Eastern Front, First Ward, First Combat Sector, Eighty-Sixth District of San Magnolia
Base of Elite Processor Squadron 'Spearhead'
One of the many bases situated 'outside the wire', so to speak, and located in a former military installation just beyond the Gran Mur defensive wall and minefields, the base of Spearhead was an old, decrepit group of buildings, a runway and a hangar, presumably meant for San Magnolia's old Air Force. When that was still a thing, of course. The crew present, made up of the young Processors, was on with their usual business.
Although, for most of them, the air was glum, somewhat heavy. They had just recently lost two more of theirs, reducing the squadron from twenty to eighteen. Having started out at twenty-four crew members, the other four deaths also weighed down on them quite heavily, but they tried to keep in high spirits. All of them had been carried over, of course. The six dead of Spearhead rested thanks to the bullets of one of their own.
Sat in one room while the others played darts, Shinei Nouzen, Captain and acting leader of Spearhead Squadron read a book to help ease his mind off the trials and tribulations of daily life. To him, this was relaxing. Just a book, time alone and not hearing the voices as he read. Alas, he was sure Lunch was also soon to be ready, so he prepared himself to head out and eat.
He hoped it wasn't the usual synthetic slop that the Republic kept tossing over the walls. It tasted wrong and Shinei knew what 'tasted wrong'. He continued reading, unbothered by the sounds of his comrades, kids themselves, running down the halls of the base, laughing and probably just acting their usual calm selves. Sighing, he arranged his scarf, tugging at it gently to ensure it hid everything it needed to hide properly, before turning back to read the book by Remarque.
Surely, one would find displeasure in raiding abandoned houses to find either remnants of bookshelves and/or whole bookshelves themselves. It wasn't something digital as one would expect the youth to utilize nowadays, nor was it anything really interesting to many of his peers in the Squadron. Yet, it was better than nothing for the last of the Nouzens. He shifted in his seat, hearing faint echoes and scratching his right earlobe, wherein his Para-RAID Device resided.
The Para-RAID Device was a strange little item to Shin. It allowed for a nigh-instantaneous connection between multiple people that wore the device itself. For those like him, meaning Processors for the Republic Military's Juggernaut 'automated' drones, it was an obligatory piece of their uniform, meant to allow them to communicate with their 'Handlers' from beyond the Gran Mur defensive wall.
'Obligatory' meant the Republic had seen fit to stick the things to their ears like implants, with an added extra device somewhere Shin could not exactly pinpoint. Speaking of Handlers, Spearhead had just recently lost another one of theirs to the enemy, not as a military casualty, but rather because he was driven insane. Shin had wanted to comment to himself on that front, but stopped as he heard the ringing of a metal pot being hit with a wooden spoon.
Sighing, he closed his book, making a bookmark on the page he was left, before standing up. He marched out the door, to the sound of the rest of his squadron rushing for lunch. Two of his comrades, a red-haired boy with scarlet eyes and a brown-haired girl with blue eyes. Both of them stopped, their desert-tan uniforms' jackets fluttering behind them as they did, before Lecca Lin, the girl, slowly turned toward him, scared.
"S-Sorry, Shin. Did we bump into you?" She inquired, with the other boy not even turning to face Shin. Haruto Keats.
Callsigns Burnt Tayl and Falke, respectively. Two of the rowdier members of Spearhead, Shin recalled. Always got into trouble together. At least when Lecca wasn't with Myna and Mikuri, anyway. The young Captain shook his head, stating, "I'm fine, Lecca. Go," which seemed to make the two comrades of his sigh in relief. She smiled again, gave Shin a mock salute, then dashed forward with Haruto close beside her.
Shin sighed, then looked at himself in a broken mirror on the wall. Jet-black hair and scarlet eyes met his gaze, as well as a young face. He pulled at the scarf around his neck, lifting the edge to hide the ugly scar around his neck. Letting out another deep exhale, the boy turned to the sound of footsteps, only to see a beautiful young woman, her jet-black hair caught in a ponytail and her charcoal-colored eyes glimmering in the LED lights above.
