"Hello, Saito," Kakuzawa's tone was cheery and casual, as if greeting a next-door neighbor, "How's the kid?"

Saito, a young woman with dark hair, nearly jumped out of her skin in shock. Not only could she see her boss, but she had just been greeted by her boss' boss.

"M-M-Mr. Kakuzawa!" she cried out, "I had no idea you would be down here! Had I known I wou-"

Kakuzawa raised a single wrinkled hand, silencing the flustered young woman, "It's quite alright," he said, Continuing to speak with a certain level of warmth that had not been heard when addressing the Armacham staff, "Me and my foreign guests have a use for No. 35, and would like nothing more than to meet her…face-to-face."

Saito's nervous smile melted instantly into a nervous frown. An almost terrified frown, "W-with all due respect, sir, I'm not sure that's wise. She's been in this cage since birth, and hasn't been let out of it since she was born. There's no telling how she'll respond to outside stimuli."

"But she's had you, right?" that same tone, gentle and reassuring, "I know that you've been faithfully speaking to her for all of these years. She thinks fondly of you, doesn't she? Like family."

It was either the tone, or the familial reference, but one way or another, that shy smile reappeared on Saito's face, "Well, yes actually. She calls me her mother, in fact. I talk with her everyday. She can be pretty sweet at times."

"Well that's just perfect!" exclaimed Kakuzawa with a wide grin, (though not quite wide enough to reach his eyes.) "We'll be able to make proper introductions with her. With you by her side, I have no doubt that she'll warm up to all of us."

"If you say so…" she stated cautiously, though much less cautious than before. Saito turned toward the console in front of her, and started inputting a command, not entirely certain that it would still work after how inactive it was apart from the mike that was used to regularly communicate with her.

As she was opening the cell, Genevieve looked over at Kakuzawa, trying not to betray any apprehension or concern, but unable to stop herself from voicing it, "Are you sure this is safe?"

Kakuzawa, unable to laugh loudly, settled for a small chuckle, "Of course not, but we've devised a little countermeasure ahead of time."

"A bomb," stated Kurama flatly, "It was implanted in her chest when she was still just an infant. If she deviates, then we can detonate it."

"Really?" Genivieve cocked an eyebrow at the stoic director, "And you consented to this?"

"Are you comparing me to Harlan, Ms. Aristide?"

"Certainly not, but however flawed he was, I don't believe Harlan truly wanted his daughter dead."

"...The bomb was a necessary precaution."

That hadn't been a no.

There was a loud metal whirring as the thick titanium doors slowly swung open, revealing a small figure in such a large cage. Aristide and her silent subordinates leaned forward, watching as this girl, this weapon, stumbled forward on shaky legs, unused to having such space. Her head was covered in bandages, and there was a large wide tube connected to her crotch, which Genevieve suspected to be a catheter. It fell off the girl's thin frame, and the Diclonius fell to the ground.

"Mariko?" Saito, no doubt fueled with courage on behalf of the chief, strode forward toward the Diclonius. She knelt down beside her and began to take the bandages off Mariko's head, who regarded her with mild curiosity as the deed was done. It was at this point that Genevieve was able to get a good look at Mariko, the secret weapon of The Institute. No. 35 was small. Smaller than Lucy, and smaller than Nana. She looked to be around 9 or 10, with long, pink hair that was paler than the other two Diclonius. Similarly pink eyes gazed about in childish wonder, drinking in all of the space and sights and sounds that were now a part of her cramped world., "Hello there, Mariko. My goodness, you're so thin. Do you recognize my voice?"

Mariko tilted her head in a manner that, had the stakes been less dire, might've been considered adorable, "Mommy?"

Saito's face lit up like Christmas, "Yes, that's right! I'm your mo-"

"No, you're not."

Saito's face didn't even have time to shift expressions as she was promptly cut in half, her upper body and torso flying through the air, intestines trailing behind her like streamers, before crashing through the glass of the observation room, where everyone had been watching. Genevieve felt her stomach churn as her eyes locked with Saito, even as the light in her eyes began to rapidly fade.

"Trigger the bomb!" shouted one of the researchers, "We must pacify her!"

"Pacify me?" All the attendants looked up with shock at the young little monster standing right outside of their viewing room, sporting a calm little smile, "I might just have to kill you al-"

BLAM!

