Chifuyu sighed as she and Maya examined the charred remains of two IS. The pieces were disassembled and inventoried across a large metal table. After the breach in their security and ensuing fight, the faculty had quickly transported the parts to IS labs where the campus security was tightest.

"The data came back. There's no history of these parts being manufactured by any known IS distributors. But the parts are too advanced to be any homebrew tech. It's as if whoever was behind this made these things from scratch all by themselves," Maya observed, shuffling a few documents on her clipboard.

Chifuyu crossed her arms. "They're unmanned drones Maya. This sort of technology hasn't even been considered by the leading IS developers. They knew how to breach our perimeter, what practice arenas were in use, and they even hacked our security system. There's only one person I can think of who would even be capable of this."

Maya hesitated, nervously fidgeting in place. "T-Tabane Shinonono. She's been off the radar for so long, why would she pop her head back up after all this time?"

"It's my brother, he's the only new variable that would catch her interest. She's known him since he was just a little kid and she's probably sticking her nose into his business now that he's in the limelight. It's just like that woman to sic these things on someone out of curiosity," Chifuyu replied, gesturing to the two broken IS.

Tabane Shinonono, the mother of all IS and widely considered the pinnacle of what humanity could produce. She was heralded as the greatest mind to have ever bore thought. Even if you put the next fifty smartest people together, they wouldn't even come close to what Tabane could do. That was just the type of person she was. She was perfect, too perfect.

When they were kids they went to the same school. It was hard to admit, but Tabane had been Chifuyu's only real friend growing up. The two had been head and shoulders above their peers so it was only natural they would gravitate towards each other. She remembered listening to her ramble on and on about her crazy ideas. Girls flying in mech suits, revolutionizing the world to her standards. It seemed so long since those nonchalant days.

Now her friend was internationally recognized as the most wanted individual, her brother had become a foreign undercover operative, and there were more expectations being piled on her every day. The days where she could cut down her worries with the Yukihira were over.

"What's going to happen to the cores?" Maya asked, glancing at the two pearly spheres lying on the table.

Chifuyu pursed her lips. Two IS cores unregistered to any country. While it was possible that a country had lost possession of some of their cores and covered it up, it was less likely than the alternative. Most likely, Tabane had created two brand new cores from scratch to power this new pet project of hers.

IS cores were carefully distributed nation to nation in order to appease the ever delicate political balance. The introduction of two fresh off the line cores was sure to shake up the scene. They wouldn't be able to please everyone and there would be no right course to take.

"The academy will be holding on to the cores. They will be put to work for academy sanctioned use until a further agreement is reached," Chifuyu stated. It would stir the pot, put a target on the academy, but it was what the directors had decided. And guess who was the first line of defense for the academy when things went south? Lucky her.

Several hundred miles from the U.S coast in the Atlantic Ocean stood an old oil rig. Its original operations of extracting natural gasses had long since been decommissioned. Instead, it was being used as a foothold for FOXHOUND logistics and headquarters elements. Even if one were to look at its exact coordinates through satellite imagery, they would only see the blue ocean. And from the outside, it was nothing but an old platform still being used to suck up what was left of the local resources. It was the perfect out of sight and out of mind location.

York watched the dark blue waves crash into the platform's support beams before taking a drag from a slightly wet, slightly crumpled cigarette. She never considered herself to be a smoker, she still didn't to be honest. But one or two sticks really did help relieve the stress that accompanied all the crap the world liked to throw at her.

Everyone had something. Even if it was something as small as smoking a cigarette once and a while, everybody deviated from the eat, sleep, train, fight cycle they were enlisted to. Summers had a little garden back stateside. It had died after she was suddenly pulled for a six week mission, but York heard she'd been starting it back up again. Kane had actually gotten into religion. The light of god always seemed a little too bright for her, but to each their own she supposed.

Even Monika Wyler, the ever hungry battle girl, had her own hobbies. Though York was pretty sure she already relieved stress by fighting. However, most of the things Monika liked to do outside the battlefield had a caveat. Predictably, almost everything she liked to do she liked to do even more with a certain operator. A certain operator who was now temporarily out of service.

York could tell the short blonde was more stressed than usual these days. The owl and the bloodhound really had been best friends ever since the dark days under the instructor. She just wished she could help her friend, but there simply wasn't anything that she could do. Even Angela Wyler herself had tried talking with her..

