Happily Married?
Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.
Chapter 4: The Crows in London
The universe has a particular way of springing some of the nastiest surprises you cannot possibly anticipate or prepare for.
Captain Takei Junko also realised said universe can be very repetitive when it comes to the type of nasty surprises it likes to throw at you. After all, while there are so many ways to die messily due to no fault of your own, it prefers to throw the same the same life threatening scenario again and again, hoping this time it will stick.
Junko mused that she had heard someone said the definition of insanity or stupidity was doing the same thing repeatedly, thinking that it will have a different result.
Thus, Junko concluded, the universe which was making her life miserable had to be stark raving mad.
Because the alternative was that life had the stubbornness of a mule and the brains to match. Junko shuddered at the thought of the universe was being run by the equivalent of a cosmic mule.
The Fusoan captain had arrived at Romanga hoping to attend what was undoubtedly going to be a lively wedding. She would probably be highly amused by some of the antics her Romagna Witches, the renowned Red Pants, of the 504th Joint Fighter Wing will undoubtedly pull when they arrive on site after her just to liven things up, true to form.
The general idea was to stay out of any death defying situations. She had this funny aversion to a sudden and painful death.
Getting knocked to the tarmac of the runway by 5 feet 2 inches of Fusoan witch, dressed in Army flight suit ensemble of a white hakama top, blue mini skirt and flowing white scarf the minute she alighted from the plane?
Not in the plans.
"Junko!" squealed her assailant in excitement, "It's been so long. Still as slow and squishy as ever."
"Yoshiko?" gasped out the suffocating witch.
Staring at the reason she was currently on the floor, Nishizawa "Demon Queen" Yoshiko spotted an almost feral grin on her rounded face, her white cat ears twitching in excitement and brushing her short rusty brown hair which matched the witch's slightly tanned skin. The green clear eyes of her pint sized colleague seemed to gleam in greeting to Junko, a gleam that she had not anticipated on seeing again so soon after Libau.
Neither was she expecting all her oxygen to get expelled from her lungs. Best to attend to that one quickly.
"Let go... can't...breath..." gasped out the unfortunate witch as her lungs battled for air and her limbs struggled to break free.
The serenely smiling form of her childhood friend Sakamoto Mio however was something she had envisioned. Only without the iron grip of her relatively pint sized comrade currently suffocating her however.
This painfully familiar combination of dissonant serenity and crushing embraces was something she had hoped to leave behind in Libau along with the other general craziness. Not to relieve on her best friends' wedding.
Echoing footsteps heralded the arrival of yet another person from the interior of the plane. A dark haired witch wearing a brown Liberion bomber jacket over a light brown shirt stepped out into the open, sporting a pair of grey pants with unlaced boots. The newcomer then stood at the top of the steps leading to the runway, calmly observing the commotion playing out in front of her.
A pair of dark grey tiny eagle wings materialised on the Liberion's head, the expression of their owner remaining unchanging even as they began twitching in anticipation. She chewed loudly on a piece of gum, watching disinterestedly with a sleepy expression at the sight of her commander having her life being squeezed out by her fellow Fusoan witch.
" Captain Takei, I don't think that shade of blue on your face is supposed to be there." stated the newcomer calmly as if she was remarking on the fine weather.
"Help...me Don. World...going...black." gasped out a distress Junko.
Mio then decided that Yoshiko had enough time to show her unique brand of affection to their mutual friend. Locking both her arms underneath Yoshiko's armpits, Mio stated simply as she began to wrench Yoshiko away despite her vocal protests, "That's enough hugging. Junko seems to have gone a bit soft and can't take your hugs anymore."
"Lies! She still has another thirty seconds before she blacks out!"huffed the junior witch. Junko for her part was coughing and panting for air, recovering from the stark reminder just how much the Demon Queen's signs of affection hurt.
"Which means she will spend half the day in the infirmary not helping me with my shopping trip to London. I want both of you to accompany me." countered the major.
Oh joy! Another four hours flight after I nearly got suffocated due to two of the most reckless Witches in the entire Allied forces, thought Junko as she breathed in deep gasps. "I am awfully touched that you were worried about me missing out on a shopping trip if I had passed out from a lack of oxygen, Mio." snapped Junko dryly.
"You're welcome. "the eye patched witch replied. Junko wondered if the obliviousness was an act or really how her friend felt before she caught herself. Sakamoto Mio's personal concept of safety and self preservation was legendary even among the famously reckless Fuso witches.
It was legendary in the sense most people believes it to be fictional.
