AN: Quick thing before I begin, I've started reading the Manga, and Rory is infinitely more terrifying in that than she is in the anime. Also she kills more people and much more quickly than in the anime, which makes me believe that I underestimated her fighting capabilities. Also I found I liked the art style in the manga better. Pina actually looked like a woman rather than a 15 year old and in general I found that things looked better and the clothing made more sense. I found that Pina actually looked kinda beautiful honestly, but also a lot smarter diplomatically. She threatened to destroy that lord's kingdom in the beginning if he didn't give more information, which she didn't in the anime. That makes me think that she has more backbone and will change how I write her.
"I can't believe you made it back in one piece sir. Well, not quite in one piece, but our little darling here put you back together again," said Boris ruffling Luella's hair who was blushing in embarrassment.
"W-well I said that I could use magic, just that no one really believed me," said Luella, the elf's face continuing to turn a deeper shade of crimson. "I-I mean we can use it anytime we want, it's just that, um, well. We, um we," stuttered Luella, stumbling over her own tongue as she received praise her modest nature never had to deal with before.
"It's sacred a-and, um, stuff," finished Luella rather lamely, looking like if she turned any redder she would pop.
"You're just a doll darling," preened Boris, drawing Luella into a hug which the elf yelped in surprise at, but didn't offer any resistance to.
When Ianthe had brought Feliks back to the rest of the patrol column, his chest had been a bloody ruin, barely alive and soon to be on deaths door. Vitsin had done his best to help, but the young medic was being asked to do something impossible without a full surgical team and even with that it would have been doubtful for Volkin to survive.
Then Luella, the ever cheerful, but timid elf had come forward and began to sing, kneeling over the dying man. What followed had shocked every man present allowing a deafening hush to fall over the clearing save for the high clear voice of the elf. Golden light had filled the clearing where they had parked the BTRs and the grievous wound on the Lieutenant's chest had closed. Broken bones mending, popping back into place as flesh began knitting back together. When the last clear note of Luella's voice had faded and the last glimmer of light had dimmed out of existence, it was as if it had never happened.
Nobody knew how to deal with the realization that magic was real, but despite its use, the fact that it was the small and ever helpful elf that could use it assuaged many fears about it. Namely that it would be used to do bad things against them. Luella didn't even eat meat and had even cried when Ianthe had caught a rabbit one night to cook her own food. As such, nobody was too concerned about the small elf using her literal magical powers against them. Despite their lack of concern that she would harm them, the small elf was treated with more deference now.
Before it had been understood that she wasn't human, but aside from the minor physical differences, the separation had never truly been fully acknowledged. The revelation of her powers had cemented the fact that she wasn't human. Perhaps even beyond human ken. Feliks himself should have been more astounded, but at this point Zeus could literally descend from the heavens and it would not surprise him in the slightest.
On a sadder note however, they had lost two of Dima's men who had been assigned to driving the now destroyed jeeps. Having completed their mission to investigate Alnus Hill however, they were making a beeline back towards camp Zhukov. One person riding in the BTR with them was looking immensely pleased with herself however, the mercenary Ianthe. An almost perpetual grin on her face. She spoke in an unhurried way in her own language, inspecting her fingers. Luella's ears perked up immediately, listening to what the mercenary was saying.
"Ianthe says that you owe her more money, because you violated the terms of the contract," said Luella.
"What?" asked Feliks, surprised.
"Yes. She says that she was only hired to scout and not to fight. She also says that her equipment was damaged or destroyed, including a mythril longsword. Oh, and a mythril dagger."
"Is she serious?"
Luella spoke quickly to the mercenary, who uncharacteristically stayed calm, and in fact almost seemed like a pleased cat getting ready to purr.
"She says that she is very serious and is quite frankly offended by your lack of gratitude. She said that she not only rescued you and your men, suffering significant losses of equipment, but also injury to herself and to Maximus. She says that having to go so far beyond the terms of the contract should merit a proportionally appropriate reward."
"How much does she think is proportionate?"
"Ianthe says that she wants two gold pieces."
"Okay, that's fine," said Feliks, his apparent quick acceptance of the demand completely taking the mercenary off guard who said something quickly to Luella again.
"She also says that she wants you to pay the costs for new equipment for both herself and her mount. The full costs, not just the percentage promised."
"Sure, tell her to send me the bill," said Feliks laying back to get some sleep.
"She says that she want her equipment to be of higher quality that what she previously had," said Luella, translating the ever more animated voice of the mercenary, taking on the tone of an excited child being told they can have whatever they want.
"Tell her she can get whatever she needs," said Feliks. Not needing to have his eyes open to see the mixture of disbelief and outright glee on Ianthe's face. So far as he was concerned she could have whatever she wanted. They had been given an entire case full of gold before they had left Zhukov and after hitting that tax caravan had enough silver to melt down into several life sized statues of someone. They couldn't use it and so far as Feliks was concerned Ianthe could have all of it if she wanted to. Well, maybe not all of it. Feliks still wanted her to work for her money. He smiled at the thought. It had been well worth the money to hire the mercenary a stroke of good fortune in fact to stumble across her.
He wasn't overly concerned about being found, the drivers were going in shifts and they were making a direct beeline back to Zhukov. They weren't stopping for anything or anyone so whereas before it had taken them nearly ten days of traveling to reach Alnus, it would take only a fraction of that to make it back to Mt. Rubicon.
Feliks had considered doing a more stealthy withdrawal, but with the JSDF and American technology obviously ahead of theirs, save in fuel economy, speed was their best bet now and the column wouldn't stop rolling until they got to Zhukov.
Xxx
5 days later, Alnus Hill
"The final reports are two dead JGSDF soldiers, with three US marines and four more SDF soldiers in critical condition with severe burns. The soldiers calling themselves the Red Army of the Soviet Union have also escaped. Two were killed three miles to the south when they resisted recapture though sir."
Lieutenant General Hazama rested his head on his hands as he took everything in. Their being here in the Special Region was tenuous at best, not so much from military threat, but from political pressure back in Japan. The Americans were here with them, about three thousand all told, bringing with them heavy armor and weapons the likes of which that Japan had been reluctant to deploy, instead deploying the older Type-74s. In fact everything they had was last generation weaponry, from their tanks to their cobra and Huey helicopters. Their whole deployment spoke of trying to be as financially insignificant as possible. In fact the only reason they had gotten as much as they had was because of the massacre in Ginza and the public demand for them to be here. However, there was also a faction within Japan that merely wanted them to seal off the gate, bury it under tonnes of dirt on both sides, weld heavy slabs of steel over it, fill it with concrete, and forget about it. Sending bodies in bags back to Japan wouldn't increase the popularity of their mission in the slightest.
