Witch of the Eighty-Sixth

by contrastellar

There is no such thing as a clean war, and for those who know the secrets of this battlefield — what else could this life be, than a Curse?

3. Chapter 2

August1, SY 2148

She had always been shocked by the silence of the natural world. How silent the world was at night with nothing but the stars above and the silence of the base behind her. She had always been shocked at how normal it felt, for things to be as quiet as they could be. That silence would speak to her, in ways that were hard to articulate to anyone else. It wouldn't tell her things that she didn't already know, necessarily, but it would still speak to her— about the way the world worked, how cruel the world was truly, and how all of this didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. But still, there was some part of her that rejected all of that. The part of her that still wanted to hold onto hope, would reject the notions that the world was needlessly cruel, that what she did and whatever she would do, didn't matter. She wasn't sure which part of her was the true one, the one that drove her to survive this long — surely that if she actually believed that none of this mattered at all she would have instead died a death that didn't matter, somewhere along the way to the here and now. But she hadn't, maybe because somewhere, deep down, she knew that surviving the Eighty-Sixth sector, was all that she could do to prove her existence to the universe that otherwise didn't care about her in particular. So she did her best to ignore that silence, to instead focus on what she could actually do in this life, and that was survive for as long as she could.

But there was no silence on the battlefield, there never had been. The silence would only come well after the battle's conclusion, after both sides retreated from this place and time, and marched on their respective ways, until the next battle. Until the next fight.

For now, however, fighting through the swarm of Legion, there would be noise, and it would shake the Witch down to her very bones as she fought through the Legion, doing her best to whittle down the number of Legion as LFRITH moved south-eastward, in pursuit of a Legion unit that was moving to flank a different Squadron's base.

She slashed the legs of a Löwe, she slid away from its writhing mass performing a feeble attempt to correct itself and point its turret at her Juggernaut. She fired a single APFSDS round into the top of the Löwe, and with a burst of debris — it stopped moving altogether. She darted away from the now-husk of a Löwe, and dodged out of the incoming 88mm shells that two of its compatriots fired at her. Her twin high-frequency blades humming as they sliced through the air towards the legs of the nearest unit, which jumped out of the way, despite its fifty ton mass. The Witch jerked the control sticks of the Juggernaut, and moved out of the way before the eight legs of the Löwe made contact with the ground again; crushing the pavement that it landed on, and sending shards of the material flying in every direction. The Witch flicked her eyes to the turret of the unit, and saw that its turret had rotated, facing her direction — she jerked her controls again, dodging as the Löwe fired another shell at her, despite her proximity. The shell tore into, and exploded on contact with, the pavement and sent dust and chunks of pavement and dirt flying backwards as it exploded. The chunks bounced off the opaque canopy of the Juggernaut, and she drove herself forward, driving the left high-frequency blade into the hull of the Löwe, the blade ripping through the hull like a warm knife in butter, and damaging the central processor of the unit.

"Witch!" Someone called over the Para-RAID. "We've got a Dinosauria over here, we need your help!"

She didn't acknowledge the call for help, but jerked the control sticks so that she dodged the other Löwe as it fired at her, decimating a ruined building behind her. She jumped through an alleyway, breaking right on the street beyond to get away from the pursuing Löwe. She could hear the strain that her movements put on the Juggernaut — a tell-tale rattling coming from one of the hind legs, and an ever so slight sluggishness from the blades' actuators as she stowed them away for just the few moments it would take to get to the main street of this town that served as the engagement point between the two forces. The main street was the only space big enough for a Dinosauria to actually be useful in an engagement, and would be the only place that the Juggernauts themselves would struggle to surround it.

She dodged in between buildings, dispatching what few Amaise and Grauwolf stood in her way, with considerable ease compared to the Löwe she was just fighting, and darted into the main street. Immediately the massive heat-sinks and edges of the Dinosauria came into view, her HUD flashing with warning as its turret turned towards her. She dodged in between buildings as the turret erupted — it had fired a depleted uranium shell, that tore through the buildings she had taken cover in. If she had been a moment or two slower, would've sheered off the legs of her Juggernaut if she was lucky — or killed her instantly if she wasn't.

"B 'Toon, concentrate on keeping its attention, razzle-dazzle. C 'Toon, focus on damaging its legs if you can, keep it from moving its body… I'll try and hit its venting system!" She ordered as she bound across the main street again, dodging between lampposts, and towards the hulk of the Dinosauria.

Almost instantly, despite taking concentrated 57mm fire from the rooftops and ruined storefronts, the Dinosauria turned its turret back towards the Witch, who would've clicked her tongue in annoyance, were it not for the fact that she was focused on dodging the shell that was fired at her, burrowing into the cracked pavement rather than the hull of her Juggernaut.

"This guy's really starting to piss me off!" Guel roared as he darted from one of the buildings that the Legion was ignoring. He fired at one of the legs of the Dinosauria, the shell deflecting, but still chipping away at the reinforced armor, before he swung at the leg with his own high-frequency blade. However, his attack was not as effective as he had hoped, the blade didn't dig into the armor, instead chipping and cracking at the strength of the enemy's plating, ruining the blade. "What the hell gives?!"

There was a crackle of voices across the Para-RAID. Not voices that the Witch recognized as she darted between the buildings, but something foreign to her. She wondered for a moment, if the silence from LFRITH's new handler, and the sudden crackle meant that there was a chance that somehow the Para-RAID was being jammed, or perhaps had been hacked by the Legion?

No, it was something else as well, a complex pouring of emotions that came through in that simple moment where the Para-RAID had crackled.

Fear.

Dread.

Hopelessness.

Feelings that if she were to guess how it felt to die, that they would be it.

In the spare moment between maneuvers, she flicked her eye over the display of all the units in LFRITH — all were reporting just fine. No one seemed to be injured or dying, and their Juggernauts were still combat-capable. Then what was it that she had heard? What was it that had given the feeling of overpowering emotions from the Para-RAID?

"ALCON." The Para-RAID crackled again, this time in words coherent. There was no sense of dread, of helplessness but instead one of simple calm, collectedness. Nearly serenity. "Keep the Dinosauria's attention, we're moving in."

This voice wasn't one she recognized, but the masculine voice spoke with a coherence that couldn't be anything other than experience in combat.

"Copy all." She responded over the Para-RAID.

"Handler One to LFRITH — draw the Dinosauria further down the main street, there's a point three hundred meters ahead where it wont be able to turn its turret completely. SPEARHEAD, prepare to engage" A silver-bell like voice spoke with the title of a Handler, and talked to those other voices on the Para-RAID, referring to them by one name that would spark awe and amazement if it weren't for the fact that she was in combat.

