[Omake is Rated G for German]
Somewhere in Griffin Sector [REDACTED]

It was early morning as the flight of two Blackhawk Helicopters raced through the air. Staying at low altitude, just above the foggy trees to avoid detection by Sangvis AA Installations, the pair of Griffin Squads set down at the LZ. Commander Schaeffer's Heavy Weapons Squad #4, led by Colt 1911, swept into a defensive position, keeping watch with their heavily armored shotguns and machineguns.

"Team Four Oh Four, LZ is secure, we're ready to Oscar Mike."

With well-trained precision, the 2nd Blackhawk set down and released its payload- four T-dolls of the elusive black ops, Squad 404. UMP9 was the first to step off, humming cheerfully, and her older sister was right behind. Lastly, following several harsh curses in German, HK416 exited the helo, a sleepy G11 on her back.

"Was zum teufel, G11?! Aufwachen jetzt, träge arschloch!"

M2, 1911, SPAS12, and BAR1918 looked on in confusion, while MG5 simply chuckled. As the most experienced of the HWS (heavy weapons squad), she had dealt with Team 404 before...and more useful, she actually knew German, unlike her counterparts.

"Yo, Five, wanna tell us what's so funny?"

The tall MG shook her head, "Just the normal antics, nothing to worry about."

"Ehhh? So these are the EW specialists we're to protect, huh? They don't look that impressive," SPAS12 folded her arms with a smug expression. "Especially the little SMG there with the moody face~"

An eyebrow twitched. The temperature in the clearing grew even colder. G11 snored, and HK416 cursed at the drool on her shoulder.

"Ooooh, is that so?" UMP45 asked, smiling sweetly and stepping closer. The, er, slim SMG looked up at the rather large shotgun T-doll. "Sorry, but I've never even heard of you, Kuh, despite those massive things you call udders."

Mission already being forgotten, SPAS' face heated up with annoyance. "What's the matter, slimjim, are you jealous of my design?" She then, of course, hefted her assets in an impressive display.

"On the contrary, Fettsack, if I were anything like you, the enemy would hear the vibrations of my ground as I stomp my way to the kitchen!"

Collectively on the sidelines, HK416 and M1911 shared the look. The look of when a simple milk-run training sim was doomed to be a disaster on the scales of a world war, and they knew it.

SEVEN HOURS LATER

Commander E. Schaeffer, the young but promising rookie Commander of Griffin & Kreuger Private Military Corporation, stood impatiently outside the simulation terminal. Alongside her was Kalina, her orange-haired, money-grubbing Adjutant, holding a datapad as they stared at the screen. She sweatdropped, glancing over at the stern Commander nervously.

"Well... at least we know they're all enthusiastic? Eheh, heh...heh."

Her words didn't reach the Commander's ears, who was staring vacantly at the screen.

Bounce.

"ALL T-DOLLS, ARE KWEENS!"

Bounce. Bounce.

"IF SHE'S THICC..."

There was nothing that bounced.

Two energies, supernaturally bright, charged with orange and purple respectively, howled and whined to life. Already, the mockup of a Sangvis FOB was in ruins, the mission was long forgotten. The specially programmed Sangvis Ringleader module hadn't lasted more than one instant; clearly, this was a battle beyond mere combat, as seen by the false Ouroboros. (The Commander had not been amused when M950A had yelled into the speakerphone commentary system, finishing with "ONE PUUUUUUUNCH!").

"SHE'S A THOT!"

The simulation ended with a white flash, and Kalina made a note to have the engineers take a look at the system later. For now, she had a Commander to comfort.

"How...more importantly... Why?" Kneeling under a miniature rainstorm, Commander Schaefer looked down at her own flat chest and sobbed. "Why must all of my subordinates be so THIIIIIIIICC?!"

"There there, it's alright, let's go back to Mama Springfield's cafe for a milkshake, m'kay?"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaa..."

Rule #547: "Any and all conversations involving personal assets, large or small, are hereby forbidden on missions, as well as in the public areas of base. There will be no more warning." Signed, Commander Schaeffer.