Call of Warfare, Modern Black Ops Duty

Marrybell mel Britannia, the Witch of Britannia

Imperial Capital Pendragon, Emperor's private quarters

One hour into Operation Dorothy, phase two

"—Your Majesty, we're bringing the unknown fleet in question on screen now, please advise."

"—Yes, that is the remnant of Euro Britannia's combined fleet. I am recalling them back to the homeland for reassessment and redeployment. This is a top priority order, have our Atlantic fleets stand down." Glancing from outside the facecam's boundary, Marrybell easily noticed the slight expression of skepticism in the operator representing NORAD HQ.

It should be considered rather abnormal for the emperor himself to inform a military commander of a mundane operation such as fetching an airship group across the pond. After all, there was a reason generals in the armed forces were paid a handsome salary plus bonus to move troops around on a map, not making the call from his private office. Of course, that only applied when the emperor was actually himself.

Since he was only an imposter constructed by an artificial voice changer and an AI facial morphing program, he couldn't really take advantage of all the assets available to the actual emperor, not if he had to speak to anyone face to face for longer than five minutes.

Letting Orpheus do his job convincing NORAD that Marrybell's grand fleet back at home wasn't a real threat, she had her own pile of work cut out for her. "—Road Runner, Witchcraft Actual to Road Runner. Give me a sitrep on the ground floor."

Her AWACS picked up her call swiftly, the hushed clicks of her keyboard were barely audible above the static. "—Witchcraft. Zeppelin and Sabbath are ready to kickstart at Bastion West, all reporting no signs of any precautionary measures."

"—Excellent, got my ransom's worth." Marrybell leered at the success of another scheme.

There was nothing to be done about unavoidable intelligence leaks coming out of Cambodia. The explosion was massive and the survivors were plenty, no doubt a pilot or two on Lelouch's side managed to get an evac and are desperately trying to warn their capital. That was a very easily predictable outcome.

Therefore, what Marrybell needed to do was make sure no such information ever reached Pendragon, or ever reached anyone important who could act upon it. Britannia's telecommunication department was still operated by honest nine-to-five workers, thereby leaving room for exploitation via any methods that could convince a person to misconnect a few calls.

Bribery, blackmail, threatening family members. Nothing was above a woman like Marrybell. Just because her Geass was handy and its potentiality was vast, didn't mean she wouldn't utilize more traditional ways of manipulating individuals.

"—Anything on the F.L.E.I.J.A front?" Continuing her call, Marrybell asked.

"—That's a negative, Witchcraft. Doesn't matter how many advisors from the security council we nab, we need either the emperor or the prime minister and their launch code to authenticate a launch." Meaning the F.L.E.I.J.A football was nice to have if it wasn't basically useless without Lelouch or Guinevere there saying the magic words. Not even Orpheus' Geass could fool a retina and fingerprint scan.

"—Give me a location on the PM."

"—Crown Princess Guinevere is assumed to be correctly located at her residence on Saint Darwin's, along with the rest of the royalties. Security around that sector is heavy, possibly the heaviest. A stealth infiltration is unlikely to succeed, we'll need close air support."

Which was a bother to Marrybell, just not world-ending. Being able to wipe any city off the face of the earth was a nice menace to keep close to her chest, but her plan carried on regardless of having that ultimate option or not.

"—Be that way. Move our troops in there after we establish a foothold, give them anything they need. Keep me in the loop if anything happens."

"—Roger, Witchcraft. Road Runner out." Not many operators ended their transmission with an 'out' these days, AWACS Road Runner was old school in that way.

Just when she finished her briefing, Orpheus was also done on his end. "—Excellent, that will be all. Ending transmission." Hanging up the video call on the spot, the emperor beside Marrybell finally softened his posture and wiped away the brooding guise of the king he was pretending to be.

"It went well, we have Blue Sky over the Atlantic." Orpheus announced his success. Confusion soon developed over his front when Marrybell's unapologetic frown was what praised his performance. "What's wrong?"

"Don't… talk to me in his voice, please. It's real freaky." Orpheus snorted at Marrybell's aversion to hearing her brother speak.

The abandoned heir of the Zevon bloodline was expecting his princess to avert her gaze when he pulled the voice changer out of his throat by its cord. Instead, she stared at him with a gleeful smirk and a degenerate wink.

"Don't even start." Orpheus couldn't claim he was as close to Marrybell as his twin sister, but he did know one or two tidbits about her and her deviancies.

"What? I haven't said anything!"

"I can tell when you got something cooking." Marrybell widened her smirk, deviously relishing herself at Orpheus' expense.

Half a dozen seconds of silence, that was how long the princess lasted. "You'll be really good at deepthor- eep-!" The wet voice box made a wide swing at Marrybell's cheeks, forcing her to squeamishly dodge away unless she wanted a splash of her Head Knight's saliva. "Yikes! Gross!"