Orimura, the bastard, had skipped town and left the emotional baggage in his wake. The guy was special. Not because he was the only male IS pilot, but it simply felt good to have him by your side. He was a kind soul with far more of a conscience than the sociopaths in their line of work. She didn't particularly mind the life of doom and gloom, but a little bit of humanity was appreciated.

All of the younger FOXHOUND pilots seemed to adore him. Even a small portion of senior operators doted on him. It would be a million years until she told anybody, but sometimes she too felt a flutter in her chest whenever Orimura smiled her way. And he had to go out of his way to get burnt in order to save Schaeffer. It was an incredibly Orimura thing for Orimura to do.

Schaeffer, she'd nearly given her a heart attack when her sliced up body had been medivaced to the very oil rig she was stationed at. Cut apart by the Brunhilde herself. What a strange twist of fate that the Orimuras would reunite like that. She couldn't imagine her past catching up to her like that. Such things almost never happened in FOXHOUND.

Thinking of Schaeffer, York decided a visit was in order. She flicked the dwindling cigarette in her fingers into the hungry waves before turning on her heel. The platform was rather large with several conex containers and facilities crammed onto its multi-layered surface. She ascended some stairs and detoured around the communication tower before eventually reaching the medical block.

York paused before door seven, glancing at the green 'in use' sign hanging from the handle. She gently tapped her knuckles on the tinted window and listened to the slight shuffling on the other side.

"Come in!" A muffled feminine voice called out.

York acquiesced, slowly opening the door and smiling in greeting. "How's a going Schaeffer?"

Schaeffer was sat up in a medical bed. An infusion pump stood at her bedside although the tubes were unattached. The German girl smiled back at York and waved nonchalantly. "I'm doing great actually, doc said I'll be back to operations within the week."

York pulled an adjacent chair so that she could sit at the front of the bed. "Good to hear, it'll be nice to see you on the line again. I just wanted to check in on you. You know, make sure you didn't die of boredom in this stuffy little room."

Schaeffer chuckled. "Not quite yet, but another month and it could've been dangerous. Cooking show reruns can only be so entertaining for so long. On a serious note though, I appreciate you dropping by York, really I do. How have the others been doing? How has Wyler been doing?"

"Hmm, Wyler's been Wyler. Situation's shaken her up a bit, but she's been dealing with it. Orimura, as you know, literally got kidnapped by his sister and is living the high life with a bunch of schoolgirls. Everybody else has been more or less fine. Oh, did you hear that Prometheus bit the dust?"

"Nova?"

York raised an eyebrow. "Was that her name?"

Schaeffer nodded. "Yeah, she visited me early on when I was still stitched up, told me to keep my head up and all that. I didn't hear that she died though."

"Well… sorry for being the bearer of bad news," York sighed.

Schaeffer ran a hand through her black hair. "It's not your fault. We weren't even friends or anything, she just came by to chat so that I could take my mind off my injury. You know she has a younger sister?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, her name's Lillith, same last name. She's a trainee under Chiron right now. In Fact, I think they're cycle should almost be over. It'll be nice to see some new faces around," Schaeffer replied with a sad smile.

"She's still in training? God help her from Chiron's torture then," York laughed. Schaeffer let out a chuckle as well. "Doesn't it feel so long since we were all in training? Us eight, running around all day like headless chickens, surviving day by day. God Schaeffer, it was complete chaos back then."

Schaeffer smiled wistfully. "I know right? I was so scared the first day when they dropped us off. When we were all in that classroom I was like 'this is it, this is the real deal'. Then Orimura walked in and we all lost our minds."

"I remember being pissed about that. I mean, some boy comes in out of nowhere and they expect me to live with him for the next few years. I would've never thought he'd be the emotional glue holding the team together," York admitted with a shake of her head.

"Hey York?" Schaeffer suddenly asked.

York tilted her head in a silent gesture.

"You're pretty connected in the organization. Even senior operators like you. So, do you have any idea of what's going to happen with Orimura?" Schaeffer asked, looking down at the scar that hid beneath her shirt.

York pursed her lips. "Which one?"

