AUTHOR NOTES:

Hello, everyone. I wanted to make a quick reintroduction, because this story is unlike anything I written before it.

First, it's good to be back after a long hiatus. Since then, I acquired some new techniques, skills, and psychology, including a new outlook on life than I had almost eight years earlier. Not to mention, aside from losing some friends and family along the way, life had treated me okay, alongside a gentle rekindled friendship with time. In other words, I'm not dead, mates.

Secondly, and most importantly, this story has been in the making for about a few months prior to this being uploaded, but I never had a chance to sit down and finish it until recently. As an old TF2 enjoyer myself, the idea of creating a story incorporating my passion for the game had been gnawing at me since childhood. However, amid losing hobbies and interests since the last story I updated/published, I never really found anything concrete to incorporate or write about it.

Fortunately, it was the Summer of 2024 when I got some inspiration from a game/anime called, Blue Archive. Despite paling in comparison to the thousands of hours I played TF2 long ago, I couldn't help but wonder how there haven't been many entires with these two. So, I thought maybe I could give it a go at it, see if I could bring my new self up to the challenge.

Lastly, this story is a bit different than what I usually do for several reasons. One, this is my first truly bilingual story, not unlike my hodgepodge forerunner called, Dans le Nid d'Aigle. And two, this is also my first story including colloquial speech among certain characters - I do not expect you to immediately understand what is being said until you read it for a bit.

Without any further ado, reader's discretion has been advised.

Thank you and stay tune for more!

PROLOGUE PART I

Sirens blared within the badlands of New Mexico, pandemonium erupting in the form of an explosive symphony of miniguns, launchers, fire, shotguns, and shouting in a seemingly abandoned mining facility called the Dustbowl. A lazy afternoon backdrop loomed overhead; however, scant and daintily as it was, the arid heat was deceptively dry on the palettes of many. For the Medic, it was a matter of routine, regardless of his 'patients', which, in this case, was his most frequent one: Heavy.

Within a couple short minutes, the BLUs had captured the first checkpoint in Stage One, but the doctor was on the losing side. Unsurprisingly, he was caught between a literal rock and a hard place, namely the Heavy and the winding corners of a mineshaft. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for half of the REDs funnelling past him and his Russian patient, thereby interrupting the gaseous medicine from his treasured handheld cannon called the Medigun.

Ignoring the cries and shouts for help, the safety of himself and the rusky was more important. It was a fact strongly supported by the stream of Scouts, Soldiers, and imposter scums unsuccessfully attempting to bulldoze through the tunnel, but before long, once the Medic-Heavy duo finally saw the final checkpoint, the BLUs focused their forces on the main tunnel, thus directly storming the checkpoint. It was an almost hopeless situation until there was a familiar electric crackle from his medigun.

"I am fully charged!" The Medic barked.

"Net!" The Heavy grunted, having withheld his fire and keeping the doctor close to him as they hid around the corner.

Though several Engineers had assembled their sentries on the flanks, thus disrupting the initial frontal assault, the Spies and Pyros made short work of the stocky Texans...right before they got blasted by stickies and grenades. Other than a Scout and an unescorted Heavy, a telltale laser dot was enough indication for the doctor and his Russian freund to remain hidden. True, the sentries withered at the Scout, one of them expended their ammo, leaving their brethren vulnerable to the two Heavies, who promptly decimated them despite moderate injuries.

"Charge, now, doctor!" The Heavy shouted, the duo springing into action with the Übercharge sparked alit with a switch.

In two steady swoops, the duo finished the two BLU Heavies off, but their Sniper wisely fled upon witnessing the carnage, disappearing from the platform across the way. Unfortunately, the Heavy didn't stay to defend the checkpoint. Instead, he began strafing leftward, thus abandoning the point - an observation that the Medic dared not to dispute.

In fact, he didn't have to look far to tell that his fellow BLUs were retreating their spawn area. So, once the Übercharge faltered, the duo were the last people to abandon Stage One, the chainlink gates lifted momentarily by the Heavy to permit his German companion to pass. Moments later, they arrived at the Stage Two spawn area, the Medic catching his breath upon stepping inside.

"Mhmph!" A certain masked pyromaniac grunted, having approached and addressed the German with an apparently 'hey'.

Dispensing some of his magic, some thankful, albeit muffled, grunts; however, whatever smile Medic possessed was suddenly snatched away from him when the Pyro vaporised into a certain finely dressed Frenchman.

"Vielen Dank." A certain Frenchman said, producing a cigarette from his person. "Until recently, I didn't know you actually swore by the Hippocratic Oath."

"Ze healing is not as revarding as ze hurting, mein Freund." The German sniggered. "I merely had a small hand in dispensing it."

"Yes, you're a credit to the institution of indirect bodily harm. Some of us would've appreciated some much needed 'personal' attention as much as he does."

The Medic was unbothered, minus the lingering puff of smoke drifting towards his face; everyone was alive after all.

"Alor…" He sighed at the German, an inviting sweeping rightward gesture with his dominant hand (cigarette in his fingers) prompting him to join his comrades. Once the duo were walking alongside one another, the German whispered. "I take you have some important 'announcements', at zis moment, to make."

With a curt nod, the Spy held his cigarette low, not unlike holding a pistol at hip-level. Seeing that everyone had been spared ten minutes of reprieve, the duo stood in the centre of the oversized locker room called the Stage Two spawn area, the Frenchman loudly clearing his throat.

"Gentlemen." He said firmly, garnering everyone's attention, although he had to quietly stand there for several long moments to befall the room in a touch of anticipation. "I have some good news and some bad news."

In an instant, there was a brief commotion, but Scout shouted, incidentally silencing everyone. "Yo, what news?!"

"Good news is: We indeed have a way out of here." He said, although his fellow mercs knew he wasn't finished, celebration narrowly withheld at the tips of their tongues. "Engineer, if you may please?"

The doctor could've sworn he heard a chirpy whoop from the stocky American hardhat when he saw him stroll an overhead projector into view. The Sniper, having quietly deduced the upcoming event, reached and yanked the projector screen down, his American counterpart able to correct the lighting with pinpoint accuracy - something that earned an expressionless thumbs-up from the Aussie. Meanwhile, the Spy reached into his suit, producing a manilla folder and unravelling a number of clear plastic films.

Placing them on the projector, the Engineer, not the Spy, stood up front and said. "Ladies and gentlemen, before I begin, I believe I owe y'all a great apology, not only for all this trouble, but for the information I have withheld up to this point."

Now, that was something the Medic was not entirely prepared to digest. He always knew the Texan was a gifted tinker and problem solver, many of his inventions forming the backbone of society as they knew it, including the structures that he [plus his clones] had constructed moments ago. So, the German battered his eyes, wondering what sins he had committed at his comrades' expense.

"As you may know, we been on the backfoot for the past few years. Those blue sumbitches, for whatever reasons still unknown to us, have almost every advantage over us. From timetables, names, locations, allies, and so forth. But, this time, no longer!" He said, almost producing some premature cheers, namely from the anglocentric bunch. "That is why I hereby present a lil project of mine."

With ungloved hands, the Texan reorganised the seemingly innocuous sketches of the transparent films, three of them being the progressive areas of the Dustbowl itself. Minus the Spy and the Medic, everyone murmured, then awed, at the mosaic picture created. Even the Demo, of all people, having taken a sip from his treasured liquid gold called Scrumpy, was curious. In fact, it was him who spoke first. "Aye, I mustn't be drunk enough or somethin', but me thinks it's a checkpoint."

"Or so it appears." The Spy injected, strolling into view beside his stocky counterpart, taking another whiff from his cig. "Beneath all this rocket science, what you are looking at is a teleporter capable of transporting anyone around the world without a fixed exit. In layman terms, we can go anywhere we want."

There was a bewildered whistle from the mercs, minus the Medic and the Engineer, one of them belonging to the Soldier, who awed. "Holy Mary, mother of Joseph! Given a few of these, we could've won double-U two by Christmas Eve!"

"Hell yeah!" The Scout nudged him, though the scrawny Bostonian was thoroughly ignored by the patriot. "So, what're we waitin' for? Let's go an' hit 'em where it hurts!"

The Medic could sense a gloomy shade upon the Engineer and the Spy - something he wished not to state for the sake of stealing their metaphorical thunder. However, between the three geniuses, the Engineer, after sharing a surreptitious glance at his French counterpart, sighed. "Well, here's the problem, son. It's not ready."

A collective groan erupted from half the mercs, the Soldier particularly morphing into a displeased growl. Fortunately, before he could unleash any 'disciplinary action', the Heavy grabbed him by the shoulder, partially yanking him back - an action the Soldier returned the favour by socking him the gut. However, the Heavy was unfazed, merely taking a step back and sweeping the dirt of his belly.

"Herr Dell, if I may ask…" The Medic asked, his voice neither too loud nor too quiet, but just enough to redirect everyone's attention to himself. "Vhat do you mean vhen you say: It is not ready?"

