=\\TACTICAL WAIFU QUEST//=
PART 5: Dinner and a show
You pulled your uniform smooth and stepped up to address your… soldiers. You honestly didn't have a clue what to say, public speaking was never your forte, even when addressing fellow Rangers. But you knew you had to say something inspiring. Something to convince these girls you truly wanted to lead them, not just use them to live out anime cliches.
You must've taken longer than you thought to gather yourself, because Riley flashed you a subtle thumbs-up before returning to the position of attention. Even in their tiny skirts and open jackets, the girls actually managed to look reasonably professional. Cute as hell, but professional.
And then it came to you, the perfect way to open your speech.
"Men," you said, "Used to fight in ordered rows wearing brightly colored uniforms." They marched in blocks and fired in volleys. That was how war was done. Until someone had the idea to dress his men in green. To equip them with rifles and train them to use terrain as a weapon, not just a location for setpiece battles. They were called Rangers."
Riley beamed at you, and most of the other girls showed various degrees of pleasure.
"At the time," you continued, "what they did was considered stupid, wrong, and against every line of doctrine and orthodoxy." You turned to look Riley right in those steel-gray eyes of hers, "Just like you. The Rangers changed the world, and I expect you to do nothing less than the same."
You paused for effect and tried to think of anything you could add to the speech to make it a bit more punchy. But when nothing came to mind, you simply finished the speech with a direct, "that is all. Dismissed."
The girls rapidly fell out of formation. Some bunched up with others to do what you could only assume were typical girlish things. Others wandered over towards the mess hall to fill their bellies with the improbably-delicious dinner on display. But a few started moving right for you.
Before you could excuse yourself backstage, Marie came bouncing over with a smile on her face. Yes, literally bouncing. How she managed to squeeze so much jiggle into her curvy body, especially with that snug waistcoat keeping her contained, was beyond you.
As was how she managed to make everything slow to a crawl and blur the corners of your vision with a pink, heart-shaped mist. You sighed, and checked your watch. Yep, time
wasrunning slower than usual as she bounced her way over. You'd ask Burke about it, but at this point you weren't even surprised anymore.
At least the exaggerated "Boing! Boing! Boing!" sound effects that appeared out of nowhere were reasonably understated.
"Heya, Ryan!" Marie skidded to a stop. The rest of her stopped moving a few moments later, and she managed to pull off a reasonable approximation of a curtsy. How she did that in a pencil skirt so tight it might as well have been painted on—not to mention
that short—was beyond you. But it was actually ladylike and cute, so you were willing to give reality a pass this time.
"Marie," you smiled at her and motioned for her to walk with you. At least if the two of you were walking someplace, you'd have an excuse to look ahead and not at her, the pink-heart-blur was getting annoying. "You had your dinner yet?"
She shook her head. "No, I didn't have time before formation." She shrugged, and toyed with the hem of her vest. Now that you've had time to think it over, their uniforms weren't really half bad. A little too schoolgirl-meets-maid for your tastes, but not nearly as stripperific as you were worried about.
"Besides," Marie shrugged, "These uniforms aren't that forgiving. I didn't wanna look fat in front of—" she stopped apparently realizing that she was talking out loud. "Uh… people."
You've got a pretty good idea who she means, but you also know enough not to press the issue. Especially since, like everything else on this bizarre company campus, it's creepy. "Tell me about it," you said with a friendly smile. "Dress uniforms are a pain in the ass sometimes. But you look smart in 'em."
"You really think so?" Marie beamed and hugged herself tight. You assume it looks cute, but the moment her chest started to puff against her straining vest you suddenly found the hall decor more interesting.
You nodded, and pushed the door open to the cafeteria. Most of the girls have already loaded up their trays with heaping portions. You have to remind yourself that they just finished a grueling field exercise, because you've never seen someone so cute eat so much.
Marie bounced off to where Riley and her squad's filling themselves with mashed potatoes and steak, and you start looking for Burke. Before you can find him though, a girl you don't recognize comes up and taps you on the shoulder.
She's tall, about Riley's height, but that's where the comparisons end. Her eyes are as deep a blue as the abyss itself, and they have an air of melancholy introspection to them instead of Riley's friendly sweetness. Her shimmering platinum blond hair's done up in a complicated set of braids that looked like it took hours to do up.
She's got the same small, not-quite-flat bust though. Hopefully that doesn't cause any problems.
"Major Ryan?" she asked with hands clasped behind her back. She's not quite as thick as Riley, at least around the hips. But it seems like a lot more of her is muscle. Her black tights hide—poorly, at that—legs rippling with sinew and strength, and her slender neck tenses with corded muscle.
You nodded, "Yes?" you said, for lack of anything better to say.
"Shelby Wood," the girl—Shelby, apparently—gave you a curt nod. Her shoulders stiffened and her slender body tensed like she'd just been turned into iron. "I lead fireteam two. I…" her stern, almost aquiline features tint a self conscious red, "I didn't get to meet you when you visited our barracks. None of my team did."
You held up a hand, "You were showering off, I understand. I
have been on a few field ops myself."
"Mmm," Shelby nodded and pursed her lips until they were nothing more than a slight line on her severe features. "Still, I would like to introduce myself and my team, if you'd allow me."
