Magical Girl Sayaka, as a knight in the twin causes of justice and peace, not only beat up the witch to save Madoka, but also dialed emergency services.

"There's a bunch of people just sprawled out on the ground, and it smells really really bad, like, weird cleaning chemicals! ... I should leave the area immediately? Got it!" She slammed the handset down on the receiver gleefully; it was an older, rotary desk phone, and the bell inside made a faint but satisfying ringing sound from the impact.

Madoka was still a little shell-shocked. She'd sat down on the floor. "Sayaka..."

"Come on, now, we need to get out of here," said Sayaka, "or they'll start asking you all sorts of questions about what happened, and I'm trying to keep this below the radar."

"Is Hitomi ... okay?" asked Madoka.

"Yeah, I checked, she's asleep like all the others," said Sayaka. She turned to face Homura. "I'm finishing up here. You and me, we can talk later, k?"

Homura said nothing, but turned away, disappearing into darkness and silence.

"Weirdo." Sayaka turned back to Madoka. "Oh, wow, Madoka, you're a wreck. That witch must have done a number on you." She smiled gently. "Here. Let me carry you home."

"... wait, really?"

"Come on. The last two things that either of us need right now is a trip to the hospital, and an interview with the police."

. . .

"Oh. Oh no. No," said a voice, muffled, through the fire mask, as the door rolled upwards.

"I think I'm going to be sick," said another nearby.

Red and white lights strobed from the engine back at the street.

The tall man pressed the button on his radio, and it squeaked the digital chirp. "We're seeing a lot of bodies, Chief. This doesn't look good."

bsqurrk-SHHT. "Understood. Nobody take any chances without taking readings first."

bsqurk. "Copy."

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "Squad Two here. We're got something real weird over here. Like, there's this big hole in the wall, but not an explosion or anything, just, like someone used a pair of tin snips to put a four meter hole in the office."

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "Copy, squad two. Any sign of our caller?"

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "Negative. Chem-kit looks like it might be picking up traces of chloramine, but it's pretty faint."

"You got anything?" he asked his squad-mates.

The other two shook their heads. "Zero reading."

He pressed the button again. bsqurrk "Squad One. We got negative results at the garage door; I'm going to ease on in careful-like and take a look at the casualties."

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "Go ahead, squad one."

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "Squad two, I think I found a chemical spill in back. There's a bucket on its side in the alley, small puddle, bunch of discolored concrete around it. Not sure it's big enough to be the main event, though. Readings for you in a sec."

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "Copy. You let us know if it's safe to send cleanup."

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "Right, I can smell it all the way from here, I'm gonna keeping way back."

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "All right, squad one."

He walked slowly into the garage, kneeling down beside the nearest body, steeled his nerves, looked down into his face. Was he imagining it, or ...

Fuck it, they had a zero reading. He took off his glove, and pressed it up to the man's neck, to make sure.

By some small miracle...

bsqurrk. "Squad one, chief, first body is still breathing. I hope we got some ambulances headed this way."

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "Copy squad one, how many casualties are we looking at?"

bsqurrk. "I dunno, boss, it's dark in here; at least twenty. I'd put it at fifty, to be safe. I think we should move in deep and take readings on the back wall, see if there's anything to worry about, in case we need to move fast."

A pause.

bsqurrk-SHHHT. "All right, go ahead. First EMTs should be here in five."

"Hey there. Easy, now. You okay?"

A confused, sleepy face looked up at him. "Huh?"

"Don't worry. It'll be all right. What's a pretty young lady like you doing on this side of the tracks?"

"I was just ... dance practice," said the girl.

"I see, I see. Just stay calm, take deep breaths. It looks like there's been a bit of trouble, but everything's fine. What's your name?"

"Huh?"

"Your name. Who are you?"

She blinked slowly. "I think I'm ... an angel."

"Okay, okay. Do you think you can stand?"

"I don't ..." she trailed off, wiggled her foot, and made a face. "It feels like I'm still floating."

"Floating?"

"Like I'm still up there..." she gestured, awkwardly, "about a meter up. It's a little wobbly."

"Okay. Hold on, Angel. I'm going to pick you and take you out of here, okay?" He scooped her up in his arms. "Gotcha."

She giggled, and closed her eyes. "Everything's wobbly."

"Don't worry, it'll be fine." He turned and started walking to the big garage door.

The girl suddenly made a yelping sound, and flailed her arms.

"Woah whoa whoa whoa whoa, easy now. Take deep breaths."

She was not taking deep breaths. "N-n-not so fast!" she squeaked. "You'll l-leave... me ... I can't, quite... keep up."

He looked down at her face, puzzled. The poor thing looked absolutely spaced out. "How's that, now?"

"Just ... hold on a moment," she said, "I'm still a little bit..." She gestured with her hands, making circles. "There's a bit more than there should be, and I'm all tangled... tangled up."

He just nodded. "Okay. You ready now, Angel?"

"No!" she blurted, alarmed.

"Okay, okay..."

"Almost," she said.

"Let me know, okay?"

"Just another mo-" she started.

"Miss?"

She suddenly convulsed, and groaned, and smacked him in the face with her knee. "Aaaaaaah!"

