A big thank you to Radbman21 and VoidArmour for faving/following this story! And I'm glad you enjoyed the story's premise, Akusaka!
So without further ado, I bring you Chapter 2~
Chapter 2: Behind Closed Doors
The lower levels of the Battle Order's base were filled with archives and antiquities, filed and delivered from only the highest authorities of the Oracle Think Tank conglomerate. Relics adorned with draconian scripture, age-stained scrolls wrapped in luscious ribbon, floating turquoise screens hovering across the dimly-lit halls, they had it all. The Battle Order was the muscle of the Oracle Think Tank, but much like with any functioning body, it required intelligence from the brain.
The dimly-lit halls of the lower levels also made for a nice, quiet place to stay, away from the noise of the middle levels, open as both a museum and operational church, and the chaos of the upper levels, filled with the craziest screwballs of the Holy Nation. In fact, it was so chaotic up there that the walls had to be reinforced with soundproof magic lining on top of strengthening enchantments to prevent the rabid destruction that so ailed any place the agents set foot on.
Sasha liked it here. As quiet as it was, there was still a steady stream of people walking around. Sasha herself was perched on a wooden beam, half masked with dark, half illuminated by a neighboring chandelier. The Order couldn't give her back her hood, but instead, she was given a set of new clothes. A black cape was draped over her small frame. An oversized monastic habit hung over her head, a clear indication of her newfound affiliation with the Church. She wasn't sure if it replaced her old hooded cloak adequately, just as she wasn't sure if the Church was her new home.
It'd been a little less than a week since the Order took her under their protection. A little less than a week since she learned her family of bandits was a gang of fanatic torturers. And murderers, but that came under the 'assassin' job description. Oh, and the cherry on top: she was stolen from her family, leaving them lifeless as the moon on that fateful night.
"I've been used from the moment I was born," Sasha murmured. "By monsters."
But Sasha refused to think on the revelation beyond that simple conclusion. She was taught to never let her emotions get in the way of her objective, to drag her down.
"But how?"
"Everyone has their own way. For me, I drink. A lot."
Her chest tightened at the memory. Her mentor wasn't a very kind person, but she filled a motherly role where she didn't have any. And apparently, she'd killed her mother along with her family. It was a confusing, crazy situation for Sasha, so she did what she learned to do: focus her energies elsewhere.
That elsewhere just so happened to be observing the happenings that went down beneath her. If she was going to be staying here she might as well see what sort of people she'd have to share an entire Church with.
"Which piece of paper were we looking for again, Berry?" a gentle voice sailed up from below.
She heard the rattle of a drawer being pulled out. "Document X – 26573, as requested by Deputy Parfait. I advise you elevate your ability to recollect, Pannacotta."
"My…huh?"
"Consider improving your grasp of English vocabulary as well."
"Eh? But I thought we'd decided that being the brains is your thing."
"I am simply a pursuer of knowledge. Nothing more. Nothing less." A cabinet opened. "But I will admit handling Madeleine requires a certain intellectual finesse."
Sasha inched back into the shadows, eyeing the two women below her. One had a large broadsword over her back, with strands of lavender hair peaking out from her habit, whose frills were matched only by her dress. The other woman's dress was far more extravagant, in contrast to her mechanical personality; mosaics of blue and green lining her edges, red jewels glinting over. Bright white hair hung down in a streak behind her. A cross about the size of her own body leaned against a nearby cabinet.
"Speaking of, where is she?"
"Genesis's Weapons Department. Allegedly, Elemental Machine Gun requires immediate advancement."
"So…upgrades?"
"Yes. In layman's terms, upgrades," The lady named Berry plucked out a folder, flipping it open. "In order to be more compatible with her…methodology, so to speak."
"Ah. So we can expect a bigger storm of bombshells when we get into fights, then."
"Indeed. Nonetheless, we've obtained the object of interest."
"To the Captain's office!" the other young woman cheered as they turned around, walking across the room.
Sasha watched intently, only to steel herself when one of them halted. When she turned to look up, Sasha found herself looking back, ocean blue to ruby. There was an eyepatch over the woman's left eye, and it seemed to glow indefinitely. For a moment, she'd forgotten to breathe, and wondered what dire consequences she'd have to face for potentially eavesdropping.
Not unlike that one time the showers exploded in a shower of steam and rain.
And then the woman turned back around to resume her walk down, with a confused companion trailing after.
"What happened, Berry?"
"Nothing, it seems. Perhaps a stray cat has let itself in."
"Oh. A stray. How exciting! Is it a boy or a girl?"
"On task, Pannacotta, on task."
She knew I was here. Sasha thought. But why choose to ignore me? She stood back up and bounced across beams and down onto the ground. Simple observation wasn't quite enough. There was a stifled burning inside her for answers, and it was about time she'd gotten them.
~ΦΦΦ~
Taffy never expected to be granted a comfortable home with ample food on the table always and a roof over her head, much less an actual office.
Yet here she was, as the Captain of the Battle Order's new assistant. Not many girls got to work with their idols, and Taffy enjoyed every second of it, but sometimes, she got overwhelmed, and when she was, well, that's when she had help of her own to rely on!