Clearing his throat, knowing the German had convenient restored order for the moment, he said. "The teleporter is drawing power from the nuclear reactor on site, but despite some modifications and refurbishing, it is only 90 percent charged."

"Zen, how much longer does it need to charge?"

"Approximately speaking, 20 minutes."

"20 minutes?!" Everyone, except the Pyro and Spy, uttered.

"Yo, 20 minutes?!" The Scout exclaimed. "You gotta be kiddin' me? We'll be dead by then!"

"Negatory!" The Soldier objected, whooshing over and grabbing the Scout by his collar. "I will not tolerate cowardice or weakness in my presence! Not in this team or anywhere! We will hold the line until the teleporter is ready! Do you understand that?"

Before the Scout could whimper a response, the Medic asked. "Vhat is ze current output of ze reaktor?"

"Currently, 800 megawatts."

"800 megavatts?" Medic parroted. "But, if I recall, ze reaktor vas more zen capable of producing 5000 megavatts."

"Yes, in 1964. But since then, the company had stripped this place of its resources, thus decommissioning the reactor along with it. It doesn't help that they removed some of the graphite blocks and concrete shielding, which I can't replace."

"Bitte? Graphite?"

Leaning into his German counterpart, the Heavy whispered. "Reaktor RBMK."

With a frown and then an understanding nod, the Medic said outward. "Um, excuse my ignorance, but I zought RMBKs vere Russian."

"Yeah, they are." The Texan deadpanned. "But we were already experimenting with them before they did. Needless to say, we've deemed them too dangerous. The only reason I'm crazy enough to bring this one back online is because we have no choice."

Aside from a soft glare from the Heavy, all eyes fixated on the Engineer and the Spy, an ominous silence befallen upon the room.

"With all this put into consideration…" The Spy said, clearing his throat and snuffing his cig on the ashtray. "There is not much time to lose. We must defend the teleporter until it is ready. As of now, we have…18 minutes and 51 seconds. Until then, we have three minutes and nine seconds until the enemy breaches through those gates."

Everyone was and remained quiet, however.

That being said, the Spy swept some imaginary fur from his suit and sighed. "We have our orders. So, let us move. Or, what was that saying…?"

"Haul ass!" The Scout blurted, earning him awkward stares, except from the Soldier, who was already busying inspecting and reloading his weapons independently. Naturally, the instinctive smile on the Bostonian's face melted, lowering his hand and muttered. "Yeah…"

The Engineer, after shaking his head, clapped his hands and said. "Well, time to haul some ass, y'all. We got work to do!"

As if on cue, everyone scrambled to their respective duties. Putting away the screen and projector, the Texan eyed the Medic upon anchoring the trolley.

"Doc."

"Mista."

That should've been it, but it wasn't.

"May I talk to ya for a sec?" He asked the doctor, whom nodded and followed him outside, standing a metre from the door.

"So...wie geht's?"

"I been meaning to give you something." The Engineer said, unapologetically? The German was only beginning to notice when the Texan reached under his overalls and produced an envelope.

"Ho, was ist das hier?"

Waiting until he took the envelope, he glanced over his shoulder and said. "I didn't wanna say this in front of the boys, namely our favorite 'voyeur' back there."

Frowning mildly, the German adjusted his glasses, minutely crinkling the paper, namely the front, which read:

𝔖𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔦,

𝔅𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢 𝔲̈𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔫 𝔖𝔦𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔣 𝔑𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔪𝔦 ℜ𝔦𝔫,

𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔙𝔦𝔠𝔢-𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔡𝔢𝔰 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔖𝔱𝔲𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔩.

𝔖𝔦𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔯𝔡 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔥𝔢𝔫.

𝔐𝔦𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔊𝔯𝔲̈𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔫,

𝔊𝔖ℭ 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱

"Hmm." The German grunted with a serious look.

"Well, whatchya make of it?"

"It's a voman's handwriting."

"Oh? Surely, you can't possibly believe that. It has to be a man's."

"No, a woman's." He said with a deep tone, never mind an ephemerally advanced articulation, taking note of the Texan's incrediousness. "Vhen did you get zis?"

"That letter came in a week ago. I reckon, given the fancy writing, you would know what it means."

"Ja, but I have not seen zis handwriting since ze Nazis have banned it. Vhy are you showing me zis? Zis ist somezing zat ze Spy can do."

"First off, I don't trust that two-faced sumbitch, even if he gotten us out of a pinch too many times. Secondly, you speak German - you can read this better than anyone else. And least of all, you're crazy. So, I'm not surprised that you don't find this, uh, a lil nutty."

"Zat is a colourful metaphor, but I rada zink it is more...mysterious."

"Yeah, mysterious, indeed. In fact, you still haven't told me how a woman could write this. It is calligraphy, isn't it not?"

"Ah, mein Freund, it is a question of constitution: Vhen a man writes on paper, he is literally digging into it like he is tilling his own land, vhereas a voman is more delicate and tender to its fragility. Let's not even forget zat she vas not a native vhen she wrote zis."

Pointing with his index finger, the Medic continued. "Notice how zer ist more ink at ze top and left on each letter, namely her capitals. Ze furder points to her strokes, namely ze Umlauts in 'übergeben' und 'Grüßen' - zey are supposed to be slanted not dotted at least in Fraktur font. Und, obviously, she had trouble trying ze sharp-S to write. Zought not all of us Germans are capable of perfekt handwriting, it is very likely she has used a quill to accomplish her needs."

"A quill...? As in an ink and feather? The same thing our Founding Fathers used to write the constitution?"

"Precisely! I know zis for a fact, because I happen to have my own personel collection of quills and pens at my office. Zat being said, zer ist no doubt her quill vas plucked from a goose or a stork. Very finely sharpened tips, but zey have not been heat treated before being dipped in a rada 'vet' ink."

Knowing he gained more information than he needed, the Engineer glanced at his wristwatch, which the Medic noticed with half crocked eyebrows. However, the Engineer nearly taken a step to leave when he sputtered.

"Wait, hold up, just a minute, doc. Just before we need to go: How do you know it's a wet ink without even smelling or touching?"

Flipping the envelope, he said. "Ze classical European ink uses crushed seeds, such as gallnuts, mixed vid vater. Only ze amateurs use synthetic oils, unless you are painting, not writing. In ze olden days, such classical ink vould dry quickly on parchment, zereby allowing easy erasures via a knife. But if ze ink is too vet, you might as vell be painting - you vill smear your entire page before you can scratch it off. All togezer, our mystery Frau is Japanese."

Managing only an understanding nod, the announcer's voice abruptly echoed, her disjointed lexicon and clinical monotone subtly obvious. "Mission begins in 60 seconds!"

Both glanced at the nearby megaphone overhead, but the Medic, with a silent palatal snarl, stuffed the envelope in his labcoat…

"Later on, partner!" The Texan bid farewell, right before the spawn area whooshed open.

"Let's waste them!" The Scout blurted amid the other battle cries.

Once the Engineer disappeared inside, the Heavy was quiet, and the first thing he did was stop, spotting the German in his peripherals. Fortunately, the Medic was already composed by the time the Russian appeared, but despite their expressionlessness, the Heavy eyed him, notably the medigun tucked under his right arm. They didn't have to say anything to each other.

Exchanging some curt nods, the duo dashed to the frontlines, the Engineer following behind them...

Or so everyone thought.

Instead, the Engineer hustled into Stage Three, heading to the final control point, where a rocket sat idly above it. The nozzles hissed relatively harmless vapour, the Texan unbothered by its odourless properties as he ran inside the adjacent spawn area, or so it seemed until he slipped into an unmarked door in the hallway. Inside, upon negotiating some stairs and hallways, he found the control room.

"Mission begins in 10 seconds." The announcer said.

Grumbling to himself, he eyed the mismatching terminals and dials on the panels, the English labelling either faded, dusty, or superimposed.

"Five, four…" He heard her countdown, clearly audible and crisp inside, unlike outside. "Three, two, one!"

As if on cue, he slowly lifted half the control rods.

However, his handheld radio crackled, a certain Frenchman cooed…disappointedly. "Monsieur Dell, où es-tu? We need you."

"Quit yappin', Charlemagne. I'm a lil busy right now."

"Et, that is?"

"Well, y'all not gonna like this." The Engineer muttered, his lips nearly touching the speaker. "But y'all gonna thank me later as well."

"Oh please, just cut to the point. I don't have all day."

Watching the power level drop on screen, the Engineer paused and said. "I'm gonna to blow the reactor."

Initially, there was no response, but the Engineer could hear gunfire and explosions among the white noise. Then, he heard. "Quoi?!"

"Yes sir-e! I'm gonna blow the reactor."

"Q-Q…that was not part of the plan!"

"It is now, partner. I'm creating a power surge to save us time, but y'all gotta hurry, 'cause in five minutes, this thing is gonna blow to smithereens."