Mariko's threat was interrupted by a red wet blast that exploded out from her right side, covering her body in blood. The Diclonius fell to the floor, clutching the ruined remains of her blown-off arm. Hearing a groan from the console, Genevieve turned to look at Saito's dying torso, her trembling finger sliding off the detonation switch as her upper body went limp and lifeless. Kurama's eyes were surprised, but there seemed to be no other discernible emotion from behind his glasses.

She'd spent her dying energy maiming her own "daughter."

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Kakuzawa who found his voice first. "Alright, now's our chance! Move in, men!"

A dozen different soldiers, armed with machine guns and angered expressions, leapt over the observation console and restrained the wounded child. It was when a Diclonius was injured that she was the most vulnerable, and she had little chance of defending against several machine guns pointed towards her at point blank range.

Kakuzawa made his way toward the restrained Mariko. She fixed him with a burning gaze that he returned in kind, with a malicious grin to boot.

"Now then, No. 35. I'm sure you're quite eager to stretch your limbs, or what limbs you have left, but we're going to have to make a few things clear: either you'll do right by us, or we will compel you to do so."

There was no longer any warmth in his voice as he delivered this ultimatum to the sobbing girl in front of him. Genevieve didn't think there ever really had been.

Paxton Fettel sat on the roof of Maple House, watching the sun slowly rise from behind the faraway mountains. Most everyone had gone to sleep after his mother's grand reveal. Normally most folk would have difficulty sleeping after seeing Alma Wade, but for the residents of Maple House, it had been some sort of relief. Paxton supposed that he understood. For quite some time these children had been terrified by this formless phantom, unsure of her dark designs, but now the nightmare had been given form, an identity that seemed to want peace. They couldn't exactly get rid of her, but now they could tolerate her, and with tolerance, came much needed sleep, which had so far been denied to them, for fear of murky nightmares cast by yellow eyes. And so, they would rest, and probably not wake up until late in the afternoon.

Which left Paxton wondering about his next move.

He'd not expected this sort of behavior from his mother. This seemingly newfound docility that she'd never shown toward her sons until just now. He'd known Alma to be a merciless and wrathful harpy, a demon of infernal destruction, who would immolate all that stood before her without a thought of hesitation. The destruction was still there. He could see it from behind her pallid eyes, and were circumstances right, Paxton would know that his mother would unleash her glorious desolation upon this world. Now, it seemed as though she now preferred a more docile nature with this girl, Lucy.

It was all so…underwhelming.

And so, here he sat, contemplating his next move. He supposed he could head back to America and continue his war against Armacham, try and finish what he and his clone army had started, but now that said army had been annihilated, due in no small part to his meddling brother, he didn't think he'd stand so great a chance on his own. Perhaps if he were to speak with this Lucy…

Paxton turned his head as he heard the window beside him open up, and a familiar head poked out of the window, looking around briefly before noticing him sitting there on the roof.

Paxton let out a bitter sigh, "Hello, brother."

He honestly hoped his brother would leave him be, but nope, there he was already climbing out of the window, moving to sit next to him. Paxton momentarily entertained the idea of just blasting his brother off of the roof and away from him, but refrained, telling himself that it was not worth the effort. Instead, he turned his gaze back toward the slowly rising sun, now a third of the way over the mountains.

"What do you want?"

The Point Man didn't reply, but his thoughts were audible enough for the telepath beside him.

"I'm fine, now leave."

"..."

"I said…I'm fine."

The Point Man simply continued sitting there, giving him a pointed look. Paxton finally let out a small scoff.

"...Ugh. It's all so…disappointing, brother. I hadn't expected mother would be content to sit with that girl and play "house."

"..."

"Is that so? Don't be thick. This isn't her life. This isn't our life. We were made to be weapons, brother. Tools of war, just like mother. We're not fit for a quiet docile home life, complete with a white picket fence."

"..."

"Of course they don't have one, it was a metaphor!" Paxton lowered his head, exhaling his frustrations out in a sigh, "We've had it rough from the start, brother. Living in facilities, being cut apart and put back together. We were only two years old when we were well into our surgeries, but by that time, we had the bodies of teens! The world continued to shrink around us as we kept on growing. All of the chemicals and procedures robbed us of a proper childhood, and we're supposed to just give them a slap on the wrist, all for the sake of a pink haired girl with ear-like horns who can't even string together a single sentence!"

This time, The Point Man's thoughts were as silent as his voice.

Paxton let out one more scoff, then rose to his feet, "If you do not wish to leave, then that is your choice. Stay here and keep an eye on Mother and these children, then. Be a father-figure for all I care. This is not my home."