"All barks and no bite, Your Highness." Orpheus teased back, gaining himself the upper hand in their squabble.

"Ohh? Is it some bite you'd like, my dear Oz?" In hindsight, Orpheus should've been wiser than to challenge Marrybell in a contest of raillery, especially when it came to things like deep-biting.

Watching the atrocious crime the royalty was about to commit against the innocent voice box, the younger Zevon's professional self surely was regretting prolonging the undeclared contest between them, although his basic instincts might be simply astonished by her appeal.

Marrybell yanked the voice box away from her knight and shamelessly licked the side of the moist device, savouring the bland taste of Orpheus' drool in an outlandishly erotic manner that no doubt would have shattered the sanity of lesser men into a million pieces. Even the coolheaded ace was starting to boil under his flight suit and vest.

Once Marrybell had slurped every residue of spit around the plastic box and swapped them for her own, she planted one last sloppy kiss on the shaft of the voice box before wiping it down with a cloth and tucking it away in a container. All the while Orpheus watched in awe, the emergency repair on his higher functions barely kicked in to save him from receiving long-lasting brain damage.

Marrybell leaned in next to his ear, gently blowing a breeze into his ear canal and whispered: "~And… another one bites the dust~"

Orpheus, for his part, demonstrated inhuman self-restraint for being still on his feet after what the princess put him through. "Do not do that…"

"You asked though?" Exhaling an exhausted sigh, Orpheus ignored his princess and started clicking around the computer previously linked to NORAD HQ.

Removing a USB stick from the desktop, Orpheus stashed it in his pocket. "How does it feel to have your Geass replaced by a Deepfake, dearest?" Pushing her advantage for a decisive victory, Marrybell saw the white flag over her knight's castle when he refused any further retort.

Despite her ridicule, both of them understood the genuine value of Orpheus shape-shifting Geass. Just because a voice box and a computer program could match his talent over a webcam, they would be utterly useless without his years of experience in deception. Were it not for him, they wouldn't be in Lelouch's personal office sowing chaos over his empire in the first place.

It was all thanks to Orpheus that gaining access to Lelouch's work PC was as easy as meandering in through the front door. Who amongst the unsuspecting Royal Guards was gonna stop Britannia's ruler and his sister from going wherever they fancied?

"You wanna call the General, or should I?" When his demeanour made it obvious Marrybell's wisecrack was less than appreciated, she too unleashed a sigh at the mention of phoning home.

"…Let this big girl handle it~!" Impishly pushing Orpheus away from the PC to save him the suffering, Marrybell made a long-distance call to the unofficial sponsor of her takeover behind closed doors.

"—Witchcraft to my favourite Austrian actor Arnold Schwarzenegger! Do you copy, Arny? ¿Me escuchas?!" If she ever has the opportunity to mess with General Schwarzer, she sure as hell is going to take it.

Before the statics cleared up, she definitely heard a groan. "—Your Highness, there is no need for this."

"—Maravillosa! It's so good to speak to you too, General! I'm calling to let you know La Flota has Blue Sky across the pond. I say again, Blue Sky is in effect over the Atlantic."

"—I understand. La Flota is on course to Pendragon, ETA four hours. Can you confirm again the validity of the pre-plotted path over Continental America, are the radar blind spots still in effect?" It wouldn't be General Schwarzer if he didn't hassle her about something. Although in this case, he was right to be concerned. It was his career on the line if anyone figures out who put together a combined fleet of all Euro Britannia units to stage an uprising in the capital.

"—I can confirm the radar blind spots are still active, make no course correction." Fortunately for her, Marrybell double-checked every worry anyone could possibly have the second they logged into Lelouch's computer.

"—Copy, Witchcraft. La Flota will make no course corrections en route to your AO."

"—Beauty. See, that wasn't so hard now, was it, General?"

"—Maybe not for you, Your Highness."

"—I get it, I get it! You don't want to associate with a war criminal about to commit a coup d'état, totally reasonable. That's why I'm calling to let you know you won't ever hear from me again. When the media interviews you in half a year, you can confidently tell them you had no clue the Viceroy of Area Twenty-Four was such an insane bitch."

When she revealed her genius plot of treason to her trusted Glinda Knights and asked for any objections, General Schwarzer was the first one to gallantly raise his hand. And of course, it would be him. He was a true believer in Britannia's aristocracy and ruling structure, despite the current monarch seizing it by force. He was only a tactical advisor to the Glinda Knights, he owed Marrybell not a single cent.

Yet, the veteran never ratted out her plan to anyone, instead he offered his expertise to secure Marrybell a sizable force capable of taking on Pendragon's defense. Even if it was a job she could accomplish herself, the aid from the elderly Earl took a load off the princess' shoulders.

