Part 01 of Magical Seven, wherin a group of heroines go to fight to protect a small town, a la Seven Samurai.
The calm before battle had always daunted M4A1. She sat against the door, the small wooden building providing some shelter from the cold wind that blew that night. The town had put its lights out; the only ones who walked the streets now were those running late snacks or trinkets of good fortune to those waiting on the front. Last meals, M4 thought grimly.
It was her doing, she knew. No-one had ordered her to come this time. She'd been more alone than she could ever remember being. There were dangerous people out there, humans, dolls, and all manner of other creatures that she'd never thought could be real, just superstitious tales made up by humans to warn one another that, whatever you do, you must never always be home before dark.
She sighed, watching the shadows. She wasn't afraid, but she didn't know what the enemy would bring to bear against them. The shadows might move, and that would be the end of them. Still, the rifle in her hands, the one whose name she bore, gave her reassurance, as did the heavy box slung across her back she'd received as a gift. It reminded her that she was not alone, and that, no matter how long or rough the road ahead of her seemed, that there was something she was fighting for, and she didn't feel so lonely.
Upon the watchtower, a pair of friends rested. Texas leaned against the railing, chewing breadsticks lazily while she surveyed the countryside, grateful for the warmth her jacket provided. Sitting beside her, Exusiai was running last minute checks on her ammunition. Texas didn't understand guns the way her partner did, but she knew they could be finicky, and Exusiai had always had a habit of going over her equipment whenever she had a chance.
They'd been through a lot together, running deliveries and fighting terrorists along the way. Perhaps Texas might have been worried about the attack that was coming their way, but, even as quiet as she was being, she felt reassured by Exusiai's presence. Moreover, they had an unusual set of allies on this job, although, as Texas reflected upon those she knew, perhaps they weren't so unusual after all. The doctors of Rhodes Island would probably have called it unprofessional to be worried about the appearances of their allies.
A job was a job after all. Above all else, they'd taken it, and it'd shame the Penguin Empire greatly if they failed to deliver an exemplary service. And they weren't about to let their competition show them up.
A light glow illuminated a small room, the faint sound of a laptop keyboard being written on hastily. While there was a time and a place for stealth, there was also a time for writing, and Mirai knew that it was important to write whenever inspiration struck, lest she lose track of what she wanted to say.
A soft tap on her shoulder alerted her to her companion's presence, and she accepted the mug with a small nod of gratitude. While many would worry about breaking such a fragile thing on a soon-to-be battlefield, any shinobi who would endanger such a thing unintentionally was hardly fit to be called a shinobi at all, and would be really lacking in any kind of elegance at all.
On the topic of elegance, Ryoki was one of the last people she'd expected to meet on this journey, the glowing halo above her head unnaturally unnoticeable to the untrained eye. She was a shinobi several years senior to Mirai, and a "good" one, from Gessen. While it was easy to appreciate her easygoing, sisterly attitude, Mirai couldn't help but feel that the older girl didn't take her seriously.
Well, at least she could say that she hadn't died yet. She had that much, at least, over Ryoki.
The final two heroines waited in the old barn, looking out at the mountains beyond. While the moonlit night illuminated the picturesque landscape well, the shadows held no secrets to the eyes of Blake Belladonna, her catlike eyes flicking from point to point nervously. She herself was barely visible, the only sign of her the occasional glimmer of light off her eyes.
As if to mock her seriousness, Marisa was lazily reading through the books in Blake's bag. She'd yelled at the girl over it before, but she'd been incorrigible, and Blake could no longer work up the energy to stop her. Still, it bothered her, although Marisa was either oblivious or willfully ignoring the looks of irritation that were being cast her way.
Blake's cat ears twitched. The ground rumbled, and the witch looked up at her, an excited grin on her face as she pulled her black, pointy hat over her head. Blake didn't understand these people who really seemed to enjoy fighting. Fighting was for something, an unpleasant means to an end. For the people who lived here, it was her role as a Huntress to fight off the night.