"The diary"
The next morning in that simple hotel in Siberia felt very different for Josie. She was just on her way back to the apartment room, expecting that the two guys are already awake. She already knows it's past 6 and it's pretty much enough for Rex as resting time. She finally opened the door. And as she predicted Rex was already stretching, while Boyd was still stirring awake on the couch.
"You boys certainly had a good night sleep. It's obvious the day will turn out well," says Josie with confidence. "However, I need you both to see something." This got the attention of the two. "Something happened to me this early morning, and I think it might be connected to me once with my power suppressed. Since it isn't the case anymore, I think this was meant to be." She then closed her eyes and concentrated her magic, just before a pair of wolf ears came out of her hair. She also made her wolf tail visible for them to see as well. This was while she was giving a blue glow around her body. "See? Ears and a tail, and I was thinking of something… I had a peculiar feeling like this when I was in the facility. The only thing that suppressed these features were the titanium bracelets I usually wear while I'm on a serious roll inside."
"Um…" Boyd wanted to speak. "Subject One… I mean… Josie… There's a reason for the titanium bracelets you were saying. They were indeed suppressants to your true power, but we needed to see your base abilities than its extension."
"I understand that, Boyd."
"Then you can imagine what such power can do. That was why we were suppressing them."
"You were afraid. I'd feel the same if I had a subject who exhibits the same thing. It's fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Boyd… Charles was your friend. That makes you more than enough to be trusted." Josie then glances at Rex. "Rex… Try not to stop me." And she smirks. "I wanna see how I got with these features. I'd call them features of a demon, or familiar."
"In short…" Rex tried to clear it up. "…you got a demon inside you?"
"That's the only description close enough, but I'd rather call it a familiar," said Josie who was retracting her ears and tail, and her magic. "It'll be rough out there. I'm sure they got magic sensors, thanks to the research they partially have. We've got to get out of City-06 if we want to get breathing room. Dr. Nizio… Do you have the flash-drive?"
"Right here, Josie."
"Good. Rex… You are to guard him. Without him, we cannot explain the contents of Charles' research. He's as good as a VIP who can contribute so much. If he's dead, we might as well treat our efforts a failure." Josie's words stuck to the two of them as they left the hotel room…
Josie's POV…
It will be hard, but I have faith on Rex. He's more than the man I know. He wants to see all of us alive, and will make sure of it. That's good enough for me. It must have been when he was still in service, I suppose. Still… The three of us should work together. Getting through the city without any trouble would require us to stay vigilant. We can't afford to have a fight with ATLAS forces just yet…
Strike Witches dimension…
Former 501st Pescara base, Romagna… 0615 hours…
Hangar…
Neutral POV…
The hangar that was once filled with striker units was somehow empty without the striker units the 501st used to store in the same place. A few striker cradles were around in case any witches of the skies decide to try come back at any case. Though at most cases while ATLAS controls Rome, it would be impossible.
A Romagnan soldier was sleeping on a mat just near the cradles just before an outraged Britannian army officer sees him sleeping.
"OI!" The Brit army officer walked towards the currently stirring Romagnan soldier before he kicked the soldier's hip. "Get up! What do you think you're doing?!"
"Hah!" The Romagnan soldier grabs his m91 infantry rifle and immediately sits up, then springs to stand up in attention to the officer. "Sorry!"
"It doesn't cut it, Gordo. How the hell long were you asleep?"
"I… don't know. An hour?"
"Agh… Bloody hell. Just an hour before the shift change."
"I was dozing off often, sir. I couldn't ignore my need for sleep at this point." Gordo rubs his eyes before his forehead was poked by the army officer.
"Look, soldier. We're assigned to keep this base out of enemy hands whether this position would benefit them or not, and we'll only pull out once we take out of the critical assets the enemy might use against us. As long as the castle base stands, there's at least some dignity left to this place. Now get yourself to the barracks. You're back at six hours, Gordo. Dismissed." The Britannian army officer gently pushed Gordo to walk out of the hangar into a jog. While that happened, a Liberion soldier with a Thompson SMG came in. "Corporal Wilson, you're up for watching the cradles this morning. Make sure they remain intact."