His body dispersed into the air in a blood red fog, a sight that was familiar to the Point Man. Hours later, when Kouta came up and asked about his brother, the Point Man simply shrugged.

"Is she going to be secured?" Genevieve was staring at Mariko, who'd regained some soupy semblance of consciousness. She was resting on a wheelchair, apparently too weak to stand on her own two legs. Kurama was kneeling in front of her, speaking in a soft, rapid tone. Genevieve couldn't hear whatever it was that was being communicated, as she had taken it upon herself to stand as far back as possible after seeing what this little girl was capable of. Kakuzawa could throw all of the smug leers he liked, but she wasn't taking any chances with Mariko.

"Rest assured, we're under no real danger," replied Kakuzawa, "We're safe enough to resume our discussion."

"And what else is left to discuss? If Mariko is as effective as you say, then I'm sure you'll have no further interest in me and my staff."

"Oh, come now, Ms. Aristide, we both know there's more on the table. There should be, at least."

He took a step closer, and Genevieve was able to more clearly see the keen malice in his eyes. She'd seen that look quite often back in Armacham.

And people call me a soulless corporate hack, she thought, Always reassuring to know that there's more of my kind halfway around the world.

"You've given me some much needed context on this Alma Wade," he continued, "And, on behalf of the Diclonius Research Institute, I thank you. However, I would like to know if and how you plan on aiding us in dealing with these two threats."

"I have eyes out on all of Kamakura, tracking down any possible leads that relate to Lucy and Alma."

"What leads, exactly?"

"Well, their childhood friend, for one. This boy named Kouta."

"Ah yes," Kakuzawa leaned his head back in thought, "Lucy never mentioned a boy named Kouta."

"Some bridges are better left burned," she said, and Kakuzawa had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"Do you know of any other leads, Ms. Aristide," he asked her cooly, "Anything else we can use?"

"We've already reached out to Aiko's mother. To our knowledge, she's never even heard of our two targets."

"I suppose we can consider that a dead end?"

"Without Aiko, there's little reason for them to track down their mother," Genevieve suddenly felt like changing the subject, "On another note, there's one more thing to discuss. I've seen how much you've planned to bring the war to Lucy and Alma, but what if Lucy and Alma bring the war to us?"

Kakuzawa laughed, and actually clapped Genevieve on the back, a gesture she thought she'd never see in Japan. It unnerved her, but not as much as what he said, "Ms. Aristide, that is precisely what I'm hoping for."

Genevieve kept a calm, professional front, but was quite baffled by this man's reckless nature. Was he not taking this seriously? Or was he just utterly convinced that no wrong could befall him?

"You believe you can hold down the fort in the event of a paranormal assault? Is this facility that well-armed?"

"Honestly, Ms. Aristide, I'm not too concerned that they'll come here. In fact, if I were you, I'd be more concerned about your own corporation."

"Is that a threat?"

Kakuzawa laughed, "Oh, I wouldn't dare to be so bold. No, it's not a threat. But I do know that in all the time that Alma and Lucy have been roaming free, they haven't bothered themselves with vengeance against us. But you, on the other hand, had to put up with Alma while she was still in a coma. It's quite clear that she's got a bone to pick with Armacham. A far bigger bone than Lucy and my Institute. It hardly took her any time at all to reunite with her friend. How long do you believe it'll be before she finds you here?"

"I'll deal with her when the time comes," It was a flimsy excuse, and she knew it, but honestly, she still wasn't entirely sure what she would do against Alma. Armacham had been working on a few different projects to try and counter the phenomenon that was Alma Wade, but none of them felt very effective to her.

"Let's focus on finding them first before we decide what to do with them," she stated plainly, "And we can start the search with Kouta."

"Oh my gosh, this is so good!"

"Nana, slow down!"

"I can't, it's so tasty! I can't get enough!"

Mayu watched from her side of the table with a look of concern as Nana dug into her own bowl of ice cream. It had been Mayu's suggestion, to help Nana forget about the monster who'd torn off her limbs.

It was…surprisingly effective.

"Ow ow!"

Mayu winced, "Yeah, that's the brain freeze."

"It hurts!"

"Only for a moment. It'll pass."

Nana let out an exaggerated whimper as she clutched her head, while Mayu let out a small chuckle at the girl's antics. Hearing a nearby commotion caused the two girls to pause in their eating. Sticking their heads around the corner the girls saw, with no small amount of amusement, that Nyu had proceeded to take apart the large grandfather clock, taking care to lay it down first. Kouta was standing over her with an exasperated expression on his face at her latest antics.