Someday, I have to remind her not everyone regards a potential coma to be a small matter, huffed the unfortunate Captain to herself even as her subordinate introduced herself as Dominica Gentile, formerly of the Liberion Air Force but currently serving as a volunteer with the Ardour Witches of the 504th Joint Fighter Wing.
When flying as the Three Crows of Libau, Takei Junko never had a single doubt that her wing mates would make sure she comes back alive. Of course, as fine company the duo were to have in battle, Junko mused on many occasions if she would have needed their saving had she not been partnered with them.
Yoshiko nearly killing me with her display of affection, Mio generally not noticing Yoshiko killing me with said display of affection before extracting her from me. Then we top it off with an entirely avoidable close brush with death. mused the Ardour Witch commander. Just like old times.
The universe was up to its old tricks again.
"Right, we can set off in half hour's time while the plane gets refuelled, and be back from London at supper time." remarked Mio while pointing at the modified Fokker bomber Junko and her entourage had ridden to Romagna.
Deciding for others as always, Mio, thought Junko as she dusted herself off. "Why London instead of say, Rome?" queried the younger witch.
" I have a favour to repay and a new radio to buy after I smashed the old one. "replied Mio while keeping a firm hand and eye on Yoshiko.
The younger witch was fidgeting restlessly while gazing at a dog eared, curly haired orange blonde witch who had alighted from the plane like a cat studying a new toy. Her spotted Dalmatian ears curled up by instinct even as her azure eyes scanned the airfield searching for the source of her nervousness.
The newcomer dressed in a khaki Liberion Air Force staff , closely followed Dominica in striding down the plane. Instinctively feeling herself being measured, her azure eyes darted towards Yoshiko before quickly turning away in fear, the orange blonde witch pressing herself protectively behind Dominica. The eagle winged witch for her part maintained a relaxed posture but tensed ever so slightly.
Mio took the hint and grabbed onto Yoshiko more forcefully. One fight at her wedding was enough for her.
Sensing the building tension, Junko sought to quickly defuse it. "Sounds like a plan, Mio." Turning to her subordinates, she ordered, "Don, Jane. Bring my luggage to the hangar and ask for directions to our assigned quarters. You will be free to do as you wish, but stay in the base." Best to get them out as soon as possible.
"Yes, Ma'am!" the curly blonde now identified as Jane snapped into a nervous salute before hurriedly beginning to move towards the safety of the building, lugging several suitcases along. Dominica in turn gave a silent nod before moving briskly following her partner.
Yoshiko silently watched the duo head as they moved to the interior of the base and felt Mio's grip loosen as they disappear into building when she then noticed Junko directing a vicious glare at her while placing both hands on her hips.
"What?"asked Yoshiko even as she stretched her arms to allow blood to flow back. Even for someone with very little magic left, Mio's grips are still strong enough to immobilise even her and hurt like hell at full strength.
"Don't "what" me, young lady!" huffed Junko. "I saw the way you were eyeing Captain Godfrey like she was a new toy. Let's be clear on this. She is not for doing anything to!"
"Not even a friendly cuddle, mommy?"smirked Yoshiko before she felt a sharp rap on her head.
"Don't speak to a superior officer like that. "reprimanded Mio, withdrawing her training sword while the younger witch began to grumble under her breath.
"Yes, Ma'am. " Yoshiko grudgingly acknowledged. Besides, I'm more interested in that Romagnan in the Liberion uniform. That slouch of hers' belonged to one heck of fighter, mused Yoshiko.
Satisfied at Yoshiko's acknowledgement, Junko suggested, " Why not wait in the plane while they refuel? We can catch up on old times while we are at it." The captain then let out a sly smile as she continued, "Plus, we can find out why exactly you're the first among us to get hitched. We want all the details, Mio. "
"All?"gulped Mio as she felt her cheeks burning.
"Leave nothing out. " confirmed Yoshiko eagerly, her eyes flashing while Junko nodded vigorously in approval.
Sighing, Mio began trudging up the steps into the plane, recalling the events of the past two days while her companions listened intently.
Idly, Mio wondered if teaching them the trick with using your partner's tail she learnt while getting intimate with Minna would be wise.
London's East End at noon at noon is quite a sight to behold. Office workers on a post lunch stroll back to their offices mingle with paper boys yelling at the top of their lungs touting the latest news from the front. Home Guard patrols, it's members made up of drafted citizens who for some reason are unable to serve in the any of the armed services, march in formation down the sidewalks as a show of force.