"I know, I know, LT." Wilson replied this to his superior. "Look, Gordo's service time is really short since he got out of the camp. Maybe you should take it easy on the guy?"
The Britannian lieutenant sighed. Wilson had a point, but he's just making sure everyone is kept in check in case the situation in their area changes. He then looks at Wilson to answer him. "Corporal, being frank with you is rather tiresome. I suggest you follow orders instead of questioning them. We are at a very tight leash after the 501st abandoned the position due to orders. You know yours and mine are the same. So don't make it hard for everyone else."
"Yes, sir."
"Entertain a sergeant if you must when it comes to inspecting what's left of the hangar, but nobody else comes in." The Britannian lieutenant then leaves Wilson in the hangar, leaving the Liberion soldier to sigh as he stretches his shoulders for the morning.
The whole base had been occupied by soldiers and maintenance crew. A total of 28 combatants and 12 maintenance personnel were in the base. There's not much to get from the base except some of the documents left behind. Most don't know however that their stay would be cut very short.
A camera view of the whole base was being viewed while inside a covered Liberion patrol jeep just off the base… A remote control on an ATLAS soldier's wrist was being controlled by its owner, with the remote attached to the wrist of his uniform. He controlled the way the drone was being steadied over the great view of the base. From the normal view of the drone, he switched the drone's vision for white thermals.
"Alpha Eye's got visual…" The soldier said this while he looked at his monitor on his uniform wrist remote control module. "I'm reading about 40 hostiles in the base. What the play here?"
"Oh, you'll know, Alpha Eye." A familiar Sergeant's voice was heard on the radio. "Alpha Eye, do you see additional thermals marked as strobes?"
Alpha Eye was looking closely as some of the white thermals were disappearing and one by one were being replaced by flashing strobes. "Oh shit…" Alpha Eye said this himself in a mutter. He was shocked to see the cleverness of his teammates.
Briefing room in the castle…
A Romagnan soldier was browsing a folder with papers in it. Another two soldiers were with him packing up papers and folders in boxes.
The soldier looking at the folder sighed. "There's nothing much here. There are just notable places in Romagna. I already know half of these. Find anything yet, Private Durante?"
"Nothing," replied Private Durante before putting down a box of papers. The other soldier beside him decide to look at the chairs. Durante looked from that sight to his superior. "Corporal, don't you think we should move on? What exactly are you looking for? We're not really assigned for the information picking."
"I know, I know… Private. But what's really special about orders that regards a part of Britannian and Liberion sections? If it's critical information, I wouldn't be surprised. Having them in it is a bit of a stretch for them, don't you think?" The corporal said this to Durante before a Romagnan soldier called from outside the briefing room.
That soldier who called from outside the briefing room was looking straight at the corporal. "Sir… One of us just collapsed. I don't know why, but he's not breathing."
The corporal winced as he heard of this. He looked at Durante. "Private Durante, I'll be returning shortly. Make sure you and Croce secure the documents. They may not look important, but every bit helps. I'll see what this one's about." The corporal then leaves the two behind to join the Private in distress as they walk the hall.
The corporal and the private then walk into the pantry where they find the collapsed body of a machine-gunner. The corporal then looks to examine the unconscious soldier. The distressed private's fate was immediately sealed as a laser point had arrived at his head before a suppressed shot fired a bullet that went straight through his skull, killing him as his body dropped to the floor. The corporal was alert and immediately aimed his weapon at the ones responsible, not aware of an ATLAS mercenary in helmet and uniform close to him as he was given an elbow to the face, disarming the soldier. With the soldier corporal disarmed he was pinned to the wall. Joining in the action are two ATLAS soldiers aiming suppressed weapons at him with laser points on his body. A knife was brought up to his neck by the one who pinned him.
"Faremo questo semplice. (We will make this simple.)" The ATLAS mercenary who held him prisoner with the knife and his hold spoke in Italian to make the other understand. "L'ufficio del comandante. Dov'è? (The commanding officer's office. Where is it?)"
