=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=

Your name is Riley Sharpe, and you're an extremely conflicted girl. See… You'd been well cared for by your minders back at Genotech. They'd always been there to patch up a skinned knee or make an upset stomach better. But it'd been a distant, dispassionate kind of care. The kind of care one might give to a precision rifle or hardworking truck. Your minders wanted you feeling your best, but that desire was driven by pure practicality. you were a piece of hardware, and your minders wanted to keep you running.

But it wasn't like that with The Major. The way he talked about you, the way he treated you… You were more than just a peice of military hardware to him. You could tell then when he looked at you he didn't just see a genetically-engineered weapon. He saw a girl, a woman. When he held you in his arms and lulled you to sleep with his breath, you could almost see it too.

And the other night, he'd shared that with Marie. You couldn't think of a girl who deserved it more. Marie was the closest thing to a sister you were ever going to have, and you loved her like your own flesh and blood. More then that, you were quite aware of her… rather unique status among the Genotech girls, and the issues that raised in her. Just one night in The Major's arms would do a world of good.

But at the same time, you couldn't help longing that it'd been you in his arms that night. Sure, you didn't mind sleeping in a pile with the rest of your team, and you did deeply enjoy how fast Zoe fell asleep on your lap. But you loved The Major. Every night you spend in his arms was like a feast after a twenty-day field op living off only what you could catch with your bare hands.

Of course, that was only one reason your stomach was tearing itself apart. While he was busy attending the million and one little things that kept you and your girls happy and in good health, he'd given you a task. Specifically, he'd handed you a government-issue credit card and pointed you at the mall.

You understood that for most women your age, this would be a dream come true. But you just couldn't bring yourself to see it that way. Malls were… were places purpose built to allow huge masses of people to enter and exit with no hindrances to their movement. A full MEU could occupy the Macy's in less time then it took Marie to put her bra on in the morning.

And there were so many people! You kept your head on a swivel as you walked, trying to keep tabs on your surroundings, but your Delta training was starting to strain at the seams. It wasn't what you'd call the most relaxing experience, although at least with The Major stuck at base you didn't have to babysit him.

That wasn't an insult. The Major had many good qualities, but his skill as a field operator wasn't one of them.

Oh, and to make things worse, you were clothes shopping. You hadn't gone shopping often, but you knew you didn't like it. Your figure just wasn't built for clothing, anything that fit your swooshing hips was baggy as a tent around your tiny waist and borderline-flat chest. This was going to be a chore.

"So," you rocked on your heels, your miniskirt brushing at your thighs. You'd ditched your multicam thigh-highs this time, too eye-catching you realized. A pair of plain ranger-green stockings would have to do. That was much more subtle. "Where are we supposed to go?"

Beside you, Hannah shrugged. She was dressed casually like you. Miniskirt and stockings with a hoodie and a half-dozen mags for her pistol. Neither of you had rifles, or even armor. The Major had insisted that trauma plates weren't needed for shopping trips, but you'd insisted on bringing your 45 and knife. "Dunno."

You bit your lip and looked around. The mall was just so huge and… you were very bad at this whole girl thing. But The Major had put you in charge, and you weren't going to fail him!

"We could ask her?" Hannah pointed to a girl by the food court. She was a good deal shorter than you and had a backpack festooned with every conceivable kind of rainbow decor that was big enough to hold one or two short-barreled AKs. You'd been watching her out of the corner of your eye ever since you walked into the mall. She kept trying to sneak a glance at you, only to look away the moment your Hannah looked close to gazing in her direction.

You planted your hands on your hips, a gentle breeze from the tide of humanity walking through sliding doors ruffling your miniskirt. It wasn't a bad plan. If she was some kind of operative, better to confront the threat head-on. "Maybe," you said. "What about them?"

You pointed to a gaggle of girls, most of whom were somewhat thinner than you and all of whom were quite pretty. The one you instantly identified as the leader was wearing a top that—while more bikini-like than the one-piece style you'd been instructed to purchase—was definitely swimwear related. None of them were obviously concealing a weapon, but their actions were so coordinated. They could be special-forces trained, and if they were you didn't fancy even your skills in close-quarters against that many fighters.

"It's your call, Riles." Hannah let her hip hang to the side. "I've got your back."

let her hip hang to the side. "I've got your back."

>How locate swimingwear merchant?

