–10 March 1936–

Kriegstotcher's encampment was concealed within the forest that was to the North of the newly-fortified Imperial defensive line. The dense snow-covered trees served to prevent any republican observation balloons from being able to fly over and make note of its location. As the car stopped in the center of the white tents, Nikola watched as several soldiers wearing black armor carried metallic gray crates underneath a camouflage netting, setting them down. Their uniforms differed from that of the conventional dress of the Empire's conscripts and X-0's purple and gold color scheme.

Kriegstotcher's helmets did not have the standard accompanying face shield; instead, black cloth was wrapped around the face stopping below the eyes, then tucked under the rest of the headgear. Like the Commissars themselves, the metal armor was unmarked, aside from the right pauldron which was absent in favor of a side cape, and featured a white outline of a crow and shield.

Stepping out into the frigid air, Chiara shivered, grimacing. She was not thrilled to be back in such a cold place. A white cloud left her lips and she grumbled, "I hate this…"

Nikola remained silent, soaking in their new base of operations. It certainly was primitive in comparison to the mighty Orcinus Magnus. A medical tent and wooden longhouse–she assumed to be the barracks–was to her right. Straight ahead was another hastily constructed building made of dark brown logs, appearing to be a headquarters of sorts. Karl motioned to one of the soldiers, who came over, and after a few minutes saluted, leaving.

The Commissar then turned to his wards. "You will address the men yourself. I suggest having something… inspiring to say."

Nikola stared back at him, her face blank. "I did not lead the men in X-0." She cocked her head toward her partner. "That was Chiara's job."

Sliding over the hood of the car, Chiara protested. "Hey!" Standoffish, she crossed her arms. "Partners, remember? That means we have to do it together."

"She makes a good point. Officially, you are both listed as the commanding officer," Karl explained. His name appeared nowhere on any binding documents related to the mechanized brigade. Plausible deniability meant the girls would take the fall should the Emperor ever discover the Commissariat had formed another combat squad without approval from above. The thought did bother him a little.

As the two debated what they needed to say, a young man emerged from one of the smaller tents on the edge of the encampment. His pale face was smeared with grease, and messy blonde hair was hidden beneath a gray field cap. Upon noticing the Commissar he grinned, jogging up to them.

Enthusiastically he stopped and held out both arms. "Karl! Back so soon!?"

Karl turned; recognizing the voice, he offered a hand. "I can't seem to stay away from this place." The two shook an action that turned to embrace, as the Commissar's stoic demeanor melted into one of warmth. "You seem to be in good spirits, Gunther."

Gunther kept smiling, and Nikola's eye twitched, annoyed by his sunny attitude. He coughed, "Of course, you owe me some smokes."

"I have not forgotten," Karl said, still amazed the boy had managed to beat him at a game of cards. He walked to the passenger side of the car and reached in, grabbing two cartons of cigarettes. He held them up before handing them over. "As promised, comrade. Imports from my personal stash."

Gunther's jaw dropped at the quality, and he cradled the brand like one might a child. "Where have you guys been my whole life?" He chortled. "Papa is going to put you to good use, my dears." Realizing others were standing nearby, he looked up at Nikola and Chiara. "Whoa! You two look dangerous!" In the interest of comradely gestures, he stepped forward and suck out his hand. "My name is Gunther."

Nikola's lip curled upwards in disgust as she stared at his grime-covered palm. "Gross."

"Do you have some kind of brain damage?" Chiara asked, crossing her arms, finding his friendliness deeply off-putting. Her experiences with men generally started and ended with barking orders or taking orders, with little in between.

Their reactions did not seem to bother Gunther, who retracted his hand smoothly. "Ah, no reason to be like that. If you're all the way out here, we are going to be comrades." His gaze drifted past the two, then quickly to the ground.

"Right, Gunther. These are the Agents I mentioned," Karl said hastily, trying to avoid any further awkwardness. "Nikola Graf and Chiara Rocino. They will be in charge."

Gunther's blue eyes widened in shock as he exclaimed, "Seriously!?" He made a motion indicating their height. "These two are midgets! Are we really that short on men!?"

Standing slightly over six foot himself, he was taller than Karl, who couldn't help but laugh at the pun. The humor was lost on Chiara, who huffed, "Better than being a giant. Makes it easier to not get shot." Her attempt to appear tough was undermined when she awkwardly stood on her tiptoes.