The corporal who was held prisoner glared at the mercenary before he spoke. "Non parlerò mai come uno scoppio. Diavolo. (I will never speak to scum like you. Devil.)"
"Sono stato chiamato peggio. (I've been called worse.)" The mercenary says this before he makes no hesitation to let his knife's edge touch the neck of the soldier and sliding it quick through the skin and meat and off. The blood then flows out through the slice as the soldier tries to gasp for air, but struggles as he immediately loses blood, losing his consciousness, then losing his ability to move until he dies of blood loss. Gently putting the soldier down, the other two with him were following procedures like clockwork, leaving the pantry to search for other rooms. "Time of war. Ain't that a bitch?" He says this in a whisper before leaving the three corpses in the pantry. "Flex 1-1 to Battleaxe, we just got in through an entrance near the pantry."
"Don't make noise, Flex 1-1." Battleaxe replies this in a cautionary tone. "You might be at a loose part of the castle, but keep your eyes open. Alpha Eye might be in the sky, but don't think it's a walk in the park."
"I get it, Battleaxe. Kill the guys, and don't make a racket. I know the drill."
"You got two guys inside the castle's briefing room. Take them out quietly."
Flex Lead then approached the door to the briefing room with two others behind him.
Meanwhile, the two soldiers softly laughed at each other while one of them started to light the other's cigarette with a lighter.
"Aiuto, aiuto, ho bisogno di aiuto! (Help! Help! I need assistance! Help!)" A shout of a man came from outside the door of the briefing room.
The two soldiers including Private Durante himself have been baited as they ran for the door. As soon as it's done and the two have ran out of the briefing room, laser points went to his head and the other before suppressed weapons fired rounds. He receives the headshot that killed him, and it was the same with the other.
"Tangos down. 2 and 3, check the room out. I'll look at the connecting hallway for more. And hurry up."
Some hallway where the Witch's rooms were…
A Liberion and a Romagnan soldier were looking at the long hallway and were bored.
"Agh… This is real bull." The Liberion soldier said this to the other soldier. "Look, aren't you tired of looking left and right or even walking around? We've been at it since this morning."
"Ahh, you Liberion." The Romagnan soldier replied. "I don't consider that your kind whines at this sort of assignment. But now I'm wrong."
Meanwhile, two Romagnan soldiers with their helmets down are approaching the active-duty soldiers at the same hallway. They walked fast, looking at the two unaware active soldiers with murderous intent before they made their move. One of the passerby soldiers equips a suppressed futuristic pistol and fires at one of the soldiers towards the temple. The other remaining soldier sounding like an American tried to fire his machine gun, but was held prisoner with a set of strong arms from the other passerby soldier who then snaps his prisoner's neck.
The two assassins under the soldier uniforms looked around and nodded at each other, before the one who held the pistol split and decided to check one of the rooms.
"Martyr 2 to Battleaxe," said the armed operative. "We just cleared the hallway. I'm moving in one of the rooms now. This one's got quite the touch. It actually has the sign for 'night patrol.'"
"The room is probably a place for personnel who fly for night missions or patrols. We have yet to access the dossier for all the witches, so keep in mind that room."
Martyr 2 eventually enters the room and finds a room with a double-bunk bed. He knows it's empty, so it only takes his calmness and his keen sight to look around.
"Abandoned. It's the same for the rest of the rooms, so I should find something easy in here. I don't wanna get in that other room where it's fucking messy. And I thought they got fucking discipline." Martyr 2 reports this to Battleaxe, having been annoyed after he visited Erica's room before being at where he was at that moment.
He browsed drawers and all he could find are current world currency bills.
"Battleaxe, I'm getting notes here. Cash. Guess they don't get these sent for a reason. I'm guessing Rome's a good place to shop. They need to find another good spot for it." Martyr 2 reports this and gets no comment from Battleaxe, so he picks the cash out and takes it all. Putting it safely in his utility belt back-pocket, he continues to search the room.