"Ichika, our Orimura. I mean, what's the situation with all that? It's my fault all of it went down so badly," Schaeffer explained, her expression slipping into a frown.

"Schaeffer, it was the Brunhilde who cut you, don't feel guilty about it," York grunted, rising slightly in her seat.

"And we're hound pilots! We're not supposed to go down in one hit, York. I was running a defense loadout and everything. Yeah, Orimura's the emotional glue that held us together; now he's gone, and it's my fault!"

The two girls sat in gloomy silence for a minute. Schaeffer traced the outline of her scar with a grimace while York considered what to say. Eventually, York reached out to grasp the girl's shoulder comfortingly.

"It would have happened to anyone in your shoes, Schaeffer, you were just the one with the short straw. As for Orimura, we're not completely cutting ties. Sure, we're going to have to tiptoe around the situation. But we're going to be in touch."

Schaeffer slowly nodded. "That's good, I just need to apologize to him. I was scared when I heard he got burnt after that op. I thought I'd never get the chance to see him again to apologize. I thought Wyler was going to hate me. Hell, I thought all of you guys were going to hate me."

York scoffed in frustration before smacking the side of Schaeffer's head. "Dumbass, give us a little more credit, we'd literally all die for eachother. When we found out, we were all more worried about you. It's like I already said, Ichika's pretty much on vacation, and Wyler would literally throw a fit if someone made her a sandwich wrong."

Schaeffer choked back a snort before turning away and wiping her eyes. It was only for a split second however and she turned back towards York and smiled. "You're right York, I'm a dumbass."

"Damn right." York checked her watch before sighing. "I gotta go Schaeffer. Lizard is getting spun up for something so I'm replacing her on net watch."

Schaeffer raised her eyebrows. "Lizard? Better not be late then."

"And York?" She called out just as the girl opened the door.

York looked over her shoulder. "Hmm?"

"Thanks for coming to talk with me."

"It's nothing. I'll see you, Schaeffer."

She looked down at her scar and the wound under it that had finally closed. "Yeah, see you."

AR 12.2 - Unprovoked and or aggravated engagement utilizing IS technology is prohibited and punishable by AR 2.1 - AR 2.4

Ichika huffed as he repeatedly flipped back to the book's index. The small book in his hands was deceptively dense. It was a maze of rules and regulations that covered every policy under the sun when it came to the academy. His disinterested eyes sharpened however as he came across what he was looking for.

AR 2.1 - Expulsion process shall be initiated upon class red violations and evaluation.

AR 2.2 - Suspension from academy curriculatory facilities will be in effect upon class yellow violations.

AR 2.3 - Restriction from activating IS will be placed on academy profile upon class green violations.

AR 2.4 - Chapter process shall be initiated immediately upon class black violations. Native government(s) will be notified and AR 2.1 - AR 2.3 will be in effect. See AR 33 for further detail.

His eyebrows crept upwards as he glimpsed into the rabbit hole of academy policy. He'd found what he was looking for however. He and Charlotte had in fact not spoken since the attack. Faculty officials had yanked each of them for a series of evaluations and questioning. The monotone line of procedures was a blessing in disguise however. It allowed him time to consider his next move when it came to a certain French thorn in his side.

He couldn't have her expelled, or even punished for that matter. Her place in the tournament would be pulled immediately if she started facing corrective action. No partner meant no participation for him as well. He would be forced to abstain from the tournament on the benefit that his academy profile wouldn't be negatively affected. That was the least of his worries however. He needed to win, Charlotte had to stay.

But the blonde didn't know that. He had a bargaining chip and she didn't. The threat of expulsion should be powerful enough to use the girl for what he needed. And at the end of the day, they'd win the tournament and she wouldn't be punished. It was a win-win deal.

"I didn't take you for a very rule-abiding student. But I suppose even scoundrels like you can turn over a new leaf," Laura Bodewhig jeered from across their shared room.

Ichika put the book down and leveled the silver haired girl with a flat look. "How about you put some pants on before you make fun of me."

Laura looked down at the oversized dress shirt she wore to bed. "I'll have you know that many of the Schwarzer Hase find large shirts to be suitable nightwear."

Ichika pictured a whole unit of girls like Laura running around wearing nothing but dress shirts and underwear before hastily banishing the thought. He was certainly accustomed to being around girls in various states of dress. He'd practically lived in the same room as seven of them when he was a kid. But he was still a guy. Desensitized or not, the male mind was a precarious wanderer.