SPEARHEAD had arrived.

"Copy that. Third and Fourth Platoons, move ahead, and find positions to flank-fire the Dinosauria. LFRITH, continue to draw its fire, move along the buildings, three hundred meters down the street. SPEARHEAD's Second will take out the support units, and the Fifth will provide long-range support."

"LFRITH, you got that?" The Witch shouted over the Para-RAID, and there was acknowledgement in response.

The Para-RAID crackled again.

"I don't want to die."

She nearly froze at those words. They were coherent. Not random noise being picked up in the link.

"Help me!" A voice cried.

"Momma…" Another lamented.

"I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to DIE!"

The Witch jammed her control stick as she ran back towards the main street.

"What the hell is that?!" Guel shouted over the link, panic inching into his voice as he questioned what it was, that it seemed all in LFRITH heard.

"I'll explain after. For now, just focus on moving that Dinosauria forward." The unknown voice that seemed to belong to the captain of SPEARHEAD answered.

She blinked her acknowledgement, careening her Juggernaut down the main street, away from the Dinosaura. The echoing, pounding footsteps behind her meaning that its one hundred-ton mass was following after her, seemingly unaware that reinforcements had arrived for the Eighty-Six.

"I don't want to die!" The voice in the Para-RAID screamed.

She continued her sprint, only barely noticing that the buildings became more and more densely packed, and more and more did the buildings seem to close in around her. She spun around, as she came towards a spot that was roughly three hundred meters away from where she had initially engaged the Dinosauria, its hulk spinning its turret towards her.

"Idon'twanttodie…" The voice seemed faster, and all the more present in her ears as the Dinosauria marched towards her, its turret's elevation dropping so that it was pointed directly at her. She grit her teeth.

"C'mon!" Guel shouted over the Para-RAID. An explosion of fire from all around the Legion rained down against its hull. But it did not even attempt to change its turret's direction. Focusing solely on her.

"Dodge on my signal." The SPEARHEAD captain spoke, calmly, despite the fact that she was a sole unit, being faced down by an enemy that could decimate her in a single attack.

Time seemed to crawl, the steps of the Dinosauria seemed to slow. Its turret stopped moving despite the movement of its body.

"Now."

She jammed her control sticks to the side so hard that she was sure they would shear from their housings.

Her Juggernaut leaped out of the way of the HEAT shell that flew past her, decimating a tree and overgrown foliage further down the street. Simultaneously, did a 57mm shell fly from an angle that shouldn't have been possible, and into the flank of the Dinosauria. The shell clipping the heat sinks, and burrowing into the weaker rear armor surrounding the primary coolant vent. The shell didn't explode immediately, letting its inertia bleed off as it burrowed into the armor, before exploding a moment later, sending a cataclysm of explosions deeper into the Dinosauria. It seemed to roar — its turret raising itself towards the sky, before its legs gave out from under it, collapsing against the ground with a teeth-rattling shudder.

The voice begging to not die, was silenced.

"Handler One to all SPEARHEAD and LFRITH units — the Legion appears to be in retreat." The silver-bell like voice of the Handler spoke, calmly. Because she would be calm, speaking from so far away inside the Gran Mur's walls. But even still, could she have heard the voices that had only started once SPEARHEAD had shown up? "Please return to SPEARHEAD's base."

"Copy that Major. Linking up with LFRITH and guiding them to base." The captain spoke again.

"M-master arms off, follow SPEARHEAD out of here." The Witch speaks over the Para-RAID, reaching for her own master arm switch, and setting it to "off".

"Copy that…" Guel speaks over the Para-RAID. Exasperation and exhaustion from the battle clear in his tone.

The march back to Spearhead's base is quiet, not once do they deviate from any path, not attempting to conceal their tracks or numbers. The Witch doesn't think of it, instead falling in line with the rest of LFRITH as they marched in a low-power cruise back to Spearhead's base. Similar to their own base, it was situated in the ruins of what used to be an airfield, but with only one stretch of pavement marking where the planes would land, and only one hangar, where Spearhead marched their Juggernauts into place, settling down as if creatures needing rest, and opening their canopies. LFRITH made two lines on the outside of the hangar, one on either side of the door, and did the same, their Juggernauts creaking as they shut down and their canopies opened as well. Sunset's light pouring into the dark cockpits of the aluminum coffins that served as the weapons the Eighty-Six piloted.

The Witch was the first one out of her Juggernaut, quickly followed by Guel, and then the rest of LFRITH.

Guel shot a look to the Witch, who returned the look with a shrug. A look that would be best understood as a question of what had happened during the battle. She didn't have an answer, so she shrugged. The entirety of LFRITH stood, waiting, some talking among themselves — unsure of what to do or where to go in someone else's base. It wasn't until one figure emerged from the growing shadow of SPEARHEAD's hangar, did they straighten up into something more than a collection of children chatting among themselves.

"Who is your captain?" The figure asked. He is only slightly taller than the Witch with the jet-black hair of an Onyx, and stands with an air about him that reads of collectedness — something near serenity. He has a pale-blue scarf around his neck, and looks around with blood-red, Pyrope eyes.

The Witch steps forward from her Juggernaut. "I am."

The Captain walks towards her, stopping at a respectful distance, and reaches his hand in front of him, expecting to shake her hand.

"What's your name?" He asked, seemingly as unfamiliar with meeting new processors, as LFRITH themselves were at being introduced to someone else outside of their Squadron.

"Everyone calls me 'the Witch'." She responds, and looks at his gloved hand for a moment, unsure whether to take it or not. She does after an awkward moment, before motioning to Guel, who stands at her side. While they talk, more figures come out of the hangar, looking just as confused and awkward as LFRITH does. "This is Lieutenant Guel Jeturk, my XO... W-what's your name, mister…?"

"Shinei Nouzen, personal name 'Undertaker'... Or 'the Reaper'. And, I did mean your real name, not your personal name." Shinei responds.

"I'm sorry, mister Nouzen. I don't remember mine."

Shinei's eyes widen slightly in astonishment at this. "How old were you when…?"

"I don't remember."

"That's the first I've heard of someone forgetting their own name…" A new voice says, as the owner of that voice emerges from the shadowed hangar. One with iron-colored hair and eyes, the signature of a pure-blood Eisen. The man stands next to Captain Nouzen, extends his own hand. The Witch takes it. "Raiden Shuga, 'Wehrwolf'. SPEARHEAD's XO." He then reaches to Guel, and shakes his hand too.

"Captain Nouzen..." The Witch starts, "You're the Reaper of the Eastern front, aren't you?"

Raiden grins, and Shinei's face makes no discernible change of expression. "I am."