"This is a real mess," said Hazama, looking out his window, which had a view of most of Alnus hill. His office was, clean, spartan, and orderly. The office of a man who was committed to his work the only way a career soldier can be. He was older, but despite the odd natural disaster relief coordination work, he had never had to command his men outside of training. As such he was not unduly aged as some of his colleagues in foreign military forces had been. His hair for the most part was still dark and the lines on his face were the irrevocable march of age rather than a recent addition from stress. His new command seemed determined to correct that though.
"Two dead, seven injured, one of which may never walk again, and a dragon attack right in the middle of our camp. On top of all of that, we've received reports about this Rory Mercury that's taken to traveling with Lieutenant Itami Youji. Were the reports perhaps...exaggerated?" asked Hazama, like a man hoping to find a shred of good news in a field of bad.
"No sir. The reports have been corroborated by several eye witness accounts and in the case of the dragon attack, video footage. When she fought the mercenary in the village, she was stabbed through completely by a longsword, as well as a knife in her throat. Despite this, she threw her assailant, who was armored through two walls and showed no visible wounds afterward. Her strength is...unnatural sir."
"She said she was an...Apostle of Emroy in her refugee application correct?" asked Hazama, sifting through reports on his desk. "The god of war, death and murder? Sometimes called the god of darkness?"
"Yes sir. She said that her...weapon was a symbol of religious office as well as a relic and as such we allowed her to keep it since she is staying in the Alnus living community. We believed that she was just a child trying to cope with loss, so we never thought too much about it."
"That may have been a mistake, but I don't know what can be done about it," said Hazama wearily. "The report pertaining to the fire dragon attacking the refugees. It said that she helped our soldiers in defeating it, however, a part was overlooked over in the report; because of the name of the officer who made it. At the time his immediate superior dismissed it as him trying to get a rise out of him. However, with recent events brought to light, it would seem that he was not being as glib as was thought. Itami had said that Rory, had used her halberd-like weapon like to help fight the dragon, cracking the ground like a 155 had hit it. Obviously because it was..."
"Itami, sir," said Yangida knowingly.
"Yes. Because it was Lieutenant Itami who made the report, we didn't take it at face value. With recent events however, we must now believe all accounts to be true. Tell me Yangida, do you think that Itami can keep this Rory Mercury and the magic casters with him in check?"
"I believe so sir. Itami may be a slacker and an otaku, but he has shown to have a knack for inspiring loyalty in others. I do believe that he can continue to do so, though I would be lying if I said that I wasn't concerned."
"Yes. For the time being they'll be going to the Diet to explain what happened with the dragon attack when they get back from Italica. We've been getting pressure from our American allies as well for a more detailed report for what happened."
"Namely the security footage?" asked Yangida.
Hazama gave a nod.
"The American's are funding a great deal of this operation, our costs and theirs. Honestly though, I'm a little worried what will happen when it becomes general knowledge that we aren't just facing medieval armies here. Magic that can incapacitate soldiers immediately. A self proclaimed demigoddess that is nearly a thousand years old, with inhuman strength, seemingly invulnerable. Those things will change the shape of our mission immensely. Then there's the matter of the Soviet Soldiers we encountered."
"That one was taken out of our hands sir," said Yangida. "By both American military intelligence and our own."
"I realize that, but they mishandled that. The conversation I had with the young officer was frank and to the point, but more than that he was willing to arrange a meeting with his superiors and us. He didn't seem like a die hard political officer or have an aversion to having dealings with countries that weren't communist. It was an opportunity that we may have soured on both sides now. With dead soldiers on both sides, friendly relations will be harder to achieve. Especially since the last things he said to the intelligence officers before he refused to answer any more questions was that he considered himself a prisoner of war. If he reports back that we are hostile, it may make conflict inevitable which I fear will cause us to withdraw from the Special Region."
"Do you think that these Soviets would initiate hostilities sir?"
"I don't know. If they're anything like the Soviet Union from out history, they may prove to be expansionist and aggressive, eager to spread communism. So far removed from their own territory, they may not fear nuclear reprisal or using nuclear weapons themselves. The Soviet Nuclear doctrine called for more tactical nuclear weapons than NATO's did, and if their doctrine is the same then they may have several tactical nukes with them here in the Special Region right now. However, the Soviets, I don't believe would jump into a war when they didn't know why they were fighting it. They will be cautious. They won't want to jeopardize their mission here with unnecessary fighting. However, I don't know how long they will be cautious for."
"Itami did say that they traveled several hundred nautical miles sir. If that is the case it will be at least a few days before they deliver their report. Itami said that the Soviet's didn't have any tents with them in the jeeps or even bedrolls which led him to say in his report that the heavier vehicles of the patrol group were most likely hidden. If that is true and their officer is wounded it will take them some time to return."
"We haven't detected any long range radio communication either, which means that they're maintaining radio silence. It'll buy us some time to salvage this situation anyways," said Hazama.
"Sir if I may make a suggestion?"
"What is it Yangida?"
"Lieutenant Itami said that he and the Soviet Officer got along well, and Itami has shown to be able to keep a level head when faced with adversity, and an adaptability when faced with unforeseen situations. He is a known quantity to the Soviet Officer. May I recommend...delaying the Diet summons and sending Itami to the Soviet's immediately when he get back from Italica? The diplomat Sugawara from foreign affairs is in camp currently isn't he? He was stationed in the Russian Federation for a few years and can act as an interpreter if necessary."
Despite himself, Hazama's jaw would have hit the floor if he were in an anime and it took him a moment to realize that the lieutenant was serious.
"L-Lieutenant Yangida, I don't have the authority to say no to the Diet!"
"Don't tell them no, tell them they have to wait," said Yangida.
"I can't do that either!"
"I speak with all honesty when I say that Itami is probably our best bet and like you said General, we have to try and salvage this situation as best we can. Itami also has a knack for sniffing out dangerous situations and avoiding them. Plus, if their history is anything like ours, I don't think they'd take too kindly to seeing Americans on their doorstep."