Maybe it was all just to save his own neck in the case that Marrybell was the type to silence naysayers amidst her troop, or maybe it was the futility of knowing she was already an unstoppable force, but the General kept his end of the bargain and provided everything the devious royalty required to hijack herself the throne.

Marrybell supposed her true opinion of General Schwarzer was that he was alright. The respectable gentleman between a rock and a hard place chose to do what he thought was best for everyone involved in the sticky mess of Marrybell's Yellow-Brick Road.

So he was going to survive the whole ordeal. Still doing what he had always been doing back in Spain. Him and the Zevon uncle, ironic that the older generation were the ones who will see the calendar flip.

"—I will not slander your image like such, Your Highness."

"—C'mon, not even a little bit? I can't scare you when I'm dead and buried."

"—That's not fear of you, Princess Marrybell. It is…" The General paused, but not for too long. "It's something else."

Marrybell held so much hatred within her, but none for Earl Johann Schwarzer. "—I hope it's something good then."

"—Likewise, Your Highness." That was where the conversation between a treacherous young girl and a middling old man reached its conclusion.

"—Set my fleet to sail across that blue sky, General, and I shall play you a requiem."

"—Do what you believe is right, princess. Farewell." When the call ended, Marrybell felt strangely comforted.

"Blue sky…" Her Head Knight repeated the codeword symbolizing a safe trip across the Atlantic without being swarmed by an entire navy. Marrybell liked the sound of that, almost as much as she liked the melody of a deep blue.

"~Mr. Blue, you did it right~ but soon comes mister… Night, creepin' over~ now his hand is on your shoulder~ never mind- I'll remember you this~ I'll remember you this way~!"

Her gaze turned to Orpheus. Her lyrics still hung in the air as she invited him to jump in for a bit of a carol.

"~Oh- Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why~ you had to hide away for soo~ long~…" He joined his subdued voice to the two-man choir, if only a bit shyly. "~Where did we go wrong~?"

Even without a melody, Marrybell still believed her refrain alone could impart the wonders of a transcendent language written in notes. "~Hey there Mr. Blue~! we're so pleased to be with you, ~look around see what you do… everybody smiles at you~!" Tragically, her concert could have never lasted longer than a song, not when the setting of her gig was the inauguration of an inevitable invasion.

After Orpheus was certain his princess was at the end of her piece, he offered a light clap of appreciation.

"Thanks, lovely. Now I'm ready to clock-in." Marrybell's directive was the command for Orpheus to powerup a laptop beside Lelouch's computer, the screen was displaying an overview of Marrybell's squadrons stationed around the palace waiting for the opening act.

"They're all ready for you to make a play." Orpheus's reassurance stoked Marrybell's conviction, her trust in her beloved Glinda Knights was unswerving.

"—All AWACS, Witchcraft Actual to all AWACS. Bastion Core is up and running, I am assuming command for all mobile assets."

Oldrin Zevon, Glinda Knights Vice-Commander

Imperial Capital Pendragon, Imperial Palace west side

Oldrin was a knight, a soldier. That was the core of her essence ever since she relinquished the nobility of the Zevon name at the ripe age of ten, choosing the alternative of devoting herself to the valiant career of her childhood friend's knight. Despite making that earthshaking decision at the inception of her adolescence, it was never a choice she regretted.

Certainly, she had many disagreements with her liege over their teenage years, some resulting in grave consequences that shaped the person she was now, but she never foresaw herself taking another path in the winding crossroads of her life. Because Oldrin was born a soldier at heart, that was her destiny engraved within the flow of time.

Hence, if being a soldier meant she was also a killer, then so she shall be.

"Don't try it." Oldrin warned, but the bloodied palace guard on the sleek floor declined.

Two suppressed shots aimed at the vitals, no fuss and no mess.

"-Ozzy, we good?" To her left, Sokkia glanced up from dragging a corpse and asked.

"We're clear. Keep stashing these bodies and I'll call it in." Gesturing at the corners and dark spots around the front desk of the Imperial Palace's administrative building on the west wing, Oldrin ordered. She let her rifle fall by her waist. The weight of the sling digging into her shoulder was somewhat itchy, although it was a sensation she grew used to.

The Glinda Knights' vice-commander hopped her fingers over her wrist-bound tablet, quickly establishing a connection to the Grandberry's operator. "—Flintstone, Sabbath 2-1 to AWACS Flintstone. Bastion West is secure, no noise. Send a team for security."

"—Great timing, 2-1. Routing Fireteam Pringles to set a perimeter at Bastion West. Witchcraft is online at Bastion Core. There should be a console by you, sync in and she'll patch your team into the surveillance system."

"—But we shot out all the cameras?"

