"So," Kakuzawa asked, his tone calm despite having just heard such a gristly ordeal, "Did you get anything out of the boy?"

Genevieve Aristide solemnly shook her head, "He had gone into catatonic shock by the time authorities had found him, and any attempts to personally pry him from his remaining family would have triggered too many red flags. Armacham's involvement had to be kept discreet."

"Understandable," grunted Kakuzawa. He took a moment to brush an invisible piece of lint off his sleeve before he continued speaking, "We kept an eye on the boy for a while, making sure that those girls didn't come back after him, but as far as we know, they never returned to him."

Genevieve pondered this potential lead. Could Alma and Lucy have gone back to Kouta, after all these years? It was a possibility that could not be ignored. She made a mental note to investigate his current whereabouts, and regarded the current dispositions of her hosts. Kakuzawa was staring at her with laser focus, absorbing everything she said, no doubt looking for a way to turn it to his advantage. His file painted a very vivid profile. Kurama looked angry at the knowledge he'd received, and was regarding her with an expression akin to spite. Genevieve supposed that she couldn't blame him. The events of the orphanage had been a very heavy pill to swallow.

"For five years, Alma and Lucy continued giving us all the slip. There was, however, a suspicious pattern of mass heart-attacks that afflicted the whole Kamakura area, though we never knew Alma to be capable of such power. It was never really her…style. We ended up having to send Harlan and his staff back to America, and hire some local muscle on retainer. We did keep our police contacts, and had them maintain constant surveillance for anyone matching Alma or Lucy's description."

"Do you know what they were doing during those five years off the grid?" asked Kakuzawa, and Genevieve shrugged her shoulders.

"Alma wasn't very cooperative when we recaptured her. There's no telling what sort of atrocities the two of them got up to."

"You dare storm my castle, foolish warrior? I will see you beaten and bloodied on the ground, begging for mercy! Come forth, and taste the bitter…um, taste of defeat, foolish warrior!"

Up on a fortress made of several sofa cushions from several sofas, Lucy stared down at her invader. In addition to a plain shirt and shorts, the young diclonius was now wearing a cardboard crown on her head, and a blue blanket tied around her neck, forming a makeshift cape: a charming attire that all the young queens were wearing these days.

"Your meager efforts shall not deter me! I will storm your castle!"

Across the living room stood Alma, the mighty warrior. She had a plastic bucket over her head, and a pillow tied over her chest. Truly, the armor of a mighty warrior. Raising her sword (foam bat) at her enemy's castle, Alma charged across the room, intent on invasion. In response Lucy channeled her vectors, lifting up a few sofa cushions and sending them Alma's way. Alma swung true, and foam collided with fabric. Alma batted the first cushion away, then ducked down to avoid the second, avoiding a cushiony blowby inches. She rushed forward, and in her desperation, Lucy threw one more cushion out at Alma, who leapt over it with a valiant stride. She rammed her shoulder against the cushions, and Lucy's fortress collapsed like the mighty walls of Jericho, and Alma tackled Lucy to the floor. Raising her bat, Alma poked Lucy on the forehead with the tip.

"Dead," she said plainly, before her face split into a grin, "I win."

Lucy let out a sigh from the floor, but failed to suppress her own smile, "Yes, yes, the castle is yours, now get off me will you?"

Alma complied, and was even willing to offer her best friend a hand up. Lucy dusted herself off, then looked around at all the strewn cushions and pillows. "Wanna rebuild the fort and go again?"

Alma examined the ruins before shaking her head, the high of her victory starting to wear off, "Nah. The invader always wins, anyway."

"I guess you're right. What should we do then?"

"...I'm feeling a little hungry, actually."

"Huh, me too."

"Did you see what was in the fridge, yet?"

"Not yet, why don't we go look?"

The two girls pulled off their costumes and eagerly ran into the kitchen next door, pausing to walk around the corpse of a woman who was lying peacefully on the ground, eyes staring lifelessly at the kitchen ceiling. This was how life had been for the past five years. Going from house to house in the Kamakura area, killing any residents without a care, only moving once all of the food was gone. (Or at least the food that was yummy.) In between laying low at houses, the two of them had been practicing their supernatural powers. Alma felt that her powers had noticeably grown, with the reach of her psionic abilities being able to encompass a whole city block. And Lucy, who'd had plenty of time to flex her invisible arms, found that she could trigger heart attacks with her vectors. That, and insert a tiny fingertip of her formless limbs into a man without them even noticing. She wasn't fully sure why to do this, but it felt right.