Finding nothing but clothes, he searches the beds and winces at the sight of some sort of small book. Though with the shape and the outline of it, he would recognize what it is: A diary. He then opens it to find words probably belonging to one of the witches. And it's in Russian.
He reports what he finds to Battleaxe.
"Great work, Martyr 2," replied Battleaxe. "A diary could mean current events, as well as a mix of past experiences. Take it with you and keep it intact. We could use the intel for further investigation of the witches we faced in Rome."
"Copy that."
"What else did you find in the room?"
"Just a deck of fortune cards. Looks like the other witch in this room is a fortune-telling witch. She could be a future-looker."
"Organize the deck and take it. If there's nothing else in the room that we could use, move on to the next one."
And as Battleaxe said it, Martyr 2 wasn't able to find any other items in the room. Shrugging it off, he leaves through the door looking left and right before moving onto the next door.
Meanwhile, the Britannian commanding officer was looking at a document he was reading in the commander's office. He knew that the Lynette Bishop herself had already transferred to another base. It was sad that an enemy element had already taken Rome. It was even sadder and at a time maddening that it was a human faction that had stormed Rome.
He looked out the window where he could see the long stretch of the runway. It was a morning he could never forget, and it was a brand new day. Closing his eyes, he was feeling the pressure of all this. Soon, the unit will leave the base for good if this human faction stays longer in the city.
The commander then winced at something. He was supposed to see a two-man patrol pass by to walk the stretch of the runway. No one however had arrived. Narrowing his eyes, he would notice there was only one patrolman who held an SMG. That patrolman looked suspicious, as he was smoking when it's not his break time yet.
He then stopped to listen only to the silence of the room and what's outside. The commander heard only his breathing and his heartbeat. As what he suspected was a reality, he tried to go for his pistol, but was stopped by something poking his nape. He stopped going to his pistol at this point. He knew it was a gun's nose…
"H-How?" The Britannian commander asked this.
The suppressor-equipped ACOG scoped-equipped AMR-9 SMG was poking its suppressor at the commander's nape. Its holder, looking like a Romagnan soldier though wearing a black cap in reverse with the logo of the ATLAS Corporation, kept the gun up to the commanding officer.
"Yeah. Good question. Hands up and put them at the back of your head. Slowly." The AMR9 owner said this as the door fully opens behind him, letting a base officer drop with his neck slit and bleeding while the commanding officer raises his hands up and places them at the back of his head. ATLAS officers came into the room but were relieved to see one of them already with the commanding officer startled. The half-disguised ATLAS grunt took the commanding officer's pistol and gave it to an ATLAS soldier behind him. The gun was stripped of its magazine and the bullet inside it was cocked out. "That's better. See, this is your problem. We landed at your time. You don't fucking know us. You're just attending to what they tell ya. And guess what? They leave people like you dead. That's why you're here. At one time, they'd know this base would be taken over, and you're just in the meat grinder."
"YOU LIE." The Britannian commanding officer turned around and put his hands down to glare at the owner of the submachine gun once aimed at the back of his head. The same man stepped back and kept his aim at the officer before the other ATLAS grunts raised their weapons.
"Whoa, whoa. Stand the fuck down." Coming into the room is another ATLAS soldier but he seems to lead the current squad, or maybe the whole ATLAS unit who raided the base. He took off the ATLAS cap on his head and had a good look at the Britannian commander. "Lieutenant Charles Jameson. So you're the unit's commander. Thought I'd get you to be the last one standing."
"And who are you?"
"I'm just known around most guys who shine my boots as Battleaxe. Lieutenant, you gotta forgive Harley for his little way of giving you pressure." He said this while he looked at Jameson who right now is nervous. "Scared to shit?"
"You're unbelievable. You prevent the alarm to be raised." Jameson looked nervous but glared at Battleaxe. "I'm guessing you've already dealt with the others somehow… at the barracks, the hangar, and most at the messhall."
"Used mute charges to take down the guys at the messhall, slit throats and gave headshots to those in the hallway and the rooms. The barracks, we cleared. See… Stealth's really an option for us. Otherwise, we'll just make things messy with the loud noise."