"—Eh, better than nothing." That was sound logic Oldrin couldn't argue against. Besides, a free leg-up against any possible foes was an advantage only fools would refuse.

The computer console Flintstone mentioned was indeed near, and plugging in her phone wasn't at all difficult. "—I'm connected."

"—Okay, give her a bit…" After a bit passed, Oldrin's phone received a new notification. "—Should be done, you see it?"

"—Yeah, I have a clear view." Clicking through the camera feeds, Oldrin sneaked a peek into the areas where the Glinda Knights should be operating in.

All of the camera feeds were down in those sectors, what an absolute shocker.

"—Good copy. Don't squander your lead, Sabbath. Your team is tasked with the capture of Excalibur. Pringles will take over your current location. Wide-area jamming is coming online in ten mikes, leave Eagles to neutralize the enemy's ECM protection, your team will be notified of any alterations." Right on cue, the rapid footsteps of another unit relieving Oldrin's group from guard duty arrived.

"—Wilco, I have eyes on Fireteam Pringles. Sabbath is on the move, next check-in scheduled for after Excalibur's capture."

"—Copy. Go knock 'em dead, 2-1." Flintstone switched off the channel once nothing else needed to be said.

"-Love what you did with the place, Sabbath." Respecting her proficiency, Pringles' captain went in for a handshake, impishly commenting on the bullet holes plenty that Oldrin's team left on the walls.

"It's a rushed job." Oldrin tried to search her memory for the name of the other girl's real identity, but Pringles 1-3 was her only yield.

"No sweat. We'll scare off anyone who gets too curious, your average worker won't say no when we tell them this place is on lockdown."

The two crews of gunfighters greeted each other, sharing a bit of a breather and exchanging supplies for whoever was low on munitions. An air of familiarity emanated between those who staked their lives in the line of duty. However, all of them understood the unequivocal importance of time, so nobody dared to linger a second too long.

"Witchcraft can get your team patched into the cameras, make sure to bother her about it." Before leaving, Oldrin recommended the tactical edge to Pringles.

"Cool, thanks. Now bolt outta here. I wanna see some fireworks later, you hear?" The subtle mention of Oldrin's next objective unnerved her, but she didn't let it show.

"Bet on it. -Sabbath, we're Oscar Mike!" Oldrin broke away from Pringles and moved her unit along the palace wing under the Glinda Knights' control, but the matter of what 1-3 said still lingered in the back of her mind.

Pendragon's superweapon, an anti-air laser capable of decimating targets out to thousands of kilometres. A weapon kept in the dark for decades off any books and out of the public's eye. It was a testament to Britannia's technological and financial aptitude for those who knew, as well as to her logistics and confidentiality for keeping the rest of the world unaware of such a threat.

That was the ultimate ace in the hole Marrybell had ordered Oldrin to endow her, and despite her insistence on destroying the dangerous cannon, she couldn't refuse her princess' order.

Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise king born. If Marrybell wanted to reign as the ruler of Britannia, Oldrin was to be her arms that wield the blade, even if it meant she had to pry it out of the cold dead hands of the last king.

Lost in a temporary trance mulling over an uncertain future, Oldrin wasn't ready for an abrupt figure to leap into her field of vision and tap her on the nose. "-Boop!" The digit that poked her grew a barrel and a trigger, or whatever the thumb was supposed to represent in a finger gun.

"Piss off please." Oldrin brushed her friend off, but Sokkia was persistent to continuing bothering her commander while moonwalking ahead.

"You think Sir Bismarck named the Galahad's MVS after this cannon or is it the other way around?"

"I really, really, do not care."

"C'mon, laugh a little! You gonna blow our cover with that frown." Sokkia's prodding didn't hold a single drop of water, and both of them knew it when they passed by a group of Royal Guard patrol without anyone raising an eyebrow.

Sure, the Glinda Knights weren't known for parading around its infantry units, they were more of an airborne task force. It wasn't an everyday occurrence to see those flying its emblem strolling around with ARs and ballistic vests. Then again, who in Pendragon's royal residence was going to file a complaint to HR for having too many armed personnel patrolling the halls, the logical assumption would be they were marching for additional security, not sabotage.

"Quit clowning, we're almost at Bastion Dome." Oldrin waved off Sokkia's playfulness, there was a time and place for appreciating her sense of humour.

After safely eluding suspicion from the patrol, the squadron arrived at an inconspicuous elevator tucked away in the corner of the grand palace. The corridor leading to Excalibur's control room appeared almost deserted without any troops on guard, probably to give off the false impression of the location's unimportance. Oldrin supposed that wouldn't be the case at the top of the lift.

"—Sabbath 2-1 to Flintstone. Arriving at the base of Bastion Dome. Sector is on grid- err… Alpha-Three. We need elevator access, how copy?"