She smirked, then said, "I see Haruto and Lecca are still as nutty as yesterday."
"Seems like it," Shin replied, "Good morning, Kaie."
"Mornin' to you as well, Shin," She nodded, "Shall we?"
He nodded, his face a permanent deadpan. Kaie Tanya, callsign Kirschblüte. She was one of the pillars of the team and probably the oldest of the lot at eighteen years of age. She was supposedly of an Eastern descent, though Shin couldn't exactly pinpoint her supposed 'race'. Nor could he pinpoint anyone else's, to be quite honest. He didn't care, either. They were all his comrades.
"So, did you hear?" She inquired. Shin looked to her, raising a brow, before Kaie continued, "The White Pigs already slated a new Handler for us."
"Oh," Shin replied, his face still a deadpan. Unsurprising, honestly. The Republic cared as little for some of their men as they did for the Eighty-Six, it seemed. Another Handler, another person that would break. Well, 'person' was a relative term. To Shin and his friends, the White Pigs that had stuck them outside the safety of the Eighty-Five Sectors were not human. And the feeling was most definitely mutual. Shin knew as much.
"Yeah," Kaie shrugged, "Don't know what's with the Republic. They've lost a couple of Handlers already. Why waste more on us?"
"They want us on a tight leash," Shin murmured as they marched down the halls. Kaie chuckled, though she agreed with the assessment. It was only natural that the White Pigs kept one of their best toys close to their chest 'till they needed it. Or were they their pretty little attack dogs? The girl didn't know, nor did she care. All she knew was that the world was a lot worse for wear than when her parents had left it. And it was pretty bad back then, too...
The two entered the mess hall, wherein the scent of cooked food assaulted the two Processors' nostrils. One of Raiden's classic omelets lay in each tray, with other various items like a hot drink, some basic bread and even some meat here and there from their daily hunts resting on the platter. Raiden waved to the two from the kitchen as the rest of Spearhead settled in.
Shin and Kaie both sat themselves down at their usual seats while another pair of members from Spearhead joined up late. A blonde-haired boy with deep blue eyes named Daiya Irma(one of the team's goofier members) and a silver-haired beauty, also with eyes the colors of the sea and a small mole on the left, close to her eye, joined the group. Anju Emma was the latter's name.
Black Dog and Snow Witch, Shin recalled as Daiya greeted, "Hey, folks! Sorry we're late, but we had to help the Old Man with some repairs."
"Did he complain about Shin to you guys again?" Chuckled another boy. Though his voice hadn't been hit by puberty as hard as Daiya's or, well, any other boy's, Theoto Rikka, callsign Laughing Fox, aso known simply as Theo, was one of the more stand-out members of the group. Dirty blonde hair, green eyes and a penchant for art. He had a pencil and a blank-page notebook with bigger pages designed specifically for drawing.
Anju chuckled as she sat down, "As usual," and she looked to Shin, "He said you busted an actuator this time."
"Hm," Shin shrugged, pulling another book out of his pocket. Whatever that meant. Shin was aware enough of the inner workings of his Juggernaut to make do with field maintenance when on a longer patrol. Those rarely happened, however. He heard the giggles of his female comrades and turned to see Kaie and Anju both looking at him and giggling.
"As usual, Shinei Nouzen in a trance," Quipped Raiden as he walked out with his food. The man joked, but, like all those within the room, he was aware of Shin's predicament in regards to their main enemy. Raiden himself was a boy with steel-green hair and eyes and two scars, one running down from his cheek to his chin and one across the top of his head, near his right eye. He set two plates of vegetables on the table and said, "Made salad this time."
"Nice!" Haruto smirked.
"A blessing in disguise, this Raiden," Chuckled Lecca, "You're gonna make a girl very happy if you get anywhere near home."