Despite the fact that it could mean the end of his career, even if it succeeded, Hazama knew that his aide was correct. Even in lieu of the fact that Yangida was a self-admitted 'patriot' who advocated a policy of isolationism and independence from the outside world; no doubt privately seeing the Special Region as a way to make Imperial Japan a reality again, it didn't make his observations any less correct. Even if his plan completely excluded the Americans from it, basically outright saying so.
"Itami and the 3rd recon group are almost back at Alnus, correct?" asked Hazama.
"That is correct sir."
"Meet him as soon as he arrives. We've got a rough idea where the Soviet's are from the refugee's rumors. Add a supply truck to his recon team and tell him immediately after they get fresh supplies and a hot meal, they'll be heading out. Tell him to leave that Rory Mercury behind too. I don't want her causing an incident. Well, a further incident."
"What do you want me to tell Brigadier General Mitchel?"
"As of right now, nothing. We'll let Itami take Sugawara in and hopefully defuse the situation before it escalates anymore than it already has. The Soviet Union hasn't existed for thirty years, but there is still a cultural hate for it. In Japan, but especially in the United States. Our government right now is the most nationalist we've had in the last thirty years and is looking for a way to work around our constitution to revive something of Imperial Japan. Albeit without spending a lot of money. The United States on the other hand is under a republican presidency that's looking for a victory they can give to their public after decades of frustration fighting insurgents. Add to this the resources at stake in the special region, the public support after the massacre in Ginza and now several casualties inflicted by a foreign power and we're looking at a flashpoint scenario."
"What do you want me to tell the General Mitchel when he does find out?"
"Nothing. I'll talk to him. You're dismissed Yangida."
"General, there is one more thing of note.".
"What's that?"
"The jeeps that the Soviets were using were aesthetically identical to the ones from our Soviet Union. However, the mechanics taking them apart said that the engines were nothing like they'd seen before. Not more powerful than what we have now, but the way they were set up they said was ingenious. That potentially they could be far more efficient than what we use."
"What about the rest of their equipment?"
"Soviet equipment roughly from late sixties to sometime in the seventies.
Xxx
"Forgive my brain fog General, the past week has been rather intensive," said a man in a major's uniform, yawning expansively.
"That is alright, please continue Major Pajari. You have come highly recommended by Field Marshal Konev so I am expecting good news."
"General if it would be alright, could you just refer to me as doctor? I prefer that to the rank given to me by the military."
"Very well Dr. Pajari, what have you learned from the warrior bunny?"
Doctor Pajari's eyes lit up, the way a mans eyes do when about to discuss a subject of great excitement for him, leaning forwards in his chair, fatigue seemingly forgotten. Like the dark bags underneath his eyes were no more than a trick of the light.
Pajari wasn't overly old, mid thirties, but handsome. Having the look of a youthful college professor, with an open and inviting face and giving off the air of quiet academic scholarship to those that spoke to him. Often quoting Shakespeare, and Greek Philosophers, Pajari was a man knowledgeable about many subjects and delved into new ones regularly. He appeared to be a man more at ease in the halls of education, debating the turning points of history and new advances in technology in quiet, scholarly tones in a simple suit, rather than in a military uniform. His dark brown hair was groomed with meticulous detail, his eyes sparkling like they were barely holding back their mirth, a perpetual kind grin on his face. In all, he reminded Konev of one of his professors that the girls in his class had swooned over.
"A great deal General, first and foremost though I would wish for you to extend my gratitude to our elfin allies. Their healing magic was a quite unexpected boon. I thought I was going to be working within a very limited time frame, instead I was given all the time I needed. More than needed in fact and the subjects good health certainly expedited the process. She revealed the name of the one who hired her and her sisters. In the literal sense, not a comradely one I might add. An Imperial officer by the name of Octavian, a member of their mounted legionnaire unit. They needed money and he offered them each three gold pieces for the job."
"I see, what did she reveal about this Octavian? Is he a high ranking officer?"
"Hardly sir, he's a company grade officer, a captain or centurion as some have called them. From what I was able to learn from Felicia-"
"I'm sorry, Felicia?"
"Oh, that's right my apologies General. The warrior bunny's name is Felicia, her sisters were Cyan and Pyuule. Lovely names actually, quite endearing in the way they relied on each other so much growing up and how they stayed together to survive after the Empire conquered their homeland."
"I will be frank Doctor, it concerns me that you have gotten onto a first name basis with the demi-human and your concern for her personal life. Do you believe that your feelings may have skewed the results of your findings?" asked Alexandrov.
Pajari smiled, seemingly unable to stop himself before he answered.
"General, I never let feelings get in the way of my work. I was completely thorough in my interrogation."
"Good. You were saying Doctor?"
"Oh yes. It appears that our men, possibly one of our recon teams wiped out his patrol group and he barely survived his wounds. He still seemed to be recovering, being pale and weak when he hired the warrior bunny sisters. Using a cane to walk even. Felicia said that they were hired while passing through the village of Blenheim to kill the leader of the other world forces, which they took to mean us. They infiltrated the column of escaped slaves to get into camp, then acted, not as prostitutes, but something similar. I wasn't able to entirely able to translate the word."
"The elves couldn't tell you what it meant?"
"No General, I presume that they could, but I prefer to work alone. I find that others being present when I work distracts both me and the subject, hindering the process. Felicia explained that the word meant something along the lines of a comforter and a performer. Something similar to a Japanese Geisha woman. They managed to get solicited by a member of your staff, thus gaining entry to the HQ. The man was killed as you are well aware, his body put into a utility closet and the rest I'm sure you're quite familiar with."
"I am. Where is this Octavian now?"
"Felicia was not sure. They were supposed to meet in Blenheim four days ago, but now she doesn't know where he might be. Her best guess in the region's fort. Some two thousand men present on a permanent basis to keep order since this is the far reaches of the Empire. The inference makes sense. Going to a command and control hub to communicate with your superior when presented with an unknown situation is a common practice. Especially with a strictly disciplined and hierarchical force like the Empire's legions. "
"It does make sense, but she also has reason to hate us and no reason to help. Are you sure that she wasn't withholding information from you Doctor?"
"I was most thorough General."