"By the way Laura?"

The silver haired girl tilted her head.

"Who's your partner for the tournament?"

"The Shinonono girl," Laura grunted, crossing her arms. "And you?"

"Dunois. We're going to be winning the tournament. I just thought I'd tell you right now as a professional courtesy. If I find you in my bracket, I won't be holding back," Ichika bluntly warned.

Laura snorted with an irritated look. "Professional courtesy huh. Let me guess, orders from above?"

Ichika met Laura's piercing gaze with a sigh. "Something like that."

It really wasn't any use lying to his roommate. It was difficult when she was literally the one who blasted him with a railgun at point blank thinking he was an international terrorist. She hadn't been far off either. Well, he was collaborating with international terrorists. He wasn't one himself, there was a difference.

Laura hummed. "About the Frenchy, I heard that you two got caught up in the IS intrusion. Anything firsthand I should know about it?"

"Charlotte and I had to fight them off. There were two unmanned frames that managed to breach the skyshield. I'm not entirely sure if they were being controlled remotely or by an onboard AI. But either way, they were dangerous," Ichika replied with a grimace.

"Tabane Shinonono."

Ichika nodded. "That's the conclusion I came to. I can't think of anyone else capable of something like this."

"You think the academy is in danger?"

He shook his head. "No, not while my sister and her freak of an IS are around. But it's definitely a target now."

"This academy is a ticking time bomb; merely one more reason to bring the instructor back to Germany. Say Ichika, yesterday there were two unmanned IS. But tomorrow there may be three, or four, maybe a whole squad. What will you do when this place falls to ruin?"

Ichika paused and locked gazes with the silver haired girl. Her eyes betrayed a sense of thoughtfulness rather than her usual suspicious nature. "Chifuyu-nee must have made a deal to get me here. But at the end of the day there's no reason for me to stay here if there's no academy."

"So where would you go?"

"Home."

Laura dipped head. "The place we all want to go isn't it?"

Ichika nodded.

An air of melancholy settled between the two as the conversation fizzled out. Thoughts of past times and memories of old friends flitted through their two minds. Laura recalled a life dictated by discipline, routine, and the stoic faces of comrades endeared by shared struggle. Ichika's memories were more chaotic, muddled by the constant fighting, but centered on the comrades that similarly bore the burden.

He resisted the urge to reach in his closet and pull out the sat phone. All it would take was a couple dials and a decent connection and he'd have Monika chatting his ear off. Just like the old days. His heart sank with a feeling of loneliness however as he quickly accepted the selfishness of the action. It was left unsaid, but his mission was to lay low. Calling his friends on an extremely traceable line was out of the question, and it hurt.

"I assume you'd return to your unit?" Ichika prompted.

The silver haired girl pursed her lips. "Not without the instructor."

Ichika shook his head. "What's with your obsession with my sister? The only reason you're here is because you're trying to get my sister to go back to Germany. Your mission is your mission, but from what I see it doesn't look like she wants to go back."

"You wouldn't get it. I owe the instructor everything. When I was at my lowest, she pulled me back into the light. She was tough, she was fierce, we all looked up to her. But then she left to babysit these little girls! For what!? Everything was perfect when she was our instructor, I just don't understand why she'd throw that all away," Laura rambled, her eye narrowing in frustration.

"So you want her to teach your unit again. I've already asked you this but have you thought about what my sister wants? She does everything for a reason; she chose to come here. Maybe she likes it here more."

Laura's nostrils flared. "What the instructor wants? You know, even in Germany she was looking for you. Everybody knew about the elusive little brother of the instructor. That woman turned over every stone in the world looking for you."

She leveled the boy with a single eyed glare. "You want to go home right? After everything she's done to bring you two together, all you want is to run away again. Have YOU thought about what she wants?"

He bit back a retort, stomaching the irritation that pushed through his thoughts. She wasn't wrong, all he wanted was to go back to the organization. He just didn't fit in here. But Chifuyu-nee was here. She was right, after everything his sister had done for him, all he wanted to do was break her heart. What was he supposed to do in this situation?