Laughter echoed across the mess hall, one with an undertone of sadness. Every Eighty-Six knew that their world had been turned upside down with no real way to return it to normal as of right now, but they made the most of the hand they were dealt, even as the situation around them grew more and more desperate. The kids had gotten used to being literally past rock bottom and squarely aiming for the planet's core.
Shifting his position in his chair, Shin turned toward and started eating, while Kurena, yet another of their teammates, one with dark-red hair and eyes, started, "So, did you folks hear we're already getting a new handler?"
"Really?"
"Again? Don't those White Pigs learn?"
"Pfahaha. I'm sorry for the poor schmuck who's landed with us now."
As usual, the rowdiest of the corps started talking trash toward the Alba. Shin, meanwhile, continued reading his book, while Raiden and the others watched him. The discussion evolved further into a debate while the officers continued doing their own thing, like eating, drawing, reading, or pining over Shin, as per a case-by-case basis, the lattermost of which involved Kurena. Shin had noticed, of course.
He wished at times that he wasn't part of a military whose front-line troops were nothing but teenagers. Alas, with that in mind, he chose to continue his reading session and eat. All the while, Anju and Daiya were engaged in small-talk when the former of the two felt something rub up against her leg. She looked down and smiled as she saw one of their pets. A black cat with white paws, a white belly and golden-eyes. Anju called out, "Kitty! Came for the food?"
It mewoed in response, which garnered a chuckle out of Anju as she started feeding it, while Theo spoke, "I wonder what our new Handler's gonna be like...?"
"Like, what flavor of jackass?" Haruto inquired, flashing Theo a grin. The artist Eighty-Sixer chuckled, then shrugged.
"I bet he's going to be another one of those same types of up-their-own-ass members of Alba community.," Sighed Kaie.
Shin didn't know if he should agree or not, but the moment his ear thrummed with the sound of his Para-RAID turning on, something told him they were gonna find out what they were going to be dealing with for the next few days until the next madness event pretty soon. Even what the Para-RAID allowed them to feel told him as much. This was it. Their new handler...
Rita sighed as the morning routine repeated, though she awoke well-rested this time. No nightmares, no new screams, no new nothing. She had changed into her uniform, washed her face, prepared and then departed for the Palace Blancneige after bidding goodbye to her mother. The trip was much the same, with the woman on the television spouting the same propaganda yet again. At least her dad didn't forget his lunch home this time.
Blancneige, however, was more warming this time. She caught Lena first and met her with an open-palm tap on the shoulder. Handler One turned toward her compatriot and cooperating partner in fighting for the betterment of their fellow human beings. Today was gonna be the day they headed right off for the patrol duties. Spearhead and Brísingamen deployed relatively early in the morning for their patrols and that meant that they were already back home, waiting for the next run.
Well, Rita wasn't gonna complain. She liked more active squadrons over the standard-issue slow-ass boring day. It was a reason she'd requested to be set with Preacher as her Squadron of choice after she passed through Handler School. She and Lena continued their stroll toward their own designated rooms in the HQ, with Lena noting, "At least mom decided to be nice and not pester me about marriage today... But she went on a whole tangent about the military."
"Isn't that just your mom's usual style?" Rita inquired with little problem, having met Margareta Milizé, the matriarch and current family leader of the Milizés after the tragic passing of Lena's father nearly eight years ago, multiple times across their tenure as close friends. Margareta was not an easy woman to please and she was even more of a bitch than most other high-born Alba.
Though, Rita did like her gumption when it came to trying to get Lena out of the military. If the woman focused half that desire onto something productive for the nation(and if Lena ever managed to turn her to the right side) Ol' Maggie might become one of the strongest allies that they'd have in the midst of this entire mess of trying to deal with the Republic's system while keeping the Processors of the Squadrons alive for long enough.
"Yes," Lena sighed, putting her cap on, "It's almost as if she doesn't understand we have a job."