"—Good copy, 2-1. Loving my voice, eh? Witchcraft is notified." Then it was just up to Marrybell to do her thing.

Her thing, whatever it was, probably just some mouse movements and clicks, which didn't take too long. Upon pressing the 'up' button the second time, the ride was summoned.

"—We're in, Flintstone." Oldrin reported their triumph over the elevator's restriction.

"—Nice-u. Keep killing at it, 2-1." Oldrin decided not to kick Flintstone back in line for behaving so leisurely, the caramel-blonde supposed she should take a chill-pill on occasions.

The light flipped on and the doors slid away, granting Sabbath unpermitted entry to Bastion Dome. Whilst waiting for the ride to reach the top, Oldrin looked through the cameras, but predictably none were showing her a view into their objective. Funny how the benefit provided by the asset gifted to them was rather limited.

"Sabbath, it's gonna be a blind entry like we expected. Let's stick to the plan." The dozen Glinda Knight special operatives unanimously acknowledged Oldrin's suggestion. They quickly propped open the escape hatch and climbed on top, leaving only the XO and CDO left in the car itself.

"You know the strat, lassies. You call the shots when you think it's right." Tossing hers and Oldrin's G36s upwards, Sokkia saluted her team in hiding as she advocated for trusting their judgment. "Oh, also be careful not to get squashed." That got a chuckle out of 2-1 when she noticed Marika briskly whipping out a rangefinder.

Unsurprisingly, there was enough room at the tip, Britannia engineering was above killing lift surfers, maybe Marika was still a little too green to know that.

"Alrighty sis, you ready?" Barely hiding her eagerness, Sokkia grinned as she said.

"…Are we really going with 'get help'?"

"C'mon, it's a classic! Look at us, people can never resist it!"

"It's humiliating."

"…You're gonna love it."

— —

"-Help! Help us! We need help here! My cap- my captain is shot!"

A frantic Sokkia stumbled out of the elevator carrying her team leader slumping over her shoulder, the deceptively injured Glinda Knight was clutching her stomach in genuine agony. How Oldrin allowed Sokkia to swindle her for a gut punch was going to be a mystery for the century. At least the pain in her belly served up an authentic performance of someone actually suffering from a belly-related injury.

In the corridor ahead of the pair were exactly five Royal Guards staring in apprehension, all of them equipped in heavy-duty gear compared to the regular goons the emperor brought with him whatever he went. Their rifles were steadily trained on the two feeble girls begging for help, even after it seemed like they were as threatening as a snared rabbit.

"Halt! Halt! Stop where you are!" The soldier at the forefront of the group stuck an open palm at the two, clearly indicating they should curb their onwards limp. Unfortunately for the girls, this was not the vulnerability they were hoping to scam through their feigned plight. Even worse, the security team wasn't interested in dropping their guard the slightest bit.

Aw, crud. Oldrin didn't like to swear, but this situation almost warranted it.

"P-please! You gotta help us! We're Glinda Knights' Airborne Special Operations Group, detachment Delta! We just RTBed from a joint operation with the 2nd Royal Guards Division, b-but the security teams on-site here just opened fire on us! Please! My captain is dying! Please help!" Sokkia told her impromptu tale with tear-jerking puppy eyes and a hoarse voice capable of eliciting sympathy from even the most hard-boiled scoundrel.

However, it appeared to have no effect on these scoundrels just doing their jobs.

When Sokkia tried to pace a bit closer, the very distinct noise of safeties snapping off echoed about five times in the hallway. "Stop! Not one step closer, ma'am! Put your hands where I can see them!" The closest soldier warned again, more sternly. Someone beyond him started to talk on his radio, but he was too far away from Oldrin to pick up the speech.

"Are you KIDDING!? She's bleeding out! You gotta get somebody! This's the secondary CIC, right!? You have to do something!" Oldrin could hear the desperation and anxiety starting to settle in Sokkia, pressuring her to conspire lies that could give away their ruse.

"I said show your hands! Put your hands up right NOW!" The agitation in the masked soldier was growing more apparent with every passing second Sokkia refused to separate from her vice-commander. Given that if she did, the lack of wounds on Oldrin would be exposed.

"-Hey!" The guard on the radio shouted for everyone's attention. "I can't get a signal out of here, I think we're getting jammed—"

A pair of something skipped across the floor, its bounce left a very particular clink. "-GRENADE!"

Lamentably watching the cylinder-shaped object sailing past her, Oldrin already accepted the fact that the alarming shout would be the last audible sound to intrude upon her senses for a good while.

In a way, a flashbang was just an EMP for people, and in this case, it was primed to evaporate all of Oldrin's perceptions and replace them was a killer headache the next coming second. No matter how hard she squinted her eyelids shut the moment before detonation, the Glinda Knight XO still felt like she was both standing on and staring into the sun.