"I see. Well now that we know who tried to have me killed and where he is, there is only the matter of returning the favor. Tell me, what is the condition of the warrior bunny?"
"Quite well and in good health General, I assure you," said Dr. Pajari, seemingly happy at subject being brought up.
"I see. Have her transferred to the military police. She will be held until such a time we have a military trial to sentence her."
"There is no need to throw her in a cell General, she is quite well behaved."
"What?"
"Felicia, you can come in now," said Pajari, to the closed door. The door opened, and a warrior bunny with red hair and the distinctive ears of her race walked in, eyes downcast, flanked on either side by spetsnaz guards, but unbound and unrestrained, wearing a simple gown like those worn in a hospital, but more substantial.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Alexandrov, hand going to his pistol holster.
"I assure you that won't be necessary General," said Dr. Pajari in a placating manner, standing up and walking over to the warrior bunny. "I had assumed that you would like to have closure about the incident. Felicia, don't you have something that you want to say to the General?"
"Yes," said Felicia in Russian, her voice monotonous and devoid of emotion. She raised her head and Alexandrov saw honey golden eyes, blank though, like nobody was looking out from behind them. Like they were dolls eyes, or the eyes of somebody already dead.
"I am sorry for trying to harm you General, and I grieve the loss of your man. I apologize for both me and my sisters." It sounded rehearsed, memorized with no real thought to the meaning behind the sounds coming from her mouth.
"I taught her some Russian you see, not a lot, but she already knew a substantial amount from being in the camp. Remarkable how intelligent she is," commented Dr. Pajari, stroking the warrior bunny's hair. In that moment, the demi-human's eyes came alive again, as if someone had turned on a light behind them. They did not show deceit though, no clever ploy to get close to Alexandrov again, no great ruse to try to finish the job. No, it was nothing devious at all. It was fear.
It was absolute stark terror that filled those eyes, a sharp intake of breath, and the tiniest of tremors running through her entire body that was rigid as a mannequin as Dr. Pajari ran his hand through her crimson tresses. Every muscle tense, as if expecting the lash. Every breath taken hushed, like someone afraid of being found. Every movement stilled, as if fearful of doing something wrong.
"Do you feel better that you've apologized now Felicia?" asked Pajari, in a kindly way, like one a friend might use on another after finishing a hard project, or handing in an important report. Not a trace of malice or veiled threat, just a seeming genuine interest.
"Yes Doctor." The response was immediate, conditioned and breathless. Hardly more than a whisper, the air barely brushing past her lips as if escaping the body of a corpse. Hushed and hard to hear.
"Pardon? I didn't quite hear you Felicia. Could you speak up a little?" The request was modest, polite even, but the way it was asked appeared to invoke a fresh tremor in Felicia, making her lips quiver before she pressed them together tightly, turning them white before speaking again.
"My apologies Doctor, I feel great now that I have apologized, like a weight has been lifted Doctor."
"Good? Would you like to take a seat?"
"Yes Doctor," said the warrior bunny Felicia quickly, sitting in the proffered chair, adopting immediately a posture that had obviously been taught, sitting straight and uniform, feet together.
"As you can see General, I have been quite thorough in my work. I don't just go for the information I want, I learn absolutely everything about my subject. I have to see if they'll lie to me about other things first, mundane things. Things they don't understand why I'm asking, but I ask them all the same. I personally like to think of it like a game. A puzzle if you will. I have the keys to a few chests that will open more chests, but I must be careful in what order I open them in. Some are easy to open, for example, Felicia, what did you eat this morning?"
"I had toast and jam Doctor."
"See? Simple, mundane and asking that of anyone in the right way I could get them to answer merely by asking. However, there are other secrets, other chests that need opened with different keys. These chests contain their deepest darkest personal secrets. Or ones that they've sworn never to tell to anyone, even under duress. Others, some would rather die that reveal and sometimes they reveal a chest, or you open it and it has a false bottom. For example. Felicia, do you like men or women?"
"Men, Doctor."
"Have you ever thought about sleeping with a woman? Even in passing?"
"Yes Doctor."
"Ever thought of any of your sisters like that Felicia?"
"In passing Doctor."
"See? Once they tell me things they've never told anyone before at the merest prodding, I no longer have to fear being lied to. Simple in theory, but infinitely harder in practice and much harder when you think that you're at that stage, but are in fact being deceived. I believe the American's have a very good saying for it. Playing possum. I did find something amazing about the warrior bunnies though General," said Dr. Pajari, holding up Felicia's arm, the hand at the end trembling ever so slightly.
"Felicia, no fidgeting," said Pajari, a more commanding tone coming into his voice. The warrior bunny's hand immediately became still, but all blood drained from her face.
"Like I was saying General, the amazing thing is that Warrior bunny's have a two tier muscle system. They have the muscles that they use for everyday use, but they can utilize the second set for tremendous bursts of strength and endurance. Incredibly compact and very slow to atrophy, even with little to no use. Though using these muscles beyond minute bursts will tire them considerably and require a much greater amount of calories that they normally would need. Also they will need a prolonged period of rest as it puts a strain on their primary muscles. Much like how humans only use a true fraction of their strength to prevent injury, a safeguard by our own brain. Warrior bunnies possess the unique ability to override their own safeguards at will, but not merely override them, push them into superhuman abilities. Fascinating, isn't it General?" asked Dr. Pajari, poking and prodding the muscles, shifting them ever so slightly to show the different groups. Revealing abnormalities that only further proved the girl was not human.
"Yes, fascinating," parroted Alexandrov, too shocked to say anything else. He hated the warrior bunnies for killing Vlad, would prefer nothing better than to put them up against a wall and have them shot. But this, this seemed...wrong. This Dr. Pajari had broken down a member of a race notoriously strong in both body and mind into this...shadow in just seven days.
It wasn't hot anger, wild and uncontrollable that while natural though sometimes despicable was understandable. This was clinical. Precise and measured in both its approach and goal, no malice in the action, only a desire for results. It was...unsettling to see a man so at ease with what must have been truly horrifying actions. Dr. Pajari never seemed to notice Alexandrov's reservations or revulsion though.
"Autopsies from the two deceased also confirmed stories of the warrior bunnies and their fertility. When they ovulate they release multiple eggs, allowing for muliple chances of conception. The truly amazing part is that they continuously create new eggs in the ovaries. In fac-"
"Doctor I do believe that all of this will be included in your report?"
