Prologue

Metallic clicks echoed in a steady, monotonous tempo in the bedroom of a small hotel in Yekaterinburg as the sun rose. It was like the ticking of a clock, albeit with a more hollow tone of emptiness. The clicks emanated from that bedroom's wooden desk where Captain Mumei Nanashi was hunched over under the light of a desk lamp and the rising sun flowing in from the nearby window. Her M14 rifle, along with all of its array of cleaning materials and attachments, were spread out on the desk and were flanked by stripper clips of ammunition and twenty-round magazines.

Some were empty.

Some were already full.

Mumei was quiet and singularly focused on her task: slotting the stripper clips of bullets into the empty M14 magazines five bullets at a time.

It was something that Mumei was used to doing. She had meticulously reloaded magazines like that en masse before she deployed with her ACB in Vietnam, so her movements were fluid, practiced and precise. Loading magazines was also the first duty that Lady Knowledge gave to her when she was just a child trapped in the horror of the Korean War.

Somewhere in North-occupied South Korea about nineteen years ago, the young Mumei was taught how to load bullets into magazines by Lady Knowledge. In the rare moments of peace between the fighting, that was what Mumei and Lady Knowledge did together in the supply tents or on the field.

It was how the then-elementary school girl and her future mentor bonded in the midst of the explosions of artillery and mortar shells and the rattle of machine gun fire that fell like rain.

Now, a proper young woman and a Captain of the US Army, Mumei continued her tradition in reverent silence - in memory of Lady Knowledge.

In the few moments that the owl-girl blinked her eyes, she imagined that Lady Knowledge was there with her in that very room of the Yekaterinburg hotel. She imagined Lady Knowledge slotting rounds into a Thompson submachine gun's drum magazine while complaining about how Lady Janus stole her chocolate bar from their rations - or about General Douglas MacArthur's tobacco breath - or about how then Second Lieutenant Omega's crazy, albeit effective tactics nearly got the entire Tenth Council killed on more than one occasion.

When Mumei opened her eyes, however, Lady Knowledge wasn't there. She was alone in the room with a half-empty M14 magazine in hand.

Mumei shuddered. At times, she felt like she wanted to cry - but her tears have already long since gone dry. Tiny splotches of dried tears were scattered along with the gun grease, the droplets from her rifle's cleaning materials and stripper clips of ammunition.

The owl-girl closed her eyes again. But now, even her daydreams were devoid of her beloved mentor.

She gripped her half-empty magazine tightly.

"What am I to do…?" Mumei asked no one in particular, speaking to the absent phantom of her fading memories.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door.

The clouds of melancholy over Mumei's head dissipated immediately, replaced by the rush of adrenaline. She set down her half-empty magazine and she swiftly reached for the loaded M1911 pistol that she wore by her hip. It was almost as if her body moved on its own and prepared itself to fight.

"Who's there?" Mumei demanded with a stern voice.

"It's me. Sana." Her visitor answered. The ex-astronaut opened the door slightly and poked her head through the threshold.

Mumei's expression softened once more. She moved her hand away from her pistol and answered, "Please come on in."

Sana opened the door slightly more, but she saw the battle rifle on Mumei's desk and relented. So, she held her ground and spoke gingerly through the threshold.

"Are you alright now, Mumei?"

Mumei saw the ex-astronaut eyeing her gun and the mountain of ammunition beside it and started to understand just what was going on. She put away some of the stripper clips and reassured Sana with a small smile.

"I'm alright, Sana. I was just cleaning my gun and reloading some magazines." Mumei explained her morbid pastime, "It never hurts to be prepared for an attack. That's what life on the battlefield taught me. The moment you let down your guard - that's when they get you." She glanced at the half-empty magazine that she set aside and mused, "It's what I do when I want to calm myself down."

"But you're alright?" Sana asked with her childlike innocence, "Like, really, really alright?"

Mumei paused. Then, she realized what Sana was talking about.

"Yes! I'm really alright." Mumei promised. She forced herself to wear a smile, "See?"