Oldrin couldn't count how long she was crippled in disorientation after the flashbang went off. If truth be told, it was basically impossible to remember how to count. Maybe the hushed pops were shots ringing out all around her, but she could barely hear herself think, let alone recognize the state of affairs.

Her eyesight slowly came back first, mainly thanks to the opaque goggles she wore. They were designed to be flash-resistant, but that was miles apart from being 'flash-proof', and Oldrin definitely wasn't rejoicing over realizing the difference. Once her hearing returned too, she was finally able to pick out the muted cracks of her team's suppressed rifles, which was the favoured alternative to the deafening bangs of unsilenced bursts.

A hassled shadow barged into her field of vision. An extended arm pulled Oldrin onto her flimsy feet as her G36 was shoved towards her chest. Despite still hurting from a blaring concussion and unending ringing in her ears, the XO instinctively knew which part of her weapon her fingers should be grabbing.

"Still with us, captain!?" Marika directed Oldrin's focus solely to the two fingers she held up, helping to hurry her recovery.

Oldrin lifted her visors over her forehead, forcing herself to cycle through a few strenuous blinks to completely fade away the lasting effect of the flash. Once she felt she was confident to jump back into the action, she replied a knowing nod to Marika for her assistance and stood staunchly on her own accord.

The five Royal Guards were already on the floor by the time Oldrin assumed command, one of her girls was going around with her pistol to ensure they wouldn't get back up again. "That was a good call, team. You saved us."

"-You… flashed us!" Beside her, Sokkia finally got off her ass, shaking her head wildly like a whirlwind and blowing furious raspberries to make her contempt known. "Although it's better than getting pummeled. Nice call, whoever it was."

Nobody was too impressed by Sokkia's non-gratitude. Although perhaps more importantly, none were too annoyed with her antics to pick a fight. Having the erratic CDO as a friend was an acquired taste, after all.

"You bent outta shape?" Oldrin checked on her friend busily getting a grip on herself and her G36.

"Dude, I cannot positively believe 'get help' didn't work on these inhuman mooks. I mean- who can say no to adorable flowers like us, Ozzy?" That was a solid 'no' to Oldrin's concern.

When the constant stream of criticism for their dead foes didn't subside, the tired vice-commander had to put a stop to Sokkia's distraction. "They probably had strict orders. Their gear is bulkier than the others, these guys aren't like the rest."

The Grandberry CDO kneeled down by one of the deceased and briefly checked him for possessions. "Them boys sure are loaded, they're ready for a fight."

"Nothing they have will prepare them for us." The morale boost received a wave of cheer in unison.

Having earned herself a moment for a breather, Oldrin was ready to salvage the botched intrusion and continue on their offense. "Now, how are we looking? Are the rest of them alerted?"

"That's a 'yes ma'am'. The security shot back, not a whole bunch, but they shot back. We should assume somebody heard that." One of her masked girls answered.

"Copy. Let's get this done before anyone downstairs realizes what's happening." Sadly, that breather truly lasted only for a breath. "3-1, drone out the passage ahead, we'll follow." Sokkia was keen to follow her order, maybe just that particular one though.

"Alright! Form up, form up! We're moving out!"

— —

"Contact! Behind that second pillar, our ten O'clock!"

"Give me suppressive, I'm pushing up!"

"Roger! Suppressing!"

Bullets were soaring in the air, whistling by ever so close to Oldrin but always barely missing her. Peril was the favour of the day and she was tasting her fair share of it. Every firefight she endured was intense, it was by the skin of her teeth that she had kept herself alive so far and she couldn't guess how far her luck could stretch.

But she surely was going to keep testing it, against her better judgement.

Seizing the momentary opportunity as the hostile shooters were forced to duck from the pouring bullets, Oldrin made a mad dash for the row of toppled shelves and desks that her enemies took cover behind. Crouching right under their noses, she took the shortest respite to gather her emotions and wait for a gap in their continuous fire to exploit.

"-Keep 'em pinned, reloading!" That was her sign to press the attack, and Oldrin wasn't known for showing mercy on the battlefield.

Oldrin could never hope to be the fastest shot ever, that was a wild dream beyond the scope of her imagination. All she needed to be was faster than the guy she was aiming at, so fortunately for her, thus far she hadn't run into anyone faster than her who also was on the other side of her barrel.

The elite operative carefully sprung up from the other side of the furniture, but never overly eager to unnecessarily expose herself. Only the top of her head and the tip of her gun were lifted from behind cover, those being the only things that required a line of sight on her enemies to kill.

She could about guess how shocked the security guards were to suddenly be staring down the barrel of a rifle raising out of nowhere. However, there was no coherent reason to ponder the thoughts of her enemies on the frontline, all that was required of Oldrin was for her accurate point-blank fire to nail the three soldiers blocking her team's path to Excalibur's control room.