Nikola cracked her knuckles ominously. Humorless as always, she said, "Watch your insolent tone. Our size is irrelevant. We can easily kill someone like you."

Her seriousness caused Gunther to snort, fixing his cap. "Whoa, woah, I was kidding, guys." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head, "Girls like you will never find a husband."

"Alright, I want to kill this one." Chiara snarled, placing a hand over her knife's hilt. Her brown eyes glittered excitedly at the prospect.

Nikola smirked, crossing her arms. "Just cut out his tongue."

Gunther raised his hands defensively as Chiara advanced toward him wearing a frightful grin. Fortunately, Karl cleared his throat, stamping his foot once. "Enough." He stepped between the three and first spoke to the engineer. "Gunther, these two are your superior officers. I know they might not look like much, but you will respect them as you would me or the Lord Commissar."

He then followed up by slapping the back of the young man's head, before turning to face the two commanders. "As for you two Agents–you are not allowed to kill or maim anyone in this brigade. They are irreplaceable."

Chiara's excitement faded slowly, and she removed her hand from the knife. "Hmph."

"Fine," Nikola said looking away, equally displeased by the regulation.

Gunther, however, remained optimistic and bowed his head. "My apologies, agents." He clicked his heels together, saluting with a fist over his heart. "I do genuinely look forward to working with you."

His sincerity caused both girls to awkwardly shift, not used to any underling respecting their authority without being beaten into it. Satisfied, Karl spoke again, "Actually, Gunther. Did you have success with the package?"

Scratching underneath his chin, Gunther replied, "The funky crossbows and bolts?" He shrugged as the girls perked up curiously. "I did my best, but their craftsmanship is second to none."

"Well, duh. Lord Belgar created them himself," Nikola said, proud her master's skill was being praised by some unknown.

Gunther looked up at the sky. "Uh. Am I supposed to know what that is?" He glanced at the Commissar, puzzled. "Lord Belgar… hmm. Well if he made something like those things, I'd love to meet him."

"He is dead," Chiara said bluntly, filling in the blank for Karl who wasn't keen to clarify anything that had transpired.

Gunther looked at her. "Shame then."

Getting things back on track, Karl put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Could you go retrieve the weapons? I believe the agents are anxious to see them again."

"Only if they ask nicely," Gunther said with a smirk as he pointed to his new commanders. "A single 'please' goes a long way."

Chiara glared at the tall man. "You should be saying please to us. For the privilege to touch our Dunkel again."

Equally annoyed by his attitude, Nikola added, "She is right. Your greasy hands are not worthy to even be in the same room as them."

Gunther's smile finally faded. "Hmm. I don't think that was a please."

Karl stifled a chuckle; the scene was funny enough for him to nod in agreement. "You know what? Gunther is right. He worked hard to repair your bows." He gestured at the girls. "Go on, Agents. Be polite."

Nikola and Chiara exchanged displeased looks, deep scowls forming on their faces. Neither wanted to say anything and at first, just stared at their feet in silence. After a solid awkward minute, realizing they were going to have their arm twisted until they complied, the two girls sighed and mumbled together, "Can we please have our Dunkels back?"

"Absolutely, Agents." Gunther chose to not draw out their misery. He saluted, spinning around. His coattails fluttered behind him as he walked into the nearby tent. After a short moment, he returned holding two rectangular cases, one under his arm and one on his shoulder. A bundle of bolts was tied together, hanging over his shoulder by a strap. He set the containers on the ground like presents. "Okay, we got the purple one first…"

The lid clicked open and Nikola knelt. "That one is mine." She stared at the polished frame, trying to conceal the fact she was impressed. It looked brand new. She carefully removed it, mimicking his gentle touch of the cigarettes, and started to whisper to it. Like she had finally found her lost child.

Gunther did not think too hard about the strange reaction, sliding over to the second box. "The red one is yours, then?" He noticed her beret, making the connection. "Right, color-coded." Desperate to avoid having to say anything embarrassing again, Chiara snatched it and retreated a few paces. She was equally enthralled to have her signature weapon returned.

"Now, I must admit the bolts were a whole other beast," Gunther said, slinging the bundle off his shoulder in one short motion. "I had to make do with the materials on hand. So the poison might be a little less potent."