In the early desperate days of the Neuroi invasion of Europe when ancient cities on the continent fell under the alien black tide, the sight of Her Majesty's soldiers would have inspired cheers from the populace. The East End had taken the brunt of the bombings and laser blasts, the sky swarming dusk till dawn with the obsidian figures of the alien menace who were answered with hails of flak and the darting figures of Witches defending their skies. Half of the street had barely been rebuilt, while craters and pot holes hastily cemented over mark the roads, a reminder of the conflict which had not ended.
The tide however had turned, and while Karsland and much of Central and Eastern Europe remain under Neuroi dominion, it seemed almost a world away from the Britannian isles . For a people already looking forward to the post war reconstruction and removal of restrictions and rationing, the sight of the Guard was an unwelcome reminder that the war was still not won.
Instead of cheers, catcalls among the denizens of the street are far more likely as they spot their unfortunate neighbours selected for patrol duties. The Home Guard preferred to have members patrol their own neighbourhoods, making them far more likely to spot something untoward.
Heavy vehicles and other troop transports rumble down the overworked roads, sharing them with staff cars of senior officers and diplomatic vehicles, civilian traffic being almost non-existent due to fuel rationing. A fortunate few not hurrying to their next appointment sit at the recently set up Gallian bistros on the roadside sipping coffee watching the world go by while enjoying the cool autumn breeze, the owners of said establishments having set up shop following the fall of Paris to the Neuroi.
While rebuilding was in full swing and a considerable number of proud Parisians had returned home, more pragmatic shopkeepers stayed behind, content to offer a taste of continental bourgeoisie culture to the moneyed members of the numerous governments in exile still located in the Britannian capitol.
They would of course prefer to operate in the more suitable surroundings of the posh West End of course, rather than the more unsavoury confines of the East. However, beggars can't be choosers and for the daring, intrigue, espionage and a spot of smuggling pays very well. Beverages and a good pastry were not the only things on the menu if the right request was made. For those inclined, keeping a low profile was essential.
One such customer seated there however, stood out like a sore thumb. A tailored black blazer over a white shirt, matching pair of slacks were matched with a horrendously outdated bowler hat and black umbrella, more at home in the stuffy halls at Whitehall rather than the rough streets of the East End. Said owner of this mismatched ensemble was a rather heavy set man with a nervous expression, red hair with a buzz cut and bushy beard contrasting his bulging green eyes which twitched at passing vehicles currently rolling down the street.
An observant bobby, if he had bothered to look further out of morbid curiosity, would also noticed that this strange man, while wearing clothes befitting the most stuffy of civil servants was also holding onto a copy of- horrors- the Daily Mail, a women's tabloid most male Londoners would never be caught dead in the open with.
As a private pleasure to be shared among consenting adults perhaps, but never flaunting it so openly for the world to see.
Of course, if the observer was even semi-literate, he would have also noticed this strange gentleman, parading a whole litany of errors, was holding said newspaper upside down.
One could hardly blame the copper if he walked away, disbelieving any potential spy or criminal could make so many mistakes at once and went away, convinced it was either an elaborate prank or a lunatic who had somehow failed to find Hyde Park and settled for the East End instead.
For Boris Bolkonsky, agent of the Tsar's Okrahna however, his disguise was a smashing success. His specialty had been Witch watching and today he had been chosen to cover a celebrity.
It was, all things considered, a simple mission. Observe Sakamoto Mio as she moved about in London and report if there is anything of interest when monitoring her movements. The cover story she had provided of course was that she was there to do some pre-wedding shopping and to "repay" an old debt to a certain person of interest known as Johan Helles of the Serpent's Den. Of course, no one visited Helles for a simple errand, so notorious as a smuggler was he among the close circles that made up the spy rings in London.
Famously jumpy, many threats had been made to get a bargain out of the infamous smuggler from many sides, but none had actually carried them out for fear of losing a convenient focal point from which to observe what the others were doing.
Helles did not know of his unique position of course, believing that it was mere neglect that his smuggling operations had not been busted and his person tossed into the Thames after a few bullet enemas.
But for the life of them, none of the myriad intelligence agencies monitoring Sakamoto Mio found anything out of the ordinary when she left the pawn shop. The only thing of interest was a shortwave radio Sakamoto had acquired from Helles, nothing more. Shaking down the Karslandish smuggler was not so unusual in itself, with Britannian and foreign agents alike doing so just to keep him humbled.