"Of course General, that and much more. On a personal note I do hope you will be lenient on Felicia. She and her sisters were hungry and needed the money. They can't get regular work in most places on account of being demi-human you see."
"I will take that into consideration," said Alexandrov.
"Thank you General. Come along Felicia, we have more work to do," said Pajari rising.
"Yes Doctor," said the warrior bunny obediently, following exactly three steps behind the Doctor, even carrying his briefcase for him as they left, head bowed subserviently. Alexandrov watched them leave and the girl shut the girl behind them with a soft click.
"Orlov."
"Yes Sir?"
"Find out who that man is and where exactly he came from."
"Yes sir."
xxx
"Why am I always the one that gets stuck doing all the dangerous stuff?" said Itami glumly to no one in particular. He just gets back from Italica where he'd been basically kidnapped, beaten, given lavish treats and treatment by cute maids, then beaten again. After which he'd been apologized to for, profusely by the Imperial Princess who had even now somehow managed to secure her own place in the mission to where the Soviets should be.
How she had managed that and why he of all people was going, Itami would never know. He'd joined the army because it had offered a stable job with a steady paycheck with no real actual threat of having to go to war or do anything really dangerous outside of disaster relief if Japan was hit by an earthquake.
Itami didn't live for his job like most people in Japan did, more just seeing it as a means to an end, his hobby being that end. In between his earning his paycheck and getting time off, Itami had always just kept his head down and tried to be the gray man. Never standing out, never drawing attention, and never trying to get more responsibility than he already had.
His quiet life had been not so quietly derailed after Ginza though. He had just been doing what he'd naturally felt was right and knowing a little more than the average guy about what to do in a crisis had helped. Unfortunately that had him labeled as a hero and shipped off to someplace where internet was spotty, daily showers weren't guaranteed, terrible monsters were trying to kill him, and he had to try to be inspirational. All of those were things that detracted from his hobbies and actually made him have to put serious effort into his work. On the plus side he was basically living in one of his doujins, so it was kind of awesome.
"Hey Kurata, why do you think we always get picked for everything? There's other recon teams that they could send."
"Do you think Persia would like living in Japan? It would be different, but I'm sure she'd like it. I mean I wouldn't mind living anywhere so long as it was with her, but I would prefer Japan."
Itami sighed wearily, leaning back into his seat. Kurata had one thing and one thing only on his brain most of the time before all of this and that had been catgirls. It had been his not so secret fetish and he was reacting like all young men would when an impossible fantasy is not only made real, but actually achievable. That is with single minded determination and joy not thought possible of grown men.
"Do you think I should start saying nyaa? Persia says it a lot, but maybe that's just a cultural thing nyaa? Nyaa. Nyaa! Nyaa, nyaa, nyaa," repeated Kurata like he was trying to mimic the way Persia said it exactly.
"She might think that you're mocking her," said Itami. A look like horror came across Kurata's face.
"No! I would never mock her! Not Persia." Kurata got a dreamy and faraway look in his eyes, no doubt imagining a future filled with his catgirl of choice. "Nyaa," said Kurata, probably not even realizing himself that he'd said it.
"Watch the road baka!" cried out Itami in alarm.
"What? SHIT!" shouted Kurata, slamming on the brakes, the type 73 skidding as it came to a stop. A loud thunk sounding just before it stopped. Kurata had him hands up by his face in anxiety.
"Oh kami, did I hit someone?" moaned Kurata, the young man deeply troubled by the fact.
Itami jumped out of the truck, and ran around to the front, seeing a girl, a siren to be specific several feet in front of the vehicle and prone. The green feathered girl not moving, a handful of belongings scattered about the road in front of her.
"I-I didn't see her. Oh kami," said Kurata moving next to the girl. "Is she dead?"
"I don't know," said Itamit going up next to the immobile girl. When she didn't move for a few moments he picked up a nearby stick and prodded her with it. "She might be," conceded Itami, making Kurata wail in dismay.
"Hey Itami, what's going on-oh kami, did you hit somebody?" asked Shino, the short spitfire making their way next to them. Is she dead?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I mean I poked her with a stick, but-"
"You poked her with a goddamned stick!?" exploded Shino.
"...Yes."
"Baka, I swear to kami," she muttered. "Well at least help her up," demanded Shino, reaching down to help the siren up.
"Wait, her neck might be injured," said Kurokawa, their long haired and tall combat medic running up kit in hand. She knelt down next to the siren and began feeling around her neck, then her hands traveling down the rest of her.
"Do you think she's alright?" asked Kurata watching the proceedings anxiously.
"She'd be better if you hadn't tried to make her roadkill."
"Shino!" said Itami curtly, unusually forceful for the normally laid back man. The one word silencing the sergeant first class.
"Nothing feels broken, but I wasn't trained for sirens."
"Should we take her with us?" asked Kurata.
"Well," began Itami.
"Owwwwww," came the low groan from the siren at their feet, shifting to look up at the people standing above them. She let a terrified yelp after blinking several times to clear her vision.
"Green People!" squeaked the siren, rising to her knees, but seeing herself surrounded let out a fearful moan, more like a bird cooing. Looking quickly between all of the SDF soldiers before shrinking in on herself like she wanted to disappear. Looking between them in a birdlike fashion with almost jerky movements of her head, a whimpering coo coming involuntarily from her throat.
"Are you alright?" asked Itami.
"I-I'm well. I swear I didn't mean to march with the Kingdom of Elbe on Alnus, not if I'd known it was going to be against you! I didn't even fight I swear! I'm no good in a fight even! Please don't put my head on a pike," pleaded the siren, grabbing hold of Itami's leg with an iron grip. "FORGIVE ME!"
"Let go!" said Itami trying to pull away, but the siren had wrapped both arms around his leg and was crying rather loudly.
"I don't want my head on a pike!" bawled the siren. "Have mercy my lord!"
"Itami, what did you say to her?" demanded Shino.
"Nothing, I just asked if she was okay!" defended Itami, falling over as the siren wrapped every appendage she had around his leg, tripping him.
"Don't let her move around, she might be hurt," said Kurokawa.
"I can't stop her!" said Itami exasperated, trying to crawl back to the truck, the crying siren latched firmly onto his leg, getting dragged along with him every time Itami crawled forwards another foot.