"Hmm, let me see," Nikola said, taking the bolt with a gold vial attached at the tip, a purple liquid contained inside. She studied it, unable to tell the difference from the variety issued in X-0. She hummed, then licked the tip and made a face. "It's…" She swished the spit in her mouth, able to tell the ingredients were different. "Acceptable."

Gunther wiped his brow sarcastically, "Wew, that is a relief." He held up another fistful, these featuring a glass container filled with bits of gray inside. "The barbs had to be recreated using nails and the shrapnel I had on hand."

Chiara gleefully took them, and after sliding some into her quiver, loaded one. She pulled it back in the crossbow and aimed at a nearby tree. She fired, hearing the familiar dull thwunk, and laughed as it scarred the tree bark deeply. "Perfect!"

"Good. I'd suggest heating the tip next time, that way it can penetrate internally easier," Gunther said, having been meditating on increasing the effectiveness of such odd weapons. He stood, wiping his hands on his pants. "I actually copied the model to make a more specialized bolt, if either of you are interested."

Nikola raised an eyebrow, doubtful whatever he made could compare to Lord Belgar's creation. "Special? How so?"

Gunther reached into a long pouch strapped onto his lower leg. He revealed a forked bolt with a small black box and switch wired to the top. He gestured to it. "Flip the switch, hit your mark–and zap." He turned it on, and an electrical crackle was heard as a current flashed between the two prongs.

Amazed, Nikola and Chiara both reached for it excitedly, demanding, "Give it!"

Frowning, Chiara shoved her partner. "Hands off, it's mine!"

"Nuh-uh!" Nikola responded, pushing back. The two started to struggle childishly, a fight looking inevitable.

"Hey, easy, guys. I can always make more," Gunther said, trying to diffuse their discord. "Honestly, I can't be sure this one won't just explode." They continued to argue over him, and he raised a hand to grab their attention. "How about a bet, then?" He reached into his coat, revealing a golden coin. " Heads or tails?"

He flipped the coin and it sailed into the air. Chiara frowned. "Heads."

"Tails, I guess," Nikola muttered rolling her eyes, having wanted to call heads.

Gunther caught the coin, slapping it down on his wrist. "Hmm. Feeling heads myself." Karl squinted, watching closely as sure enough the coin was revealed to have landed face up.

Chiara clapped her hands together happily. "Yes!" She quickly took the electric bolt, admiring its construction. She could already tell it would need to be used at a closer range.

"Lucky…" Nikola mumbled, disappointed as her partner slid the new toy into her quiver.

Gunther leaned down so he could look her in the eye. "Tell you what, Agent Graf. I'll make sure to make another when I have some time. It's all yours."

The corners of Nikola's mouth turned up and she nodded. "Good. I would like to try one."

Karl motioned to the main building ahead of them. "Okay, enough distractions. You two need to assume control." Nikola and Chiara followed him, the snow climbing just below their knees. He allowed them to enter first, then stopped the engineer. "A weighted coin, seriously? For what purpose?"

Gunther shrugged, shameless in his cheating. "Morale. It's important to make your own luck." He was released and went inside. Karl took one last wary look around the area, then entered himself.

The room was packed to the brim with around twenty-five soldiers. Some were standing, some sitting, all looking around wondering what was going on. Gunther split from the agents, heading for the corner of the room where a chair was free next to a woman with white hair. Her piercing red eyes slowly focused on the two girls, causing Nikola to look away. Once the engineer sat, the woman, whose armor was marked by the insignia of a sniper, started to speak to him, looking amused by what he was saying.

In the center of some enraptured soldiers was a wide-eyed bald man adorned in armored robes, as opposed to the uniforms. He was holding up a book, passionately quoting from it in a measured tone. A spiral mark on its cover suggested he was a Yggdist.

Karl led Nikola and Chiara to the front of the room. The men started the quiet down as all eyes faced forward.

Suddenly finding her hands clammy, Chiara leaned over. "What do we say?" She wiped her palms on her legs.

Nikola gritted her teeth, racking her brain, worried they would come off as childish. A thought occurred to her and she whispered back, "How did Klaus address his men that one time?"

"When?" Chiara asked, confused, her memories from spying on him blurring together into one. "He never stopped rambling about soulmates."

"No, not that inane nonsense. Before we deployed on the Crystal Sea," Nikola clarified, her brow furrowing in thought.