But what the Fusoan major had acquired from Helles was so utterly mundane that the consensus among all parties is something else had to have happened and Sakamoto was doing a good job preventing them from finding out. The Fuso Kempetai, the Fuso military intelligence slash military police, had reported nothing else out of the ordinary and took pains to inform their counterparts in the other Allied nations-an obvious tactic to throw them off their tracks.
Subsequent monitoring of Sakamoto turned out nothing, which led analysts in all the respective agencies to conclude she must be under very, very deep cover under orders from Tokyo for a mission that is still yet underdetermined.
Boris was determined that this time, he will have something more substantial to report back to his superiors in St Petersburg and finally crack the mystery and as a bonus one up the Britannians in their own capitol. No Fuso bumpkin is going to thwart the efforts of the mighty Orussian Empire's secret police!
Studying carefully reading material he had acquired regarding Britannian culture, he had carefully assembled his disguise himself to pose as a civil servant. After all, apparatchiks back home are the only ones to walk around unmolested, and he needed as little attention from local authorities as possible.
When he walked into the East End, a Home Guard patrol had passed him by after carefully scrutinizing him by staring at him for a couple of minutes before bemusedly marching off after he had doffed his hat off at them in greeting. Pleased that he had successfully intimidated the patrol disguised as a senior civil servant and thus evaded capture, his confidence that he had made the right choice in choosing the disguise soared after a couple of ruffians eyed him curiously, no doubt sizing him up for an extortion attempt before their faces distorted and the two turned and walked away shivering, obviously afraid to accost an obvious VIP.
Boris had also heard some barely muffled laughter from the two thugs as they departed. The Britannian sense of humour continues to elude the grizzly Orussian as he couldn't see what was so funny about being dressed properly for the occasion.
Dismissing it as a case of Britannian eccentrics to be studied at a later date, he folded his paper and settled into his chair, his eyes scanning the scenery and the people walking the streets and began the wait for his mark to appear.
It was the late afternoon as a borrowed RAF jeep rumbled into the East End carrying the trio of Mio, Junko and Yoshiko with Junko at the wheel. Pulling over outside the Serpent's Den, the driver glared daggers at her two passengers at the backseat who remained blissfully unaware of her growing irritation.
Mio was engrossed in reading a catalogue from the jeweller in Oxford Street which detailed in excruciating detail the origins and manufacturing process of the pair of matching diamond rings that Mio had bought for the ceremony.
The process by which the eye patched major had settled on the rings was elegantly simple. She walked into the shop and pointed to a salesman nearby she wanted the ring that was placed on a pedestal in the middle of the jewellers.
The whole shop went silent for a split second before bursting into a furore at the announcement and the trio were guided carefully by the store manager to an elegantly decorated room where several Gallian maids attended to their every need while the store manager himself prepared their purchase.
The rings themselves were a pair of gold bands with the initials of Mio and Minna carefully carved in cursive script on each ring upon the manager learning it was meant for a wedding ceremony. As an extra touch, their initials were carved in both Roman letters and Fusoan katakana letters, a nod to Mio's heritage. An oval cut diamond the size of a fingernail was carefully set onto the rings and they shimmered softly with an warm orange glow.
Junko thought with great envy that it was horribly unlikely whoever she ends up married to will actually get something quite so precious for her.
The staff at the shop were also extremely helpful once Mio had sealed the purchase by handing over an envelope full of pound sterling and they offered to make arrangements for the tailors to be flown over to Romagna for Minna's wedding dress. A matching pair of hardwood- hand carved, the manager had repeatedly emphasised- ring boxes were also provided as a complimentary gift while the caterers were called in.
Naturally, they were also horribly, horribly expensive and Junko didn't blame her friend for being very interested to know exactly what went into the jewellery that cost her close to seven thousand pounds each. After the fiftieth time Mio shared with her how the miners in Johannesburg risked life and limb to provide the rocks by jumping through lava lakes while braving man eating cave scorpions the size of tanks however, Junko was reaching the end of her tether.
The Ardour Witch commander was also doubtful as to how truthful the catalogue was. After all, everyone knew the cave scorpions in Africa were at least the size of battleships. Tanks? The hatchlings maybe.
Yoshiko on the other hand...
"Yoshiko, stop chewing so loudly. I can hear every single bite you take of that disgusting concoction they call food." said Junko.
"Hmm?"was her old comrade's only reply as she looked up from the dish she held in her left hand while clear, sticky gravy dripped down her chin and right hand. Bits of brown eel nested in a clear, thick gelatine gravy stirred when Yoshiko swallowed very audibly before thrusting the dish near Junko's face. "You want some of this jellied eel?"