"Pleasure to meet you, then." Guel says. "Never thought I'd meet someone like you."

"It's not like someone named 'The Witch' isn't much of a legend either." Raiden pointed out.

The rest of LFRITH begins to crowd around the four leaders, as if the news of Shinei being the Reaper of the Eastern Front is the hottest news from the press. There are murmurs of admiration, of anxiety.

"What was that today? The voices?"

Slowly, those of SPEARHEAD come out and introduce themselves to LFRITH. The voices that pick up as the introductions continue, are more and more lively as the conversation goes on.

"I'm sorry that our Handler wasn't able to pass along the warning to you all before we joined the connection, but…" Shinei starts.

"Have you ever heard of a Black Sheep?" Raiden cuts in as Shinei trails off.

"Only rumors… More advanced Legion?" Guel starts, as the Witch and Shinei seem to stare at each other in mutual understanding.

"The Legion are stealing human brains, aren't they?" The Witch asks, interjecting.

Raiden grimaces. "Yeah… They are."

"How did you know?" Shinei asks, calmly.

"Its my fourth year, I've seen a lot of human remains. More missing their heads than not." The Witch explains. Guel looks at her in astonishment. "Its why they seem to be getting smarter, isn't it?"

Shin nods gravely, and those around them seem to have forgotten the conversation between the leaders of the two squadrons is even happening. "And I can hear them."

"That's absurd…" Guel starts to say, and Raiden gives Guel a look that shuts him up almost instantly.

"Is it, Mister Guel?" The Witch asks. "After all you've seen in your life? After the last four years of fighting?"

Guel grumbles something indiscernible.

The Black Sheep, and the Shepards. Legion units that have had their central processor augmented either with the replica, or the exact human brain in the case of a Shepard. More deadly units, that have stronger combat capability than the rank-and-file Legion that the Eighty-Six had been fighting all along. Units that were more capable in fighting than anything else the Eighty-Six had fought. Guel could hardly believe what he was being told, but the Witch knew that it was true; she'd heard the voices the same as Guel and all the rest of LFRITH — and it seemed unlikely that it was some kind of prank or elaborate hoax. So she had no choice but to believe what she had seen in her years of being on this battlefield, and what she had heard during today's fight, thus drawing the conclusion that it must be true.

"That's how you knew that we were fighting the Legion, and to come help us, isn't it?" The Witch asks of Shinei, who nods. "Well… Thank you, Captain. Without your help, I don't think we could've taken that thing down."

"It was mostly the Fifth Platoon's work…"

"Hey, Kurena!" Raiden turns to the group of Eighty-Six milling about, talking among one another. From the crowd, a chestnut-colored head pops up, looking in the direction of Raiden, who had called her. "Who was it who took out that Dinosauria?"

"I think it was Pharact… He got to the rooftop first." The girl responds.

Raiden makes a face at this, before turning back to the Witch and Guel. "That's Kurena, 'Gunslinger'. Lead of our sniper platoon. Sounds like Pharact was the one who took out that Dinosauria for you."

"That a personal name?" Guel asks.

"Yup. We're all namebearers here." Raiden responds. "How about you guys? How many?"

"Myself, the Witch, the 'toon leaders and their seconds… That's about it." Guel responds. "We're only the second ward. Nothing as crazy as what you guys deal with, so we can take on newbies..."

"You guys actually get reinforcements? As a first defense squadron?" Raiden scoffs at the notion. "Our Handler's been trying to get us reinforcements for nearly a month, and nada."

"I'm assuming that your Handler is the one we heard earlier?" The Witch asks.

Shinei nods. "Major Milizé."

Both the Witch and Guel's eyes widen at the mention of the Handler's name.

"Wait a second…" The Witch starts.

"You guys actually know your Handler's name?" Guel finalizes.

"She's odd, I'll tell ya that much." Raiden grins. "Calls every goddamned night to check in with us…" Raiden takes a look at the darkening sky to the west. "It's about that time of the night, isn't it, Shin?"

Shinei shrugs, if using that nickname is disrespectful to him, he doesn't show it.

As if on cue, everyone's ears chime at once with the notification of an incoming Para-RAID connection.

"Handler One to all SPEARHEAD and LFRITH units. Good work today."

"Same to you, Major Milizé." Shinei speaks.

"Thank you, Captain… For the record, everyone — there should be someone joining this communication in just a moment…"

There was another chime of the Para-RAID, as another incoming connection was established.

"All SPEARHEAD and LFRITH units, this is LFRITH's Handler, apologies for not being present during the battle earlier. I was not notified, due to LFRITH being out of their normal range. This has been rectified." The Handler of LFRITH speaks in familiar tones.

"Good evening Handler, this is SPEARHEAD's captain, personal name: Undertaker. Please feel free to call me 'Captain'." Shin speaks across the Para-RAID.

"Pleasure to meet you, Undertaker… I've heard a lot about you." LFRITH's handler responds after just a moment.

There are murmurs among all the Processors, as they stand in the low light that's cast by the internal lamps of the hangar being switched on so the maintenance crew can start to work. None present have ever had two Handlers at a time, only ever the one. It's an impossible occurrence, but its happening all the same.

"Everyone," Major Milizé says, interjecting. "I want to apologize for today, it happened due to lack of communication on our end, and should not occur again."

"It's fine, Major." Shinei responds, "No one was hurt, and we managed to bring LFRITH back to our base. We'll have them on their way in the morning."

"I'll have extra energy packs sent to your base as soon as I can, Captain." The Major responded, there was the sound like a pencil or a pen scratching against paper that came across the Para-RAID. "And for LFRITH…"

"The maintenance crew is fine, the Legion has not advanced, nor is making any signal of advancement on the base. I will also be monitoring the situation from Headquarters tonight, and the Second Defensive Squadron will be on patrol tonight, so you all can rest easy." LFRITH's handler spoke. There was a breath like relief breathed throughout those among the congregation of Processors, both LFRITH and SPEARHEAD had been worried, whether they realized it or not — it wouldn't be a good thing at all if the Legion advanced on their base while they were gone, especially with the maintenance crew being left alone there.

"In that case, there's nothing further to report, we'll let you all get on with your evening. Thank you for your work today." The Major cut the link, and shortly thereafter, so did LFRITH's Handler. Part of the Witch's mind made note of how it seemed like the Processors of SPEARHEAD all seemed to know the name and rank of their Handler, yet LFRITH didn't know theirs — only referring to her by her callsign.

"Alright everyone, show LFRITH to what rooms we have available, and try and get some rest tonight. We'll help them pre-launch in the morning and the first and second platoons will escort them as far as our area of responsibility." Shinei orders everyone, explaining what the game-plan for the evening and the morning is. "Good work today."