As the years progressed, the two girls had grown, practically shooting up in height. Lucy's hair had grown past her shoulders, growing down to her waist, just like Alma, who'd taken to periodically cutting her own growing locks. Alma seemed to have gained a somewhat gangly stature, with her limbs and chest becoming not quite skeletal, but noticeably spindly.

"Oh, I hope they have pudding cups like the last house did."

They arrived at the fridge, and pulled it open, eyeing the contents with hunger. Alma was reaching toward the food, when Lucy suddenly spoke up, "Hey, Alma, what's that?"

Her tiny finger was pointed toward a few soda cans, or at least that's what Alma initially thought. She looked at the can, and was able to make out the english text printed on the can: Miller Lite.

"Lucy, that's beer," she replied, "It's something that grown-ups drink."

"Really?" Lucy frowned, "Have you ever had any?"

"No. It makes people drunk."

Lucy tilted her head in confusion at this unfamiliar term, "What's drunk?"

"Not sure exactly, but it causes people's minds to be hazy. A few of the researchers at the lab liked drinking beer." Quite a few, in fact. Keeping a young psionic in captivity was a terrific burden that wore on the staff.

Lucy eyed the can, and a playful smirk crossed her features. "Aren't you curious how it tastes?"

"Not really."

Lucy's smirk widened into a smile. "I want to try some!"

"Okay, but I doubt it'll be better than root beer."

Lucy felt the same way, but saw no real reason not to give it a try. She took the can out of the fridge, and pulled forward on the tab. She raised the can to her lips, and took a tentative sip.

Alma looked at her expectantly, "Well?"

Lucy's face soured, and she turned her head to the side, spitting the drink out onto the floor, "Gross! It's so terrible!"

"Really?" figuring she might as well try, Alma grabbed the can and took a tiny sip. She too made a face at the taste, but had the decency of running over to the nearby sink to spit up the beverage, "That's disgusting!"

"Yeah!"

"Ugh, why do grownups drink this stuff?"

"Grownups are weird."

"Super weird."

Alma lifted the beer can and poured the remaining contents down the sink. Lucy observed all of this with zero complaint, then turned back toward the fridge. After a bit of rummaging, she finally pulled out a clear plastic tin filled with spaghetti.

"Here, Alma. You remember when the orphanage used to serve this?"

Alma eyed the contents with approval, and was glad to see that there were a few meatballs in the container, as well. She went back to the fridge and, after a bit of rummaging around, came back out with a can of root beer in each hand. Much much better than regular beer.

After a quick reheat in the microwave, Alma and Lucy sat at the table, eating pasta and drinking soda. Looking up from her plate, Alma saw that Lucy had developed a somber expression, frowning at her food as though it had teased her about her horns. Alma was tempted to just do a mind scan and find out what was wrong, but she also noticed how annoyed her best friend got whenever she did that. Probably safer just to ask, like normal people do.

"Alma?"

It was a moment before her best friend answered, "What?"

"What's on your mind?"

Lucy opened her mouth to ask something, presumably why her telepathic friend didn't read her mind, but then, perhaps recognizing that she wanted to be social, shrugged her tiny shoulders. "I don't kno-"

"Lucy, come on. I don't have to read your mind to know what's eating you. You're still thinking about him, aren't you?"

Lucy leaned back in her chair, her appetite swiftly plummeting, "Yeah, I guess I am. It's difficult, sometimes."

"It's been years, now."

"I know I just…don't you ever miss him, Alma?"

"Why should I? I have you."

Lucy blinked, her face flushing, "I-I mean, you know, because he's a…boy?"

Alma's face went bright red as well, and she quickly looked back down at her plate, randomly picking through spaghetti, "W-whatever."

Despite her somber mood, Lucy felt a chuckle escape her. In the years since they'd left the orphanage, the girls had been experiencing the rough journey of adolescence. Alma's telepathy around similarly aged girls with concerned parents had helped to clue them in to some of the functions of there bodies. This had been incredibly handy after the night when Lucy had burst into their room, her hands and crotch covered in blood. It was a bit of a relief to find out that she was not, in fact, dying from blood loss, but going through a monthly cycle that Alma began shortly after. From then on, both the girls had to make sure that when that time of the month came, the house they'd be staying in had tampons.

Another aspect of growing up was developing feelings for the opposite sex. While Lucy had started looking at males differently, Alma had kept her feelings to herself. She claimed that she just wasn't interested, but it was moments like at the table, moments when she'd tackled Lucy by the river for calling out her red face, that made the young diclonius suspect that her friend was keeping her emotions hidden, rather than completely non-existent.