"Thank you so much for helping me with this, Cream," Taffy said, stapling a couple sheets together.
"It's really nothing," Cream said. A fiery-haired teen, with bandages holding her twin katanas at her thighs. "I know how you feel. Keeping my sister – er, blood sister, under control during a mission is a lot of work too." She stamped another sheet of paper. "And don't sell yourself short, Taffy. You're doing much better than you think."
"Really? I hope so." They were now sorting through the roster reports. "I wouldn't want Captain to be disappointed. I wonder if Éclair was just as nervous when she first started out."
Cream stifled a giggle. "I highly doubt it. I mean, she practically forced herself on the Captain."
"Really? You've gotta tell me about that sometime. I mean, if it's really private that's okay, but at the same time I'm kinda curious, and I sort of feel bad filling in Éclair's shoes, but then again, it was so sudden–"
"Taffy."
The turquoise-haired girl blushed. "Right. Member statuses. Sorry. Um, so who's currently on duty?"
Cream laid down a report with a profile photo attached to it. It depicted one girl, grinning like a maniac, with her shoulder over another, much more nervous looking one. Probably because of the knives dangling from her partner's fingers. At least she managed to hold out a peace sign, right? "Well, Chocolat and Cocoa are off recovering stolen profits from a gang of bandits up north."
"Chilly. Is Mocha not with them?"
"No." An image of two legs bent in a bewildering fashion, along with cartoon images of crowns and sparkles and the text: MINERVA AIN'T GOT NOTHING ON THESE BEAUTIES pasted over it. "Apparently, she's on retreat to the mountains of Dragon Empire to train with the dragon monks of Narukami."
"Okay, so Mocha is on leave." Taffy stamped the document before fishing out another. This one had on a much more normal looking photograph; a portrait of an adorable little girl with a fountain of platinum blond hair. Well, ordinary if one could ignore the sculptures of pistols in the background…made out of actual pistols. "Waffle is off guarding a client through Dragon Empire."
"Waffle? On bodyguard duty?" Cream looked amused. "How is she holding up?"
"According to this recent message, she hates all of the cuddling and wants to come home ASAP. Help."
Cream laughed. "Oh that sounds just like her. That cute doll."
"Cute doll indeed," Taffy grinned. She turned to the final set of documents. "And finally, Florentine. Has she not come back yet?"
"Apparently not." Cream passed on another sheet of paper, which Taffy stapled on. "She's still chasing that one criminal across Dark Zone. I'm surprised he's held out for so long. This could be a whole new record."
"Well, it's only a matter of time before he either gets captured or burned alive," Taffy said, yawning. "And Kipferl and Baumkuchen?"
"They'll make sure Florentine doesn't overdo it." Then Cream put a finger to her chin. "Or maybe they'll just overdo it themselves."
Taffy sighed. "And so the damage bills keep piling on."
"What damage bills?"
"Ah!" Taffy jumped, almost knocking over a pile of well-stacked files.
"Hello. Sasha, was it?" Cream regarded the girl hanging from the ceiling with a welcoming smile. "Come, sit with us."
She dropped down on the couch between them, then picked up one of the stray sheets of paper lying around. "How many people do you have to account for?"
"Women," Cream corrected. "No men in the Battle Order."
"Is there a reason why there aren't any?"
"I guess nobody would suspect a Sister as a legitimate threat," Taffy shrugged. "But I've heard the CEO apparently had a thing for the whole nun gimmick, which was why she has us in these getups."
"CEO? You mean…"
"Lady Amaterasu," Taffy answered her.
"And to answer your first question, we have countless agents working for the Battle Order," Cream said. "Said agents also tend to be rather destructive out in the field. But don't worry, we're one of the sane ones."
"You certainly seem like it," Sasha remarked. "So, uh, I wanted to ask…do you have anything else on the Night Fangs?"
Taffy glanced at Cream, then back at Sasha. Apprehensive. "Look, I get it. You want answers. But right now, you need to stay here, until we can resolve this."
"But what's wrong with me going back out there? I can go and try and get answers. I can help! I can do something!"
"It's…it's not safe," Taffy tried.
"We're…worried that you might do something reckless. It's for your own protection," Cream added.
Sasha's eyes burned. "Protection? Are you serious?"
"Sasha, please. Your mind isn't in the right place," Cream said, but her hand was batted away as Sasha stood back up.
"No, it is in the right place. And mark my words, the Night Fangs will be the ones needing protection, not me."
~ΦΦΦ~
Sasha smashed her fists against the pink-painted door of her room. "Let me out of here!"
"Like we said, you're unstable," came Cream's voice through the door.
"Oh come on. I can't be any more unstable than the rest of the screwheads down here!" Sasha protested.
There was a pause. "Touché. But still, Captain's orders is keep you here until further notice."
Sasha groaned, kicked the door and slid down to the floor.
"I understand how you feel," Cream said. "But I'd like you to understand as well. We can't have you doing anything reckless. This is for your safety."
"I've been taking care of myself long before you all happened on the scene," Sasha muttered.
"I'm well aware."