The forced smile was awkward, but it was enough to calm down the anxious Sana to a degree. The ex-astronaut finally found just enough courage to go inside Mumei's hotel room. Still nervous, Sana fidgeted and spoke.

"I saw you on the train yesterday - through the frosted glass." Sana revealed, speaking with great concern, "You didn't say a word to me after we booked our rooms here. You didn't even come out for dinner downstairs." A frown formed on her lips, "Then last night, I heard you on the phone till late. I heard you through the walls of our rooms. But I fell asleep halfway through and dreamed that something bad happened to you!"

"Oh? Ahaha~ I'm sorry about that." Mumei apologized and scratched the back of her head. She stood up from her seat and showed herself to Sana, "As you can see, I'm still here in one piece. That telephone call ended quite nicely, actually!" A tender smile formed on her lips, "I was talking to someone I can trust wholeheartedly last night. Talking with them really helped me sort things out."

"I see." Sana finally smiled back, "If that's the case, let's go have breakfast. We've gotta catch the morning train to Moscow, right?"

A train whistle from the nearby train station filled the small hotel room. Mumei nodded and rose up from her chair.

"I'll get ready to…"

Before Mumei could do so, the telephone by the table rang. Mumei sauntered over to the phone and answered coldly.

"Captain Mumei Nanashi speaking. State your business."

Sana watched the owl-girl quietly as she talked with the person on the other end of the line. She started creeping back towards the threshold to give Mumei some space, but the Army Captain stopped Sana, raising up her hand to ask Sana to stay. So, Sana stayed put.

Mumei returned her attention to the phone call and stood in attention as she spoke, staying as still as a statue. Her cold tone became professional and dutiful. Moments later the phone came to an end.

"Understood." Mumei concluded, "I'll begin the preparations for Eagle-11, Madam General."

Mumei set down the phone and remained silent. It seemed like there was a lot going on through Mumei's mind. Sana fretted quietly beside Mumei's desk. She was curious about the call but was too afraid to ask - not after what she saw on the train to Yekaterinburg.

The moment Mumei stirred, Sana nearly jumped away in fright.

"S-so?" Sana probed cautiously.

"There's been a change in plans. You don't have to go to the Australian Embassy in Moscow anymore." Mumei explained to Sana, "Irys and the Eleventh Council will meet with you here - in Yekaterinburg."

"Is that so?" Sana hummed.

"You can relax in the town until tomorrow." Mumei started to put away her things, "I'll join you later on. I just have a few things that I need to prepare."

"Prepare?" Sana tilted her head.

Mumei picked up her rifle and loaded a full magazine in. She showed Sana the rifle and answered, "I have to prepare the defense of this town for your international debut, Speaker of Space Sana Tsukumo."

Eleven

Station To Station

Seventy-Second Scene - From Kether To Malkuth

Further to the West, outside Moscow's Yaroslavsky Railway Station, Colonel Omega sat on a stone bench. She had a Soviet newspaper spread out before her, covering her face from the throng of early morning commuters. Someone from the crowds approached Omega, a tall and muscular woman with dark brown hair and sunglasses.

Omega lowered her newspaper and saw the woman. She gave her a small nod. The woman then sat down beside her and huddled close. She peered over Omega's newspaper and gasped.

"Oh, would you look at that?" The woman pointed to one of the articles in the newspaper, "Eleven rubles for a pair of blue jeans? That's a highway robbery! In this day and age, at least."

Omega furrowed her brow and brushed off the woman's finger.

"Surely you didn't arrange a meeting with me here to talk about interdimensional inflation." Omega snapped at her seatmate but managed to keep her voice low enough, "But before I say anything else, I need identification."

"You're really stingy about that, huh?" J-chad hummed, "You wouldn't even talk to me at the bar last night!"

"We're in a dangerous world right now, Miss Chadwick. A Manager has to be proficient and precise." Omega insisted, "If you are who you say you are, we can't rely on hunches and half-measures - especially when it comes to trust."

"Speak softly but carry a big stick, huh?" J-chad mused, "In your case, a teeny tiny .38 Detective Special."