Junko's reply was to recoil in disgust while retching. The Demon Queen had a notoriously picky palette and would refuse to eat anything that she deemed less than fresh. The freshly caught and prepared fresh water eels seemed to have her stamp of approval however and that was when Junko was reminded vividly of the other aspect of Yoshiko's dietary habits.
She had the table manners of a hungry Hokkaido brown bear rummaging through the garbage and was twice as loud.
"Get that thing away from me!"shouted Junko as she quickly left the got out of the driver's seat. Mio then stashed the catalogue away carefully in a shopping bag that bulged with the requested purchases of the other Strike Witches and got out of the jeep while Yoshiko shrugged as she finished the last pieces of eel in her dish.
" Suit yourself, that Orussian man staring at us seemed like he wouldn't mind having it though."
There was a slight pause before Mio and Junko asked in unison, "What Orussian man?"
"That middle aged tubby man with the beard, overdressed in a ridiculously outdated suit complete with bowler hat and black umbrella by the side?" replied the brown haired witch as she looked in the direction of Boris. The Orussian quickly hid lifted his newspaper upon noticing Yoshiko looking at him.
" He's reading a women's tabloid and he is holding the paper upside down." remarked Junko flatly.
Mio let out a hearty laugh, "You know what they say. Only in the streets of London do you get something like this. They produce nutters like nowhere else. "
Junko sighed and resolved to ignore the eccentric staring at them. Turning to Mio, she asked, "What are we doing at a smuggler's shop?"
The eye patched witch shot her a confused look, "Smuggler's shop? I thought this was a pawn shop?"
"It's a pawn shop located in a street crawling with spies and criminals while openly displaying several categories of contraband in the storefront window. How can you possibly believe this was a legitimate business. "pointed out Junko.
"The old Karslandish owner was such a nice man! He gave me the radio for free when I told him I didn't bring enough money. "protested Mio.
Junko pondered her friend's words for a moment, "You extorted the radio you gave Wing Commander Minna?"
"It wasn't like that! I was looking around and noticed he had some radios stashed away. So I asked him for them and informed him I didn't have enough money." Mio tried to explain.
"So you discovered that he was peddling contraband and got a free radio in return for not ratting him out? Nice!"interjected Yoshiko who had overheard the conversation.
Junko raised her hands to pre-empt Mio and cut off any further protests. "Let's just get it over with?" Pushing open the doors, Junko led the way while Mio followed closely behind, shoulders hanging dejectedly. Yoshiko entered last, humming to herself happily.
Boris Bolkonsky flipped his newspaper and grinned down in triumph as she noticed the Fusoan trio move into the pawn shop. While not understanding the Fusoan they spoke, obviously they were awed at his presence and that Sakamoto had even laughed in joy at her good fortune.
Truly, his art of disguise was unmatched.
Johan Helles looked up from his account books as he heard the bells ring, anticipating another customer. Ever since that blasted Fusoan witch left his shop one and half years ago, he had been regularly questioned by the Home Guard while the encounters of foreign spymasters interrogating him at weapon point had increased twofold.
His usual businesslike smile disappeared as he witnessed not one, not two, but THREE of those damned Fusoan witches carrying their long swords enter his shop. Shivering as he recognised the one in the middle as the same witch that had caused him all his troubles, his heart sank further as he spied an irritated look on the leading witch with short hair while the one with the flowing scarf at the end wore a predatory grin he was only too familiar with.
He wondered if it was time to move back to the Continent.
Vienna, despite being the frontline of the Neuroi war, seemed nice this time of the year.
"Did you see the look on his face?" crowed Yoshiko as she stepped out of the Serpent's Den, "He looked like he was afraid I was going to eat him alive. "
You'd eat anything. "muttered Junko as she struggled to get the image of the jellied eels out of her head. Turning to Mio who was placing a newly bought radio onto the back seat of the jeep, she was about to tell Mio it's time to go home before she notice the eye patched witch stiffen and reach for her weapon.
"It's too quiet." growled the major as she moved into a basic stance.
Both Junko and Yoshiko reacted similarly and drew their own weapons, the blades starting to glow with a faint light as magic poured into their blades and their animal ears manifested in response. Forming into a triangle with Yoshiko covering their rear, the Fusoan witches noticed that the street was now clear of traffic, both human and vehicle and the whole street seemed darker, as if shrouded in shadows. Yet. the air seemed warm and balmy, as if they were standing in a heated room.
"This is an awfully familiar sensation. "remarked Junko as she scoured the area for threats.
"You should." said Mio. "This is the same feeling we get when we use an active Striker Unit."