"You do realise you're going to turn half of New Mexico into a nuclear wasteland, non?"

"Son, we invented the world's first nuclear weapons in the desert - I'm sure a little fallout won't hurt. Now get going!"

"Affirmatif!"

Clattering the walkie-talkie on the panel, he continued his work, eying the power level cautiously dropping from 600 MW. Removing each control rods, the reactor was slowly flooded with water, almost teetering on the brink of shutting down prematurely. But the Engineer was unbothered, not when he began shutting most of the pumps, only letting a marginal amount of water stream into the reactor.

"Hey, Hardhat, open the gate!" Scout blurted into the radio, his juvenile voice disrupting his train of thought. Eying a nearby dispenser, which was modified for CCTV surveillance, he saw the Bostonian and the Sniper bunched together near the spawn area, the latter ringing off a shot at a misfortunate BLU soldier in the distance.

"Yo, I know you kinda busy right now, but we really gotta get a move on!"

Throughly ignoring the literally roadrunner, the Texan let his hands hover over the analogue controls before diverting his attention to the dispenser, which was physically hooked up to the security network.

"Engineer!" A familiar Frenchman hollered, his silhouette visible from the right corner as he dematerialised from masquerading as an enemy Pyro. "Dépêchez-vous, the Heavy and the Doktor can't hold any longer!"

Again, he ignored everyone until he finally overridden the controls, the heavy duty gates sliding away to allow his comrades to hastily retreat.

"Hang on 'here, boys!" He spoke into the radio, watching the two percent power level begin to creep up. "The teleporter is only 92 percent, but I could really use a lil helper in a moment!"

The walkie-talkie buzzed ephemerally, followed by a responding crackle. "I hear ya, Engie. Where yuz at?"

"Go into spawn and then there should be a hallway. Hold up, I'll let you in."

Rushing back up the stairwell, he unlatched the door, the keycard scanner remaining silent on the other side. Moments later, the hyper fast gaits of the Bostonian appeared around the distant corner. Once he got up close, right when the Scout was open his lips, the Texan punched him in the liver.

Withholding a snorting grunt and clutching his gut, the Scout snarled. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Good, you still got an attitude." He smirked at the kid, turning around and retracing his steps.

Aside from flipping him off and cantankerously grumbling, the Scout sucked up the unexpected jab and followed him.

"You see that red button?" He asked and pointed once they stepped inside the control room. "Once the power climbs to 1000 megawatts, push it and get outta dodge as soon you can."

"Gotchya! What does it do?"

"It's the emergency shutdown button."

"Uh...shutdown? B-"

"The control rods have graphite tips - they'll melt and jam under the extreme heat. In other words, it's a hidden detonator button. Now do as you're told, boy!"

"W-Wait, where you goin'?"

"I gotta make sure the boys don't dogpile into that big old darn thing. Just don't touch anything except that button!"

Visibly stuttering, the Scout didn't have a chance to protest, not when the Texan left abruptly. Not that he knew exactly what the beeping alarms, flashing lights, and buttons meant, but the Scout can feel the tension in the room. There was neither anger nor sadness, only anxeity; his finger shakily hovered over the plastic lid containing the red button.

"Scout, how's she holding?" The Texan called on the radio after what felt like a long minute.

"Um..." He scanned the room and saw the CRT monitor displaying the power output. "550?"

"550 megawatts? Alrighty, let me know when you're comin'."

"Who made it through?"

But before his question could be answered, there was a presence nearby, prompting a nervous, albeit instantanous, whip around with his bat held high.

"Scout, bitte!" The German shouted, entering the control room with his medigun, electric arcs crackling excitedly around the muzzle. "Don't push zat button!"

"But, doc, the Engie said to push it at 1000 megawatts!"

"I know vhat he's doing, and ze science is sound, but ze teleporter vill vaporise you vheder you make it or not! Don't ask vhy, mein kleiner Freund. Kommst du, ze reaktor is already going to blow anyvay!"

Having neither the time nor words to argue with him, the scrawny Bostonian spared a few double takes at the power, only to find it rapidly climbing after reaching 700. Therefore, he dashed past him, abandoned his metal bat in the process.

"Scout, vait!"

"Sorry, doc! C'mon, hit me!"

"Nein, not yet!" He grunted, but once they were outside, the German flicked the switch, enveloping them both in awesome red energy. "Los, los, los!"

Amid a growing earthly rumble, the Medic maintained his Übercharge, even after Scout vanished.

Moments later, his radio crackled and he heard. "Hey, thanks, Doc!"

Sparing no words, the German stepped inside.

In a flash, he was gone...right when his Übercharge began to falter.

However...

"Doc?" The Scout said. "Doc?"

"Hold on, now. Give 'em a sec. He's comin'."

So, they waited.

And waited.

Then waited.

"Oh this ain't good..."

"Hold your horses, y'all. It took me 23 seconds to make it 'ere."

"Precisely 23.7 seconds tops, merci beaucoup." The Spy sighed, but a pause followed before he spoke again. "20 seconds."

"Heavy is worried." The Russian muttered, deeply.

"I'm tellin' you guys, th-"

A loud shush from the Ruskie silenced him immediately.

But after a moment, the Spy said. "30 seconds."

Then, a while later.

"60 seconds..."

At last, there was a loud fabric smack on the ground and a grumble. "Dagnabbit!"

It was a hopeless situation for the Justice Task Force, or rather the average member themselves. Take for example, one unfortunate soul, who was cowering behind a concrete barrier, eyes completely dilated and bloodshot, her knuckles pale white and sweaty beneath those black tactical gloves, miserly hugging her standard issued red and black accented EM2 service rifle. Though she was kneeling on both knees, an otherwise natural pose for a daintily little angel as herself, she felt no security from her black serafuku, beret, and weapon, not even her long flowing black hair could hide her from the sounds and sights of the battlefield, or rather the familiar urban landscape. Towering beside her was a fellow classmate, identically dressed and armed, but she was hardly three short seconds out of cover when a bullet smacked her in the face, knocking her backwards. Her halo may not have vanished, but she was clutching her face and rolling around, moaning from some copper-lead fragments gouging her eyeballs. It mattered naught, however, for they were still outnumbered, outgunned, and outmanoeuvred from the very beginning.

Their attackers, a group of black helmet gangsters, hosing 9mm, 10mm, and 5.56mm upon their position the moment they walked into their crosshairs. It should've been a simple ambush: They saw them, they came into their killzone, and they shot 'em. But, one happened to be looking around, her own nervousness saving her life by one second before her classmates were reduced to fallen angels. Nonetheless, they were cornered, a dead end and a concrete barrier containing the last two survivors of the JTF ducklings. For the gangsters, victory was swift and addictively nigh, much so that the leader of the pack flipped the bird with a prideful taunt, her malevolent eyes concealed by her bloody red visor.

Soon, the gunfire mellowed out as quickly as it erupted. Tasting blood in the proverbial waters, the leader took it upon herself to skim the top of the barrier, showering concrete shards and dust upon the angel's head. Though she exhausted her entire magazine, she casually reloaded, smirking at the fact this last survivor was too much of a scaredy cat to accept her fate. Slapping the charging handle on her 'totally legal' UMP-9, she tucked it under her arm and strolled to the barrier, repeating the same action with a slow marching fire. Again, the bolt clicked opened, but since she was close enough, she could practically tip the barrier with her feet.

Dumping the empty magazine, a sharp prick shot through her left hand, earning a muffled half-frustrated 'ow' from her, sorely interrupting her reload. Raising her hand, she saw...a syringe? Turning to her would-be attacker, her eyes barely registered a white labcoat whooshing in front of her and a rubber gloved hand grasping, raising, and pointing her gun in the air. Instinctively, her finger squeezed the trigger, but a clank was all she heard.

"Hmm, faszinierend~" The bespectacled stranger...mused? "My dosage zeems to be zlightly unterpowered."

Yanking her weapon away with both hands, she swung back at him, hoping to shove him back. Of course, she missed, but he glided backwards, anyway. Easily appreciating some much needed breathing space, she spun around to shoot at him, but her legs and forehead were suddenly heavy, the former independently struggling to find any resemblance of stability for some reason. It was like she was suddenly drunk, but she didn't recall drinking anything other than some 'special' juice and soda. Having completed a revolution and about to start another, the gangster stumbled and tripped onto some flowers, her head spared from a stiff column of cherry cyprus wood.

Shaking her head, she finished reloading, but the charging handle was not pulled back - a mistake that took her two seconds to realise. Unfortunately, it was not pulled back enough and it clicked again, forcing her to recopricate the action, which felt like pulling a rowing machine pulley now. When she finally pulled it back, her fingers were already cold and sweaty, abruptly unable to lift the 2.55kg death machine high enough to target centre mass. She could've sworn she pulled the trigger, but nothing happened, not when her eyelids drooped down and her head rolled backwards. The worst part: This was the same fate her friends met moments before her - something she could've noticed if she wasn't busy gloating.