"The .38 isn't the only weapon I'm carrying, I'll have you know." Omega scoffed, flexing her mechanical arm, "Want to guess what caliber this can shoot?"

J-chad squinted suspiciously and pouted, "Now I see where Enma got that pain-in-the-ass attitude of hers."

"Did you say something?" Omega raised her brow.

"Nothing." J-chad shrugged. She reached into her back pocket and brought out an ID lanyard for Omega to see, "This is what you want to see, right?"

Omega took the ID lanyard and read through it. It had a unique magnetized mark. Her mechanical arm reacted to it, validating it as real-deal Cover Corp technology.

"Jacqueline Chadwick, nickname J-chad. Junior Manager of HoloEN. Senior scythe-class Reaper." Her gem-like eyes scanned the document keenly, "You're from KW8, I see." Then, she furrowed her brow, "You live under the Potomac River?"

"I live in the Underworld bastion of the River Styx which HAPPENS to be underneath the Potomac River." J-chad huffed with frustration.

"A simple yes or no would have sufficed." Omega snickered, "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

J-chad rubbed her temple, "And that's where Jenma's twisted humor comes from."

Omega smirked with a hint of pride. She returned the ID lanyard to J-chad and finally answered her frankly.

"Alright. I believe you, J-chad." Omega conceded. She laid her mechanical hand over her heart and introduced herself, "I am Omega Alpha. Here in KW11, I'm a Colonel of the US Army. In KW0, I'm a Senior Manager of the Cover Corporation." She leaned back into the bench and sighed, "Time moves faster in this world than it does at Headquarters - in KW0. Five years have passed in KW0 now. That's equal to about nineteen years here in KW11."

"That's a hell of a long time." J-chad sympathized, "A-chan and your records said that you're a Manager who was sent to KW11 as an observer - to keep tabs on the activities of the Ancient Ones here and to report back to HQ. Almost like a sleeper agent!"

"Except I haven't been sleeping. Far from it." Omega countered, gripping the newspaper tightly. The term struck a nerve in the uptight Manager and she vented, "I've been watching, recording and sending one-way messages back to HQ. I've made tiny pushes and nudges to keep the world from falling apart, but I've otherwise kept my head down. I don't want to blow my cover, after all." She rubbed her temple and sighed, "I've been here nineteen years in this world's time. But after all of the things that I've seen and done - and all of the things I've kept to myself - it feels like a hundred."

"Senpai…" J-chad patted Omega's shoulder again, "Well, rest assured. You're not alone - and you never were. Me being here is proof that we haven't forgotten you."

"But Cover's policy for KW11 is infiltration and observation." Omega stated, "If A-chan is sending new agents here, then that means…"

J-chad paused. Then, she answered grimly.

"The Manipulator is active once more."

When J-chad said this, the train whistles from the platforms of Yaroslavsky Train Station filled the air, reminding Omega of the time. The undercover Manager closed her eyes and folded her newspaper.

Omega lowered her head, "The time has finally come." She opened her gemlike eyes and faced J-chad, "I'm gonna need backup for this one."

"That's why we're here, my dude." J-chad grinned. She adjusted her sunglasses and hummed, "It'd be an honor to learn directly from one of Cover Corp's finest Managers."

"Nineteen years too late, but I'll take it." Omega scoffed. She patted J-chad's shoulder this time and spoke, "We still have to play things on the down low and not rock the boat. Our situation is precarious at best and the Manipulator is no joke. We don't know what we don't know. We have to tread lightly."

"Operational Security. I know." J-chad answered happily, "I've done my fair share of espionage in my time."

"Good. As of right now, Miss Chadwick, we've never met. This conversation never happened." Omega explained and stood up from the bench, "But I might accidentally leave a Coach-class ticket to Yekaterinburg in the ladies washroom trash can in five minutes and forget about it." She shrugged, "It would be a shame if some stranger picked it up, no?"

"Oh, for sure. A real tragedy, my dawg." J-chad hummed.

"I know right?" Omega agreed.

"One small issue, though, chief." J-chad promptly added, "Wouldn't it be nice if you forget three tickets there instead?" The tall, junior manager grinned and raised up three fingers, "I didn't exactly go here into KW11 on my lonesome, you know."