"But we aren't using any Strikers now..." Yoshiko let her question fade away.
"It's more like we are inside the Striker Unit right now." explained Mio. Creating a pocket dimension in an entire street fare beyond the confines of a Striker Unit. Never thought it could actually be done. Mio thought.
But if I am actually inside a pocket dimension, just maybe, thought Mio as she concentrated on establishing the psychic link with her Doberman familiar. After she had lost her magic following the Yamato incident, the Fusoan major stopped her daily mediation exercise which allowed her to manifest her magic. There was no longer any point, and the lack of response from her familiar only broke her heart. But now, in this space chock full of magical energy...
I can feel it! Mioexperienced a surge of warm tingly sensation wash over her as the familiar prickly, warm embrace of magic washed over her and she felt the strong yet eager presence of her canine familiar. Grey dog ears appeared on the top of her head and a long fluffy tail manifested even as her magic circle glowed a bright brilliant blue like the stars.
"Glad to see the research bear fruit. "said a female voice in Britannian. The Fusoan trio turned their attention to a lone figure approach them. Wearing a Gatsby cap that obscured the eyes, the stranger had hip length black hair tied into twin braids. A sharp nose and pale skin contrasted with her pink lips curled into a smirk. Unmistakably Asian features, but none of the Fusoans present were able to match her accent to something they were familiar with and conclude her identity only that she was not from Fuso.
Dressed in a navy blue figure hugging shirt that emphasised her rather obvious chest matched with a mandarin collar, the stranger wore a pair of bright yellow bloomers and brown loafers. A pair of swords with broad blades hung from her sides. The one on her left was had a golden hilt with matching tassel while the right was a similar design sporting emerald green.
"The ability to use and enhance magic without restriction and the need for a Striker Unit." continued the newcomer. "Truly a worthy goal, isn't it?"
Spreading her arms open, she revealed a grapefruit sized Neuroi core in her right hand. Ripples formed in the air and six men dressed in the Home Guard uniform appeared. The Fusoan witches eyes widened in shock as they noticed the men were equipped with Land Striker units- pieces of metal resembling boxy knee length boots with tracks on the back and the bottom- and Thompson sub machine guns, the rumbling of their engines echoing throughout the street.
"Of course, having that extra boost still helps. " smiled the stranger.
Lowering her arms, she ordered. "Capture the one with the eye patch. Kill the rest. " The Neuroi Core then floated into the air while shadows obscured the stranger before she disappeared from view.
"Incoming!"warned Junko as the six Home Guard swarmed towards them in a wedge formation, their guns blazing. Junko and Yoshiko deployed their own shields as the guns of their assailants roared and magically enhanced rounds pounded them. Junko realised with dread that the enemy planned to lay down enough withering fire before closing in to finish them off where their enhanced shots will likely break their shields. Without their own Strikers backing them up...
"Junko, distract them. "said Mio before leaping into the enemy formation, her sword blazing with azure flame. Before Junko could react, Yoshiko charged to Mio's left, her shield glowing brightly as bursts machinegun fire pounded against it.
The Land Strikers hesitated on whether to fire upon their target they were ordered to take alive and this hesitation proved fatal.
"Reppuzan!"
With a cry, Mio swung her sword and a crescent of blue energy surged outwards from her weapon towards them. Three of the Land Strikers were caught in the wave and despite deploying their own shields, their own protection wavered and shattered. Small explosions engulfed their Land Strikers as they were put out of commission and they were flung into a nearby building causing the walls to crack and smoke to emit from the now destroyed magical machines.
The remaining Home Guard who witnessed their buddies go down decided to abandon hesitation and opened fire on Mio, who started to dodge frantically to dodge the constant bursts of gunfire, her movements enhanced by the magic currently coursing through her.
Taking full advantage of their current preoccupation with the eye patched witch, Yoshiko charged towards the closest Land Striker who turned towards her and deployed a shield as Yoshiko's katana slammed against it, sending sparks flying as sword met the shield.
"Break!"yelled Yoshiko as an extra surge of magic caused the sword to prevail, shattering the shield and finding its mark on the man's shoulder. It sliced deep downward, sending blood spurting out of the gaping wound. Yoshiko was driven into a blood lust by the coppery smell of her kill and followed up with three rapid successive jabs to the man's throat to prevent him from crying out. Using the blade as a skewer, she tossed her victim towards another Home Guard, causing a dust cloud and flying pieces of their Land Strikers as they crashed together.