"Why? What would you find here?"
"Well that's really simple. We picked up a few things and we couldn't help notice witches once resided here, Lieutenant. Got something to tell us?" Battleaxe asked, just before Harley got beside him and gave him a folder.
Harley handed the folder over to his superior. "He was reading this before we got here."
And Battleaxe looked at the contents of the folder before he smiled.
"Well, well." Battleaxe said before looking at the commander who was nervous and looked back at the papers in the folder. "Ms. Lynette Bishop. One of the witches assigned to the 501st Joint Fighter Wing 'Strike Witches.' Tell me something Lieutenant. By far, how many of these Joint Fighter Wings are present in the war?"
Jameson kept his steely glare at the man who asked. "I will not speak to you or anyone about the alliance against the Neuroi."
"Sure." As Battleaxe replied, he nodded to the other grunts before they took off their suppressors and kept their weapons aimed at the Lieutenant. "Make sure you say hi to your unit. End it." The ATLAS grunts pulled the trigger on their weapons before firing at full auto at the commanding officer. Jameson was hit by bullets, giving him holes and pushing him at the window, shattering it before he fell out of it. Blood sprayed as he fell and splattered along with his body as his corpse hits the ground. ATLAS soldiers walked beside the corpse carrying other corpses to a small hill out of them. Soon, Jameson's corpse was carried and thrown there.
ATLAS HQ… Operations Control…
Iron's POV…
I looked at the camera view of each of my contractors. Some of them went their way to kill loosely. At least most of them are organized in using the Mute Charge I gave them. I know at this point these kinds of raids would lessen with the use of our own equipment, so we need to make sure a foothold's established. Genie's right. We'll be staying for long in this world with the knowledge we got with ours. Because of that, we gotta start adapting and use resources we find here.
Though with the operation in Pescara a success and plenty of information laid at the table, I can finally get started in thinking of plans for the future of ATLAS. Our world turned on us before. Now it's switched. We'll be taking this world for ourselves.
Pescara base, Romagna…
Neutral POV…
The burning bodies outside the hangar smelled as the crisp sound of uniforms being burned were heard. The skins of the corpses were blackening at each second they were burned by the gasoline-induced flames made on the small hill of corpses.
A woman wearing some sort of doctor's uniform was on her knees with her hands covering her mouth. She was shocked, sad, and moreover, starting to feel scared for her life. She was witnessing the dead soldiers being burned. She saw maintenance personnel kneeling on the ground with their hands behind their head. They were all lined up across the door of the hangar while their heads were down.
One of the ATLAS grunts saw one of the maintenance workers stand make a run for it in fear. He was instantly killed as bullets entered his chest and dropped to the ground.
The female doctor widened her eyes looking at how her conquerors were treating prisoners. Maybe it would be the same the other way around? She shook her head imagining it wouldn't be the case.
'I refuse to believe we are capable of shooting our own prisoners…' She thought of it before looking at the grunts talking to each other. Then the man known as Battleaxe went to the grunts. She couldn't make out the words and the advanced terms given to the grunts, but she could make out several. She hears that the maintenance workers could be useful. She eventually sees the maintenance workers forced to stand up by the soldiers around her. As the workers were standing next to each other still with hands at the back of their heads, the grunts around them force them to walk in line to a direction where there were trucks nearby. They will be transported out of the base.
"Like what you see?" Battleaxe approached the doctor and he could tell she was shocked. "We're not all bad you know," he said at a tone for flirting with women. "You get used to us a lot and you'll be treated very well. You can even have a few friends."
The female doctor winced at the meaning and glared at him. "You disgust me."
"Take it easy, Doc. Nothing's gonna happen to ya. Thing is, we just need information."
"You are a terrible liar. You killed off the military unit here, and you're just here for information?"
"Like it or not, that's what we came here for. See… Us future dwellers really need it. After all, we wouldn't really do well without it. It's just like the brass at this time. Only… we get farther than they do. So… That's where YOU come in." He leaned his face close to the female doctor's face. He made a poker face, and he exhibited no emotion at her. "The 501st stayed here, so I already know you got medical information stored around the place. You're giving them to us so we'd study them. See… We like taking care of people. And you're gonna tell us what we know."