Seventy-Third Scene - For Whom The Nephilim Sings

Later that morning, on the Yekaterinburg-bound train, Irys and Bae looked out the ornate window of a well-furnished private room on the First-Class car. The couple watched as the hustle and bustle of Soviet Moscow grew smaller and smaller behind them, replaced by the snow-swept fields of the more rural Russian oblasts.

Powdery white snow on rolling hills and fields as far as Bae's bright blue eyes could see.

Every now and then, Bae glanced at the wide-eyed Nephilim looking out to the snow-swept scenery. She could practically see the twinkle in Irys' two-colored eyes. Bae didn't know if it was the snow or the idyllic Russian countryside that sparked Irys' imagination, but it brought a smile to Bae's lips. The sight of Irys so enthralled by the view disarmed her.

"Absolutely beautiful." The words escaped Bae's lips.

"Hmm…?" Irys turned to the rat-girl beside her and smirked. She laid a hand on her chest and asked proudly, "Are you talking, perhaps, about me?"

"Wha…!?" Bae recoiled. Her face soured like she just ate a lemon, but her cheeks were red and she fought tooth, nail and tail to stop herself from smiling. She bit her lip and lashed out, "I was talking about the scenery, you dummy!"

"Sure you were." Irys hummed, completely unconvinced.

"I'm serious!" Bae tried to change the topic, scrambling for anything else she could find. The whistle of the old but reliable diesel locomotive blew and gave Bae an idea. She latched onto it for dear life and took her shot, "Also - this train's pretty old, isn't it? Were the trains like this where you're from, Irys?"

Irys squinted. She knew exactly what Bae was trying to do, but she played ball. She looked around their private room and thought out loud.

"You know what, it actually does feel pretty similar. It's almost like a time capsule now that I look at it!" Irys leaned back into her comfortable seat and brushed her hands against the frame of an Imperial-era painting hanging on the wall behind her. She regarded the picture and hummed, "I used to ride trains a lot when I was a reaper in my world, Bae. We didn't have helicopters back then - and the Ford Model T cars were still years away." She grinned at her partner and added, "We usually had two choices to get to where we needed to go: rowboats on the River Styx in the Underworld or trains in the Overworld."

Bae crossed her legs and smiled back.

"I'm guessing you liked trains a whole lot more than rowboats." The rat-girl guessed.

"Bingo!" Irys chuckled, "The Underworld might sound cool to someone seeing it for the first time, but you'll get sick of the heat and humidity of the Underworld's subterranean rivers before long." She rubbed her shoulders too and laughed uncomfortably, "Plus - rowing long distances can tire you out."

"Three cheers for technology, I guess." Bae scoffed. She leaned forward and asked, "So what was it like back then in those train rides of yours? Paint me a picture, won't you?"

"Hmm…" Irys gathered her thoughts and closed her eyes, "Our Lord of Death had a lot of connections, so we usually booked lots of train cars for our use. A lot of them were Third Class coaches, though." She raised up her shoulders and feigned claustrophobia, "That was where junior sickle-class reapers like me were stuffed in like sardines."

"Sounds like my commute when I was back in 'Straya!" Bae laughed.

Irys stuck out her tongue and continued, "Because of that, looking out the window was the one luxury that poor ole' me could afford. First Class? Third Class? Didn't matter to me as long as I could take the window seat!"

Again, the twinkle in Irys' eyes caught Bae's attention.

So that's why she was so fixated on the window.

"Hey Irys." Bae started and faced Irys with a smile, "When this is all over and I get the chance to join you in your world, I know what sort of trip we'll be taking! All this time, I've been showing you my world." She folded her arms and beamed, "Next time, I want you to show me your world! I'll even let you take the window seat!"

"You want to see the world with me?" Irys smiled back. "I'd like that… very much. When all of this is done."

As soon as Irys said those words, her enthusiasm started to evaporate. She suddenly shifted around in her seat and lowered her head.