The last remaining Home Guard started snarling as he witnessed the fate of his team mates, bemoaning the fact that his superiors had underestimated the battle strength of his quarry so badly. Even armed with Strikers while his targets were not, six of them were barely enough to take them on. As he contemplated fleeing, he felt the cold touch of steel to the back of his neck.
"Don't move. We are hoping to take you in alive, if we can. "warned Junko. The emphasis on if spelled out clearly they weren't hesitant to use lethal force .
As the Fusoans moved to secure their prisoner, the floating Neuroi Core shattered in a burst of white debris . The afternoon sun suddenly started shining again while human and vehicle traffic began to reappear. At the same time Mio felt the warm touch of magical energy leave her abruptly and the link with her beloved Doberman severed.
At least this confirms that the restoration of my magic was due to the expanded pocket dimension, thought Mio to herself. Despite being mentally prepared, the tinge of despair that it was not a miraculous cure still cut deep.
Keeping their weapons firmly pointed at their prisoner, the trio started noticing that they were suddenly the centre of attention.
" Everyone is looking at us. " Yoshiko finally said after several awkward minutes.
"Maybe because we are pointing weapons at a Home Guard wearing a Land Striker with several dead or dying Guards around us?" said Junko dryly. "Attracts all kinds of attention."
"Make that dead Guards. "interrupted Mio. Junko turned her attention back to her prisoner and noticed that he was very, very pale. Yoshiko pried open his mouth and peered in. "Other than bad oral hygiene, I'd say he swallowed a suicide pill."
As blaring sirens approached, Mio wondered if she'd still be back in time for dinner.
" All preparations are complete Wing Commander, Ma'am. Any further orders?"
"That will be all, Quartermaster. Please pass on my thanks to the logistics staff and inform them they will each have an additional three days of leave." said Minna with a beaming smile.
"I am sure the boys will be delighted at your generosity, Commander. Now if there is nothing else." The base quartermaster, a medium built Romagnan with a bulging beer belly and bushy grey moustache, gave a crisp salute before turning on his heel and marching off.
Minna sighed as she watched the veteran soldier march towards the interior of the castle. The chaos of the past two days had worked her support units to the bone in cleaning up the mess and preparing to accommodate the sudden influx of so many guests and equipment.
Still, the logistics and supplies supporting regiments had performed admirably. Minna promised herself that she will be sure to follow up with individual commendations for all the soldiers serving in them.
Turning her attention to the crimson sky as the sun began setting, Minna smiled as the entire 501st Joint Fighter Wing waiting in parade formation for the arrival of General Major Adolfine Galland who was due to arrive shortly.
Choosing who was to make up the parade honour guard was relatively simple. Of the twelve witches in the Wing, Barkhorn, Erica, Eila, Shirley and herself were the ones with the necessary formal dress uniforms, presence and ability, with varying degrees of course, to show in a parade. Shirley, with proper motivation can be trusted to display the needed discipline and bearing expected of someone of her rank.
Barkhorn literally thrived on such regimentation and had actually insisted on making Erica participate in the honour guard, claiming full responsibility in getting her ship shape.
It was also nice to have an opportunity to wear the full dress uniform. Ditching her usual olive green coat, Minna was dressed in the formal light grey military coat, complete with gloves, collar patches, and a silver braided cord. Her own rank insignia and Knight's Cross was polished to parade shine. Wearing her peaked cap, Minna's chin itched at the unfamiliar touch of the braided silver chin strap.
As for the other witches...
Sanya, bless her heart, was mostly half awake during the day. While it was approaching the time when she would be up and about, there was just something about the wispy, waif like Orussian that made her not suitable for the parade square. Besides, Eila would be too distracted if her long time partner was to be there. By herself, the Suomus witch was a rather competent, if arrogant and abrasive officer.
Lucchini was well, Lucchini. A storm of trouble and bouncing activity absolutely not suitable for the regimented pomp and pageantry of a formal parade. Perrine, other than the fact that the Free Gallian Air force lacked proper dress uniforms, was also still in the grieving stage. Minna felt a stab of guilt as she recalled the breakdown of the blonde witch during her confession. All's fair in love and war, but it didn't stop her from feeling like a heel. Miyafuji Yoshika was basically a civilian volunteer enlisted directly into the 501st, automatically excluding her.
Then there was Lynne.
Lynette Bishop despite technically being in the 601st Fighter Wing of the RAF was never given a proper uniform and likely instruction in drill, dressing mostly in her civilian school uniform with sewn on rank and unit insignia. It was not these factors that was key in having her excluded however.
