It was the morning of the Agency banquet and most of the cyborgs, more notably the second-stages, were hanging in the library, having nothing better to do as it was their day off. Svetlana reclined in the wooden chair, propping her feet on the lengthy wooden table, and a cheery pop tune buzzing from her earphones. Across from her was a shorter, younger girl, her light brown hair barely touching her shoulders and a book propped in front of her. Her mouth was moving, but Svetlana couldn't hear a word she was saying.

Finally, the blonde tugged the left earphone out and said, "What now?"

"Oh!" Delilah smiled for a moment. "I was just saying… I'm waiting for my next handler currently."

"Uh-huh. Earth-shattering news there, Delili," Svetlana droned, eliciting a few chuckles from Petrushka. "Which one is this? #578?"

"I think so. ...They just keep dying, I'm not sure why."

Renata, her red tresses in a usual bun on her head, shuddered inadvertently and turned her iPod up louder as to block out the conversation (which was a rather easy feat to accomplish, as Delilah herself made it a point to share some Rammstein with her fellow cyborg fen). Her blue eyes scanned the display screen, and she murmured, quietly, "...Du...hast."

Svetlana nodded, and recited: "Willst du, bis der Tod euch scheidet, treu ihr sein für alle Tage?"

Simultaneously, the cyborgs replied, "Nein!"

Delilah beamed. "I'm so happy to be with friends."

A cacophonous crash cut them all off sharply, followed by a teenage boy and a six-year-old girl's arguing. Svetlana quickly shut her iPod off and slid beneath the table swiftly, listening. Renata screamed and flopped backwards in her chair.

"I won't let you stop them from aborting the baby, Frederick! I'm sorry!"

"It's my baby as well as Triela's! They have no right to kill it!"

"Frederick..." Guinevere whined. "Frederick, please listen to me...!"

"They are not aborting that baby! That's final!"

"How would you try to stop them?" Renata muttered, picking her chair up and sitting back down.

There was a faint swish of cloth, and a Sturmgewehr 44 assault rifle was tipped precariously in front of the redhead's right eye. It was clear to the occupants of the table that Frederick had been concealing it in his coat the entire time, but that didn't stop a collective gasp from making its rounds.

"I can kill them," he said simply.

"...Oh, what the hell. Is that an SS rifle?"

A tanned arm reached out from beneath the table and grasped the barrel of the rifle, twisting it upwards with a sickening creak. Frederick cried out shrilly as the rest watched Svetlana emerge, looping the metal continuously until it looked though the masculine cyborg had a pretzel where his gun ought to have been.

When the blonde finished, she snarled at Frederick.

"What the hell is this? Did you rob a museum? Jesus Christ," she said, slapping her forehead. "I never expected one of the halfies to be a Nazi bastard."

He was quiet, as there was a pause. Petrushka seemed to have fled the scene. Delilah was innocently reading a book.

Gwen piped up. "...Wh-what are Nazis?"

"...I...have to go," Frederick mumbled meekly, and dashed out of the library.