All of a sudden, the train rolled into a tunnel. The peaceful, snow-swept view beyond the window that Irys adored was swallowed whole by dark, howling darkness. Irys nearly jumped up from her seat and her face went pale.

"Irys? You alright?" Bae asked.

"I'm fine… I'm fine." Irys lied clumsily.

"Hey." Bae prodded.

Irys pursed her lips. She didn't want to say anything, but Bae kept her stare fixed on her.

Irys fidgeted. She rocked back and forth in her seat. It was almost like she was trying to shake herself to find the right words to say. Bae saw this and frowned.

The rat-girl rose up from her seat and sat beside Irys.

"It's just the two of us here, Irys." Bae spoke softly, "Sparrowhawk and Omega are in another train car. Nixon and Brezhnev are on a different train. The news media cameras and microphones are far over yonder in Yekaterinburg - we won't see them till' tomorrow!"

The rat-girl laid her hand over Irys'.

She felt Irys' hand trembling.

"You can be as honest with me as you want." Bae reminded her, "No matter what you say - no matter how crazy it is - I won't judge you. I'll be right here for you. Okay?"

"Bae…"

Irys looked into the rat-girl's determined blue eyes. Bae was looking at her with unwavering devotion. She was staring at her with an intensity that told Irys that she had no choice but to spill the beans.

So, Irys did.

She opened the floodgates.

"Lately, I've been getting this odd feeling of deja vu." Irys explained. Her voice was frail and haunted.

"Deja vu?" Bae tilted her head, "How so?"

"Do you remember that story I told you about how I was spirited away to this world?" Irys asked gingerly. She closed her blue left eye and laid her hand over it, "About the Ritual of Death and Destiny?"

"That's how you lost your eye, wasn't it?" Bae confirmed, "How could I forget?"

Irys nodded. She lowered her hand from her eye to Bae's hands.

"Don't you feel like things have been moving incredibly fast? Plans popping out of nowhere? Sudden surprise trips? Sparrowhawk and Omega blindsiding us at the last minute?"

Bae frowned.

"Oh don't get me started. I've had a bone to pick with Omega and Sparrowhawk for quite some time now. Ever since my Company R got tagged to MACV, it's been 'do this!' and 'do that!' non-freaking-stop!" The rat-girl agreed wholeheartedly. Her tail shot up straight and her ears stood in attention while she lambasted her former commanders, "I trust them since they seem to know the bigger picture of what we're up against. But neither of them seem to want to show us that 'bigger picture'." She turned to the darkness beyond the window, and heaved a sigh, "It's like they're keeping us in the dark. Even now. We're on a need to know basis… and I hate that."

Irys squeezed Bae's hands in hers.

"That's how I felt about Death-sensei, my Lord of Death, and his right hand J-chad leading up to the Ritual of Death and Destiny." She let go of Bae's hands and looked out to the dark window too, "Death-sensei and J-chad, Sparrowhawk and Omega. They're cut from the same cloth, I believe." She rubbed her temple, "They're really good at telling you the How and the Where… but they never stop to tell you the Why."

"They probably think we're just chess pieces." Bae argued with displeasure, "They pick us up and tell us to do what they want - execute their battleplans." She growled, "Ask them why we're cutting our Moscow trip short to go to Yekaterinburg and they'll say the same thing they said in London and in Da Nang. Nothing. Absolutely nothing!"

"Exactly." Irys nodded vigorously. Then, she shriveled up, "But at the same time, if it weren't for their guidance, we probably wouldn't have come up on top in those battles."

"Yeah. That may be true. But where the hell are they guiding us anyways?" Bae chimed in.

"And when will it end!?" Irys closed her eyes and lamented, "I feel like I'm being dragged from one vicious cycle into another." She brought her hands close to her heart and revealed, "In the end, I was used by Death-sensei for his goals. When I was on stage last night at the Bolshoi Theater, I started to wonder if I was being used again. It was like… my voice wasn't completely my own." She leaned towards Bae and asked expectantly, "Do you know what I mean?"