There were half-hearted cheers as the Processors started to move towards the Barracks, showing LFRITH where it was that they could sleep for the evening. Leaving behind the two captains and the two executive officers of their squadrons behind, all four of whom watched the rest go.

"Does that sound good to you?" Shinei eventually turns back to the Witch, who nods in acknowledgement.

"Probably for the better that we don't stick around too long." The Witch says, and Raiden nods in agreement, crossing his arms.

"For now though, we'll show you to your rooms, it's not much, but it's better than the floor."

"Much appreciated, Mister Shuga." The Witch responds.

Shinei starts to walk towards the Barracks, and Guel and the Witch follow after him, followed by Raiden, who waves to the mechanic team as they walk.

As they do, The Witch's eyes follow an elevation in the ground, that seems unnatural to the terrain, it moves almost in a straight line along the ground and almost seems to shimmer in the rising moonlight.

"Are those train tracks?" She asks Shin, who turns his head to look at her before nodding.

"Not that anyone's used them in ten years." Raiden says from behind her.

"So does that mean there should be a town or something nearby?" Guel asks, following the Witch's train of thought.

Shin points at the hill on the other side of the train tracks. "The tracks go around that hill, there's a town on the other side of it."

"Gotcha… Convenient that there's a place for you to scavenge supplies from." Guel responds.

"Every base I've ever been at has been near a settlement… No one lives there, obviously, but the buildings are still there." Raiden explains.

It wasn't a difficult task at all to sneak out from the SPEARHEAD barracks under the full moonlight as it hung in the sky, illuminating the insides of the base from the windows, and providing ample light to walk across the field, towards the hill and across it towards the town that the Captain had mentioned. She was sure that the Captain was still awake, as she had left the room that had been designated for her and Mister Guel, and had heard talking from the Captain's room. She figured that he was too focused on the conversation he was having to notice that she was leaving as silently as she could. Atop the hill, she looked back at the small base that served as the First Ward, First Defensive Squadron's home base. A quiet place, now with night having set in and the maintenance crew calling it a night following the return of the two squadrons. Meaning that there was no real risk of anyone having seen her leave, or walk away from the base. There was also no real threat of the Legion attacking — as predominately solar-powered machines, they preferred to operate in the daytime, rather than at night. So she was free to take her walk. The town was quiet, barely picked through, it seemed. There were buildings that looked like they had been picked through in the past, but none that seemed to have been especially looted — generally just having been left behind. She walked between the houses, peering into one or two, to see what the insides were like… Ruined houses, abandoned houses, storefronts that had their windows broken from years of exposure to the elements without proper maintenance. Nothing at all indicating that there was a war at all, but rather that the town had just been abandoned.

She didn't mind this place, it reminded her a lot of the city that LFRITH's own base was next to, the one that she was familiar with walking through every morning to check on the observation posts. A city, similarly, that had just been abandoned during the outbreak of the war with the Legion. A reminder of a life out here, away from the Eighty-Five Districts, that was something that all the Processors used to know, but now didn't, most were too young to really remember what their lives were like before the War, but knew that it had existed, even if they couldn't remember it now.

She almost resented the notion that she didn't remember what her life was like before the war — almost a decade ago. She did hate how her memories were entirely that of the camps, and then of fighting the Legion herself, but never once could she remember the smile of her mother, or the tender embrace of her elder sister. She still had hope, in spite of that, that one day she might remember such things again. It didn't matter if it happened tomorrow, or if it happened in the moments before the death that came for all Eighty-Six or in whatever came after, she would remember, and she had hope of that much at least.

The shattered glass in the street shimmered gently as she walked through the moonlight. All was bright in this night, with no excess light pollution blocking out the moon's own reflection, the streets felt as if they were as illuminated as if it were daytime. She stopped in the town's plaza, a rather inordinate thing, considering the size of the town itself — but perhaps this was one of the towns that had been built when the Giadian Empire was at its peak, and far larger than it was when the war started.

She stood in the town's plaza for a while, looking around at the stores and buildings surrounding it, and the garden in the center of the plaza that had long since overgrown its knee-height fence in the nine years since it had last been pruned, and she thought to herself in the silence, that perhaps if she were to die one day in this war, she would want it to be in a garden, rather than in the unloving carapace of the Juggernaut.

There was a crack of glass behind her, and she spun on her feet, dropping to a knee and taking a shooting stance with her sidearm, drawing it with remarkable speed and dexterity that she didn't even know she had the capability to do.

"Woah!" The person in the moonlight's shadow said, and she saw them raise their hands to the air instantly in a surrendering stance. "Easy there Witch. It's just someone from SPEARHEAD."

She lowered her sidearm, slowly, her thumb flciked the safety back on as she did. "What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to ask you the same question." The figure said, and took a step forward from the shadow, the hair and eyes of a Jade shining in the moonlight as he did, his hands still raised into the air. "That's why I followed you."

"H-How'd you know I left?"

"It was pretty obvious to see a bright-red-headed girl leave the barracks and then walk through the moonlight." He explains, slowly lowering his hands. The Witch stands up from her shooting stance, holstering her pistol. "Figured that if something happened, it'd be better for there to be two of us, than just one."

"W-what, like a Legion attack?"

"Nah, Undertaker would have us all awake before they got this close… But maybe you might cut yourself poking around these old buildings." He motions at his leg, where in place of a holster, there's a first-aid kit.

"What's your name…?" The Witch asks, and the figure picks up on the inflection.

"For the famed 'Witch of the Eighty-Sixth', you're a lot more timid than I'd imagine… I'm Pharact, but you can call me Blondie, or 'Fives', or literally anything other than my name."

"Why not your name?"

"Because it's not mine."

"What does that mean?"

"I was 'adopted' by a family, back when the Eighty-Six were first being rounded up. They gave me a new name — an Alba's name, tried to give me a new face, but everyone saw right through that shit. It's why I'm here now."

"Oh… I see…" She says, looking at the ground in front of her, rather than at him.

"But hey, that's not what I wanted to ask you, either."

She looks back up at him, her face contorted with curiosity now. "W-what was?"

"You've been all over the fronts, right?" It was true, she had been initially stationed in the southern front, but subsequent shuffling of squads had seen her in the west, and the north — and now finally the eastern front. She had been in many different squads, and almost all of which had been wiped out, with her being the only survivor remaining in the majority of her posts. That was part of her moniker now — that she had only survived this long because she was a Witch who had cast some sort of spell to survive when no one else could.

"Y-yeah. I have." She says.

