anyone who made use of Logia amongst the Island Cities.

If the chica was wrong; a sigh of relief. If the chica was right... they'd have to dispose of it as soon as possible, before it could cause any more trouble. Tell the bosses they'd found nothing at all. It wasn't worth this. Chica would complain, but chica would grow up. If they were quiet, they could maybe even get it to the TSAB. That would be a job opportunity far beyond the Cosa damn chica was so all for.

...And what was taking her so long?

He edged around the side of the bola towards the main entrance facing the sea. Had she found it and run into trouble? Or had she not found it, and was still looking because there was nothing to find?

Kaisers, he hoped she wouldn't tear the place down if it couldn't be found. Wouldn't do much for the stealth, and the girl could get dangerous unpredictable at times. Go in, grab, get out; that was what he'd been told. Wasn't like there were multiple rooms.

A rising whine caught his ears, building on the waves. Somewhere in the distance, a flash of light as something exploded. Mage fire.

With a horrified sinking feeling, Jacque looked up, and saw what flight of birds had took wing.

"Natalie!" He broadcast desperately. "We have to go! Now!"

"Wha-?"

"Judi! Judi are here!"


The white Summons still hadn't moved, even as Jacque's news came in.

"-Shit!"

Hesitation danced on a wire, then she made her move and snatched it.

The white Summons still never moved, even as she scarpered out the exit, Logia in hand.


"Ferdinand-Niner, at target address. Making first past for drone dispersal."

That would be his cue. At a mental command, Diarmuid's buckler shape opened up, and a horde of tiny drones barely above the size of a fingernail set loose, flocking out to swarm around the Veneti house and surrounding area; tiny cameras and sensors sweeping and leaving faint trails of mana in their wake. The Dispatch squad likewise took this opportunity for a once-over from the air, taking in the target building and surrounding rooftops.

An alarm flashed almost immediately. Diarmuid had spotted something.

-Wait, what?

Boat and two figures; underdock. Using a cheap camouflage on their Jackets, but showing up bright and clear on thermals. Amateurs.

"Heads up!" he broadcast to the rest of the squad. "I have eyes; two burglars with a boat in the underdock; they're making to cut and run."

Two more explosions lit up the distance, and a lance of light abruptly tore into the sky off and away near Economic. The city was waking up.

Burglar One reached the boat; short person on the thermals, could be a kid. Burglar Two was...

...Well he's suicidal.

The man had dropped his stealth, Barrier Jacket hardening and a maroon shield forming in front of him. Stand and fight; trying to let the other one escape? Diarmuid's drones were already trying to pick up on facial features.

[Duine neamhaitheanta, mo Rí]

...Unidentifiable. Typical.

"Strikers, uh..." the flight-leader weighed in, "we have kinda a crazy bastard, here. Proceed with caution."

The catcher bird circled once, as Burglar One stumbled about their boat in confusion. Seemed to be injured. Telepathic conversation, by the looks of it, before the boat suddenly spurted away on its own power. He stuck as many drones on it as possible whilst he had the chance.

"Burglar in the boat; running. Good speed." He advised. The catcher could follow from the air but with the boat beneath the city itself, the only way they could actually intercept was with a boat of their own, a flight mage they didn't have or some other specialist capable of moving at speed on water. None of those options available, as far as he was aware.

"Strikers; drop and engage." The leader ordered. "Ranged and high-eyes on cover; holding pattern and pursuit. You have the runner marked?"

Last question directed at him. "Yes. Runner is marked."

"We'll chase down later; priority target first."

Fair enough. The target marker tore off into the distance across the water's surface.

There was a collective series of thunks, and the catcher bird abruptly bobbed up into the air as the Strikers cut their harnesses loose; Freiderike amongst them. He watched; half with his eyes, half through Diarmuid; as the Strikers carefully surrounded the shielded man, trying to flank around the side. Freiderike was ignoring him completely; circling around the bola instead.

Six others, himself included, remained flying; ranged or support specialists. On his part, his role was more suited to information gathe-

Another alarm.

"-Strikers," he warned, "be advised priority target is active, repeat active-"

Another alarm. He blinked at what his drones inside the bola were telling him.

"-Medical emergency, we have a flatlined minor on the scene-" -what- "-repeat, flatlined minor on the scene; no breathing, pulse is gone-"

There was a roar, of genuine heartbreak and fury.

The man behind the maroon shield barely got to turn before being slammed into by a giant human battering ram; the shield still orientated against the Strikers and facing in the wrong direction.

"Fuck-" Flight-leader. "Strikers, subdue!"

The brawling mass of rage was abruptly lit up in a rainbow barrage; binds, shooters and non-lethal impactors all firing at once. The shield never stood a chance.

His heart in his throat; this mission had just gone spectacularly and unexpectedly wrong- "Freiderike?"

She'd gone inside the bola rather than get distracted by the melee; excellent call.

"Not breathing. Vitals are down. No signs of- Scheisse, heart's stopped, can't restart-"

"Striker team; priority target suppressed, other target critical; crushed throat. Need medical and- aw shit, the neighbours-!"

More bursts of light. More barrages and counter-fire.

What even happened-

"Ispettore Pinici, dropping groundside."

He set his harness loose on mental command, and dropped the five feet or so to the bola roof. It creaked a little on his landing, his Jacket flaring with the impact.

"Casualty; Renza Veneti; causes unclear. Can't resuscitate."

Dropped to the level of the flakboards. Fred looked up, hunched over the extremely still girl lying amidst the sheets.

Jacket collapsed; Veneti was lying there in her emergency gear. No linker core output. In no sense a good sign.

Something very nearly caught him in the back of the head; a flash of coloured light that sizzled past his ear and impacted into the plaster wall, forcing him into an instinctive crouch. All the bola were suddenly waking up.

...Shit.

His and Freiderike's eyes met. Diarmuid sprung loose at a mental command.

"Runner in the underdocks; marked and tagged. You're the better chaser; go."

She took it, she nodded, and she ran full sprint out past him across the walkways.

"Ferninand-Niner, encountering high local resistance." Flight-leader, coordinating with the Polizern. "Priority target acquired but situation is complex; advise?"

"Scoop up and pull out. Reserve teams have already been committed elsewhere. Withdraw."

He grit his teeth. "Ispettore Pinici; Ispettore Buhr on solo pursuit. Possible child-murder case."

"Judiciary understands, but cannot commit. Withdraw and resume investigations when situation is stable."

...Damn it.

"Strikers, clear landing zone; VTOL short-stop at dockside, all copy?"

"Copy."

"Copy." He responded, feeling his teeth grind, stalking into the bola and pushing the still-swinging hammock to one side.

Renza Veneti lay there, quiet and still, completely unmoving. He'd warned her, but he'd never expected this. He wasn't even sure what 'this' was.

"Alright, boarding up- Ispettore!"

He crouched down, and scooped her up. Lighter than expected. Still warm.

They'd need the autopsy report.

"Coming." He transmitted back, before turning on his heel and leaving the house.


And, unseen by everyone, the little white creature sat there and watched it all, tail a-swishing.