"You're not just some junior Sickle-class reaper this time around." Bae reminded her defiantly, "You're the beloved Telstar Nephilim - an international icon. The embodiment of Hope itself!" She faced Irys and spoke firmly, "We'll follow Sparrowhawk and Omega's orders for now - within reason. But if they use you for some bullshittery, come to me. We'll make them regret it. You - me - and the Eleventh Council."

Irys and Bae looked into each other's eyes. The rat-girl took Irys' hand in hers again and held it tight.

"If things go to hell and the sky comes falling down, call out to me. I'll come running. That's my promise to you."

Irys' cheeks flushed red again.

"I hope it doesn't have to come to that." Irys started. Then, she leaned against Bae and pressed her cheek against Bae's, "But I'll hold you to that. Okay, Bae?"

Suddenly, Bae got flustered again. She tried to squirm out of Irys' warm and affectionate grasp, but she was trapped like a rat.

And, for now, she was happy.

Seventy-Fourth Scene - But Not For Me

Early the next day, the East-bound train from Moscow arrived at Yekaterinburg/Sverdlovsk Station on schedule. Just as expected, there were television cameras and radio microphones from Soviet and Western news media set up on the platforms for the arrival. Among them, the figure of Sana Tsukumo was present on the platform.

Crowds of local citizens were gathered around the train station to see the commotion. After all, a rumor had spread that Lady Cosmos - the Speaker of Space of the Tenth Council that was beloved by the Soviet people - was in Yekaterinburg. The rumors weren't exactly correct - but they weren't exactly wrong either.

Sana Tsukumo was the Speaker of Space that was in Yekaterinburg, not Lady Cosmos. And yet, the crowds still cheered for her. Getting her name right, however, was something that would take a little more time.

After all, this was the first time that she had shown herself to the world as the Speaker of Space of the new Eleventh Council. Irys and the Eleventh Council were coming to Yekaterinburg to meet her and accept her into their company. The bystanders wanted to see the moment that the new Speaker of Space would be named in their hometown.

In Yekaterinburg.

In the Soviet Union.

Many of the people gathered there would have stormed the Yekaterinburg Train Station to get a closer look at Sana and, perhaps, shake her hand. However, they were blocked by a thick cordon of Soviet and American troops - and their complement of Soviet T-64 tanks and BMP-1 armored vehicles on standby.

From that cordon of soldiers and war machines, a pair of brown owl feathers and a comfortable, albeit snow-swept brown shawl stuck out from the soldiers.

Captain Mumei Nanashi, armed with her M14 rifle, marshaled the cordon. Her adjutant Gibson Paul, now a Second Lieutenant after the Battle at St. Katharine walked beside her with an M16 rifle in tow. Lieutenant Paul dutifully repeated Mumei's rapid fire orders to the Soviets in Russian. The Captain and her adjutant walked briskly through the cordon and inspected everything they came across.

It was already a miracle that Mumei was able to organize the security of the train station on such short notice, so she wanted to make sure that there were no gaps. She was acting on Colonel-class authority after all, commanding the operation on her superior Omega's behalf.

Focused as Mumei was, however, she couldn't help but steal glances at Sana and the train arriving from Moscow. From her command post, she watched the train come to a stop at the eastbound platform. Just like the Soviet crowds, Mumei's eyes were glued to the First Class cars as their doors slid open.

Irys, Bae, Fauna and Kronii disembarked and joined Sana on the platform. The new Speaker of Space shook hands with Irys and Kronii and shared a laugh with Bae as a fellow Australian. Then, Sana and Fauna shared a big, hearty embrace. The two women broke into joyful tears.

Cameras flashed all around them.

The formal ceremony had yet to start, but everyone at Yekaterinburg knew what that heartfelt exchange meant.

The Eleventh Council now had four members.

Only the Guardian of Civilization was missing.

That fact wasn't lost on Mumei. The Captain's heart ached with anguish and frustration. Everything she ever wanted - the last consolation she could ever want in her wretched life was right there, a rifle shot away from where she stood.

Happiness and companionship.

A place that she could finally call home.

Eluding her hands once again.

How she wished she could throw away her rifle, drop all of her responsibilities at her adjustant's feet and barrel through the crowd. How she wished that the clouds in the heavens would part and the ethereal presence of Lady Knowledge would declare to the world with a booming voice.