General Major Adolfine Galland, really, really liked the Spitfire. She had a model of the plane in her office and made sure a suitable replica was available at any new location she was deployed to. Other than the plane though, the general also had an obsession with the witches piloting them and her latest object of interest was Lynne. Minna could hardly believe her ears when Galland said she would like "that Lynne girl from the 501st" during one of the meetings she had. The general had later clarified it was meant as a joke with a straight face, but some discreet checks with Helma and Ursula who were both serving in Galland's experimental Jet Striker Unit revealed that her commanding general actually had a body pillow with the likeliness of the Britannian sniper imprinted on it.
Deciding to err on the side of caution, Minna resolved to keep her superior far, far away from Lynne and to make sure they were never alone together.
From the horizon, the buzz of approaching planes alerted Minna to an approaching aircraft, bearing the Karsland national flag of an bold black X on a white circle surrounded by red as well as the two golden diamonds surrounded by a golden wreath signalling the rank of the passenger.
" Attention! General Major present! All ranks, salute!" Barkhorn's booming voice echoed across the runway as the present Witches and two supporting details of Romagnan soldiers snapped to attention.
The modified dull gray and yellow He-111 dual engine bomber came to a perfect halt next to the steps and the military band began playing a welcome march. Minna herself snapped to attention and saluted as the plane doors opened.
Adolfine stepped out of the plane dressed in her usual ensemble of bomber jacket, field army coat and man's olive green pants, with a nod to protocol as she wore a peaked cap with golden braided chin strap and her own Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves gleamed in the disappearing sunlight.
The general appeared incredulous at the sight of the welcome that had been given to her. Scowling at Minna once she noticed her salute, the general returned a quick salute before walking over to the redhead.
Shaking Minna's extended hand, Adolfine pulled Minna in close and whispered to her, "I thought I told you I hate having to inspect parades."
Minna gave a beaming smile as she replied, "And I hate all the paperwork too. "
Despite her motherly demeanour, this redhead can be very petty at times, thought the general to herself.
Following closely behind her to the left, a witch dressed in a black Karsland uniform and garrison cap approached bearing the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel on her collars. Her shirt was pitch black unlike the lighter tone favoured by Erica and she stood several inches taller than her colleagues at around five foot eight. The guest's square chin was accentuated by thick red lips and rounded cheeks, spotting slight tan. A bow shaped scar cut across the lower left of her face, giving her a sinister look. Dark brown shoulder length hair tied into dreadlocks, her almond shaped eyes were an emerald green. Wearing standard white witch pants, a pair of grey canvas shoes seemed to be her preferred choice of foot wear. A Rottweiler's black and brow tail swayed around casually.
To the right of the general was a lithe civilian women who was wearing a white coat over a cream coloured blouse and grey mini skirt with a pair of black pumps. Long straight flowing blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, she wore a cheerful expression that accented her thin pink lips and rounded cheek, her oval black eyes gleamed with anticipation as if seeing the world for the first time while it roamed the assembled Witches. As if to confirm the stereotype of Liberion woman, she was...gifted in the chest area and her thick coat did nothing to hide her curves. A pair of grey rabbit ears popped out and twitched as the civilian woman stretched her arms.
Pulling her jacket closer, Adolfine said, " It's getting cold so I will keep this introduction short and sweet. This is Lieutenant Colonel Olivia Skorzeny who was recently attached to me and this is Doctor Nancy Jessica Oppenheimer from United States of Liberion, New Hispania."
Grinning widely, the general continued. "We come bearing gifts. Let's go inside so we can unwrap them."
Author's notes.
Update notes: Some changes made to the description of Olivia as well as the proper spelling of her surname. Also changed the plane Adolfine's entourage travelled in. Many thanks to kittle-uk for pointing it out.
This chapter's long, long, long. I hope you readers won't be turned off by my sudden desire to ramble and provide more detail to the scenes. It's just that going over my earlier work, the scarcity of detail would make it difficult for readers to envision it.
As always, please review. Hate it, love it, have some suggestions for anything, please let me know, Always good to hear from fellow fans until the movie comes out.
Olivia Skorzeny is based off Otto Skorzeny, an SS commando famous for some of the more daring raids of the 2nd World War. As for Doctor Oppenheimer, most of you readers familiar with the Manhattan Project ought to be familiar with this famed surname.
The mysterious figure Mio and friends will be elaborated later on, and Dr Oppenheimer will be providing some needed explanation of the incident with the Neuroi Core in London. Also, Adolfine has Olivia with her for a reason.
Until Chapter 5- The Reception.