"There's a girl I've been trying to find anything about… Her name's Norea." Pharact sighs. "She would've been conscripted around the same time as I was, so she'd be about the same age. She was a something-Caerula and Veridia. Really striking eyes. Absolutely hated the White Pigs for what they'd done. I had heard she about tore the ear off of one of the soldiers that took her and her parents away…"

"I… I haven't heard about her, no… I'm sorry." The Witch admits after a moment passes, although she isn't sure why she waited to respond to the description. It was true enough, she hadn't met or heard of a girl of that description before. There was a chance that their paths just hadn't crossed — that she hadn't met anyone else who had crossed her path either. There was also the chance that she hadn't survived very long once she had made it to the battlefield, but she didn't dare bring up that notion either, although she figured that Pharact wasn't someone who wouldn't have thought of that idea as well. There was just truly, no way to tell if someone survived the battlefield, no official casualty records were kept, no real names ever used. It was all for the plausible deniability of the white pigs to keep from ever being punished for their crime of ostracizing the Eighty-Six.

"Ah, figures." Pharact has a small smile on his face as he looks towards the ground. "I asked our Reaper if he could hear her voice among the Legion, and he said he didn't. So either she's still out there or she's—"

"It sounds like she's a fighter… If anything she is still out there, I think."

There's silence between them for a moment. Pharact looks at her, almost stunned out of his disconsolate musings.

"If she fought that hard, she's sure to fight to the end of things." The Witch has a small smile on her face, that Pharact takes note of, before a small smile crosses his own face.

"I suppose so... But you never answered my question, Miss Witch."

"What…?"

"Why're you out here? Especially all alone, and at night."

The Witch pauses, looks around at the buildings around her, and suppresses the urge to shrug off the question. "I…"

"I'm not gonna snitch, for what its worth." Pharact assures her.

"I just wanted to see what life was like before the war…" She admits, carefully. The words not feeling quite right on her tongue.

Pharact snorts at this. "What, did you think you were gonna find people living out here?"

"No, I just—" She starts, looking around again, "I just can't remember what it was like for my family, so I was hoping that I could find anything that might help me remember." She sighs, a hint of a shudder at the trailing end of the breath. Pharact doesn't say anything, instead thinking about what she had said. "My mom was a Pyrope… I remember that much at least… And my sister and I looked like her… But I can't remember what either of them looked like, what their names are, what my name is."

"You've… Forgotten your name too, huh?" Pharact's small smile returns. The Witch nods. "So they don't just call you the Witch because its a nickname— it's the only name you have."

She looks away, towards one of the building, and wills herself to not cry. She won't cry over this. It's been too long since she forgot her name to cry about it now. She's a squadron captain besides, she can't be weak like that in front of a Processor from a different Squadron.

"Hey, you're not alone, y'know?" Pharact takes a step closer to her, before realizing what it is that he had intended to do — provide a comfort that he himself didn't have. "I don't remember mine either… But maybe one day I will... I think the same will probably go for you too..." He sighs. "There was a kid in my first squadron… I say 'kid', but he was older than me. He didn't have a personal name, and he didn't remember his name either. But we looked so damn similar that people started calling us by our position in our platoon. He was 'four', I was 'five'. And it just stuck, its how I got the nickname 'Fives' too. I think you and him would've gotten along."

"W-what about your personal name? 'Pharact'?" She asks.

"What about yours? 'Aerial'?"

"I just, had to pick one, and it sounded cool…"

Pharact shrugs and smiles. "Same for me, really."

"That… Makes me feel at least a little bit better…"

"Good! I'm glad. Then that means me sneaking out after lights-out wasn't for nothing."

The Witch smiles at this. "Fair… We should probably head back."

"Probably."

The Witch starts to walk the way she came, and Pharact joins her, walking by her side, his boots once again crunching glass under his step.

They walk in silence, the moon almost at its apex in the sky above, and the buildings looking all the more abandoned in the shorter shadows that they draw across the darkened ground. The pair make it part way up the hill, before either speaks.

"Pharact?"

"What's up, miss Witch?"

"Do you think that if Miss Norea is alive, that you'll see her again?"

He looks up at the sky, at the stars in that inky darkness, before answering. "I guess I wouldn't have held out hope she was still alive for this long if I didn't have some hope for that."

She nods at this.

"Why do you ask?"

"I just—" she cuts herself off, in an attempt to find the right words to say in this moment. "I just was thinking, that it'd be nice if you two could meet again."

"Want to help make that happen?" He asks, shooting her a sidelong glance.

"W-what?"

"Promise me, that if you ever find a girl like Norea, you'll tell her that I was looking for her." He says, stopping and turning to face the Witch, who stops as well. "Tell her that I was— No, tell her that I am still looking."

"Can you promise me something in return?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"If you hear about a Processor who looked like me, and probably was my sister, could you tell me her name? The next time we meet?" The Witch smiles, and reaches her hand up to her face, her pinky finger extended, before reaching it out to Pharact. "Pinky promise?"

Pharact laughs, before returning the gesture.

Even if either one of them were to die tomorrow, they would do their best to keep their sides of the promise, to try and do their best, for one another. Because even if they were to die, their promises unfulfilled, their lives wasted away in this fruitless pursuit of fighting a war that no one could win — they would still have done the best they could for one another. Creating in of itself, a kind of seal on one another's purpose for fighting, that would last well beyond their final moments on this battlefield, well beyond the lives that they had lived up until that point. That it didn't matter that their fates were all but sealed the moment that they were conscripted, what did matter was the fight they put up until that very last moment. And this promise would become part of that fight, their impetus for fighting, their responsibility to one another that would last well beyond this moment — well beyond the veil of death that would inevitably come.

August2, SY 2148

Morning came quietly across the ruins of the previous day's battle. The husk of the Dinosauria would serve as nothing more than a perch for the few birds that lived in the ruins of the town, and would eventually begin to rust in the rains that would come later in the season. But for now, however, the ruins of the Dinosauria, the Löwe and the other smaller Legion units would sit silently, glistening in the sun as LFRITH and SPEARHEAD's members trudged by in their Juggernauts, headed in the direction that would take LFRITH back towards the Second Ward — back the way that they had come from to arrive in the First Ward in the first place — pursuing the Legion into the city that bordered the two Wards.

Miorine would not know that they were passing by the hulk of the Dinosauria they had fought the previous day — she could not see it. For all the benefits that the Para-RAID brought, it couldn't transmit eyesight at all. It brought with it too many risks. And her Para-RAID's settings were locked out to anyone who wasn't in the Military's research and development wing, so it wasn't like she could enable it — even if she wanted. So the only way that she knew, would be if someone said something about the wreck of the Dinosauria, and no one did — instead following one another towards the Second Ward.

"Are we sure that there's no Legion out here today?" Someone from LFRITH's C-Platoon asked.