"Of course," you said. Partly because you genuinely wanted to learn more about the girls under your command, and partly because the longer you had before you had to be around Marie's boobs or Riley's hips the better. Shelby didn't seem to cause the same implausible slow-motion when you were around her. Or at least she wasn't nearly so bad at it. "Lead the way."
Shelby did that polite half-nod-half-bow thing again, and pivoted on her heel again. Even though her tights, you can't help but notice the tone to her sinewy legs. The girl's built like a sprinter, that much you can tell.
"I lead fireteam two, as you're aware," said Shelby as her heels clicked out a precise rhythm. "We're oriented around light infantry tactics, compared to Riley's heavy team."
You nodded. All of Riley's girls,
especially Riley and Marie, seemed a lot more
solid than slender Shelby.
"Please," added Shelby. "Use us when speed or endurance is paramount."
"Understood," you said. You'd make a note of it, but that was the exact impression you got by just looking at them.
"Annabelle Stone," Shelby motioned to a girl happily chowing down on a loaded baked potato with one hand while propping a book open with the other. "My machine gunner."
Annabelle threw her fork down and bolted to her feet. She was almost the same height as Shelby, and her knee-high stockings gave a much clearly view at legs just as toned and sinewy. But her hourglass figure was far more balanced than Shebly's flat-chested slenderness, and her toothy grin couldn't be further from Shelby's morose quiet.
"Major!" Shelby thrust a hand out and grinned at you."
"Anabelle," you shook her hand and tried not to squeal when she all but crushed your fingers. You've had a tighter handshake, but that was from a SEAL. "It's a pleasure."
"I could say the same!" said Anabelle. The girl's voice isn't any louder than her fireteam leader, but it crackles with flaming intensity and feels ten times as powerful. Her blue eyes glitter like sapphires as she beams at you, and her honey-blond hair's already starting to fall out of its proper bun.
"What're you reading there?" you asked.
"
A History Of The English-Speaking Peoples," said Annabelle with a smile. "By Churchill, it's really good." After a second, she grabbed the book and hugged it to her breast. "Mine."
"I'll get my own copy," you promised.
That seems to appease Annabelle, and she goes back to reading. You turned to the next girl sitting at the table who's… also reasonably tall, reasonably busty, and absolutely shredded. Those qualities seem to be a theme with this fireteam, along with shades of blue eyes and blond hair.
You'd find it odd, but you're talking with a group of superhuman soldiers who were also cute girls created in a massive misuse of government funds by scientists who'd apparently never seen girls who existed in three-dimensions in their lives. The girls could be triplets for all you know, or at least half triplets. It wouldn't surprise you if there was some degree of reuse in the genetic coding or whatever.
Assuming any of what you just thought made sense. You're a Ranger, not a geneticist. Thank god.
"Sarah Harper," said Shelby, "My assistant gunner."
Sarah bolts to her feet, sending her short little ponytail flying in the wind as she thrusts a hand in your face. "Nice to meet you! I'm the very best at what I do!"
"Handing me mags?" chuckled Annabelle.
"It's an
art," protested Sarah with a pout.
"And you're very good at it," Annabelle chuckled and took a long drag of her milk.
Sarah looked like she didn't know if she should beam or pout, so her face was stuck in an odd limbo. She hastily sat back down and took a huge bite of a dinner roll.
"Yes," Shelby sighed and brushed a loose strand of hair back over her ear. "Perhaps I should have done this after dinner.
You shook your head. "No time like the present."
"Mmm," she did that sage nod thing again. Then she turned to the last girl at the table, and the only one who wasn't some variation of blond. She was also the tiniest, with a build that took her up to
maybe your collarbone. "Sophia Hawke, my grenadier."
Sophia waved at you. Her coal-black hair fell in a loose cascade down her back, and her inky black eyes stared at you with an inscrutable cat-like disinterest. You'd never seen anyone with eyes quite like that. They weren't dark brown, they were honest-to-god black. So dark you couldn't make out where her iris started and where her pupils began. It was slightly unnerving.
"Major," she smiled a sharp-toothed grin at you and stood to her feet. Wow. she's
tiny. "Nice to meet you." She planted her hands on her hips and stared up at you with what could only be described as disinterested defiance. "I want you to know something. I'll always do my best. Because it's my job."
You're not sure how to respond to that, so you just give her a nod. "Good attitude, Sophia."
"Thank you," she smiles for a second, then quickly covers it with a little grunt. "Sir."
Shelby sighed and cradled her porcelain features in her hand. She mutters something about 'impressions' under her breath, but you can't quite make it out.
You start to say something insightful when something wet smacks against the back of your neck. You pivoted on your heel to see to girls you've not met yet sitting at the far corner of the room.
One's a tall brunette with a satisfied smirk on her face and a kind twinkle in her violet eyes. The other's a much shorter brunette with a giant shit-eating grin and a straw hanging out of the corner of her mouth. When she notices you staring at her, she hastily shoves the straw into her friend's hands and becomes interested in the ceiling tiles.
- - - - - -
>Do you approch the two girls?
>if so, how?
You'll have time after meeting them to talk with someone else
>Who?
>About what?