"Nyu, what are you doing?"

"Nyu?"

"No, you've completely disassembled it!"

"Nyu!"

She's just curious.

Kouta stumbled back as Alma seemingly materialized right beside him, looking at him with yellow eyes that seemed to see too much. Kouta had to quell his growing panic at the sight, reminding himself that they were on good terms with her now. At least things were more bearable with her son…who looked much older than herself…He was still scratching his head over that one.

"That's…that's fine, Alma," he said calmly, "But I would rather Nyu come see me whenever she wants to take apart things."

Alma nodded slowly. At Yuka's urgence, the phantom had started wearing clothes, and now had an oversized t-shirt hanging off her bony shoulders. It was black, with yellow words printed horizontally in heavy letters:

Yog Sothoth Rulez

Kouta had no idea what that meant. His english had always been rather subpar. In fact, he wasn't sure where Alma had even gotten the shirt. It certainly wasn't one of his own. Kouta rubbed his eyes as Alma patiently regarded him.

"Alma, where'd you get that shirt?"

Found it.

"You found…You know what, I don't care. Just please help Nyu-"

Lucy.

"Yeah, sure. Just clean this up."

Alma narrowed her eyes slightly, like a sulky, defiant, scrawny child.

"...Please?"

…Okay.

Kouta nodded, satisfied with her answer, before heading out of the room, letting out a deep breath. This was weird.

This was all.

So.

Weird.

Maple House was becoming a home for all sorts of eccentricities, and he wasn't sure he liked it. It was one thing to house Diclonius, this strange species that Nana had spoken of, but Alma, this ghost/phantom/demon who'd been terrorizing then from the start, and was apparently Nyu's BFF. Kouta had no idea how these two knew each other, or why he still allowed them to stay.

He sat down on a sofa in the living room, rubbing his head in anxiety. It was weird, but he felt as though he had some strange…connection to Alma. He'd felt a similar link with Nyu, but that no doubt had to do with how he'd come to care for her in his own home, how touched he was by her childish antics. Alma had inflicted misery on him and Yuka from the start. He couldn't get rid of her, he understood that…but what he couldn't seem to grasp is why he didn't want to get rid of her. It was strange, but apparently, that kinship he felt with Nyu had somehow seeped onto Alma, and he had no idea why.

Maybe this was something the Point Man could help with. The only reason Kouta would allow a fully grown man such as him to stay at Maple House was because this man knew Alma as much as Nyu did, and seemed much more amicable than his brother, who Kouta was not sorry to hear had left. He'd seemed to get along with Nana as well, and might be able to keep her in line, too, though Kouta was less worried about her.

Getting up from the sofa, he proceeded to look around the house for a bit, before finally finding the Point Man, who'd apparently taken to having a look around the house. He turned toward Kouta as he approached him.

"We need to talk," said Kouta firmly, "Or at least…I do."

In the years since Alma's internment, a lot of time, effort, and research had been poured into knowing what they could about her limits, her powers, and the extent of them all. So when an operative of that company had been sent out to scout the Maple House, he knew how far away to stay. High-powered binoculars compensated for this, and allowed the operative to get a good view of the house.

Results were…promising.

So far, two different Diclonius had been spotted. One was Lucy, the prime target of the Institute. In addition, another Diclonius had been found as well, though her identity wasn't known. It would be necessary to further touch base with the Institute. Sightings of the Point Man, the first of Alma's genetically enhanced children, had been the most promising in finding Alma, who seemed to have some strange affinity for her sons. While there were currently no actual signs of Alma Wade, the fact that at least one of her sons was all the way in Japan seemed to indicate that Alma was among them. It was as they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the-

"Having fun?"

The scout opened his mouth, but had no time to scream before Alma's second son forcefully entered his very being, and the pain was gruesome. His mind was torn open and salvaged through, like an invasive arm digging through a cereal box, pushing everything around for the prize toy inside. And when the toy was finally found, it ripped the whole box apart.

Paxton Fettel stood amidst the gore streaked grass, looking around his latest handiwork with a smug smile. It seemed that Armacham had taken their search to Japan, and now those poor fools in Maple House might no longer be able to avoid it. A battle was coming, and now it seemed as though Maple House would be the frontlines.

Maybe he'll give this place another chance, after all. He'd heard that no man comes home from war, but if war was brought to the home, then that might just cut out the middleman, and wouldn't that be convenient for the residents?

Paxton indulged himself with a long, dark laugh. He was going to enjoy this country.