"There's no Legion anywhere nearby. We can move to the Second Ward just fine." SPEARHEAD's Squadron Captain, Undertaker responded.

"RADAR is also empty." Miorine added, sounding as helpful as she could, but Undertaker was right — there wasn't much going on, the RADAR didn't see any hostiles either in the air or on the ground, and if Undertaker was right, there wouldn't be any Legion between LFRITH and their home base. And she had no reason to doubt Major Milizé in regards to Undertaker and what he said about the Legion and their movements.

"Thank you Handler One, please continue to keep an eye out for any signs of Legion movement." The Witch responded as the formation of Juggernauts trudged through the city, in the heat of Summer.

Miorine could feel the sensation of the summer's heat coming across the Para-RAID, as if she were sitting in one of the Juggernauts herself. "Will do." Miorine responds.

The Juggernauts continued their march through the heat and sunshine. Not a singular cloud in the sky, Legion-made or otherwise to pock-mark the ground with shade. Instead it was just them and the walk forward towards the Second Ward. When Miorine had synchronized with the Para-RAID in the morning, before LFRITH had left SPEARHEAD's base, the Processors were still eating Breakfast, and it was then — when she had connected — that it was decided that the First and Second Platoons of SPEARHEAD would escort LFRITH back to their Ward, and then return back to their own base. The remaining Processors would remain on standby at SPEARHEAD's base, and wait instead, in case the Legion advanced on their base. Undertaker was confident that they wouldn't, or at least, if they would — his and Wehrwolf's platoons would have enough time to return and get everyone situated for combat.

Miorine didn't quite understand Undertaker's seeming ability to know when the Legion were going to attack and where — allowing his Squadron as the forefront of the defense against the Legion, advanced awareness. She'd pressed Major Milizé about it, but didn't quite get a satisfactory response from her. She had a mind to ask Undertaker herself — but wasn't sure if it was appropriate, or warranted. If half of the rumors about Undertaker were even remotely true, then it meant that there was a specific amount of risk that she had put herself in, just by resonating with him and his Squadron.

But so far, everything felt fine — quiet, but fine. It was weird having different Processors who weren't LFRITH under her command, but it wasn't like this was the first time that she was working with Processors she wasn't familiar with. She wasn't all that familiar with LFRITH all that long ago, and now it felt almost like second nature to hear their voices over the Para-RAID. It had only been a few days since being assigned this Squadron of Processors, and it already felt like second nature to be in command of them — to hear their voices. What did that say about her, as a Handler? As a human? Being in command of those who had been dehumanized by their country, and now this was her way of trying to earn their trust? To prove that she was better than the other soldiers in the Republic's military?

Was that really what she was trying to accomplish by being a Handler?

The voice of Undertaker snapped her out of her introspection, "Handler One, this is Undertaker. We've arrived at point zero-three-three, seven-one-five. We're about a mile away from the Ward Two border. How would you like us to proceed?"

She blinked once at the map, that was filled with blue dots, indicating the position of LFRITH and the two platoons of SPEARHEAD. Had they already made it so far so quickly?

"U-understood, Undertaker. You and your platoons are free to break off and return to base."

"WILCO. LFRITH Squadron — there's no Legion between us and your base, and I don't hear them moving to attack. You should be fine on the way back to base." Undertaker responded.

"Understood Undertaker, LFRITH will continue on the route. Thank you for the escort and the bunks last night."

"Not a problem. Stay safe out there you guys." Wehrwolf responded in his far more carefree demeanor.

There was a laugh. One that Miorine quickly identified as Darilbalde. "Yeah, we'll try. Happy hunting, SPEARHEAD."

There were a series of disconnections from the Para-RAID, which Miorine assumed, and rightly, that it was SPEARHEAD's platoons disconnecting from the Resonance, in order to clear up comms for LFRITH as they returned home.

"How's it looking, Handler One?" Darilbalde asks over the Para-RAID as she watches the blips of SPEARHEAD diverge from the path that LFRITH takes.

"Still quiet, no movement on RADAR, why do you ask?" She responds, glancing at the situation display in front of her.

"You'd been quiet for a while. Figured I'd check on you."

Had it really been so long since she last spoke? Was she that caught up in her thoughts that time had practically skipped for her?

"Thank you, Darilbalde, but there's no need to worry about me." She responds.

"I'm not sure about that." The Witch says, interrupting. "Without SPEARHEAD, we have no way of knowing where the Legion might be — you're our only way of figuring out where the enemy is now."

"Understood. I'll do better to pay attention going forward." She said, straightening herself in her seat. Not wanting to be seen as slacking off, even if there was no one in this room to see her as such. "Like SPEARHEAD's Captain said, I don't see any disturbances on the long range radar anywhere in the Second Ward, so there's no Eintagsfliege in the area — you should be completely clear in your return back to base."

"Understood, Handler One. We'll keep moving." Aerial responds.

It's a quiet time between this exchange, and the next time someone speaks. The members of LFRITH marching in their Juggernauts in silence, and Miorine simply keeping an eye on the radar screen as they do. There's no real chance of threats suddenly emerging for the Processors as they move forward, back towards their home base.

"Aerial, I have a question for you…" Miorine breaks the silence after a long half-hour of no one talking, not even idle chatter between the members of LFRITH. "…If you don't mind me asking at least."

There's a momentary pause in the resonance. Before a simple answer in response to the question — "Go for it."

"How did you end up so far away from your base yesterday? I thought you were just on patrol?" She asks, plainly.

"We encountered a retreating Legion unit, which seemed to be weakened and on their way back for repairs and resupply — and figured it was best to head them off to prevent them from rearming and possibly coming back stronger… Turns out that they were bait, which we fell for… Not the end of the world, because SPEARHEAD showed up — but it was certainly not my brightest decision."

"To be fair, Witch." Darilbalde interjects; "The rest of us didn't help in that decision. We all decided it was better to try and head off an enemy unit and fall for potential bait, rather than wait it out."

There are murmurs of agreement that come across the Para-RAID.

"Fair, and at least we didn't take any casualties…" The Witch trailed off. "It still urks me that we fell for that, though…"

"But you all made it through, that's what matters."

There's a scoff from the Para-RAID and Miorine can't tell who it is who did so.

"What's a few dead Eighty-Six to you, Miss Handler?" A voice she doesn't recognize asks. They have an accent, and it's hard to really figure out who it is — she knows the voice belongs to someone in LFRITH, but has never heard them speak directly to her before.

"I've never once called you Eighty-Six… I don't do this job just to watch you die… I do it to try and prevent needless deaths in the only way I can."

There's a chuckle from across the Para-RAID.

"We can tell, Handler One… You and the Major of SPEARHEAD as well." The Witch says.