Chiara was struggling to remember, having repressed so much. "Crymaria's nice wrack is worth fighting for?" Her partner groaned, rolling her eyes. Then it hit Chiara–she snapped her fingers. "Oh! Follow my lead, comrades! And we will all make it home!"

Nikola nodded vaguely, picturing the scene in her head. "Yeah… Yeah, that was it." She scanned the faces that were beginning to stare at them. "We need to make sure these rats respect us. So how about… 'follow our orders and there will not be any problems'?"

"Simple, to the point. I like it," Chiara said, cracking her knuckles one at a time.

Seeing they were finished, Karl stepped forward, raising his voice. "Listen up, everyone!" A needless demand, since the room was already silent. "I have already explained that I was searching for a talented individual to take over this brigade!" He gestured with one hand to Nikola and Chiara. "As promised, these two will be your commanders. They have experience fighting on the Crystal Sea." His gaze drifted uneasily to the sniper in the corner, before glancing over the rest of the room. "Treat them as you would me or any other Commissar. Their authority is equal to ours."

Chiara grinned sharply, swinging her Dunkel onto her shoulder. "I am Chiara Rocino! Stay out of my way on the field!" For such a short girl, she still managed to come off as intimidating.

Next was Nikola, who smirked confidently. "Nikola Graf! I do not tolerate failure!"

Then together, the two raised their voice, "Follow our orders and there will not be any problems!"

Once finished, the room became completely silent. The duo was certainly not what any of the soldiers expected. Karl waited, trying to gauge what everyone was thinking. The silence was broken by clapping from the back; sure enough, Gunther whistled.

"Oh, shut up, Trofim!" A voice shouted from the center of the other faceless men. A discussion broke out, and Gunther sarcastically concluded with two extra loud claps. Seeing Chiara staring at him, he smiled, tipping his hat.

The gesture, while small, made her feel a bit better. Inevitably a massive man stood and boomed, "Is this some sort of joke!? Commissar Ludwig, surely you aren't serious!" He waved a large hand dismissively at the two girls. "Little girls shouldn't be leading troops. They should be at home learning manners from their mother."

A few men nodded their heads in agreement. Nikola's eye twitched, and she made a fist. Karl rubbed his face, already feeling tired. "Do you have an objection, Gottfried?"

"Damn right I have an objection! I am not going to trust my life to the direction of two… girls . Women are irrational enough!" Gottfried thundered, his imposing size taking up the space of two men.

Another man with long, silky black hair stood as well. "I agree, Hans." This one spoke like he had some form of higher education. "This is some kind of joke. I expected actual leaders."

Karl sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took note of the amused expression of the sniper in the corner. "We discussed this, Siegward. This isn't personal." He gestured again to the two behind him. "They have experience in this region. That alone makes them ideal to spearhead the coming struggle."

"Oh!? What an insult!" Gottfried roared back.

Weary of the objection, Nikola finally spoke. "You are quite loud. Sheep who bleat the loudest are usually the first to get slaughtered, hehe." Her coldness shut the rest of the room up immediately.

Gottfried kicked a nearby chair, causing it to clatter, scattering his comrades. "Watch your tone, miss!"

Jerking a finger in his direction, Chiara growled. "You want a fight!? Bring it! I will break every last bone in your body!"

Siegward scoffed, brushing a hand regally through his hair. His sword clinked against his belt. "You certainly talk. I bet I could send you back to your mamas."

"And I bet we could put you both in a box," Nikola retorted coldly, an unsettling smile forming. "Consider yourself lucky."

"Now, everyone," Gunther said, coming up to the front. "It looks like we are going to have a fight on our hands."

Karl grumbled, "Oh no." He fished a cigarette out of his pocket and smoothly lit it. He was planning to let things play out as they were.

Hopping onto a chair so he stood above the whole group, Gunther addressed the room, "Is it not customary to have a… pot of sorts?" He smiled, pointing to his new commanders. "I think these two are going to win. In fact, I'm so confident, I think I'll put my whole stash on them." An uproar followed as men placed bets, each vying to take the engineer for all he was worth.

Everyone filed outside, and Gunther used a stick to draw a large circle in the snow at the center of the camp. Now, the other soldiers were crowding around to watch the spectacle. Karl stood quietly off to the side, nursing his cigarette, and was joined by the engineer once the young man was done taking bets. The strange sniper woman leaned against the wall of the headquarters, looking markedly disinterested.