You allowed yourself a moment to think. You'd learned long ago that a second's thought could be worth more than a year's instinctive thrashing when it came to tactical operations, and you saw no reason why those rules should change just because you were in a different locale.

Your initial thought was to approach the group… squad… clique… whatever you wanted to call it of girls patrolling the mall's main avenue. They were greater in number, clearly coordinated, and while none of them could match you as far as apparent physical fitness went, a few did seem to be in quite good shape. They presented the greater threat, and with their greater numbers a decisive action would be needed to ensure victory.

But a moment's reflection changed your opinion. They were more numerous, yes. But they way they walked, the most of them gazed intently at their phones and looked up only to lazily scan the area… They were clearly not interested in you specifically, or even much of their surroundings in general. They weren't hunting, just… walking.

If The Major was to be believed, it wasn't uncommon for girls to attend malls without any tactical reason behind their deployment. You weren't sure how willing you were to internalize his version of life outside the battlefield, but that didn't really matter. The roving clique might be a threat, but it was far from immediate or specific.

The girl the the rainbow-flag backpack however… She'd been stealing glances specifically at you, and looking away whenever she thought you'd noticed her observation. That kind of targeted spotting set the hair on the back of your neck on end. There might only be one of her—assuming she didn't have support sequestered somewhere you hadn't noticed, Malls were so hard to evaluate at a glance—but the focus directed towards you made the threat she posed far more immediate.

"Her," you gave the slightest of nods to Hannah, and she replied with a nod of her own. The two of you waited, idly examining the mall's many attractions until a clump of passers-by broke the line of sight for a moment.

You darted to the side, your split-toed uniform boots making each step as silent as a cat. Behind you, Hannah was doing the same, opening the angle until one observer couldn't possibly keep both of you in her vision for once. You pulled a hard turn, approaching from an oblique angle and using a row of planters to mask your approach until you were very close.

The Major had been very clear, you weren't supposed to pull your gun on someone unless you were really really sure they were SCIMITAR. He had, however, been somewhat nonspecific about hand-to-hand combat.

You noticed Hannah in the corner of your vision, and the two of you closed the pincer. The rainbow-girl was waiting by her backpack and large coffee drink, scribbling into a leather-bound notebook on the table in front of her.

"Hello," you said sweetly. You tensed the muscles of your stomach, ready to take a blow and return in kind. You were too close for her to draw a gun, not unless she was much better than anyone you'd ever seen.

"Gah!" She sat bolt upright in her chair, her coffee exploding as her hand crushed the cheap Styrofoam in a nervous flinch. "Who? What? You?" She pivoted towards you, her hands shaking from adrenaline. "You startled me!"

"Oh," you said with a little smile. A moment later you realized that that probably wasn't meant as a compliment, but your cheeks were already squishing so it was too late to change expression. "Uh, my name's Riley."

Rainbow-girl gulped and slowly too your offered hand. "Um… I'm Rachel."

"Nice you meet you, Rachel," you said, giving her hand a firm shake. "Oh, and this is Hannah by the way."

"Sup," Hannah waved.

"Hannah…" Rachel looked from you to your gunner. "Sorry, is… this for real?"

You gave Hannah a confused look. "I think so, why?"

"I just…" Rachel blushed and shook her head. "Sorry, this doesn't ever happen to me."

"Oh," you said. "Well, we can go if you'd—"

"No!" Rachel all but pounced on you. "I mean… not if you don't want… um… are you two…"

"We're friends," said Hannah. "Volleyball team." It wasn't really a lie. Volleyball was a popular PT exercise when you were growing up, and it'd be an easy cover if you ever accidentally slipped up and referred to your team. You actually still had your uniform somewhere, although there wasn't a chance in hell you could fit into it anymore.

As a visual aid, you brought your fists together and bounced on your heels to mime a pass.

"Volleyball?" Rachel looked over you, her gaze momentarily distracted by the hem of your miniskirt. "I… yeah, you've got the build for it I think. Both of you."

"Thanks," you said with a smile. "Anyways, we're new here, you know a good place for swimwear?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. I could show you if you want."

"Huh?" you cocked your head to the side.

"You know… show you the way?" Rachel shrugged. "The mall's kinda confusing, wouldn't want you getting lost."

"Oh," you nodded. "That's very kind of you."

Rachel shrugged. "Eh, I wasn't doing anything. Oh!" She pulled her notebook off the table and flipped to a few sketches. "I'm actually really into fashion so if you two need any help picking something flattering, just let me know."


>Wat do?