"Oof!" he exclaimed. "Whoa, whoa, easy, easy..."

"Who - who are... where am I? What's going..."

"Careful there. Deep breaths, remember?"

"No?"

She seemed a lot less spaced out now, at least.

"You're all there now, right?"

"I'm... what? I certainly hope so? Who..."

"Shhh. It's okay, Angel. I'm an EMT. You're perfectly safe. I'm just taking you over to the ambulances outside, just so we can check you out, okay? Just to be sure you're fine."

"Outside... where?"

"Do you know where you are?" he tried again. "You said something about dance practice."

"Dance ... practice ... I think I ... missed dance practice." She cringed. "I think I missed half my classes and dance practice."

"Hush now, miss Angel. We'll sort it all out. Looks like you're doing better now, at least."

"Why are you ... why are you calling me that?"

"I'm sorry, miss, I thought you said it was your name?"

"... No." she said. It sounded weird coming from a stranger.

"I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"I'm... Shizuki. Shizuki Hitomi."

"Oh. Shizuki, like the bank?"

She frowned and made a face. "Yes."

"Okay, okay there, miss. Stay calm. We're almost there. Easy. Do you think you can sit?"

"Yes."

"Okay, okay. You sit right there. Relax. Give me a second here." He motioned the technician aside for a word.

"What's up?" asked the tech.

"Hold up. Let me grab old baldy over there." He waved down an older man, a policeman, detective, beckoned him over.

"Gentlemen," he said, "what do we have over here?"

"Not sure. Says her name is Shizuki Hitomi. She was really, really spacey when I got to her, said her name was Angel, and seemed to think she was having an out of body experience. Now, I know it's not strictly my department, but I'm thinking, fancy little princess like her all the way out here, it's probably some sort of designer drugs, maybe a rave gone wrong; I'm just not sure the rest of the crowd here really fits."

"Huh," said the detective. "Makes about as much sense as anything else I've heard tonight. We'll check it out."

"What I'm thinking," said the EMT, "is that we get to the hospital and run some blood tests, maybe check some of the others too, because there's medical implications. And if there's nothing, well, then, that's fine. Alternative hypothesis, some sort of head trauma when she fell, so check for a concussion."

"Right," said the technician.

"Great. It's been a pleasure, Mister ...?" He extended a hand.

"Ikari. Detective Ikari, if you don't mind."

"Got it, Detective. Thanks." He turned to leave.

"Hey, what's your name, kid?"

"Ah. I'm sorry, I'm Mizushino. Mizushino Sho."

The tech watched him head back around the corner, and shook his head.

"Interesting kid," said the detective.

The technician snorted. "Sho likes to lay it on real smooth, man. Don't think he knows how to turn it off, either."

"... Huh," said the detective.

. . .

"Hey hey, Sho," said the other EMT, "I see you got yourself a real nice piece of - oof!"

Sho punched him in the shoulder - not really hard, but not soft or anything, either. "Shut it, Takarada."

"Ow! Hey, why you gotta be like that?" he replied, rubbing his arm. "I got stuck with little old cleaning lady, and she literally shit her pants. Cut me some slack."

"What, Takarada, are you chasing after middle school girls now? I didn't know you were that fucking desparate. Have some fucking standards."

"Huh? Those tits are saying high school, minimum."

"Okay, one. That's a middle school uniform, you dumbass. Ribbon in the front. In high school, she'd wear a tie. You need learn to read the field, man, and this is like, fucking basics. You gotta do a hell of a lot better than that. Two. Our little princess got herself a rich, rich daddy. If you go over there and make her feel gross - and trust me me, you're making me feel gross right now - next thing you know, papa makes a call to his foundation or whatever, and you're oneverybody's shit list. Now, if that were all, I might just not care, except we've still got to work together, and I don't need you making me look bad."

"... Shit, man. I'm sorry -"

"Forget it. Listen. If you're out saving little girls, then you do what they pay you to do, and play the hero, and you play it straight, man. If you like what you see, that's your business, but you don't say nothing, you don't go out of your way to go looking for nothing, and you sure as hell don't start touching nothing. You cool with that?"

"Whoa, man. Okay. I got it. I got it."

"So hey. She's a poor girl in middle school. Girl like that should be home in bed right now. You and I, we're just like big brothers. You ask her if she's okay, you tell her it's all gonna be all right. You tell her she's pretty, but like, you're almost talking down to her, just a bit, like the way her daddy would tell her she's pretty. You build up her confidence; you don't go pulling any moves."

Takarada just nodded, dumbly.

"Now go back and take care of your - wait. Why did you think she was a cleaning lady?"

"Cuz she's like over there on the floor with a whole jug of bleach and a bottle of something else?"

"Shit." He turned back to the ambulance. "Detective Ikari!" He waved his arms. "Yo!"

"What? ... I don't get it."

"... You know, maybe the world is safer if you don't know." He sighed. "Detective! Hey. Listen. Takarada, you want to tell him what you just told me, about what you found in there by the little old lady?"

. . .

"Hey there. You still doing all right?"

The girl looked back up at him.

"Excuse me. Did they find another girl?"

"How's that now?"