Sasha got back to her feet and adjusted her habit. Everywhere she looked was pink. Apparently, Fromage had a soft spot for pink, and as a result, by default all rooms were painted with pink, filled with dark pink furniture and the beds were fitted with pink sheets.
So. Much. Pink.
Ew.
Sasha missed her old room, in many ways. While it was…less than luxurious, to say the least, she could at least call it hers. Her things, her weapons, her bed. It had a neat view of the city lights, from her broken-glass window.
Here, it was all walls and pillars. The only light was artificial, near-real sunlight, clean air, all thanks to the combination of Noble magic and advanced biotechnology, but it wasn't quite the same thing. But more importantly, she couldn't get to the Night Fangs here. Rage boiled and festered inside her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Sasha wanted answers. She wanted payback in blood. But most importantly, she just wanted peace of mind. A distraction, perhaps. Anything to not stand around alone with her own swirling thoughts.
Sasha tumbled into the bed, pink folding and furling over her. It had an alien scent to it. Refreshing. Not at all like her old home. The ceiling above her was painted a bright blossoming pink. Fluorescent jewels hung down, casting the space in a warm glow. Perhaps the only things that weren't pink.
The walls were blank, just plain canvases to be decorated on at her leisure. Though, she wasn't the type to decorate. Decorating meant settling in, meant putting a bit of her into something, when she was a blank canvas herself.
Sasha wondered what the Night Fangs were doing in her absence. Did they genuinely miss her? Or were they plotting to kidnap the next child to use in their goals? The thought chilled her to the bone, imagining a hulking bandit man hacking away at another young girl or boy, with nothing but a wooden sword to defend themselves.
And yet, it was the same people who'd given her food and a roof over her head. At least, if she did well, and she did do well. She had a natural affinity for killing and combat, morbid as that was. But, it went deeper than just a talent. It was as if she'd been training for far longer than she had, like she'd been fighting even before birth.
Sasha rose up into a cross-legged position, the blanket curled around her. Even the wall behind the bed was empty, just aching to be filled up. And just at the bend where it met the ceiling, a segmented square sat above, staring her down.
An air vent? Sasha thought.
Her curious frown snaked into a smirk.
~ΦΦΦ~
"Done!" Fromage exclaimed, throwing her arms up into the air and pushing back on her chair. "That's all of the bank statements accounted for."
"Not quite," Parfait said, blue eyes sparkling despite Fromage's horrified look. "There are some extra bills that just came in yesterday."
Fromage stared at the giant stack of papers now lying in front of her. "Parfait. Do you hate me?"
"On the contrary, Fromage, I love you more than anything!"
"I hate you."
"You love me from the bottom of your heart."
"You don't even know the meaning of the word."
"Love. A—"
"Okay, okay. I get it. Let's not start that conversation again," Fromage sighed, rubbing her temples. She remembered a time when she was just another one of the CEO's trusted bodyguards. She was lucky she studied accounting during her time at the Sanctorum University, or her head would've exploded long ago.
"Good," Parfait trilled. "Good luck. Oh, and Macaron blew up a bank on her mission in the Magallanica Islands. The acting manager there just filed a complaint."
"Was she not supposed to be protecting the bank?"
"You know how she is."
The blonde groaned as she took the piece of paper from her Deputy. "I'll take responsibility for this."
"As you always do," Parfait said. "But take it easy, okay? Here, I'll take on half of these statements, and then we can finish up quickly and go for desserts!"
"Mm. That does sound nice," Fromage said, smiling. Then she brought her hands to her chin. "Hey, Parfait…do you regret joining the Battle Order?"
"Not at all. I'm glad to be here, ever since you all rescued me and took me in."
Fromage ruefully brushed a finger over a photo standing just beside her computer. The wooden frame was polished, but the photo itself was beginning to age.
It was a group photo. A younger Fromage stood in the middle, with a mischievous grin. At the time she had yet to take up the Destroid Bayonet, instead owning a humble machinegun. To her left was Cream, just a little girl with no battle training at the time, backed by a serene Cookie. To her right was Parfait, gentle and kind. To Parfait's right and back were Chocolat and Cocoa respectively, each attempting to pose despite their comrade's towering height.
And sitting cross-legged just in the front, both hands up in peace signs, was another young woman in a navy blue dress, with long hair like fire and eyes like the sea.
"We all miss her," Parfait said, as if she read her mind.
"If I could go back, make things right, I would," Fromage murmured.
"We all would," Parfait murmured. "I wonder if she's–"
Before she could finish, however, the door to the office swung open. The impact of mahogany on mahogany nearly caused a nearby plant vase to topple over. Fromage twitched at the notion of the expensive piece of furniture shattering.
Taffy was at the door, panting. "Captain."
"Fromage, Taffy," the leader of the Battle Order reminded her.
"Fromage," she amended. "There's a problem."
Fromage cocked an eyebrow.
"Can it wait till morning?" Parfait asked.
Taffy shook her head. "No. It's Sasha."
"Is she not in her quarters?" Fromage asked. She wondered if Sasha enjoyed her accommodations. Fromage certainly did. Pink was such a lovely color.
"That's the problem," Taffy explained. "She's gone!"