For the two JTF survivors, they both came to their senses, one of them tending to each other's wounds. Wrapping her left eye in white medical gauzes and bandages, the meek duo lifted each other up, the cyclops completely unarmed unlike her classmate. Not like hipfiring her rifle would accomplish anything, but it was better than nothing. Eying a third survivor lying nearby, they began to approach her, but whatever confidence they had left was shattered when she sensed a shadow from her left. In fact, none of them had a chance to face their attacker when a red wavy beam slinked towards them, enveloping them with energy.

A minute seemed to pass until they realised they were not only not vaporised, but they had squirmed and trembled. For the cyclops in particular, she felt a terrible itch in her eye socket. Hearing the fabric scratching, her friend turned after examining herself, wandering why her one-eyed counterpart was no longer resting against her.

Clawing at her bandages, her fingers finally gripped and tore them off, some of it unravelling in sections, either carelessly discarded or gripped amid her excitement.

It was only upon seeing the formerly cyclopean opening her scarred eyelid that she squealed happily, sparing a few test waves in front of her friend to find she could perfectly see at last. In fact, the scars and raw eyeball were not only fully repaired, but whatever fear loomed upon them had suddenly disappeared, replaced by a newfound sense of rejuvenation. Amid their celebration, however, the medic fired his medigun upon their fallen sistern, swiftly arising from the proverbial dead one by one, their red halos reappearing within an instant.

"Arigato." She meeked, thanking the unnamed doctor, or rather the haloless man.

Though he had no idea what she said, her innocent smile and adorable round eyes behind her long bangs made him smile back. "Zer ist no need to vorry, Fräulein. I vill not let zies Schweinehunde hurt you again."

"D-D-Do you p-promise?" She stuttered.

"Cross mein literal hertz and hope to die."

And just like that, the JTF mobs, rallied and wonderstruck by his charisma, were at his command. Accordingly, he said. "Vhat is your name?"

"Yu." She stuttered.

However, the German didn't exactly hear her, which she sensed and repeated. "Yu-chan."

"Jü-chen?" He articulated in his native innotation. "As in Y-U?"

She nodded, firmly.

"Vell, if you can me tell me vhere I am and point me in ze right direction, you may determine if I am vorthy."

Exchanging some glances among their kind, the JTF girls, after some nods, quietly elected Yu to answer, much to her mild chagrin. "You are in Kivotos. I mean, the Ginza district."

"Oh, hehe, I am in Greece." He mused, curiously; however, something wasn't tying and winding well in his twisted head, logic eventually winning out. "Vait a minute, zer are no skyscrapers in Greece."

Naturally, he looked at the 'seven dwarves' gathered around him, taking a painfully obvious double look at them - something the girls noticed and responded with some uneasy head tilting. In fact, looking past the apparent carnage, his eyes laid upon the streets, or rather what was painted on them.

"Das ist nicht griechisch. Zat is Japanese." He observed. "Ze lines and strokes...ze are familiar."

"Are you okay, doctor?" Yu asked, bravely.

"Oh, uh, of course~" He chuckled, which was a total lie. "I am alvays fine! In fact, I am more vorried about your velfare zen ze party zat some call, anarchy."

"Y-Yeah...about that." She muttered, shamefully.

However, the doctor noticed and asked. "Bitte, tell me you vere not conscripted into zis kämpfe, vere you?"

"Um, no! No, we weren't forced, we're volunteers - we are the Justice Task Force for Trinity General School."

"Justice Task Force?" He parroted with a pronouncably articulated constitution.

She nodded.

"Have zings gotten so bad zat zey have secretly reverted to zer old vays again? Ho, I am glad my American Freunde are not hier - Soldier have alvays vanted to 'slap a Jap' vhen he had ze chance."

Sparing several seconds for his thoughts to process, he sighed. "You are trained?"

"Mhm."

"To uphold ze law?"

"Hai."

"For your school?"

"Mhm."

"Zen, you vouldn't happen to know somezing called ze General Student Council, ja?"

Not that the squad of seven would be much help, but she procured her smartphone and charted the coordinates. Though the good doctor's aura and smile remained unchanged, his attention was fixated on the futuristic handheld tech - something that a certain Texan would've loved to examine and develop furthermore.

Excluding the sedated helmet gangsters, the German baker and his smol cinammon rolls began marching through the streets, encountering some delinquents several blocks later. Clearly, they didn't take too kindly to the JTF's presence, but when they began firing at them, they knocked one of them down, only for that seemingly poor mob to spring back up via the medigun. What the JTF girls lacked in marksmanship and ferocity, they had strength in numbers; they outnumbered the four delinquents with a homogenous arsenal of intermediate ammunition (unlike the hogpog of 9mm, 5.56mm, and 30-06 bullets from the opposition). Combined with excellent medical equipment, the delinquents were fighting the equivalent of an infinite army - cut off one head and two more will take its place and so forth. Somehow, they seemed to ignore the doctor entirely, though even if they recognised his importance, it mattered naught when he was literally surrounded by cute lil raven haired daisies.

Once the troublemakers were handled, the group progressed to another city block, where they found a bunch of helmeted gangsters vandalising some storefronts. They managed to accomplish a repeat of the previous engagement, but several blocks later, they saw more gangsters up to no good.

The JTF thought they would not notice them, hoping to avoid another fight, but it took one of them to turn around and all hell broke loose again. However, as the medic observed, while the JTF girls lacked speed, discipline, firepower, durability, and intelligence, from numerical superiority and espirit de corps alone, almost anything was possible. For example, knowing they were no match against a gangster individually, the seven dwarves concentrated their firepower on one target at a time, thereby easily making short work of their enemies within seconds. If one of their comrades were befallen by enemy fire, the medic simply healed them and they returned to combat without hesitation. Afterwards, they moved on, making three turns.

Among the troublemakers, namely the next bunch they encountered, two of the delinquents brandished miniguns, but they were not firing at them. Rather, they were firing at several parked cars, keeping their victims pinned down as their helmeted counterparts prepped and chucked some grenades at them (all surprisingly falling short of the futuristic automobiles somehow). Realising they possessed the element of surprise, the seven dwarves focused fire on the wannabe Heavies, but their comrades replied back and forced the JTF squad to seek cover. In fact, the delinquents and gangsters, knowing they were going have to split their attention between two separate targets, made a hasty retreat, one tossing a flashbang to cover their escape. Though he had no ear protection, a quick sniff of his own medicine allowed him to restore equilibrium to his eardrums within an instant.

At last, the seven dwarves came to the rescue, finding three KSPD officers with one of their own rendered unconscious. As opposed to the JTF's red and black schoolgirl theme, the officers were like NYPD coppers with skirts, but their black load-bearing vests and transparent plastic shields, including the telltale animal tails and ears, said otherwise. Reasonably defensive, the KSPD trio stared at the medic suspiciously, their shotguns readied to blast him apart if not for the JTF mob-chans surrounding him.

"Please, stand down, officers. Zer ist no need for unnecessary hostilities. Allow me." He said to them with his submissive hand on his chest.

"He's been good to us." One of the JTF girls said. "Trust me, he saved my life."

"Sehen Sie? I can assure you, zey are hier on zer own free vill and are by no means coerced or enslaved. Now, I am sure you are very much avare your zity has descended into anarchy for reasons zat are currently unknown, ja?"

The leader of the bunch said flatly. "Hai, we are aware of the situation."

"Und, it has much to do vith ze disappearance of a one GSC Präsidentin. Ist zes not correct?"

The moe coppers exchanged glances with each other, not entirely certain or dillusioned by the development. At the same time, the JTF girls glanced at him, the news having struck them like a hard bump on the shoulder.

"You zee, meine lieben Fräulein, it is not too difficult to comprehend ze gravity of zis matta, especially vhen it is a matta of national zecurity. It is zus vit great precedence zat I must reach ze GSC building as soon as possible, for I have an envelope in my pocket, directly addressed to Mr Sensei by zie Präsidentin herself, destined for a one Naganami Rin." He stated. "Vhile its contents are unknown, I cannot question her reasonings to entrust a medical man as myself regarding its safety and transportation zereof."

Watching their reactions carefully, he knew they, as members of the emergency public services, understood his legal lexicon. If he was an engineering major, he would've sworn he saw their metaphorical gears turning and clicking. Instead, his inner psychologist knew he had to gain their trust, and then he must gain their support. The question was determine which legal system to use.

"In uther vords, officers…" He said plainly, choosing his words for a couple seconds. "...you may search me vithout probable cause."

Of course, that produced nothing new, but the sergeant herself, upon slinging her shotgun, said. "Show us the letter."

With his submissive hand, he reached into his labcoat, transferring it to her and she inspected it.

A few seconds later, after flipping it around twice, she looked at him, representing it and asked. "What is this?"