On one side of the circle, Nikola and Chiara confidently stared across at their opponents. The former stretched her arms. "Which one do you want?" The fight was going to be a standard sparring match: once someone tapped out, they were done.

"Let me break the pretty boy's fingers." Chiara snickered, eyeing Siegward. Her heart was racing, and the excitement of being able to have a proper fight was intoxicating.

Nikola rolled her neck. "Perfect. I love a challenge." She already had ideas on how to bring down the big man.

Seeing they were ready, Gottfried cracked his knuckles. "Now, please don't start crying when we hit you."

Siegward was already focusing on Chiara and arrogantly smirked. "Allow me to handle the beastly one."

His barb had the intended effect, and Chiara's eye twitched. "Oh, that is it—" She bolted toward him before anyone could react. Siegward managed to avoid her fist but immediately found himself on the defensive due to her speed. He attempted to regain momentum with a few strong swings, but Chiara ducked them with ease, chiding, "Is that all you got?"

Her foot connected with his side and she cackled, digging the spikes on the toe into his skin. He buckled, surprised by a shot of pain, and was soon on the ground. Chiara jammed her knee into the back of his neck. "We are in charge. Understand?" She grabbed hold of his right hand.

"This is nothing, you twitchy bitch," Siegward hissed a face full of dirt. He tried to push her off but feeling her spikes dig into his neck, stopped moving.

"Wrong," Chiara growled, and a snap was heard as she twisted his pinkie finger backward. He grunted but remained silent. She repeated herself, "We are in charge." She was already moving to the next finger, prepared to break his whole hand.

Siegward turned his head, spitting, "Fine! I give!" Chiara released him, and savagely kicked him one more time before going back to Nikola. Once again, the only sound heard was Gunther clapping, impressed by her moves.

"So? How did I do?" Chiara asked, proud of herself. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

Watching Siegward limp away toward the infirmary, Nikola smirked. "Nice, but I am going to do better." She stepped into the area, looking up at her opponent.

Gottfried put a hand on his chin. "I must admit. That was impressive." He actually sounded sincere, despite his earlier objections. He took a wide stance. "I won't go down so easily, though."

Nikola giggled childishly, never one to make empty threats. He lunged toward her, and she easily slid to the right, avoiding his grapple. She intended to fell him in a single blow. Dancing around the hulking figure, Nikola grinned, baring her teeth as she slammed her foot into the back of his knee with all the force she could muster. A pop was heard, and Gottfried collapsed instantly. Coldly, she said as he struggled to his feet again. "Oh, I am sorry. Did that hurt?"

"I am not finished yet," Gottfried answered, spinning around, charging her again. However, his size made him slow, and Nikola easily dodged his swing.

Their dance was repeated twice, and on the third round, she nimbly dropped the ground, shooting a leg out. He hit the ground face-first, and before he could stand, Nikola put her boot on the back of his head, grinding it into the dirt. "Serve us gratefully, or I can kill you right here," She said softly like she was coaxing an easily frightened animal. "I am going to count to three. Surrender, or I will break your neck." She smiled. "One."

Everyone was staring wide-eyed at the display of dominance. There was no response from Gottfried, who remained motionless. Nikola continued coolly, "Two." She dug her heel into the back of his skull and he raised a hand, indicating he was giving up. "Hehe. Good man."

She stepped off of him, and Gottfried sat up, grumbling, "You are a cold brat." He rubbed his head, "But you hit harder than half the men here, and I can respect that." He wasn't thrilled, but it was easier than to make a fuss, given her skill.

As he struggled to his feet, Nikola crossed her arms. "Object again and I will not hesitate." He grunted in acknowledgment, then also limped off to the infirmary.

The two girls looked at the faces of the rest of their new unit. Chiara raised her voice first, "Anyone else!?"

"Ehehe. Do not be shy," Nikola said, her eye twitching erratically. There were a few nervous glances exchanged, but no one stood up. She smirked. "That is what we thought. Dismissed!" The soldiers began to disperse, returning to their position.

Nikola, Chiara, Karl, Gunther, and the strange woman remained standing in the center of the camp. The engineer was ecstatic. "I knew betting on you was the right call!" His cap was filled with money and a few jewels. "You have made me very rich!"