"Not a lot of people understand what we're really trying to do, Lena. Especially not family," Rita replied, tugging at the collar of the white shirt under her uniform. She sighed deeply, then said, "Anyways, onto another matter..." and she smirked, "I made some chiffon cake last night. Thought we could share it with dad after we're off-duty, if you want."
Though it was evidence of her dour mood moments ago, what with the frown, Lena's face now emanated pure joy as she looked at her best friend. Indeed, Rita knew what buttons to press to make Vladilena feel better about the day, despite her own mother's best attempts at somehow fucking up that day for her. The bespectacled Handler chuckled, then said, "Alright, let's hurry up. Spearhead must already be waiting to start their second daily patrol."
"Alright," Lena smiled as they entered the main corridor for the Handler rooms. She stopped, then said to Rita, "Rita... Do them and yourself a favor and maybe talk to them first? Maybe even ask them their names? Callsigns? Stuff like that...?"
"I'll do a basic early introduction... Was gonna tell my name to Preacher and ask theirs before we got reassigned, so I figure I have to start over with building trust here," Rita replied, aware that she did need to build some sort of working relationship with Spearhead. She saw Lena's look of concern, then said, "Don't worry, Lena. We'll both be fine with our new squadrons, alright?"
Lena took a moment, then sighed and answered, "Okay. Let's get to it, then."
The two nodded to each-other, then entered their respective Handler rooms, with Rita taking her seat moments later. She put on her Para-RAID Choker, then turned it on by uttering the phrase, "Para-RAID, Activate, synchronization target:Spearhead Processor, Undertaker," and feeling the cerebral connections establish with the new person she targeted via the device.
She felt the connection click, then spoke calmly, "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Handler Two speaking. I'll be your new caretaker from now on. I'm gonna be blunt, I don't expect any of y'all to like me and that's understandable, but I'm gonna try to give you people proper orders and do the best I can to make sure you return home when the mission or patrol for the day's done."
She hummed, then quipped "I also won't be referring to any of you as pigs, piglets or some other crap like that. Not my shtick," and she grinned. Waiting for a moment to see if her audience would respond, Rita allowed herself a moment to think about what she was doing. She probably needed to get Spearhead's names fast, if she was to actually, properly talk to them instead of referring to them by their callsigns.
"Copy, Handler Two," A monotone, almost familiar male voice replied finally, causing Rita's heart to stop for a microsecond. There was a hint of unease and a lack of trust in his words, "This is Undertaker, captain and acting lead officer of the Eastern Front's First Ward's First Combat Squadron 'Spearhead'. Just call me Undertaker for now, for convenience's sake.."
"Pleasure to finally make acquaintances with the Ghost Story himself," Chuckled Rita, "You're quite known for your number on some of my fellow compatriots. Good job with the Ghost Story-style legend around you, man," And that did, in fact, seem to get a few laughs out of the crew. She continued, "Eitherway, the world's big, we're all small, how about we all get to know each-other, eh? First of all, your callsigns, please..."
"Always the callsigns, first," Murmured a boy that sounded pre-pubescent almost. He sighed deeply, "This is Laughing Fox. Try not to be a pain in the ass, would you, Handler Two?"
The Alba gal snorted, then said, "Afraid I can't promise that one, Laughing Fox," and she arranged her cap as the boy let out a faux-groan, "And don't worry. We'll see about names when we trust each-other a bit more, aye?" and several of the crew let out affirmative answers, which eased her in. Sure, she still felt the animosity through the Para-RAID, but at least it wasn't as suffocating now as it could have very well been.
"Laughing Fox is right, Handler Two. Let's keep it smart, shall we? This is Wehrwolf, by the way, Squadron Executive Officer." A more manly voice called to Rita, though he seemed actually relaxed. The sound of something sizzling in the background filled her ears, before a little yelp of pain echoed over the com. So, it was cooking. And she presumed Wehrwolf had just lightly burned himself.