I don't want to have my head on a pike!" bawled the siren again.
"I'm not going to put your head of a pike," said Itami, trying to pry the girl of his leg but failing.
"I don't wanna be a slave! I'd make a terrible slave! Ask anyone, I'm terrible at chores and manual labor! I get tired just getting water from a well. I'm always molting and I'm inherently lazy!"
"You're not going to be a damned slave!"
"I DON'T WANT TO BE A CONCUBINE!" shrieked the siren, bawling louder than ever before, burying her face in Itami's leg.
"What are you saying to her Itami?" demanded Shino in a tone that made it apparent she thought he was saying terrible things to the girl.
"Nothing, she just won't let go of me!" said Itami, ignoring Kurokawa's advice and pushing on the siren's face, but even that failed to dislodge the girl, in fact only intensifying the bawling.
"Forgive me!"
"You're forgiven okay? No one is mad at you for anything!"
"R-really?" asked the siren sniffling, looking up from her latched position on Itami's leg.
"Yes."
"So...so you're not going to put my head on a pike?"
"No, we don't even have pikes."
"And, you're not going to sell me as a slave?"
"No, we don't believe in slavery."
"And...I'm not going to be a concubine?" asked the siren hopefully.
"I would never take you as a concubine," said Itami, trying once again to free his leg from the vice grip of the siren girl who had stopped crying and at those words seemed to breath a sigh of relief, letting go and sitting back on her haunches.
"That's such a re-wait a minute. What do you mean you'd never take me as a concubine? Am I not good enough for you or something?" demanded the girl, a cross look on her face. "I mean I know I'm not the prettiest bird in the flock, but not even as a concubine? Really? I mean really?" said the girl, inspecting her bosom.
"Itami, what are you saying to her?" demanded Kurokawa, helping the siren to her feet, getting between Itami and the girl inspecting herself. "Lelei, what were they talking about?"
"They were talking about the siren becoming Itami's concubine," answered the young mage in her ever level tone.
"That's only part of it, and it's not even accurate," said Itami, but received nothing but glares from the female members of the team as they helped the siren into the supply truck when it became apparent that she had a limp and a sore ankle. Getting off surprisingly lightly for having being hit by a vehicle.
Itami sighed wearily as he got back into his vehicle, Kurokawa getting behind the wheel, much more subdued now than before.
"Do you think she'll be okay?"
"Kurokawa, if she can do that after being hit by a truck, I think that she's going to be just fine. Don't worry about it okay? It was an accident and nobody got seriously hurt."
"Yeah, okay," said Kurokawa unconvincingly. Hesitating to put the vehicle in gear.
"Do you want me to drive for a while instead?"
"Yeah, thanks Itami. I guess I'm still just a little freaked out about the whole thing. Sorry about this."
"Don't be. It's nothing to be sorry about, besides you've been doing most of the driving anyways. Been figuring I should do some too."
"Thanks again," said Kurokawa, switching spots with Itami and the column continuing on, albeit with another passenger added to their ranks.
Xxx
"Think you're in trouble?" asked Boris as they walked up to the HQ building.
"Why would I just be in trouble?"
"You're the officer, hence you get the fallout when things go wrong. That, and I doubt that that it's anything good. Never want to stand out my friend. Be the gray man like I've always said. Christ I hate having to go up to the brass. This is the kind of shit that gets you shot," said Boris. The old veteran visibly agitated.
"You were happy I got out before," said Feliks.
"Yeah, but that was before you said you blew up a goddamned building to do it. That's how you start a war."
"Maybe, but protocol is clear when it comes to advanced weapons systems falling into enemy hands. I had no choice. Whatever else comes of it will come."
"What do you mean advanced weapons systems? All you had were jeeps and standard kit."
"Jeeps that have more efficient engines than our enemy possess, hence making them advanced. Since I could not recover them, they had to be destroyed."
"You've got spetsnaz brain sir, you've probably just got us into another damned war."
"I doubt it. If it comes down to it, I'll probably be handed over like a sacrificial lamb to try and ease any hard feelings. I'm not valuable enough to start a war. That being said I certainly haven't helped anything, but neither did they when they kidnapped me and my men."
"I hate going up to the brass," said Boris, fidgeting with his dress uniform.
"Don't worry, I'll take full responsibility for what happened."
"Don't be too quick to say that sir, I've done a bit more living than you have. There's no reason to throw yourself onto your sword because they need someone to blame. Dammit, I know that you did some dumb shit, no offense sir."
"None taken."
"But they must have known what we were going to run into. Don't offer anything they don't ask for and play down the negatives as much as you can. With any luck you'll get off without too much hassle, maybe just a demotion and transfer to Siberia."
"So no saying I blew up a building and killed two JSDF soldiers?"
"Oh god, don't say that sir," sputtered Boris mortified.
Feliks chucked at Boris' expression.
"Why aren't you worried?" demanded the veteran, irritated at his younger superior's calm demeanor.
"Would it help?" deadpanned Feliks.
A few short minutes later, they were waiting outside the General's office in the now finished HQ building that had still been under construction when they left. Utilitarian, spartan, and industrial construction. The hallways reeked of paint as the finishing touches were put into place, but for all intents and purposes the building was operational. The walls would be a sterile white when the paint dried, but Boris switched his attention from the painters to Feliks when he noticed the young man kept glancing at the two military police guarding the door leading to Alexandrov's office.
"What's up?" asked Boris in a subdued tone of voice.
"Those aren't military police," murmured Feliks looking nowhere in particular.
"Same as you then?"
"Yup."
"Goddammit," grunted Boris, grinding his metal teeth.
"Relax, if they were going to do that they wouldn't have called us here."
"You sure about that sir?"
"First hand experience."
"The General will see you now," said one of the faux military police officers. Without further adieu, Feliks and Boris entered the General's office and stood at attention, saluting crisply.
"Hi Boris!" said Luella, the cheerful elf having no regard for military protocol. She was sitting in a plush chair that had obviously been moved next to the general's desk and she was eating a chocolate bar. "Have you guys had this stuff called chocolate? It's great!"
"Miss Luella, remember when we talked about military etiquette?" asked Alexandrov in a fatherly tone to the 'young' elf.
"Yeah," said the elf like a chastised child, nibbling on her chocolate bar.