' This is Mumei Nanashi. She is my protege. She is worthy! Make her the new Guardian of Civilization this instant! '

Now wouldn't that be nice?

It was either that - or taking revenge on the villains who slew her beloved mentor in cold blood. The M14 rifle in Mumei's hand shook with anger.

She wanted to see those murderers suffer.

Mumei's daydream, however, clashed with reality on the ground. The cloudy heavens remained shrouded and overcast. The eyes of the world were on Irys and the Eleventh Council.

Not her.

All of them looked past her. Reality dangled Mumei's desires before her eyes and crushed it mercilessly. Perhaps, she thought, happiness simply wasn't for her.

People like her weren't meant to find joy.

The shadows hanging over Mumei's eyes grew thicker and heavier. Melancholy swirled around her like miasma, swirling violently like a snowstorm. She was so wrapped up in the prison of her own mind that she didn't notice her adjutant shaking her shoulder.

"Captain Nanashi." Lieutenant Paul urged, "We're moving on to the guided tour. They're on their way to Ipatiev House now."

Mumei stayed silent for a moment. Her breath fogged up before her, shrouding the pained expression that tainted her face. When the fog dissipated, however, Mumei's stone-like mask of indifference was back on.

"Understood." Mumei spoke with her professional, dutiful tone, "We'll proceed as planned. Route A until the halfway point. Then we switch to Route B."

"That's the thing, Captain." Paul answered. His voice wavered with fear, "Our sentries on Route B - both Soviet and MACV - haven't reported in for a while now. Our Route B sentries also reported someone running out of the Third Class car towards our Route B HQ. Looked like a civilian though."

Mumei lowered her head and bit her lip.

Even now when I'm down, fate still wants to kick me? You won't give me what I want. You take everything that I have. And now - you won't even give me peace!?

"Captain Nanashi?" Lieutenant Paul called her with concern.

Mumei took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"Call Eagle-11 for backup." Mumei held her M14 rifle firmly and turned her eyes towards the blocky, snow-swept five-story tenements along their Route B, "I'll check up on our sentries, so I'm leaving the cordon in your hands Paul."

"But Captain…!" Paul argued.

"You have your orders, Paul!" Mumei lashed, unwilling to back down, "Now do it!"

"Y-yes, ma'am." Paul saluted stiffly.

Mumei, on the other hand, cocked her M14 and marched towards the tenements. Her honey brown eyes burned with murderous intent.

Epilogue

Compared to the loud, adoring crowd gathered around Yekaterinburg Train Station, the tenement blocks nearby were eerily silent. Mumei's combat boots crunched through the dirty white snow that rose up to her ankles. She traced a trail of foggy breath behind her and she cradled her M14 rifle with one hand. Her other hand pressed on her earpiece radio, trying to hail the sentries that she posted there.

" Attention all Route B units. This is Barn Owl. Report in ."

There was no response.

" I repeat - this is Barn Owl. All Route B units, report in - ASAP! "

Silence.

Howling Siberian winds blew between the tenements and past Mumei, threatening to freeze the Captain alive. However, in Mumei's agitated state, she barely felt the cold.

As a matter of fact, she barely felt anything at all.

Only the weight of the M14 rifle in her hand, the M1911 pistol by her hip and the dagger of Lady Knowledge by her chest registered in Mumei's mind. She felt her weapons as if they were a part of her own body. The radio silence - and the absence of signs of life - gave her goosebumps.

Excitement filled her twisted heart.

Once again, she could drop the facade of the fragile peace that she had been keeping on for so long. She could let loose and be her broken and unhinged self. She didn't have to pretend to be fine. She didn't have to pretend to be whole.

She could return to the last home that she had left.

The battlefield.

When Mumei spotted the first signs of trouble, her twisted heart leapt with joy. Blood and grime tainted the snow. Bullet casings were strewn about - the signs of a bitter, one-sided struggle. The fireworks going off near Yekaterinburg station and the music of the marching band playing joyful songs must have drowned out the noise of the battle, Mumei deduced.