Casually nudging his glasses slightly without changing his posture, he said. "Sensei, bitte übergeben Sie diesen Brief Nanagami Rin, der Vice-President des General Student Council. Sie wird alles verstehen. Mit freundlichen Grüßen, GSC President."

Unsurprisingly, all eyes were on him, nobody having any idea what he just said.

"And your name is?"

"Medic." One of the JTF girls meowed.

"Doktor."

"A doctor. Doctor who?" The sergeant asked.

"Doktor."

"Yes, I know, but doctor WHO?"

"Exactly." He almost grinned at the copper's expense.

Sighing frustratedly, the sergeant got her handy and dialled a number. Again, the medic eyed the device, hearing a familiar dial tone from it as she raised it to her ear.

"Captain?" She said, a deeper female voice garbled from the medic's position in response. "Yes, the district is clear, but officer Kubayashi is down. She's hit pretty badly."

A beat passed for the medic, the bantering prompting him enough to step forth from his flock and direct his medigun on the unfortunate soul in question. Narrowly slithering past her compatriots, the beam highlighted the 'sleeping beauty', her left leg braced by some wooden planks and a metal coat hangar. Interrupted by the sound of machinery powering up, the sergeant whipped around, her lips about to unleash a shout until she saw the white halo reppear above Kubayashi's head. Hissing coarsely, the officer gritted her teeth and reached behind her, the pain dissipating as swiftly as it registered to her. It was in that moment she felt a soaked bath towel and modest tension wrapped around her leg, her bare foot twitching at her command (whom she had to take a double take) before she began to undo the makeshift brace.

"Um, yeah, never mind about that." The sergeant uttered, a 'tsh' and incoherent snarling heard on the other end. "Here, take a look at this."

Lowering the phone, she pressed a few things and pointed it at the scene like a handheld mirror. While the medic spared Kubayashi three more seconds of the good stuff, the recipent on the smartphone was visible to him now, specifically a dog-earred blonde with sharp canine teeth and a dead serious look. The medic could tell she was awestruck by his handiwork, even if she was visibly expressionless.

"I see." The half German Shepard lady said, neither a snide nor compliment, as her eyes laid upon the medical man and his 'patients'. "And you are?"

"Doktor."

Ignoring the sergeant again, who rolled her eyes at his sass, the 'captain' addressed him. "Yes...I am Ogata Kanna of the Valkyrie Police School Public Peace Bureau."

"Ah, zen vere are my manners, Kapitänin? My name is Doctor Herbert Ludwig of ze Berlin Medical Academy."

"Be-ru-ri-n Medical Academy?" She repeated, clearly suspicious. "I heard of no such place like that in Kivotos."

Withholding an irritated snort, the German watched her process and search for her words, which, after a slow blink, she said. "I appreciate you looking out for my subordinates. Since you are here, may I ask why you are wondering the streets? I'm certain you're aware that there is rampant antisocial behaviour and lawlessness abound."

"Ja, I am fully informed of zis unfortunate development, but vorry naught about my safety. I am more vorried about die Gesundheit of my patients if anyzing. As zuch, I have an urgent message to deliver to one, if you may excuse my Japanische, Nanagami Rin."

"Nanagami Rin? She's the Vice President of the GSC."

"I believe your subordinate hier has retained possession of my parcel and had meant to present zis evidence to your inquiry at once. Is zes not correct?"

"It is standard procedure." She said flatly, although the medic squinted slightly behind his glasses, totally not annoyed by the terminology. "Sergeant?"

Flipping the phone around, she barked. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Show me the letter."

Raising it to what the medic presumed to be Kanna's eye level, she read it for a couple moments, a firm 'hmm' followed thereafter.

"I see. Then it is settled." Kanna said. "Sergeant, see to it that the doctor gets that envelope to the GSC. I'll send word you're coming and alert nearby units to your location."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And one more thing: Keep your eyes peeled, one of the seven fugitives is reported to be within your vicinity."

"Uh, bitte..." The medic frowned and asked. "Ze Seven Fugitives?"

Exerting a tiresome sigh whilst the sergeant held the handy like a tape recorder, Kanna said. "Hai, there was a breakout at the Corrections Bureau a week ago. We haven't been able to catch them since, but I advice extreme caution - they are the most dangerous criminal offenders you can imaginable."

"Oh you have no idea what dangerous is, Fräulein." He mused internally, malice excitedly begging to ooze from his very being.

However, sensing collective distress, especially from the JTF, he could've sworn the smol cinammon buns were hugging him tightly at the mere mentioning of fugitives. As such, the other side of him felt the urge to headpat every single of them, but the thought of him spreading the germs on his gloves to those wide-eyed raven-haired muffins told him otherwise.

"Her name is the Fox of Calamity. My subordinates will fill you in on the details." She barked, mainly directed towards him. "Kanna, out."

Then, the call ended.

Nearby, Kubayashi groaned, partially limping via the lack of footwear on her once broken left leg. Sitting on the bonnet of a car, her two equals had already overcame their shock, overthrilled that their comrade had fully recovered. However, the doctor, in pursuit of answers, approached the trio, eying the boot on her right foot.

"May I borrow zis?" He asked, pointing to her boot.

"Um...I'm a size 25."

"Japanese, Euro, oder Amerikanische?"

"Uh, nani?"

Seeing he was not getting anywhere fast, he approached the fallen sukebans, crouching and snatching their left shoes, or rather their cheap loafers. The JTF and KSPD girls watched the man with blank stares, but Kubayashi deduced his unusual interaction, namely the shoes in his left hand.

"Aw man..." She groaned upon trying them on. "They're all a little big. Who was the idiot that discarded my boot anyway?"

"I did." The sergeant blurted and stood beside her.

"S-Sir...? But..."

"Between you and the concrete slab that fell on top of you earlier, we couldn't pull you out without sacrificing your boots, at least your left one."

With a curt, albeit ashamed, bow, the corporal heaving a some quiet breathes at her misplaced annoyance.

"It could have been much vorse. You are lucky to have friends who care about you." The medic added. "But, I must admit, none of you vere expecting any help, vere you?"

The officers shook their heads, even the JTF girls nearby, who were no less paranoid of their surroundings, actually.

"Eh, wem will ich etwas vormachen? Zer ist no point in sitting around and playing Aschenputtel all day now." He sneered and stepped away. "Ve have werk to do. So, vidout any furder ado, kommt schon."

With a mid inward sweeping gesture, although it took him a couple steps and blank stares for him to stop and address the language barrier. "Vell, vhat are you vaiting vor? Ve have a zity to save! Komm, komm! Come along!"

Clearly understanding those words, the smol black and cyan cinnamon buns lead the way, guided by a handy and the sergeant.

Nanagami Rin was anything but pleased when the lift slid open. Sadly, she mustered her typical office smile and bear the incoming tidal wave of mumbles, bickering, and footsteps roaring towards her direction. She only managed to take at least a dozen footsteps into the lobby when she was finally confronted.

"There you are, Acting President!" A lavender haired pipsqueak said. "We've been waiting! Get the 'real' president in here already!"

Seeing their fellow receptionist was of no use containing the situation, let alone the nearby guards, she opened her lips to speak. Unfortunately, she was interrupted by someone else.

"Ah, Chief Officer." A towering avian-winged girl with black hair and clothing said, much to her nerdy counterpart's chagrin. "I've been waiting to see you."

Then, among the many other representatives, there was a familiar blonde with a large medical bag. "Acting President, I have come on the behalf of the Perfect Team. We have terms the head perfect would like to discuss at once."

"Well…" The secretarial stateswoman sneered demurely under her breath. "This timing is rather inconvenient."

Pretending she wasn't visibly annoyed, she addressed the congregation, politely. "Hello and welcome, guests that represent neighbouring academies' student councils, disciplinary boards, and those who otherwise have too much time on your hands. I am well aware why you irkso- I mean, important representatives have come here today. You're here to blame us for the fuss happening in this fine city. Isn't that right?"

"If you're well aware, then do something!" The pipsqueak snarled. "You represent the General Student Council after all! Thousands of academy districts are in panic! Our academy's wind generator had shut down only a few days ago!"

As if on cue, the blonde added. "There are also rumors a student under the Federal Corrections Bureau's custody has escaped."

Beside her, the towering raven said. "Illegal distribution of tanks, choppers, and other unknown weapons have increased by over 2000 percent. At this rate, ordinary school life in Kivotos will be a thing of the past."

At last, having enough of hearing their complaints, the secretariat sighed. "Yuuka-san, Hasumi-san, and Chinatsu-san, believe me, the General Student Council is doing whatever they can to address these issues. Unfortunately, they have yet to present any viable solutions for the time being. Therefore, I regret to inform you that you will have to wait."

For the bureaucrat, it managed to silence Chintasu and Hasumi, but the pipsqueak called Yuuka, who grumbled. "Waiting is what we have been doing for weeks now! One days was one thing, maybe a few, but seriously? A week? And then after that? Come on already!"