At least I won't have to remember their faces. On that front, she was thankful to Emperor Lelouch for equipping all of his troops with the non-translucent masks. Oldrin hated seeing the screaming visage of the perished lives haunting her in her nightmare, doubly so for those she personally sent to the underworld.

However, killing dehumanized shadowy figures took the burden off her conscience even if her rational mind knew there was no difference. This way was easier for her to sleep at night, and that was the sweet repose she needed to forget her guilty compunction as she paved a road out of blood for Marrybell.

Swiftly checking her environment for stragglers cowering in her blindspots, Oldrin lowered her stance when no such threat was left alive. "Hallway Bravo-Four is clear. Move up, move up."

"Nice Rambo, 2-1." Somebody amidst her team complimented her brash charge, Oldrin stowed away a beaming grin of ego to instead focus on the mission at hand. The rest of the squadron advanced to her position, and together they vaulted over the waist-high debris on their march to their destination, scanning their surroundings along the way for any hostiles.

"4-3 is on your six, let's go!"

"Contact front. Two tangos just ducked into that room, second door to the left."

"Copy! I see it. Slinging a stun!"

"Got your back. Push, push."

The initial ricochet and subsequent detonation of a flashbang, the muffled booms of bullets and short-lived groans of agony. Those were the commotion Oldrin was way too acquainted to. All that was missing from the queue was a call of defused threat, an announcement of extinguished souls.

"Confirming two Tangos down. We're clear at sector Delta-One." There it was, her reliable girls always got the job done.

It was never supposed to be complicated. A job was a job, Oldrin should've just shot whoever Marrybell wanted dead. Maybe now she was going back to her roots, going back to being the pawn on the battlefield her princess needed.

Treading over pools of blood and bodies, Oldrin's team encountered the final obstacle separating them from completing their mission objective. A massive double door impeded their entry into Excalibur's control room, quite literally stopping them in their tracks.

"We're at Foxtrot-Two, the control room. I want eyes in there, get a drone in."

"Roger, I got it." Sokkia volunteered one of her remote rollers posthaste, dropping the wheeled gadget onto the floor and piloting it through the slit beneath the door.

"You sure like our wheelies, 3-1." Sokkia only giggled at Oldrin's remark as she controlled the robot through her smartphone. But it truly was a captivating hobby of hers that the vice-commander couldn't decipher for the life of her. Sokkia kept mentioning something about 'six rainbows' but Oldrin's many expertise did not cover internet slang.

A minute and a half later, Sokkia's drone cruised back from its exploration for retrieval. She started to doddle on her phone and the crude map was soon uploaded to the rest of the team. Oldrin withheld a jab at her friend's terrible drawing, mocking her artistic skills had grown old over the three years they knew each other.

"The control room is two rows of computers along the sidewalls and a projector in the back. There're five guards inside, they have solid cover in the middle of the room. Plus three staff members near the back, in the corner behind the control terminals. I recommend an explosive breach with stunner, quick and clean." The CDO's briefing was short and precise, leading to a brisk conversation and acceptance of her suggestion.

"We'll go with that. Stack up on me. 2-4, get a shaped charge on that door." The XO ordered and her team moved.

A dozen operatives neatly split into two single files behind Oldrin and Sokkia on either side of the doorway. Tensely waiting for Marika to plant the breaching charge, the caramel-haired captain ejected her magazine halfway for a closer look at her remaining ammunition and checked for any obstructions by her G36's ejection port. Just after reinserting her magazine, the youngest member of Sabbath had already relocated away from the plastic explosive.

"Charges set, standing by." Marika silently declared.

"Copy. Breach on one. Three…" Her body taut and her palm sweaty. Oldrin glued herself to the wall around the rigged doorway as the only excessive noises she could perceive were her own breathing and the safety pin of her flashbang hitting the floor. "…Two… one!"

A burst of white powder from the residue of the breaching charge puffed outwards, directing the rest of its volatile energy into the metal gates and blowing them right off their hinges. Their unwelcomed intrusion was answered by a surge of gunfire flying out the doorway pronto.

Good, keep shooting at nothing. Oldrin really couldn't guess what they were expecting, how amateurish does someone have to be to stand directly in the enemy's line of fire?

Without the hindrance that stopped her, Oldrin made an unerring toss of her grenade near where the Royal Guards should be. When the blast of the flashbang went off and the gunfire paused, that was her team's signal to advance their incursion.

Oldrin made her push alongside her trusted allies. Her assault rifle at the ready and her aim honed true. She squeezed off a pin-point shot that took down the first guard in her sight. Another couple of targets were taken out by her teammates while still blinded by the effects of the flashbang.