She spoke, "Don't go killing yourself while making food, Wehrwolf. Not in the mood to lose one of my soldiers to something as stupid as a cooking accident."
The man let out a single, clearly amused "Ha!" as he stirred something. Meanwhile, another contact, a girl replied, her voice slightly grating and clearly younger, "Gunslinger here, Handler Two. Don't expect me to talk too much," and thank the gods for that one. The girl seemed a bit more mean than the others, but she understood. Not every Colorata could fake kindness toward one of their oppressors.
"That's absolutely fine, Gunslinger," Smirked Rita as she wrote something down on a paper.
"Hello, Handler Two," Another young woman spoke, "You sound kinda young. Also, Kirschblüte here."
"Hello to you, too, Kirschblüte. You're one to speak about youth while sounding like you still play with dolls," The girl clapped back, giggling as the Eighty-Six girl let out a little laugh. They seemed like good people so far. Rita was sure they could have a very good professional and on-duty relationship, but it may have been too early to judge it for now. She trusted they'd do their jobs, being an Elite squadron and all.
"Least you can take and dish out words, boss-lady! Falke, here!" Another younger lad called out, probably grinning.
"And Burnt Tayl. Hey, Handler Two. Disregard Falke's messing about," A more mature girl quipped, which got a rise out of Falke. Rita snorted, smile growing.
"Good to meet you both, Falke, Burnt Tayl. And yeah, I live in this place. I gotta have thick skin. Also ,it's fine. Least I know I have people to talk to if more of y'all are like Falke and are just hiding outta fear the big, mean White Sow that replaced your most recent pig overlord would send you out to die for saying something unbecoming or hateful toward us. I can dish back without going into ad-hominems," She shot back, then heard the pure confusion in a little exclamation Falke let out, while Burnt Tayl giggled.
"You seem awfully relaxed for an Alba if you don't mind me saying, Handler Two! Hello! I'm Black Dog! If you need someone to herd Legion, look no further than I!" The next man said with some degree of bravado in his way of acting. Rita appreciated the enthusiasm, definitely. She tapped her pen on the paper she was writing as she looked over live-streamed reports from the Front.
"Hey there, Black Dog. Bet you got a mean bite when pissed off."
"Hahah! Maybe!"
"You don't know the half of it," A more elegant voice added, "Good day, Handler Two. This is Snow Witch."
"Pleasure to hear your voice, Snow Witch... You sound like an aristocrat," Rita chuckled. The young woman also let out a short laugh through the para-RAID, followed by the rest of the Squadron's survivors introducing themselves just as succinctly and broadly as possible, though she could tell their demeanors from the way they spoke. There was still an air of resentment behind the façade of friendliness. Surely, some of them must've thought of her as nothing but a glory hog or a fake who'd be laughing with her other 'White Pig' friends about the stupid Eighty-Six they had under their command later today.
Well, that wasn't Rita, really. She was just glad to have someone to talk to for a change that wasn't just Lena, her dad or her mom. She hummed, then leaned toward her console and said, "You folks sure sound like a colorful bunch down there. Kind of unsurprising that nobody could really wrangle you 'till now, I assume..." and it really wasn't. Any squadron that cared so little about military protocol was something else.
"You can certainly say that," Undertaker spoke, some hint of amusement behind the stone-cold words he spoke. He hummed, then said, "We'll begin our scouting operations... Incoming."
Rita paused, then turned to the empty Radar screen and said, "I have nothing on scopes, Capt-" and she paused as she saw the first dots of small legion units winking on. Surprised, shocked, baffled and perhaps even concerned, Rita inquired, "How did you do that...?" as she heard the engine of a Juggernaut rev, muffled in the background, followed by the emergence of Spearhead's large numbers.
"A long story for when and if we trust you..." Replied Undertaker, cold, "Your orders?"
Rita hummed...
Then she grinned...
Time to test out SPEARHEAD itself.