"For once, I have to agree, Acting President." Hasumi said, pursing her lips moments later. "I may not speak on the behalf of everyone in this room, but our patience is already running thin enough. If we don't do something about the city, I'm not sure what will be of us."

Aside from an agreeing nod from Chinatsu, Yuuka said, angrily. "Which is why that I demand to see the President at once! Such inaction is unprecedented and cannot go any further!"

Only if Rin could answer that so simply, amid her clerical duties and personal responsibilities. She was the President's second-in-command, wielding as much power as her, but that was just it. Without power, knowledge is useless. And, without knowledge, authority is pointless. In fact, the only reason she hadn't fled for life was because of her obligation to protect and serve such a position for her superior's sake.

"I suppose it cannot be helped…" She finally sighed, seeing she had depleted all her lines to appease her 'clients'. So, doing what she done best, she inhaled and projected her voice…after clamping her hands together. "Hear ye, I have an announcement to make."

Aside from a surprised frown from the trio, Rin stepped forth with everyone fixated on her, or at least everyone within her proximity.

"Everyone, as Acting President, I must first point out that I offer my sincerest apologies for withholding vital information in light of recent developments. That being said, allow me to cut to the chase, for I must first address the biggest problem of all."

Now she definitely had everyone's attention, or rather her own witch trial ready to happen. Not that she wanted this to happen, but it was better than continuing to bear numerous weights on her shoulders.

"The truth is…the General Student Council President herself is…"

The words were about to leave her lips when her ears twitched, a faint commotion approaching nearby.

Looking past the furious little accountant, including her counterparts, she saw the other halos among the other representatives shifting. Yuuka and the others frowned, turning around to notice what was transpiring, the former particularly keeping the secretariat in her peripherals, just so she didn't try anything. However, she didn't have to do that for long, not when Rin stood beside her.

"KSPD." Yuuka muttered, seeing their halos floating and weaving through the crowd. "What're they doing here?"

Before Rin could theorise, never mind answering that question, she watched the scene transpire, eventually spotting a sea of black and red, blue and black, holy white and blue, gold and cherry, aoki blue and akagi red, and imperial white and blood red. Jutting from the centre of this diverse following was a tall bespectacled figure in a labcoat, a cotton vest covering a red tie underneath. Perhaps most perplexing of all...

"Hallo! Hallo!" He smiled, waving to whoever he could see. "Guten Morgen!"

"An adult?" Hasumi murmured, her height allowing her to disseminate details. "And a medic…"

"A medic?" Yuuka blurted.

"He has the red cross patched on his shoulders."

Instantly, something wounded together in Rin's mind.

So, manoeuvring through everyone, partially accomplished by the unlikely presence of the newly-arrived KSPD officers, plus the nearby guards, she saw almost every uniform from the major schools imaginable. The Justice Task Force, Valkyrie Student Academy, Trinity General School, Gehanna Academy, Red Winter, Hyakkiyako, and many others she can't process for the moment. Among the loudest of the bunch, the Justice Task Force murmured and squealed excitedly, not so much at him, but at another familiar face.

"Ah, you have arrived." A girl with waist length raven black hair said, gathering her fellow classmates like Mary and her little lambs.

"Senpai, it was a miracle!" One of the JTF girls elated, or at least that's what Rin heard.

"Ichika." The secretariat said in passing.

"Mm."

The closer Rin got to the commotion, the more she realised just how tall this adult stood. He was easily 183cm, surpassing the towering busty raven called Hasumi by three centimetres. Most importantly, he had no halo over his head.

"Bitte, bitte…please." He conveyed, raising his left hand, undecided between a wave or salute, but enough for the excitement to mellow down. Tucked under his right arm was a cannon-like device, clearly connected to a machine on his back. Despite that, nobody was visibly unnerved.

"Ladies und…" He projected his voice, the secretary detecting a pause in his speech. "Everyone, may I have your attention, bitte?"

There was an unusual accent in his voice, but she couldn't pinpoint where and why exactly.

Nevermore, the commons and elites piped down, largely.

"It has been a great pleasure that I could help and get you here safely." He began with all eyes fixated on him. "Offiziere, I hope you and your Kameradinnen can restore order to zis fine zity in due time. Zhat being said, I believe I should let you on your vay at once, ja?"

"Hai!" A familiar white-haired officer chirped, her name tag reading, Nakatsukasa Kirinio, as she saluted and marched off with the KSPD in tow. "Goodbye~!"

Waving back, the man turned and addressed the congregation. "Now, vidout any furder a do, vhich one of you is Nanagami Rin?"

"I am." The secretary said, stepping forward with the others backing away. "I know why you are here."

"Ah." He droned, gentlemanly. "Zen you must know vhat I have."

She nodded amid the curious looks from everyone else…mostly. Reaching into his labcoat, he produced the envelope and, after she grabbed and inspected it, revealed its contents. The metaphorical ball had now fallen in the imaginary court, Yuuka particularly eying the message with a puzzled look - something that Rin did not appreciate with a slight squint over her shoulder.

The Medic, despite his curiosity, remained where he stood, a list of questions already prepared in his head should the pointy eared woman finish her rereading. That moment came when she lowered and folded the letter, pinching the bridge of her nose with her left hand, then said. "Well, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."

Loudly clearing his throat, the German asked. "Bitte?"

"You are the one who brought this letter, are you not?"

"Ja."

"Then you already know that letter was addressed to you, Sensei."

Immediately, the doctor withheld a snigger, never mind a slight twitch in his eyelid. Instead, hoping to dispel the disbelief in the lobby, specifically everyone present, he said, bluntly. "Mein Frau, I'm afraid you have mistaken me for someone else. My name is Doktor Herbert Ludwig."

"You are a doctor?"

"Evidently, yes."

"A scientist." Yuuka blurted.

"And, naturally, a teacher." Chinatsu whispered, her oversized medical bag, light blond hair, and elf ears catching his attention.

Chuckling at everyone's amazement, he spared a light smile. "Indeed, I used to practice medizin back in my native Vaterland, until I vas unfortunately reassigned to more 'urgent' mattas abroad. I must admit, I am not from hier, indeed. In fact, I vas on 'assignment' vhen I ran into a small 'detour', vhich has brought me hier now."

Of course, it was a farce, albeit a partial one, to be exact. Seeing no reason to doubt his credentials, however, not that it was not the place to do so, Rin pursed her lips and said. "I apologise to know that you are quite a busy man yourself. I hope we didn't catch you at an impeccable moment, have we?"

"More or less, ja."

Though not a German herself, it sounded intelligible enough for her to understand, and, amid a firm 'hmm', she said. "Given that context, please answer this one question before you go…"

She flipped the letter around, the envelop included. Initially, the Medic was going to instantly dismiss it…until he saw the font.

"Can you read this?"

With a deep frown, he took the letter, resting it into his right hand briefly so he could adjust his glasses before he read:

𝔖𝔢𝔥𝔯 𝔤𝔢𝔢𝔥𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔦,

𝔒𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔠𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔯 𝔇𝔬𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔏𝔲𝔡𝔴𝔦𝔤 𝔰𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔫? 𝔚𝔢𝔫𝔫 𝔖𝔦𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔣 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔫, 𝔟𝔦𝔫 𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔱 𝔰𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬𝔱. ℑ𝔠𝔥 𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢 ℑ𝔥𝔫𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔈𝔦𝔫𝔷𝔢𝔩𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔦𝔢 𝔪𝔲̈𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔫 𝔪𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔖𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔫𝔱𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰𝔠𝔥𝔲𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔤𝔢𝔫.

ℑ𝔠𝔥 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔟𝔢 𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔫 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔫, 𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔩𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫 𝔗𝔬𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔗𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔫𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔦𝔢, 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔷𝔢𝔫, 𝔯𝔢𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔱 𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔱 𝔞𝔲𝔰, 𝔲𝔪 𝔪𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔷𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫. 𝔊𝔩𝔢𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔷𝔢𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔤 𝔨𝔞𝔫𝔫 𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔦𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔨𝔲𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔫 ℨ𝔢𝔦𝔱, 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔥 𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔦𝔟𝔱, 𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔫. 𝔅𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔦𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔷𝔲 𝔪𝔦𝔯 𝔨𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔦𝔯𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔟𝔢, 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔲𝔠𝔥𝔱 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔡𝔱 𝔎𝔦𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔬𝔰 ℌ𝔦𝔩𝔣𝔢.

𝔈𝔰 𝔤𝔦𝔟𝔱 𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔱𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔰 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔢, 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔯 𝔄𝔟𝔴𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔱 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔤𝔩𝔢𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔢 𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔡𝔱 𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔥𝔯𝔢 𝔄𝔨𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔢𝔫 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔱. 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔷 ℑ𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔴𝔲̈𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔤𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔨𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡 ℑ𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔯 𝔏𝔢𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔫 𝔤𝔩𝔞𝔲𝔟𝔢 𝔦𝔠𝔥, 𝔡𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔖𝔦𝔢 𝔣𝔲̈𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔰 𝔚𝔬𝔥𝔩 𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔡𝔱 𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔢𝔯 ℨ𝔲𝔨𝔲𝔫𝔣𝔱 𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔫 𝔓𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔷 𝔦𝔫 ℑ𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔪 ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫. ℑ𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔢𝔦𝔰𝔰, 𝔡𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔖𝔦𝔢 𝔞𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔢𝔱𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔊𝔲𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔫 - 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔫 𝔖𝔦𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔱𝔰𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔡𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔲𝔢𝔫.