"Anyway," said Lucy, "It's not as though you and I are completely lonely. There's still Aiko."

Alma perked up at the mention of that name. Aiko! A week ago, it had been like any other cloudy day. She and Lucy, having grown a little stir crazy, had decided to risk things for a chance to go outside. They had been walking past a nearby field when a soccer ball suddenly shot through the air, smacking Lucy in the side. She collided against Alma, and they both had fallen onto the wet grass. Naturally, this altercation didn't please either of them, but before they could trigger another catastrophe, they both heard a voice cry out to them in concern.

Looking up, the two of them had seen another girl in a school uniform running up to them, a look of concern on their face. Neither of them had expected such a thing, and indeed, the surprise of a good samaritan may have been the only thing that prevented yet another slaughter. It had taken a bit of coaxing, but eventually, the girl managed to strike up a conversation with them. Her name was Aiko Takada, she was a student at the local school, and she liked to draw. Lucy and Alma were still uncertain about her, but still weren't certain about her. They both remembered how things went with Kouta, after all.

Her apartment building had been pretty simply furnished, but her room was what stood out the most. Pencil sketches were posted on all four walls. Lucy and Alma had never really gotten into art, but they were admittedly impressed by this girl's drawing. Then they found a sketch of themselves, and approval turned into confusion…with a bit of unease. Aiko was quite flustered, but was able to assuage the apprehension of her acquaintances by explaining to them how she sketched any and everything that crossed her window. When she'd seen two girls her age sitting out by the park, inspiration had struck, flowing from her eyes to her hand, and onto the canvas.

From there, things had picked up, from dealing with an abusive mother, to finding an estranged mother. Alma hadn't really minded. In all honesty, she'd grown fond of Aiko. She was shy, but kind, and reminded Alma a lot of how she and Lucy used to be when they'd first met each other. Now Aiko's abusive father was dead, and the three of them were out to find her estranged mother. They'd agreed to meet their new friend at the mall where her mother was working.

"We should hurry," continued Lucy, "We'll be meeting Aiko outside of the mall in half an hour, so finish eating."

"Don't forget dessert," Alma went to the nearby pantry and fished out a package of Ho Hos. The girls let out a cheer, and tore open the box with great gusto. They'd need all the sustenance and energy they could for tonight.

Hopefully, the two of them would be able to reunite a family, instead of destroying one.

Five years. Five whole years of painstaking searching, of canvasing the whole area for any young American girls. Initial attempts at interviewing with the surviving boy had proven fruitless, and so, after Harlan and his team had been sent back to the states, a reconnaissance team was dispatched to seek out and capture the target alive. Discretion would still be vital, but the team, of which many had worked in spec, were comfortable working in such discrete conditions.

There'd been a few sightings here and there, but the problem with chasing a telepath was that she was always two steps ahead. Just as they were about to lock in on her current dwelling, a massacre would occur on the other side of town. They'd rush to investigate, only to find that the suspects had fled, and the house full of corpses was now abandoned.

Yet Armacham did not tolerate any failure, and so further surveillance was done. While Alma Wade still remained the priority target, much interest had grown around her companion, Lucy. The horns had been an early indication of her unique aspects, but nobody had expected her vectors. Initial beliefs of telepathy were dismissed after further study of the scene of the crime at the orphanage, festival, and train car, where trace patterns from all of the blood showed what appeared to be the work of large limbs. The flesh did not look to be cleanly cut, as had been noted by test results during Alma's own telepathic trials, but instead ripped open, as though giant hands had grabbed the victims and twisted them apart like taffy. Gory, blood-filled taffy.

An interesting observation of their search was that a third party had entered into play. Through a bit of backtracking, the party had been revealed to be operating on behalf of the Kakuzawa family, with a private base out at sea. Interestingly enough, these locals seemed to be more interested in Lucy than Alma, which suited Armacham just fine. In fact, if they timed it just right, they could probably ensure Lucy wouldn't fight back against them when the time came to strike and extract.

And now, things were starting to look up. They'd managed to track Alma's location after the latest slaughter, only this time, they made sure to keep their distance, lest they fall within range of Alma's telepathic area. They'd used binoculars to spy on them, and once the girls had stepped outside, a team had rushed into their home to set up a few hidden microphones and wiretaps. There was no way of knowing how long the girls intended to be out, but the gambit had paid off, and now they knew where Alma would be.