Ichika tapped through the virtual interface on the wall, darkening the lights on his side of the room. He let himself sink into the overly soft surface of his mattress, quietly sighing to himself. Laura had turned away from him, content to kill the conversation. That was fine, he also didn't feel like talking anymore.

Maybe he'd close his eyes and wake up in a hard cot wedged in the corner of an outpost. He'd be in full kit, his rifle tucked under his dingy collapsable bed, and there'd probably be a snake in his sleeping bag. Monika would be there and tell him about some great idea she had when he was sleeping. He'd tell how smart she was and she'd know he wasn't being serious. Then he'd be subjected to the blonde argue how her idea was in fact a great idea.

But in the end it was all a dream. Luck wouldn't have it any other way.

Two dark haired women overlooked a long stretch of road from atop a water tower. One stood at the edge with her arms crossed, her red eyes surveying several dark dots on the horizon drawing closer. The other sat idly on the tower's cool metal surface with her chin lazily propped up on her palm.

"That's the convoy we're hitting? C'mon Akane, we're way overqualified for a job like this. Wyler must have been in a shitty mood again."

"Watchdog wants this done right. And I don't care if you're my senior, call me Lizard when I'm working Skunk."

Skunk groaned. "Yeah, Lizard, whatever. But as I was saying, this could have been handled by our junior pilots easily. I dunno, spin up Chief and that Apostle girl. What were their names? York and Kane I think? Either way, let the kids do it I say. I'm a busy person, you know?"

"I've never seen you train or pull duty. All you do is hide away in your labs," Lizard droned with a flat look.

"Who do you think provides the entirety of the organization's chemical weapons? it's actually counterproductive to the organization's combat readiness to have me in the field. But I guess you people aren't the brightest when it comes to handling chemical agents. Still doesn't explain why I'm here though."

Lizard's red eyes narrowed as she shot a withering glare at the older woman. "Just blow the gas when you're supposed to. I'll do the rest."

"I don't want to haul your corpse back to base so you'll have to wear one of these," Skunk remarked, tossing a chem mask to her partner. "Intel says there's an IS so knock yourself out."

"Eight armored cars, six bikes, and a Rafale model IS. They won't be a problem," Lizard confirmed, clipping the mask to her belt.

"You people are so dramatic it's almost funny." Skunk adopted a brooding pose and deepened her voice. "Guh- they won't be a problem, my blade hungers for their blood. I get dirty so Uncle Sam stays clean. This is my solemn duty blah blah blah."

"You lack discipline," Lizard scoffed.

"Guh- you lack discipline. Beep beep boop, must kill enemy, must kill enemy. Don't worry Lizard, even I had a phase like that."

"It's not a phase."

Skunk shook her head in exasperation. "Since Prometheus is gone, I'm the oldest operator now. And I swear, ever since Wyler became the Watchdog, all the new pilots have been so uptight. Maybe it's Chiron's fault actually. The train up period wasn't as draconian in my time."

The older woman allowed a brief moment of nostalgia to corrode her thoughts. Her old instructor, her old teammates, her old FOXHOUND. They were the goons that went bump in the night. They really didn't care if the morning didn't come, they just wanted to take names and look cool doing it. It was an era that was swept away little by little until only she was left. A woman too unlikable to die, what a sick joke.

"Blow the gas."

Skunk blinked. "What?"

Lizard strapped on the gas mask and tossed her head in the direction of the road. Several armored vehicles bustled down its cracked pavement, blissfully unaware of the trashbags cluttering the curb that were filled with several canisters of lethal agents. Her unamused red eyes conveyed the message loud and clear. 'Do your damn job'.

"Whatever," Skunk sighed, reaching into her kit and squeezing a detonator. Instantly, several ear splitting cracks echoed into the sky, colorless gas flooding the ranks of vehicles.

The people on the bikes were the first to go, falling over the handlebars and their limp bodies tumbling across the rough pavement. The rest of the motorcade instantly accelerated, attempting to push through the gas cloud and escape the ambush. The sealed doors offered some protection to the invasive chemical agent, but not enough to prevent a few cars haphazardly swerving off the road.