𝔐𝔦𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔯𝔨𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔢𝔯𝔨𝔩𝔞̈𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔖𝔦𝔢, ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔯 𝔇𝔬𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔯, 𝔷𝔲𝔪 𝔄𝔡𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔯 𝔳𝔬𝔫 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔢.

ℑ𝔠𝔥 𝔷𝔞̈𝔥𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔲𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔢, ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔯 𝔇𝔬𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔯.

𝔐𝔦𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔊𝔯𝔲̈𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔫,

𝔊𝔖ℭ 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱

𝔓.𝔖. 𝔚𝔢𝔫𝔫 ℜ𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔶 𝔡𝔞𝔰 𝔳𝔬𝔯 ℑ𝔥𝔫𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔢𝔨𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔱, 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔲𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔖𝔦𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔄𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱 𝔷𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔫 - 𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔥𝔞𝔟𝔢 𝔦𝔥𝔯 𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔫 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔫𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔨𝔲𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 ℑ𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔢𝔤𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔫.

When he finished scanning the contents, he lowered the letter and mused. "Ah…so, können Sie mich verstehen?"

"Ja, ein bisschen davon. The word order was not all that different. Why she insists on using that kind of handwriting is beyond me, however."

"Your precious Präsidentin probably zought all of us Germans write zis vay, but it is a very stylised vay of writing. It is more art if anyzing." Before he could continue, he saw someone raise their hand, which he addressed. "Ja?"

"Excuse me, but, um, I don't know if you noticed…" Yuuka stated and stepped forward. "But not all of us can understand what all that means. What exactly is that?"

"Ah, yes, and your name is?" He looked and asked.

"Yuuka Hayase desu!"

"Frau Yuuka, zat ist a very gut question. Zat vas my native tongue called, German. Und, it may sound very familiar because it and English are in fact related."

Unexpectedly, a wave of curious murmurs and awes swept through the crowd, minus Rin, who was somewhat composed.

"Wait a minute, Gothic is not one language?" Hasumi stepped forward and asked.

"Gozic? Vhat ist your name?"

"Hasumi Hanekawa."

"Hasumi." He parroted, eying the words, Justice, written in the olde English Canterbury font on her black uniform, specifically her left breast. "I am assuming zat Gothic and English are one in ze same, ja?"

"Mhm." She nodded.

"Hmm, zen zhat ist very interesting. Indeed, it ist not one language - zer are multiple tongues vid English and German being ze biggest of zem all." He said, earning some understanding nods. "But, make no mistake, I'm a doctor, not a linguist. Zat topic is somezing my colleagues are more zen villing to divulge zen me. Und, more importantly, ve are getting terribly offtrack, if may restate ze obvious."

Rin loudly cleared her throat, therby injecting. "Indeed, the doctor is quite right. The contents of that letter states that, one, the President has appointed an advisor for the SCHALE club. Two, herein, that advisor is the Sensei, which, three, is the doctor himself."

Suddenly, the crowd gasped with varying degrees of shock and realisation.

"Ho, ein bisschen davon~?" The doctor chuckled internally. "I suppose she has taught you well enough for this scenario, indeed."

"Bitte, if I may, I am not familiar vid your native language, but vhat, or rader who, exactly is zis Sensei?"

"Sensei in a literal translation means 'one who was born before', but as a pronoun, it means 'teacher'."

This time, it was the Medic's turn to gasp, albeit noiselessly, where he then…mused? "Vhy didn't you say so before? Ah, vell, if you put it zhat vay, zen your Präsidentin has visely chosen. Indeed, I am a teacher."

"However, however…" She said, crossing her arms. "A Sensei does more than just giving lessons. They act as both a role model and a defender of principles, values, and wisdom in the face of uncertainty."

"Oh Herr Dell, vhat you vould do to be hier - you are a more hospitable character zen I am."

"Given the context of Kivotos itself, there is a definite shortage of leadership - die Stadt braucht Hilfe."

"Zen, zier ist no time to vaste zen." He said, taking his glasses so he could wipe some imaginary spatter of it, all while keeping his medigun under his armpit. "Given ze smell of ze ashes and cordite zis morgen, among ozer zing, you do not have to indulge me on ze looting and hoodlums. But, vid all due respect to one Kapitänin und her underlings, I don't zink ze law is doing much better vid ze situation."

"They are doing the best they can to serve and protect the public." She said, calmly. "Unfortunately, everything they're doing doesn't matter for as long as the SCHALE clubroom remains within the wrong hands."

"Yes, ze SCHALE-Clubhaus. I vas vondering vhy she kept saying zat."

"Before you mention it, all attempts at retaking the clubroom have been unsuccessful. The gangs that are currently occupying the location are well-equipped and well-motivated. Most importantly, the General Student Council has no authority because the top administrator, hers truly, has gone missing. Without any other way to bypass the verification, we been powerless."

"Zat sounds more like Engineer's specialty…"

"Now that you're here however, everything's changed."

"Nun, was ist Ihr Plan?"

Seeing that no one else could understand them, thereby cloaking her motives to everyone but him, she said. "Wir müssen das Clubhaus schnellstmöglich zurückerobern. Wir brauchen ein Team, dann können wir loslegen, Doctor-Sensei."

"Was werde ich tun?"

"Oh?" She chirped, curiously. "Was meinen Sie?"

"Ho, ich bin ein Doktor, kein Kommandant, Mein Frau."

Sparing a grunt at the mere mentioning of that addressing, she let him continue. "So, I'm going to do vhat I do best and practice medizin. So, vidout any furder ado, first zings first, I need eight volunteers."

Almost immediately, everyone raised their hands, minus Rin and her fellow GSC associates, followed by excited pandaemonium, especially among the common student.

"Ho, ho, heh…bitte!" He chuckled nervously, raising his voice, at least for a few moments. "Bitte…bitte, bitte! Bitte beruhigen Sie sich!"

Totally not shouting his last sentence there, the crowds eyed him with curiosity and confusion, their hands lowered marginally but ever so present, wondering what the Doktor has to say.

"Everyone, bitte…" He said more nicely. "Listen carefully vhat I am about to say, I need ze following Qualifikationen for zes volunteers: Speed, Firepower, Explosives, Engineering, Scharfschießen, und Sabotaging."

At once, some of the hands lowered; however, Yuuka and Hasumi kept their hands raised. But at the corner of his eyes, he saw two particular faces behind them, notably a succubus-like tail flicking behind everyone's legs like a mischievous snake.

"Sie." He flicked with his left hand. "Vhat ist your name?"

"Iori Shiromi." The pointy-eared chocolate-skinned halfling said, her stylised Mauser 98k tucked under her left arm like a proper Soldat.

"Und Sie?"

"Uh, Chinatsu Hinomiya." The pointy-eared blonde said, bearing the same red armband and stocking type as her dark-skinned colleague. Among other things, the black and red accented C96 in her holster, never mind the oversized medical bag on her right shoulder, he could've sworn he smelled something Aryan in her.

"You are a Sanitäter, ja?"

"Sanitater?"

Clearing his throat, he repeated. "You are a healer?"

"Hai."

"Vell…I suppose ve can use one more doktor." He mused, then diverting his attention to Iori. "You strike me as someone who knows how to do some proper headhunting."

Shrugging coldly, she said. "It's not easy when there's trouble around any corner."

"Because at the day, as long as there's two people left on the planet, someone's gonna want someone dead." The words of a certain Australian echoed in the German's demented head.

"Vell, like one of my colleagues once said, you come to ze right place to crack some skulls. Willkommen im Team!"

Ignoring his accent, they understood his hospitality and stepped forward, lowering their hands.

"Now, Yuuka and Hasumi, vas it?" He turned his attention to the others, impeccably interrupting any of the former's attempt to pout, which he addressed first. "Correct if I am wrong, but you look like you are very gut vid numbers."

Juggling between flustered annoyance and prideful appreciation, she stuttered. "Y-Yes, I am! After all, I am the treasurer of my school!"

"Ah, zen you are also someone who can solve practical problems, ja?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, sehr gut. Kommen Sie." He motioned with his left hand, although she responded with an 'adorable' glare before lowering her hand and coming.

Now, he glanced at the tall busty raven. "Hasumi, ja?"

"Mhm." She nodded.

"You have a calmness zat vould be much appreciated for zis team. Let's not even forget ze rifle in your hands - looks like you can punch zrough armour vid little effort."

"What about me?" Iori whined, deducing the Medic's analysis. "I can do the same exact thing!"

"Ah, not so fast, meine kleine Freundin. Zat Mauser in your possession is a fine veapon, vhich has served my people vell, but it is only a karabiner. I know, because ve are ze ones who made it."