Taking out Alma could be done with the right amount of planning, but Lucy could be problematic. Similar methods could be used to put her down, but then what? The idea of bringing her back to Armacham had been tossed around the table by the higher-ups, but it had eventually been shut down. A great many resources had been devoted to containing one unruly child. They couldn't afford to detain and study another. But that didn't mean someone else could. With the right placed spys, Armacham could learn a great deal from their eastern neighbors, with not as much effort given. A call had to be made…

"Hello?"

"Mr. Kurama?"

"...Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"We have the location of the girl you're looking for."

"What?! How did-"

"Kohnan Kamakura Ofuna Mall, 8:00 tonight."

"Now wait a minut-"

*click*

"Hello? Hello?!"

Aiko paced nervously outside of the gallery. As eager as she was to find her mom, she couldn't help but wonder if this was a good idea. First there was the altercation with her father, one that her new friends had triggered by some unknown power that she wasn't sure she wanted to know of. Then there was the…the accident that had occurred between her and her father. She'd taken it from him for years, and really, he'd been coming at her with such hostility. What she'd done was right. At least, that's what her friends had said to her while they were burning the body.

A fond smile crossed her delicate features as she remembered first seeing them from her apartment window. It was always a habit of hers to sketch whatever caught her eye, and she'd never had an opportunity to draw an american before. For a first impression, she thought she'd done a good job, and Alma had agreed with her. Now, despite all of the trauma that she'd endured, things were going to be made right. She'd finally meet her mother, and they'd finally be a family again. They'd all agreed to meet at the mall a half hour earlier than her mother, so as to get ahead of the crowd. For some reason, Alma and Lucy were uncomfortable about being in large gatherings.

Aiko concluded such behavior to be a matter of claustrophobia, though the more she thought of them, the more she realized there was very little about Alma and Lucy that she'd known. Where were they from? Why did Lucy have horns? Why was Alma so anxious whenever they went outside? But the most important question of all was how did Lucy manage to lift her father, a man who was three times her weight, up off the ground without laying a finger on him?

She'd have to ask them these questions when she got the chance, but first, she'd have to find her mother. Looking around, she smiled as she noticed two small, familiar forms approaching her. "Alma! Lucy! You both made it here early, as well."

"Hi, Aiko," said Alma quietly. Aiko noticed that she was wearing a hoodie, with said hood pulled up over her head for concealment. Lucy was also wearing a beanie to hide her horns. "We got here as soon as we could. It seems we were right in thinking that you'd be coming here early."

"Yeah, heh heh," Aiko scratched the back of her head nervously.

"So, you really want to do this?" asked Lucy. She looked up at the mall with a frown, as if it were a beached leviathan that may still have a few spasms left to give, and if she didn't move, she'd get caught in the blow.

"You were the ones who talked me into doing it," said Aiko.

"We know," said Alma, "It's just…It doesn't look like anyone's here. The lights are off, and the door's chained shut."

This was true. A rather thick chain was wrapped around the door handles, with a heavy-looking lock that was snapped shut. Aiko glared at the lock, as if she could make it melt with her mind.

Wrong girl for the job, thought Alma with some hint of amusement.

"How do we get in here?" Aiko asked. She walked up to the lock and lifted it with her hands, checking it over, "The chain looks heavy, So I doubt it'll break, and it's wrapped tightly around the door, so I doubt it'll come undone. Do any of you have a hairpin? Maybe we can use it to pick th-"

SMASH!

Aiko leaped back with a yell as the glass door shattered. All of the shards flew inside of the building, forming a glistening path of shards. Aiko turned to Lucy, who shrugged her shoulders.

"I didn't have a hairpin."

Aiko nodded her head shakily, but followed her friends inside, carefully stepping through the door. The past few days had been extremely taxing for her. She wasn't certain that she'd Soon, she knew, soon she'd find her mother, and she, Lucy, and Alma would live happily with each other for the rest of their lives.

The art gallery was directly across from the entrance, which meant if one were to stand outside, they'd be able to see the gallery through the entrance, as well as anyone visiting the gallery.

This all suited Armacham perfectly.

Down the street, a van had been parked, well out of Alma's telepathic range, a van full of heavily armored soldiers were finishing preparations on a retrieval that was five years in the making. A long range sniper rifle was being loaded with a special fast acting tranquilizer round. They'd already received word that Kurama's team was en route to the mall, with dozens of soldiers of their own, the blunt hammer for Armacham's surgical scalpel. They'd be so focused on catching the Diclonius, that they might just be willing to neglect the disappearance of another, more irrelevant girl.

"Alpha Unit to base, we have eyes on target."

"Ten-four, Alpha Unit. Wait until the third party shows up, then proceed to neutralize and extract."

"Roger that, base."

And now, to wait.