"Screw you."
"Bad talk, Doc. See… We can do anything. We can even hold you against your will. You won't be able to see your family again. Heck… You won't even be recognizable when you see them. Because you'll be having a big scar up in your head and you can bite your two sons in the ass. All that thing about war is gonna be inside you, and you're gonna be a threat to them, just because you didn't talk, and we made fun of your mind. You sure you want that for your family?" Battleaxe then brings out a photo of the woman with her two sons, one 13 and the other 18. "The thing about family… is that you'll be able to do them a very big favor. Just live and come home safe. That just requires you to tell us what you know and you can go home."
The female doctor didn't hesitate. Selfish as it may seem, she'd definitely do anything for her family than for her country. It disgraced her from the inside. She was in the clinic with some grunts and Battleaxe. She was giving a small bag relating to the health of the witches of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing. Battleaxe smiles at this.
"You done us a big service, Doc." Battleaxe gave this remark to her and she made a weak smile. He groaned. "That's a bit sick. Boys… You need a break."
Richardson, one of the grunts, winced at this and looked at Battleaxe. "Serious? We get to-?"
"Look… Don't ask."
The woman then suddenly lost her smile and looked around, seeing eyes from the grunts now with different intents. "Wait… We… We had a deal! What the…?!" Suddenly, Richardson holds her arm tight. "Ow! Let go! NO! Don't…!"
Battleaxe chuckled. "Doc… You fail to understand. In war… There's just no guarantee that everyone comes back alive. Unfortunately, you're one of them. Boys… You got your cake. Just… make it fast."
The ATLAS grunts smile in lust as they close in at the female doctor, quickly stripping her clothes from her as she screamed. Battleaxe could only hear the rips of her clothes as he leaves that clinic. Soon, he just heard flesh touch the other with moans and screams from the woman. He then leaves the area, knowing the woman had sold herself.
In the company of Jonathan Irons…
Battleaxe was in the ATLAS briefing room with Irons himself as they both sifted through the files they found at Pescara.
Irons though he was working had a comment. "We may be efficient and way ahead, but I have to remind you that barbarism isn't our real aim here. We aim to explore and conquer. Maybe the worst of us are present in the company, but you're simply showing too much aggression. And what's this I hear about a good time with a woman?"
"Hehe…"
"Seriously, please take the work you've been given some consideration. We were only here for a while, and here, I find you fooling around."
"Look, Boss. We're gonna be stuck here awhile. If I can't find a way for my guys to be given their own nuts for smile desires to be satisfied, they could do things we all won't like. Look… May as well be given a way to mess up with some control. We can do that, right? Boss, take this as a way they get their hopes up. We win ourselves a world, we're gonna be given everything. May as well start dumping ourselves the new dust we'll own. Right?"
Jonathan shook his head for some disapproval. "I don't like where you're going, but I suppose you need this to be done in moderation. They're men, I suppose. But don't abuse it. If I hear anything about abuse onto parties we're allied with, you'll be answering directly to me. If I'm not in a good mood at all, you might be having worse than a conversation. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir." Battleaxe answered this before he cleared his throat. "By the way… Where'd ya sent Ghost and One-Three? I heard they pretty much left quickly."
"Well, if you must know…" Irons looked at the small notebook and raised it up to let Battleaxe see it. "See… it contains some good entries we might be interested in. Imagine if one of the witches was looking for their identity and hasn't found it yet."
"Yeah?"
"This witch is Russian in nature. I suggest she's one of the 501st. Sanya Litvyak. I saw her name at the dossier and this thing she could be wondering of could be answered."
"So…?"
"I sent Ghost to where we might exactly find her answers. It's not accurate yet, so I'll let you know only if it's a success. Battleaxe, good work. This is intel we need… And indeed… It's a good start for us." Irons said this, closing the diary and putting it on the table.