When Oldrin lined up her optic on the torso of the last remaining Royal Guard, the stony tip of her opponent's rifled barrel was just about equally levelled at the Glinda Knights. Not missing a beat, the XO took her shot and her FMJ 5.56 easily tore through the palace soldier's body armour, but not before he managed to discharge his gun into their tight-knit formation.

In the next split second, a dreadfully frightening call reverberated as Oldrin realized the last act of defiance from her victim had struck one of the girls behind her. The thumps of two bodies slamming onto the floor exposed the true horrors of war that the young ace tried her utmost to ignore.

"-Shit! Man down! Man down!"

"2-4 is hit! Valk took a shot!"

Oldrin's instinctual nature demanded her to drop everything she was doing and go check on Marika, although her sensible side rebuked herself for even thinking about behaving so unprofessionally. If she wanted to ensure her safety, the best thing she could possibly do was clear the control room of any potential threats.

"Spread out! Secure this sector!" So Oldrin proceeded forward and didn't stop until every dark cubicle of that office had seen the cold muzzle of her G36.

"Room's clear, we're good." Finally, only then could she afford to worry for her fellow soldiers. "Sabbath 4. You guys take care of the staff over there, rough 'em up a bit so they'll do what we say." Their team leader, Sabbath 4-1 gave the XO a quick salute and marched off with her crew to the nook the non-combatants cowered in.

Pushing through the crowd gathering around 2-4, Oldrin only breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the young girl moaning in indignation instead of agony. "Arghhhh…! My first time getting shot… by bloody Britannian army!"

"You doing good? You alright?" The vice-commander lent a hand to help Marika back onto her feet, mirroring her earlier assistance when their roles were reversed.

"Yeah… the plate caught it." Marika poked at the hole in her Kevlar vest, looking almost intrigued by her near-death experience. The exterior fabric was penetrated but her trauma plate only showed a meagre dent. Oldrin briefly thought back to Marrybell's approval of Sokkia's extravagant splurge on tactical equipment, and how she was grateful to both of them for not getting stingy with the life-saving gear her team relied on.

"You see, cutie? IRL combat ain't like Call of Duty. LARPing as foot mobile isn't all the rave." Joining in the congratulation for Marika's survival, Sokkia inserted her more critical opinion into the mix.

"You obviously haven't cleared any Call of Duty on veteran." Her comeback reduced Sokkia to a tongue-tied buffoon, who eventually merrily smacked the younger teen on the back for her quip.

Now that she was still alive with a healthy team and a completed mission, Oldrin didn't forget to disclose her victory and make it official. "—Flintstone, Sabbath 2-1. Bastion dome secured. We have Excalibur. I say again, Bastion dome secured. The cannon is ours."

"—2-1, Flintstone copies. Very nice, very nice. Fireteam KitKat is en route to Excalibur, they'll relieve your team. We're still good on mission-time, move onto your secondary objective after the handoff."

"—Roger that, Flintstone. We're setting up a perimeter, standing by for transfer." That was one chapter in the book of Marrybell's grand invasion coming to a close, and the downtime was the perfect break for Oldrin while she waited for the pages to flip.

"—AWACS Flintstone to all callsigns this net. Bastion Dome is under our control, our greasy fingers are on the BFG."

— —

Author's note

Hey guys! It's another chapter solely focused on the Glinda knights and their… ohhhhh, oh noooooooo…

Well, I did warn you guys many times that I'm a hack, don't be expecting good storytelling from this story.

This chapter isn't the most exciting, it's true. I mostly wanted to show how the Glinda Knights operated and what level they're on, but that isn't the funniest thing to read for many. Sometimes I gotta do some setups and some plot stuff. I don't want to pull tricks outta my ass when I need it later, I have the big picture of the plot of this arc already in my head, so it's just slowly going in that direction as I add the details when I write.

I hope the characters are still within the realms of reason in the way I write them. Especially for the Oz characters since I can't be basing off canon anymore with the direction of their development. Sometimes I'll be writing when I'm not in the zone, and miss their characterization like a tool.

If you guys are bored by some parts of the story, it's perfectly reasonable to just skip ahead or skim through the content. I know I definitely do it even with real books. I'm really just writing this story to entertain myself and you guys, so it's not like you should feel obliged to read if it's not suiting your taste, I totally get it.

Still though, I'm kinda blind to the flaws in my own story, and I do need you guys to point out where you think is wrong in the writing. I'll try to accommodate that as I keep going. I'm normally four chapters ahead of what is published, so changes can't and won't be super drastic.

Anyway, thanks for taking a look, everyone. I'm still kinda surprised by how many people are interested in my work, will keep turning out slowly. Be sure to let me know if you notice any mistakes of any type in the chapters, I'll fix them.

Okay bye, new year soon, that's a thing.