Chiara stared at him blankly. "Do you always have to be so happy?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Gunther asked, waving the riches around like they meant something to her.

The white-haired woman came up behind him and tapped his shoulder with a bandaged finger. He jumped, spinning to see her, and in a guttural tone she said, "My… cut."

Karl was watching her again, bothered by her presence. Gunther nodded quickly. "Right. Here you are, Sorina." He took some off the top and handed it over. "I'm pretty sure being a witch is automatically cheating, though."

The joke didn't seem to bother her; Sorina simply pocketed the jewels. "And you outright cheat. So I'd say we both have an unfair advantage." Her attention shifted to her new commanders. "Good show… Maybe the Lord of Crows was right to favor you." She didn't feel quite present, swaying slightly in the breeze.

Her red eyes made Nikola uncomfortable, reminding her of one Colonel Bles. However, it was the woman's bandaged arms that really got her attention. "Thanks? I guess."

"Lord of Crows? What does that mean?" Chiara asked, looking from the woman to Karl, who remained silent, equally unnerved by her. Sorina did not answer, instead turning and walking away. She had a slight limp as she walked, an invisible injury impacted her movement. Gunther left as well, intending to celebrate his victory with another game of cards in the barracks.

Letting them both leave, Karl flicked away his cigarette. "Good job. You maintained order without killing anyone. The Lord Commissar will be pleased."

"Did you think we would fail?" Chiara asked, almost insulted. She already felt better, having been able to blow off steam. "That was nothing."

Nikola put an arm around her partner. "In the future, we want a real challenge."

Karl placed a new cigarette in his mouth. "That has already been arranged. Come, let's go over the plan." They headed back into the building from earlier to go over more specific parts of the coming operation.

Back in Schwartzgrad, Ulyana was wrapping up an assignment the Lord Commissar sent her way. It was a simple case: two noblemen had been charged with a conspiracy to sequester funds that were intended to go toward a new production run of light tanks. A grievous crime that far outweighed their status in society, as anything that damaged the war effort fell under the Commissariat's jurisdiction.

Now in irons, seated underneath the harsh lighting of an interrogation room, one of the accused men had the nerve to sneer, "Tell me, girl. Why would they let you become a Commissar?"

"My gender is of no consequence to the Lord Commissar," Ulyana replied blandly, reading through the opened report in her hand. "Besides, Mr. Wagner, it seems you have greater concerns than me." She glanced across the table. "Your comrade has already confessed to your little scheme to siphon national funds into your own pocket."

Wagner gulped, fully aware that the Commissariat handled treason harshly. Shakily, he began to protest, "We haven't done anything illegal. All my production quotas have been met on time." He banged the table angrily. "I would never steal from the Empire!"

"Hmm, is that so?" Ulyana asked, flipping the report around and pushing it over to him. "Those are pictures of you, no? Taking bank notes from the safe." He did not move to look, in disbelief with a woman was taking such a tone with him. She reached into her coat. "What I need from you now is a full confession." She revealed a single thick page, laying it in front of the man as well. "Sign, and there will be no reason to beat one out of you."

Wagner's face contorted in anger, and he hissed, "You miserable bitch. Know your place."

Ulyana faked a yawn, disinterested in his insults. "My place is right here, Mr. Wagner. Because, you see, even a woman can do more to help our Empire–" she pointed, "–than an obsolete traitor." She motioned at the document of confession, "Please. Sign."

"The Emperor won't stand for this, Commissar," Wagner growled, complying with her instructions. He signed on the dotted line below a paragraph of printed Latin script that simply documented that the signer was an enemy of the Imperial State. He clicked the pen, leaning back.

"See? Not so hard," Ulyana chided icily as she slowly stood up. "The Imperial Alliance thanks you for your cooperation, Mr. Wagner." Methodically she removed a pair of wax earplugs from a pocket near her hip. He watched in horror as she molded them into both ears, then reached for her pistol.

His eyes widened as he stared down the thin barrel of a ZM34, its boxy frame, and unique hammer the last thing he would see.

Deathly silent, Ulyana aimed, and Wagner stuttered, "W-wait–" A shot rang out, the bullet embedding itself in his skull. A trail of blood streamed down his forehead. Satisfied, she returned her weapon and scooped up the bloodied confession.