The survivors burst through the thick haze of chemical death, now punching it full speed. To stop would mean leaving themselves open to a full linear ambush, and their rear was clouded by an impenetrable smoke storm. Forward was the only way. However their remaining hope was dashed as an armored figure crashed down one hundred meters ahead of the convoy. The IS was painted black with red stripes, a slim and acute figure accentuating the sharp armor platings. There were no armaments save for a single steel scabbard supported by a flexible metallic arm. A red handle pointed out of the top with small currents of electricity visibly leaking from within the scabbard.

"One cut," Lizard breathed, readying her palm across the handle of her blade. Her IS instantly responded, pumping a concoction of boosters through the woman's spine while the enhanced onboard hyper sensor silently roared at full output. She sucked in a quick breath as thousands of senses flooded her cognition within a second.

Her blood felt cold as the world warped and bent over itself. Everything, everywhere, in a single millisecond flashed through her mind in a blistering sprint.

A small scratch in the car's windshield, a patch of grass swaying oddly to the side, a spider hustling across the hard road, she could see it all as if time crept to a halt. Her fingertips tingled as her scabbard whirred to life, electricity warping to generate magnetic fields. Her hilt was hot to the touch. It was begging her to be released.

With an exhale swifter than a bullet, she tore the blade from its prison, electric currents flaring to generate a railgun's propulsion, rocketing the blade outwards. To the victim's naked eye, their neural system would already be severed before they even registered the glint blade's glint. To the column of vehicles, their hoods were violently bisected from their undercarriages, the occupants similarly dissected. The lateral devastation singlehandedly obliterated the survivors, leaving only blood, bones, and several halves of vehicles.

Lizard's eyes zeroed on a bright flash within the waste however, her blade returning to its sheath as instantly as it was drawn. First it was a hand, then it was a green plated torso, but eventually an IS clawed itself out of the wreckage. Its pilot, a red haired woman, stumbled as dark maroon blood gushed from the stump left where her shoulder was a mere moment ago. Her dark suit was wrinkled with debris, its sleek surface matted with its wearer's blood.

"You're going to pa-"

"Twelve cuts," Lizard hissed, red eyes narrowing to crimson slits in extreme concentration. Her left leg anchored itself a foot back as the mechanical sheath whirred in anticipation. Her knuckles turned white as she clamped down on the hilt.

Time stopped again. Lizard exhaled and once more tore her blade in a savage arc. This time however, she maintained the weapon's velocity by rotating it in several crescent slashes. Each cut was fast as lightning whilst strong enough to cut through reinforced steel like butter resulting in the resulting hypersonic slashes flying through the air like a hail of machine gun fire.

The IS' absolute defense barely activated in time to stop the onslaught, its energy barrier violently flashing as its shield was bombarded. The pilot helplessly raised her arm to shield herself but it was futile. The shield buckled on the tenth and shattered on the eleventh, such was the force behind the railgun propelled blade.

With a grunt, Lizard brought the hilt of her blade up and around her figure before bringing it down into one final diagonal slash. She sheathed the weapon once more as she watched her victim's body tear from shoulder to hip, falling limply in a graphic display. A cursory scan of the area allowed her shoulders to sag and a shaky breath to escape her lips. The effects from the boosters injected through her spine were beginning to expire and the whiplash from her hyper sensor winding down hit her harder than a week of training with Chiron.

She plodded over to the corpse of flesh and metal before jamming her hand into the metallic compartment holding the core. Its dark pearly surface seemed to drink in the surrounding light as she held it in her palm. What was this, the fourth pilfered core for Uncle Sam? And that was just within the year. The world census claims 467 IS cores were circulating through the world governments. However after years of operating, that number seemed less and less likely. It seemed even negligible organizations had their hands on at least one IS these days.

Her IS disappeared in a flash of light, her form dropping to the ground. She stumbled slightly at the drop before shaking her head. Twelve was steep for a single injection; her head was still spinning. She stuffed the core into a pouch within her kit before grimacing.

A hand gently clapped the dark haired woman on the shoulder. "You solid Lizard?"

She nodded tersely before shrugging off her companion.

Skunk clicked her tongue and looked skeptically at the Japanese woman's tense form. "If you say so."

Lizard glanced at the setting horizon, darkness just barely creeping over the edges as the sun set. A reckoning was coming and she knew in her gut that FOXHOUND would be caught in the center of it. It didn't matter how much she had to fight, this was what she was made to do. The Watchdog barked and the hounds listened.