"Now then gentlemen, I'd like you to take a seat," said Alexandrov gesturing to two chairs set in front of his desk. There was a moments hesitation from the two soldiers before they accepted the informal invitation. Soviet officers, general officers especially, did not usually conduct interviews or receive reports in such a manner. Nothing but absolute respect and subservience was normally permitted. Despite this, both men sat down and placed their caps on their laps, hands folded properly.
"I've read over your reports of what happened on your mission and they're nearly identical, up until you made contact with the JSDF and the American USMC. Now I have a few questions."
xxx
"Damn, I don't know what would be worse, that, or if they had just shot us," said Boris lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, before blowing out an even longer stream of smoke.
"Probably getting shot," said Feliks, snatching the cigarette from Boris and taking a drag.
"I thought you didn't smoke?"
"I quit," said Feliks taking another drag. "But sometimes I need one."
"Getting shot at and captured doesn't make you need one, but talking to the General does? Sir."
"That is correct sergeant."
"Shit, you're more like a young me than I though," said Boris with a chuckle lighting another cigarette.
"But comrade we're all one in our class struggle," said Feliks satirically.
"You know you don't push that near as hard as the other officers do sir," said Boris.
"Can't really blame them. We're supposed to instill loyalty to the party."
"Yeah? So why don't you give speeches like the other officers then sir?"
"I'm not a political officer and personally I don't give a shit if my men like the party or not so long as they do their jobs properly and care about each other. Plus most of those speeches bored the hell outta me and I'm going to guess it's the same for most everyone else."
"Except for Zonov, that guy loves his party gospel."
"That he does Sergeant."
Both man sat and smoked in silence, sitting on crates that had yet to be moved, looking down on the lower rings of the camp. Amazed at how quickly everything was being put up.
"Why do you think Luella was there sir? To put us at ease?"
"Might have been. All I know is that if he's telling a lowly senior lieutenant and his sergeant about recon photos of a group of trucks heading this way we're going to be involved in it."
"So much for being the gray man, sounds like we're the golden boys now," muttered Boris. "Fucking hate getting picked for special assignments. By special you know that they mean dangerous."
"Yeah, but we haven't been picked for anything yet Boris."
"We will be, don't you worry about that sir. Heh, you should have seen how pissed that silver haired bitch was when she got put in with those refugees we took in."
"Don't talk about Ianthe like that," said Feliks, a sudden anger rising up in him similar to that if anyone had mocked his unit.
"She kneed me in the balls."
"Well you're done having kids aren't you Boris?"
"You've got a mouth you know that sir?"
"In addition to other body parts yes." Boris sighed at that.
"I know that this is a bad time, but you think you could help get a leave request approved? I know it's short notice, but if we're going to keep doing this kinda stuff I'd like to go home and see the missis and my youngest one if we're going to keep doing this kinda work. At least doing regular soldiering I could send letters back regularly. I wouldn't need more than three days."
"I'll give you ten days, Leningrad is a ways from Kiev and you don't want to pop in say hi and leave right away right?"
"Well thanks sir, I appreciate that. But I doubt I'll get that much."
"No, you will. Technically we're not attached to any other divisions which gives me complete authority over every man in our unit. So I'm the only one that needs to approve anything. So you will get your ten days."
"Huh. Not letting that power mess with your head are you sir?"
"Bow when you address me peasant." Boris laughed at that, grinning around his cigarette.
"Hey Boris," said Feliks, an odd note coming into his voice as if unsure he really wanted to say anything.
"Yes sir?"
"I'm not allowed to tell you everything I did in the GRU, but I can tell you some of the stuff we did, no names of course."
"Got some war stories to share sir?"
"In a manner of speaking. You know I lied about the reason I left the GRU right?"
"It was fairly obvious."
"Huh. The reason I left was that a lot of guys burn out doing the kind of stuff that the GRU does. Real boogeyman kind of operations, stuff you need a pretty strong stomach to do. They don't show it right away, some guys deal with it very well, some get violent, some get depressed and some never get out of it. Most guys take quite a few tries to get in and I got into the GRU straight out of training at 17 and I can tell you that doesn't happen too often. I was pretty gung ho when I got it too."
"Got tired of it, did you sir?" asked Boris, an understanding tone in his voice.
"No, it was easy for me and it scared me a little to be honest," said Feliks. "It got to the point where I could kill someone without even thinking about it and hardly remember the person the next day. Soldiers, politicians, scientists, women...children. I would do anything, kill anyone they ordered me to, anyone at all without thought. Without question. They turn you into a weapon, teach you different ways to kill yourself to avoid capture and if necessary everyone of us would have taken our own lives if ordered to. I was worried what I was going to become. Maybe I did get tired of it though. I stopped caring about what I did, stopped going out, didn't speak too much to family for a while there. I felt...I felt like I was at a tipping point, saw what could happen and got out, went to a border division that wouldn't see any action to finish out my service. Some of the stuff they taught me I still do, it's just part of me now. You get paranoid like the KGB in the GRU. Get taught by a lot of them too. I sit next to a wall in a restaurant so nobody can get behind me. So I can see everything going on. I watch everything and everyone no matter where I go. When I look into store windows I don't look at what's inside, I look at the reflection on the glass to see everyone around me. What they're doing, what they're wearing. Who has a limp, who's weak, who looks like they know how to fight, who just thinks they do, and if anyone's paying attention to me. Funny thing being though, is that even with all the things I've done, I miss the GRU. If I was offered a position tomorrow, I'd pack my bags and head back and pick up right where I left off. Does that seem odd to you?"
"No. Anyone will tell you that getting deployed is the best and worst time of their life. You bond with people in combat, really bond to them. Especially in small units like you were in. Become closer than family. Everything seems more real when you're deployed, you feel more alive and you don't realize it till you go home. Everything seems dull and mundane. You can't understand why people are complaining over little things like breaking a pen or stressing out over having a flat tire. It seems trivial. Eventually you sign on for another tour, some people get problems though, some get meaner than hell, but everyone deals with in different. You get hardwired for combat and it's hard to switch it off sometimes. People are really good at adapting to their situation, hell, sometimes when it's raining out hard I still remember being in Turkey on that hill, thinking how miserable it would be to be there in that rain. Honestly I wouldn't worry about it too much, but if you ever have problems or something's troubling you just come and we'll have a talk eh? Anytime you like."