"The Major…? Oh, you mean—" Miorine cuts herself off before she says Lena's name… It'd be a breach of protocol to tell the name of a higher-ranking officer to the Processors, and she isn't sure she'd even be comfortable doing so otherwise. It feels… Wrong, to say the least.

"Major Milizé, yes." The Witch responds. "Don't worry, Undertaker wouldn't have told us if he didn't think it didn't matter in the long run. It's not like he wants us to get in trouble or something."

Miorine breaths a sigh of relief. "That's good… I won't tell anyone if you don't tell anyone, Aerial."

There's laughter from a few of the Processors, as if she told a really good joke. "Of course, Miss Handler." The Witch responds with mirth in her voice, "It's just really funny to think that there's anyone for us to tell."

"Fair enough." Miorine says, a small smile creeping across her face.

"But, Miss Handler, you asked me a question, is it alright if I ask you a question in return?" The Witch responds as the chuckles and laughter dies down from LFRITH.

Miorine blinks at the question, before realizing that it's been a moment without her responding. "Y-yes of course."

"Why are you a Handler?"

The question makes Miorine stop dead in her tracks, completely unsure of what it is to say in response. It's a complex thing to be asked, and an equally as complex answer, so it takes a moment or two to come up with an answer to the question.

"I—" Miorine starts.

"It's alright if you don't have an answer." The Witch responds.

"No, it's okay… It's just… No one, Processor or Alba, has ever asked me that before…" Miorine sighs, there's a bit of sorrow in her sigh, at the idea of never having been asked why she decided to become a Handler. Because the whole fact that she is one, is important to her, its core to her identity, and she doesn't want it to be something that other people don't consider — but this war is something most people, even those in the military, don't consider. "I just… Became a Handler for a lot of reasons. And not all of them are… Honorable, I guess."

There's a chuckle from The Witch as Miorine responds.

"I hate to break it to you, Miss Handler, but the Republic itself isn't exactly doing the most honorable thing, I'm pretty confident that nothing you can say about why you're a Handler will top that." Darilbalde responds.

Miorine does smile a little at that.

"I suppose… Basically, I became a Handler because I think that what the Republic is doing, is wrong. And I think that the best way to make sure that something is done about it, is to have as many of you survive as possible… I can't do much by myself, but this is something that I can do. So I'm going to do it." There are words unsaid here, words that she doesn't feel like she can admit, lest she be scorned even more by the Squadron under her command — already, she can tell, the only reason they talk to her, is to humor her — and its not like they have anything better or worse to do. Might as well kill time by talking with their Handler. Especially since she's going to be the one giving orders. But that doesn't mean that they have to like her… More likely than not, they are all going to die, and she's going to survive this war. There's nothing that indicates that anything other than that will be true. "But…" She doesn't know why she continues to speak, but something compels her to continue. Something that makes her want to explain the real reason why she's a Handler, to these faceless soldiers under her command. "There's more to it than that…"

"Oh?" The Witch responds. "I'm curious, if you'd be comfortable telling us."

"…Maybe some other time…" Miorine says, smiling smally. "I don't know if I want to burden you all with my non-professional whims…"

"I understand, Your Highness." The Witch says half-jokingly, "Whenever you're most comfortable, I'm always around…" She says with a half-laugh.

December12, SY 2148

Fighting in the snow wasn't the specialty of the Juggernauts.

But they did well enough, the single tread on each of the legs doing its best to bore into the lightly packed snow, to give the machine traction as it moved across the ruins of the battlefield.

It had been almost 5 months since their new Handler had been assigned to them. Almost a rarity as far as the duration of a Handler went — and furthermore a rarity in the fact that LFRITH had taken barely any losses in the months since Charlie-5's death… But conversely, it meant that they hadn't received any reinforcements to shore up their missing units… Namely that of Charlie-5's position, and one of the units of Delta Platoon, who had been killed during an operation in an area notorious for its wetlands — a locale dangerous to operate a Juggernaut in. Everyone else had made it out okay, except Delta-3.

As far as their now old-new Handler went, LFRITH had grown accustomed to, and almost reliant on her abilities as a Control Officer, her talents in using the dual-polarity radar that was stationed on the Gran Mur, and using the datalink between the Juggernauts and the spotty connection back to the Gran Mur's central processing towers, meant that she was more valuable than she wasn't. Especially as far as locating artillery spotters went.

"Handler One?" The Witch asked one night, as she sat on her bed, watching the lazy flakes of snow fall to the ground outside her window. The Handler had turned from only resonating when it was time for missions, to resonating almost every day as time went by.

"Yes, Aerial?" Her Handler responded almost instantly over the Resonance.

"What's your name?" The Witch asked, wondering if she'd be told that the Handler couldn't disclose that information — which meant that the Major of SPEARHEAD had broken the rules… Maybe it was against the rules, and Handler One would break it anyways — she seemed awfully eager to give all the help she could to the Eighty-Six, so what was breaking a few rules that no one could prove anyways. Who would believe the Eighty-Six were 'high-minded enough' to understand an Alba's name.

"W-what?"

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me… I just figure that after all this time, and your insistence on treating us as close to human as possible, it'd be fair to ask you what your name is."

"No no… I don't mind, it's just… So suddenly…" The Handler responds. "My name is Captain Miorine Rembran… But I'm sorry… I should've asked this sooner, but what's your name, Aerial?"

The Witch laughs out loud. "Now there's a turn that shouldn't surprise me."

"W-what's that?"

"That an Alba like you, Your Highness, would ask a lowly pig like me, its name." She laughs again, leaning back against the wall of her room. Distantly there's the cheering and laughing of the rest of LFRITH as they gather in the common area, finding the time and enjoyment out of what recreation that they have scavenged from the abandoned city, and what they make for themselves. They are connected to the resonance, this is just a conversation between Captain and Handler. "I hate to disappoint, but I don't have a name… Not anymore."

"What do you mean you don't have a name? Everyone has a name—"

"Us Eighty-Six don't." The Witch says, pointedly. "We're given an internment number, remember? Our names are removed from the official record, stripped and expunged from high-Alba-society." She laughs again. "But, some of us don't even remember who we were before the Eighty-Sixth sector… You know that right? You know how often I've been asked my real name in the last decade? Or how many times I've been asked my internment number? My Personal Name? Those second two, far, far more times than I've ever been asked my real name. Far more times than I can remember. Far more times than any human should be told that their 'real name' is just a pig's utterance. A Witch's curse."