"Another girl. She's from my class. I'm not sure, but I think she was here. Is she okay?"

"Well, I didn't hear that we found anyone else your age, but I can ask around."

"Please do. Thank you," she said.

"Hey Detective!"

. . .

"Ugh." Kaname Junko picked up the phone with intense un-enthusiasm. She had just gotten into bed, moments before. "Hello. Kaname household," she mumbled. It was - what, 2 am?

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Detective Ikari, with the Mitakihara City Municipal Police Force. Apologies for calling you at such an hour; hopefully this is nothing, but we just wanted to make sure out of an abundance of caution..."

"... Wait, what?"

"Again, it's probably nothing, so please don't be alarmed but ... there's been a small incident, and a student at the local middle school was involved, and she said thought she might have seen your daughter there. She wasn't sure. We just wanted to make sure that she was safe at home, out of an abundance of caution."

"W - what kind of an incident?"

"It's part of an ongoing investigation, so I really shouldn't say, ma'am."

"I'll ... I'll go check right now."

Her heart pounded. I didn't actually see her when I got home. Is she okay? She moved swiftly up the stairs, quietly tried the bedroom door. Her eyes darted to the open window, and then the bed, and Madoka wasn't -

no, she was there, just bundled up like a spring roll in her sheets, at the foot of the bed.

Trouble sleeping, dear? Oh, you're still in your uniform. You silly girl. Cherish sleep, Madoka, before it gets away from you...

. . .

"So the detective called," he explained, "and she's safe at home. Her mother didn't think she'd even been anywhere. Your friend is perfectly safe."

The girl smiled, and relaxed. "I'm sorry for causing concern. Thank you very much, Mr...?"

"Call me Sho," said the EMT. "This is my buddy, Takarada. He's on my crew. He can be kind of a dolt but I think he's got potential so I'm trying to turn him around. Right, bro?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah," said the other guy.

Sho smirked. "See what I mean? Anyway, how are you holding up? Can we get you anything? Cup of green tea?"

"No, I'm fine," said Hitomi. "Thank you."

. . .

Detective Ikari was driving; he slipped into the stream of ambulances as they started to pull off.

"What do you think, Mitsuhiro?"

"Don't like it one bit," said the younger man.

"Well, no shit."

"On the face of it, I'd say it looks like some sort of mass suicide, except nobody seems to be dead. How the fuck is that supposed to work? Makes me think something else is going on, something real weird, but I can't think of anything that makes sense."

"Yeah." He took a puff on his cigarette. "You know what else don't make sense?"

"That girl?"

"The girl, for a start. Buncha washed-up old salarymen. Factory manager. Couple little old ladies. Exactly one middle school girl. She doesn't fit."

"Nope," said Mitsuhiro.

"Girl says she thought she saw her friend," continued Ikari, "but I called the mom, and the girl's safe at home."

"Hey, hold on. Didn't the dispatch say something about the person who called it in to begin with, sounded like a girl? Don't think we ever found her. Unless it's like, the same girl."

"Right, we're gonna want the tapes on that call," said Ikari.

"I'll get them. I also pulled tapes from their surveillance, but they didn't have a lot. Tomorrow morning, when everything opens, I'll start knocking on doors, see what else I can get. I guess everybody just walked all the way out here from wherever, should be able to track how some of them got here, at least."

"Right. Meanwhile, we talk to a certain miss... Shizuki Hitomi..."

"Shizuki? Like the bank?"

"... Shit."

"Like Shizuki Tower. Like, the plaza and performing arts venue, downtown."

"Okay, okay, hold on, don't get carried away. It's probably a big family. We don't have any confirmation at all that she's, like, the CEO's daughter or anything."

"Why, detective! You surprise me! Never in a million years would I have you pegged as an optimist."

Ikari took another puff. "Well if you put it that way..."

"You think there's any chance there's not a missing persons report out for her?"

"Oh, fuck me."

"So supposing it's the same family. You suppose daddy's going to be real happy if we start poking and prodding his little precious angel and asking her uncomfortable questions?"

"We should have asked her questions on the scene, damn it..."

"Oh, man, I wonder how quickly Daddy Shizuki can make it over to the hospital. You think that kind of guy keeps a helicopter at home?"

"Gonna run this express, hmm?"

Mitsuhiro gave it a moment's thought. "How about I run interference on the staff as she checks in, buy us a little time, while you head in and take a statment? Then, when Daddy shows up, she's still busy getting looked at, sir, but we'll spare no effort to get you to see her straight away..."

"Right," said Ikari. "If you're doing that, see if you can grab the paramedic who was talking to her, what was his name, Souta or something. Not Souta. Sho. Forget his full name. You'll know him. Good first impression, seems like a real stand-up sort of guy, real on top of things, but a smooth talker, and just feels like he just wants to have some sort of an angle on everything six ways 'til Sunday. Hell, get him talking, take a statement from him, too, just in case."

"Sounds like a plan." He took one last puff, and stubbed the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray. "We'll get to the bottom of this yet."

"What's our story for Daddy? He'll want to know."

"I dunno. Tell him it was, like, some sort of mass hallucination or some bullshit story like that."