"Thanks Boris, I might take you up on that."
"Good. Guess us old buggers are still good for something anyways. Now let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry."
"A birthday supper then?" asked Feliks.
"It's your birthday today?"
"Well a month and a week ago, but I suppose so," answered Feliks.
"So you're what then? 23 now?"
"24," answered Feliks.
"You lied about your age too? I thought you were 22."
"At one point in time I was."
"Anything else I should know about you sir?"
"I can't think of anything at present Sergeant."
"I'm not going to find out that you're a Romanov or something like that am I sir?"
"Oh Sergeant, everyone knows that Anastasia was the last real Romanov whom changed her name and was moved by a series of supporters to Paris and married a duke and now they have three kids. All of whom have been under surveillance by the NKVD and now the KGB in case she were to try and press a claim or go public about her real identity."
"What was that?" said Boris bewildered.
"What was what?" asked Feliks innocently.
"You know what, I don't want to know. Keep your secrets to yourself. But I do know one thing about you."
"What's that?"
"You're still a virgin, nobody would say something that embarrassing, even as a cover."
"Hey," said Feliks indignant.
Xxx
There were many things that frustrated Ianthe in life, she had never tried to hide it, nor would she have been able to. One thing that annoyed her more than anything though at current was her employer.
Coming upon the city that had sprung up from the earth as if by magic since she had last been to Mt. Rubicon had been a thing of awe a testament to the strength of her employers. She now understood the sheer power of the Union, the legions of steel behemoths, fleets of flying machines called planes, and tens of thousands of soldiers. All of them armed with weapons that could obliterate an army like what Ianthe had marched with only a few months prior with ease. Despite this though, Ianthe couldn't help but feel her pride stung.
She had entered a contract with the Red Army, a mutually binding agreement tying her to one of its officers and what was the first thing the man does when they return? Dump her in with slaves and dog men. She was duty bound to follow orders, but there was an understanding of mutual respect when you hired a Messalonian mercenary. An unspoken agreement. You were not to abuse them, or demean them by giving them tasks below their station. They weren't your servant, they were your vassal, your shadow. Not a sword that you could simply hang up when you didn't have a use for it at the moment. Such a condition was why Ianthe was sharing a barracks with 100 other people and Maximus was forced to stay in the surrounding countryside. This had all proven to do one thing and one thing only, frustrate an already angry mercenary. So Ianthe was trying to bleed out her anger like she always did, with physical exertion. So far it wasn't working.
Every muscle burned as Ianthe brought her chin up above the rafter beam, extending out her legs in front of her, before lowering them, and then herself and doing it all over again. Sweat stung her eyes and she blinked it away, focusing on doing the exercise even as he muscles screamed at her for rest. With trembling arms, Ianthe managed to do one more, then sensing her arms about to fail, let go and fell to the floor below, landing nimbly on her feet. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ianthe wiped her sweaty silver hair out of her eyes and went to her bed, grabbing a pitcher of water and drinking deeply, before stretching out her arms. There was a series of clinks every time that she moved, the rocks of her weighted vest knocking against each other and with deft hands, she undid the leather straps and let it fall to the ground with a clatter.
Laying back on her bed, Ianthe tried to imagine that she was alone and not surrounded by squalling babes, and a dozen races of beings speaking a dozen languages, none of which she could understand. She almost succeeded except for one particular elf who seemed determined to not allow her respite.
"Hi Ianthe."
"Hello Luella," answered the mercenary irritably.
"How's it going?"
"Good if I were an unskilled beggar looking for handouts. For a trained draconian knight, not so well," said Ianthe sitting up and turning to the elf dressed in the clothes of the Soviets.
"Oh. Well I don't think that you'll be here too long. Once Volkin goes out on another mission I'm sure you'll go with him. You were a big help last time."
"I was more than a help, I rescued him and his men. My reward for which is...this," said Ianthe gesturing around. A tent would have been much preferable. I even asked to pitch my own but was refused. I was even refused to share barracks with my liege. This is not how you treat a Messalonian mercenary." Ianthe set her jaw and let out flexed her fists in consternation. "I do appreciate you coming to see me though, I enjoy your company and it means a lot to me," continued the mercenary, realizing that the elf was probably taking her frustration and anger as a direct attack against her.
"Yeah, it really is too bad," said Luella sympathetically. "But only interpreters get to be in the Soviet sections of the camp. And to do that you have to be able to speak Russian. If you want though I could probably bring you to our eating hall, it's much better than the one you're going to."
"What was that?" asked Ianthe, eyes alight with excitement.
"Our eating hall is much better," said Luella.
"No, no, before that. If I learn Russian I can move about the camp at will? No more sitting in here?"
"Well...in a manner of speaking. They're a lot more strict than a regular army."
"It doesn't matter. Luella, will you teach me how to speak Russian? I ask this as a favor of you, one which I will repay in kind. If not in money, then with my skill. Speak a name and I shall see it erased for this privilege."
"Uh….uh...well, I'd be happy to teach you," smiled the elf a little too widely to be natural after a moment of abject horror. "Just...please don't kill anyone okay?"
"Then our contract is made!" exclaimed the silver haired mercenary gleefully, picking up the smaller woman and spinning her around. "When shall we begin my tutelage?"
"Tomorrow, after evening meal."
"I shall await your return with baited breath instructor," said Ianthe, bowing her head in respect and kneeling, bringing a fist to her breast. "From now on I am your student and I shall show you all proper deference. Ask of me anything you will."
"O-okay. Just don't hurt anyone while you're here alright?"
"That will not be a problem instructor, one attempted indecency, but learned his place. I have had no other attempts on my virtue since," said Ianthe glaring with icy eyes over at a dog man, who quickly looked away when his eyes met with Ianthe's. Seeming to try and shrink in upon himself.
"Well...that's good. I'll see you later Ianthe," said Luella, a measure of her cheer returning.
"I will await your return with baited breath instructor," said Ianthe.
AN: Well that's another chapter out of the way, sorry for the delay, but I've been busy doing some stuff the past couple of weeks, and my free time has been taken up by CK2. Game is addicting, also brings out the evil feudal lord in you. Seriously, killing one of your kids so that they won't split your empire is common early game.
Anyways please leave a review and tell me what you think. Also did anyone notice that in chapter two Luella lied to Feliks and Boris to make them help Ianthe?