"…I'm sorry…"

The Witch smiles. "I don't want your sorrow, or your pity, Princess Miorine Rembran… I want you to remember that… Some of us don't remember. Some of us might not want to tell what we do remember. They're precious things to us, the things we hold on to, despite everything else that's been taken from us. If you want to know my name, the best I can do is give you the name that was given to me by the Alba who put me here…"

There's silence over the Resonance, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness, that the Witch tries her best to compartmentalize, rather than deal with herself. It's not her feeling, it's not what she feels in this moment. She doesn't know what she feels in this moment, but it's not sorrow, she's long since moved on from the sorrow that was in her heart when she would think about the fact that she couldn't remember the name her Mother gave her. It doesn't feel right, not to lash out at someone like this — at the person who's not at fault for putting the Eighty-Six in the position they are now.

There's more laughter from down the hall, the rest of LFRITH blissfully unaware of the words uttered in this room, between two people who live lives completely detached from one another.

"…I'm sorry…" Miorine repeats.

"It's okay…" The Witch sighs as she speaks… "It's not your fault we're in this situation. It's not your fault at all, really… And I'm sorry for lashing out at you… But I mean it, I don't have a name. I've forgotten it…" She says these words like an admission of guilt, rather than as something that's a fact of her life.

"No, it's my fault… I shouldn't have just assumed-"

"Miorine Rembran." The Witch says her name, cutting her off. "I have no doubt that if you could end all of this tomorrow with a flick of your wrist, you could… But you can't, so don't put the blame on your shoulders. You can't know everything that we've lived through — without living through it yourself." The Witch stands up and stretches.

"Everyone calls me Aerial, but that's just my Personal Name. The one I earned from surviving my first year… The thing most people don't do." She sighs as she lets her arms fall to her side again. "But my name? The one I call myself? And those who know me, call me? I'm the Witch."

"The… Witch?"

"You get called a lot of names when you're an Eighty-Six… I won't pretend otherwise. But it's the one that's stuck. The only name I remember for myself."

"I'm sorry…"

"What did I say? It's not your fault, Your Highness..." She looks out the window, at the snow-blanketed field outside, and the fluttering flakes that are beginning to relent. "But… I'd ask you something in return, for all that I've said tonight."

"Wh-what's that?" Miorine sounds like she sniffles out the question.

"You remember when we were walking back from the First Ward? And you told me… You told all of us that there was another reason why you were a Handler?"

"Y-yeah… I do."

"Well, now that we're introduced, I think it's only fair that you told me." The Witch sits back down, propping herself up by leaning her elbows against her legs. "I've laid myself and my thoughts bare to you, tonight… I think it's only fair you do the same."

Miorine, tears still running down her face at the accusatory tone that the Witch had spoken to her with. Something about her words, the reality of the life that the Witch had lived this entire time, had stirred something in Miorine that she wasn't quite sure she could articulate… But it stung to her core all the same.

She nods once, before realizing that the Witch can't see the nod, and has no way of knowing that she's agreed to her statement. "O-oh… Okay… I'll…"

"You're crying, right?"

"…Yeah…"

"Clean yourself up first, then tell me… You'll feel better."

Miorine sniffles, before standing up from her chair in her room, and reaching for the tissues that are in a ceramic box on her desk. She cuts the connection while she wipes her eyes, and then blows her nose into the tissue, trying her best to calm herself down.

For the Witch, the ten or so minutes that pass before the connection picks back up, pass in silence. She sits on her bed, moving from her propped-up posture, to sitting with her legs crossed, and her back against the wall, looking out the window, thinking to herself. Thinking about what she said, thinking about how Miorine responded. Part of her doesn't feel anything at the response of one Alba girl at a mere fraction of the plight that the Witch has gone through in her life since the war with the Legion started. She wondered if she should apologize again, when Miorine reconnects — if she reconnects.

In the moment she thinks about giving up on hoping that Miorine will reconnect, her Para-RAID dings with an incoming connection.

"H-hello?" A still-shaky voice, belonging to her Handler, asks.

"Feel any better?" The Witch asks.

"A little."

"Do you have water?"

"Y-yeah."

"Try sipping that."

There's a small noise from the other side of the Resonance from the Witch, the noise of someone taking a sip of water.

"How about now?" The Witch asks.

"Better."

"I want to apologize again."

"It… It's okay… Promise." Miorine responds. "It's… Probably a good thing that you told me the way you did…"

The Witch smiles smally at this. "Maybe, I don't know."

"I should make good on… My side of things, huh?"

The Witch looks out the window, and sighs at the snow having stopped falling. "If you don't want to, you don't have to…"

"No, I want to."

"Then by all means." The Witch straightens her back against the wall, and closes her eyes.

Miorine sighs, and looked out the window at the snow falling still in the First Administrative District. In Liberté Et Égalité. The clouded sky reflecting the city's lights, reminding her of a time in her life when she was younger, and had a harder time sleeping at night — when she would stay up for hours staring out her window at the sky above, and loathing the nights where the sky would be clouded over, because she couldn't see the stars. A time in her life when she still had her best friend, and wasn't a betrayer of the trust that came with that.

"When I was little… About six or so… I had a best friend, who was my age… A girl. A Colorata… She lived next door to me, her house is still here… And we used to play together all the time, went to school together… But when the Legion War happened, we had a falling out — I said and did things I shouldn't have… And she, and her mother, and her elder sister were taken away…"

"Ah… So doing this, trying to save as many lives as possible, is your way of trying to make up for that?"

"I was a child… How could I really understand what had happened, what I had done?" Miorine shuddered at the thought. "I have no idea what happened to any of them… If they're still alive or not…"

The Witch opened her eyes, and is met with the dark of her room — "I suppose all three of us are about the same age, then?"

"H-how old are you?"

"Dunno, but I was conscripted as soon as I was old enough, and I'm almost in my fifth year, so that what, makes me about the same age as her, if my math is right?" The Witch shrugs to herself, to her empty room.

"Yeah… It would… I'm kind of surprised you didn't get shuffled to SPEARHEAD, since you're almost in your fifth year…"

The Witch laughs, "And leave these kiddos without a Captain? That'd suck for everyone involved."

Miorine laughs smally at this joke, "Yeah, I suppose it would… Speaking of 'kiddos', if I'm getting the indications I think I'm getting from STRATCOM, you should be getting a couple reinforcement units in the coming weeks, probably before the Eve of the Holy Birth — and Juggernauts for them to pilot… I don't know anything about the actual roster of who it would be yet, but I'm pretty sure they're coming.

"That's good to know, thank you."

The two sit in silence for a moment.

"Miss Miorine?" The Witch asks.

"Yes?"

"I hope your friend is still alive, and that you get to make things up to her in whatever way you can."

There's a warmth that comes across the Para-RAID. A sorrowful, but hopeful feeling.

"Thank you."