Sensing logic and superiority behind his words, Iori dropped her shoulders and stepped back.

"Now, ve have a scout, an engineer, a sniper, and anozer medic." He ran his mental checklist. "All ve need ist a heavy, a demo, and a saboteur, zen ve are ready."

Scanning the room, he sensed a certain presence nearby. It was the same feeling as the Russian bear called Heavy, but he didn't know exactly who it was that carried such an aura. Fortunately, he didn't have to look far to find the silhouette of a drum magazine masked by the sea of bodies, which the other students noticed, either sifting away and/or looking behind them.

"You zer!" The German pointed and called, spotting the PPSh-41 slung across her body. "Komm hier, Kam'radin!"

Placing great emphasis on rolling his 'R' in the infamous socialist title, she came as quickly as she could upon lowering her hand.

"Yes, comrade Sensei!" She said at attention, imitating the rolled 'R' in her words, albeit partially Russified.

"Vhat ist your name?"

"Marina Ikekura!"

"Marina? You are OUR heavy veapons specialist - you vill be leading ze front and push ze enemy back. Verstanden?"

"Yes, comrade Sensei!"

Spouting a snigger, the German added. "One more zing: Please, call me Doktor Sensei. Zat [socialist] title is related vid a particular evil from my verld."

"Yes, com-doctor Sensei!"

"Be grateful zat I am not ze Heavy - he vould kill you if you said 'comrade' in any shape or form."

Nearing completion, he scanned the room once again, finding only half of the crowd with hands raised. However, he had long suspected of certain aromas and perfumes around him, the unmistakable smell of caustic fuel could no longer be ignored by his fine nostril hairs.

"Hmm, I smell a Pyro somevhere~"

Stepping forth much to everyone's befuddlement, he nonchalantly weaved through the girls, his head swivelling around to try and pinpoint the odour. For a minute, nobody knew exactly what or who he was looking for. But as soon as he neared some window side seats, he froze and smirked. "Ah, zer you are!"

Just like Iori, she had a demonic-like tail wagging autonomously from its master, but the red horns jutting from her short red hair and bun screamed 'Blutteufel' to the German. Needless to say, all those details could be identified with her back facing him.

"Flammöl Neunzehn." He mused, his inner scientist immediately identifying the mixture.

"Eh?!" The firebug spun around, the nozzle pointed directly at him.

"Oooh~, and it's a Flammenwerfer." He chuckled, not unlike a little kid sharing his card collection to a fellow collector.

"Megu!?" Iori snapped, stomping into view having recognised her voice. "You!"

"Your presence is not welcomed here!" Chinatsu followed and added. "Last I heard, you burned an entire shopping district to ashes!"

"I know." She chirped 'innocently'.

"All for a small little hot spring!"

"Mhm."

"Tsh!" Iori grunted, turning her attention to the doctor. "Sensei, please tell me you are not bringing this maniac on board. She has a rap sheet that stretches the entire length of this city."

"Not to mention, she has some really bad connections."

"Kasumi."

"Yeah."

"The Hot Springs Development Department."

"Absolutely!"

Swiftly hiding his malevolent giddiness, he turned and addressed the pointy eared girls. "Megu? You are all from ze same school?"

"Yes!" The duo groaned.

"Zen I don't ze any problem vid zat."

"She's a pyromaniac!" Iori snarled.

"Not to mention all the unlicensed construction and demolition equipment which she has supposedly acquired through 'legal' means." Chinatsu added, quoting the word 'legal'.

"And…" Rin murmured, chiming into the drama unfolding with a collective demeanour. "Billions in property damage, grand larceny, and illegal possession of industrial-grade explosives."

"Perfekt - zat is exactly vhat ve need."

"Megu Shimokura, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The secretary purred, bitterly. "I had no idea that Kasumi-chan wanted to represent her concerns with me."

"Ah she had alotta things to ask, actually." The firebug smiled, unnerving everyone...except the German. "Like, some permits here and there, proposals for expansion, an-"

"You shut your mouth at once!" Iori barked. "I don't care what you or the department has to say, you will not succeed. You're lucky Hina is not here, or she be twisting you into a pretzel."

"Hey, pretzels are pretty delicious, c'mon~! All I wanted to do was ask some questions."

Racking the action of her treasured Mauser, Iori was prepared to raise her weapon, when swept it down with the back of his left hand.

"Sensei…? What're you doing?"

Not wishing to respond to her, he reached his medigun across himself, now resting in both his arms like a baby. Megu, having eyed his 'equipment', lowered her modified Flammenwerfer, imitating his pose.

"Doktor, bitte überdenken Sie das noch einmal." Rin muttered, appearing in his right peripherals. "Es gibt viel bessere Optionen. Ich kann jeden anrufen, den Sie brauchen."

Again, he didn't respond, otherwise too busy marvelling at the 164cm firebug in comparison to her masked counterpart.

"Doktor?"

"Sie ist perfekt."

"Eh…but, doctor?" Chinatsu and Iori pouted.

"Nein!" The German chirped, startling everyone, thus halting the guards, including a certain white-haired vigiliante nearby. "Dieses eine ist meins."

Whatever protests or complaints anyone had, it suddenly vanished.

With a deep sigh, Rin said. "If this is what you think is best, I will not challenge your decision, Doctor-sensei."

"Ho, zer is nozing to vorry about - she vill be most useful for ze cause." He said with the warmest, vibrant smile …only to morph into the coldest, deadest stare when he then diverted his attention to Megu. If the human species had telepathy by default, the German was looming over the firebug, wielding an imaginary sword to her neck. As such, while she didn't think any of it, there was a hiss in one of her tank - it was enough for her to frantically reach behind her and twist the valve shut.

"Well…" Rin said, totally not a little shaky…for a moment. "Now that we have assembled our little team, let us move."

Swearing he could've heard a Frenchmen beneath that voice, the Medic turned to her. "Agreed. We must march."

"Ah, that won't be necessary. I have arranged for a helicopter or two to transport us there. Needless to say, it is a 30 kilometre trip, if you wish to walk there."

"Ho, ho, how silly of me. Vhat vas I zinking?" He chuckled, but not before he peered rightward and noticed the vigilante from earlier attempting to sneak away into the crowd. "Ah, who ist zis? Anozer life to save?"

He could have sworn he heard her utter 'aw crap' under her breath, but no matter. He called to her, sweetly. "Please, zer ist no need to play hide and seek. Komm, komm."

Of course, not like she had a choice other than being caught in the act, she turned with a cold, serious expression, where Hasumi squeaked. "Suzumi?"

"Hey, Hasumi-sama."

"What are you doing here? I thought you were back in our district."

"You mean with the Vigilante Crew? Nah, we been on the offensive. Until recently, I was suppose to catch that 'creature', but then…" Glancing at the German, the white-haired girl shuttered her eyes, calmly irritated, nonetheless. "This happened."

Speaking of him, he cooed. "Ah, I am so sorry zat I had so rudely interrupted your mission, Fräulein."

"Have you?" She doubted. "Tell me, when was the last time you seen a doctor place their faith in the devil?"

Had it not been for the collective amalgamation of innocence and firepower in the room, he would've have cackled proudly at her questioning. Fortunately for everyone around him, he constrained himself, seamlessly morphing it into a snigger. "Clearly, you have never heard ze phrase: Der Teufel ist ein Eichhörnchen."

Blankly blinking at him, she spat. "What does that mean?"

"Ah, I'm glad you ask, because it means-"

"The Devil is a…little oak horn?" Rin interrupted, much to the German's mild annoyance, having his thunder somewhat stolen from him.

"Correction: Ze devil is a squirrel." He said with oozing pride. "So, I appreciate it if you leave zis lil squirrel alone, because I'm afraid zer ist somezing much more evil zen zat."

"Oh, and what might that be?"

The doktor didn't have to say anything, but he did have to prevent himself from grinning malevolently. His very being fought everything he knew not to do it.

On the other hand, the white-haired angel remained oblivious to his staring…until her thumb flicked the safety off her sleek, white assault rifle. Of course, she didn't raise and aim at him, her cheek twitched slightly and her grip tightened quietly. Fortunately, the tension didn't last, not when Hasumi said.

"Suzumi, come with us." She said to her colleague. "We are going to retake the SCHALE clubroom and we can use an extra hand."

"That's very kind of you, old friend. But I got my orders and I must go."

"Is it more important than finally restoring control of the Sanctum Tower?" Rin asked.

Realising too late of her excuse, Suzumi froze midway through her turn, her metaphorical gears turning for a moment. Then, she turned around and said. "If you put it that way, I apologise. Perhaps I will stick around, for now."

"Sehr gut." The German said. "Trust me, you vill not regret zis, Suzumi."

"We will see about that." She said plainly and joined the group.

Curtly nodding, the Medic turned to Rin and asked. "Now, about zis transportation?"

"Right his way."

PART I END