Next, Mumei saw bodies of MACV troopers and Soviet guardsmen sprawled out with looks of horror forever etched on their faces - their dying screams forever silenced by their ruptured lungs and spilled innards.

"Oh no…" Mumei trembled with wicked, unhinged delight, "Don't give me hope." She gripped her chest and winced with pleasure, "Don't tell me that I'm finally going to die here!"

Mumei found the fire exit behind the first tenement. That, too, was filled with signs of struggle. So, the Captain held her M14 rifle with both hands and climbed up carefully.

Mumei Nanashi wanted to die, yes. But she didn't want to go out pathetically. She wanted to dive in head first like what Lady Knowledge did before her. If she couldn't reunite with her mentor or avenge her in this life - then there was always the next life.

If she could take down her enemies on her way to hell, then Mumei would be happy.

At least she thought that she would be.

Before long, Mumei reached the rooftop of the tenement. The headquarters of her Route B security team there was in shambles. More bodies were scattered there, clutching their weapons tightly. Some of the corpses were crawling toward the now-smashed radio devices, but the holes on the backs of their heads showed Mumei why they failed.

"Cowards…" Mumei scowled at the soldiers who died with their backs turned to the enemy, "Cowards - every single one of you!"

When Mumei lashed out, something stirred on the rooftop. There was a radiant figure hunched over one of the corpses by the ledge. Their hair was bound and hidden underneath a fur hat and their purple eyes were glistening with tears and concern.

It was the civilian that her Route A sentries told Mumei about.

Those purple eyes met with Mumei's and the figure froze in place. The figure observed Mumei's gun and her uniform and stood up from where she knelt.

"Are you the one in charge here?" The figure asked in heavily-accented English, "Something terrible has happened here. You have to call your higher ups." She joined her hands together and pleaded, "Yekaterinburg isn't safe. Tell them to cancel the event and have President Nixon and Secretary Brezhnev turn back - and get the Council out of here!"

Mumei, however, barely heard the question. Instead, she regarded the blood on the figure's hands and the streaks of black grime on her face. The sight made Mumei frown and furrowed her brow.

"You seem to know a lot about what's going on here, miss." Mumei asked. She glared at the figure and lashed, "Looks like I've found the culprit - you murderer!"

"No, wait…!" The figure raised up her hands and tried to calm Mumei down, "I wasn't the one who did this! There was a schoolgirl - a college student with white hair - who came by here and…"

"I don't want to hear it!" Mumei shouted with rage, "Get down on the ground or I swear - you will WISH that I killed you!"

"Please - you have to work with me here!" The figure urged, "I'll talk to your superiors if you want. They'll understand, and…!"

Mumei's eyes became deadpan. She marched towards the figure by the ledge with a pitch-black aura swirling about her.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation you're in. Messing with official US Military business - making a fool of me at this time too. Rubbing all this salt in my wounds!" Mumei growled, seething with fury "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me!"

"Huh!? What are you talking about?" The figure asked.

A hateful urge gripped at Mumei's darkened heart. Then, a devilish smirk formed on the owl-girl's lips.

"Let me show you."

Mumei shoved the person with her M14 rifle, thrusting her off the roof! The person fell backwards, falling down faster than the snowflakes. A five-story fall awaited them.

If fate wouldn't let her have control of her life, then Mumei decided to take someone else's life in her hands.

However fate would deny her even that cruel satisfaction.

The person that she pushed off the ledge hovered before her. Bright orange wings with green accents spread out from behind her traveling cloak. Those purple eyes that shimmered with concern earlier were now ablaze with magical flame. Beads of sweat formed on Mumei's brow, but she didn't back down. Her morbid desires spurred her on.

And so, on the roof deck of a five-story Soviet tenement, Captain Mumei Nanashi faced off against a mighty Phoenix.

A Phoenix that matched the descriptions of Irys' wild stories from the Victorian Era to a tee.

A Phoenix known as Kiara Takanashi.

A Phoenix that helped kill Mumei's beloved Lady Knowledge.

Mumei prepared herself to show no mercy.

To Be Continued