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Tell me, do you bleed?
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Chapter 1
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This is the re-write version of my own fanfiction (same name as before). However, this time, I focused it as a full fanfiction/story from the get-go, instead of the narrative version of a quest. This story would feature more inner thoughts of the protagonist, up to and including PTSD and other fascinations of his on the girls of the Academy.
Furthermore, there will be many brutal features in my own work. I will explicitly say that my character had killed someone else in any ways possible (though I will not described it in full gory details, to keep this at M- or T-rating). Politics and social changes, for good and bad, will be mentioned described.
Content-wise, that would be the change from the older version.
For appearance-wise (that is, how I write this story), I sincerely expect constructive criticism.
Thank you for your support.
-------------------------------------------------------
This story is also posted on the following websites and forums: Fanfiction, SpaceBattles, SufficientVelocity, Wattpads, Webnovels.
I would also consider ArchiveofOurWork in the near future.
*Updated on 24/1/2020
-------------------------------------------------------
So, this was the Haneda international airport in Japan. Even for a Sunday afternoon, it was fairly busy. The lines for the customs offices were quite long, easily packing hundreds of people. I failed to resist the urge to scan the reception halls. Old habits died hard, and ones forged in the fire of war were even harder to cure. Sure, officially, it was not a war, but a "terrorist" attack. But for me, an unfortunate soul who was stuck behind the line for nearly three-quarters of the whole debacle? Heh, it was a war for me.
Contrast to my fear and suspicion, the border control officer cleared my passport fairly quickly. Though I was sure that the officer whose booth I went through had his eyebrows raised high for a very brief moment. Considering the shit I went through, it would be strange not having my name logged in some database. Not persona non grata (unwelcomed people), but probably an entry on "people of interest" list.
Not wonderful, but at least, not terrible. I had seen worse.
Clicking my tongue, I quietly collected my baggage while still scanning around. No one was looking in my direction, or rather, being caught while doing so. No muscular men with the sunglasses on standing in the corner. And above all, no one was shooting at me. Peacetime was great, I must say.
A few advertisements were running for the Amazon Brigade, the union of IS pilots around the world. Seeing them made me a bit annoyed, there was bad blood between me and them. Though to be honest, I would say it was coming from me only, my own biased, one could say, shaped through a turbulent time known as "school".
At least the custom office was much nicer. Not super comfortable like fully leather-cladded sofa and with a steaming cup of tea served by a beautiful lady with a form-fitting business suit, but still "nice" for someone who wanted nothing more than peace and tranquillity. Of course, for me, those two would be something luxurious and unachievable. Being an official IS pilot meant access to an opulent lifestyle. Being a boy in an IS-dominated society meant losing a lot of prestige and dignity.
Being the first male IS pilot, on the other hand, put me in the "people of interest" list. By the way, me being an IS pilot (despite having XY chromosomes) was a long story, and I had no idea how that happened.
That, and I was not allowed to have the IS suit being near me during flight. Something about safety regulation. But seriously, my suit could be stored safely in a ring, so why would they be bothered by that? Just chucking it into a box and I could safely bring it with me into the cabin without fear of "accidental activation."
Still, rules were rules. Even if I was not enjoying them, I still had to follow them. The Japanese officials were also quite understanding too. Hands were shaken, condolences were spoken and notes were exchanged. Having an expert's knowledge of custom business never hurt.
The ring fit nicely on my finger, the left middle finger to be precise. It was just a plain, dull, grey metallic ring with a completely unassuming appearance. The only thing noteworthy was that it seemed to be slightly thicker than a normal ring. Still, it was just as wide as its cousins found on rock singers' fingers, so there was nothing thing strange about it. Well, until the people realized that I was storing my fully combat-capable Infinite Stratos suit.
Bidding farewell to the custom office in the airport, there was only one thing left to do: finding my ride to the Academy. And this was where things started to go wrong. I had made a request to have an incognito ride, and I knew for sure that a freaking white limousine with the emblem of IS Academy on it was not "incognito". It took a few more calls to Home to confirm this change. The Headmistress of the Academy did not enjoy having a VIP riding in a mundane vehicle. Home just shrugged their shoulders and neglected to inform me that.
Something about me being childish. Well, excuse them, I was just seventeen, I hated being in the spotlight and I was being called childish? Yeah, the trip to Japan just had to begin fine and dandy like this…
I suppress my own annoyance, I walked up to the chauffeur, who was a forty-something man with slim built, black hair, black suits and white gloves. Before I had the chance to say anything, he had already spoken up:
"Are you Nguyen Quang Anh? The new Vietnamese student at the Academy?"
English. I was impressed. The stories online painted Japanese as people with… a lot of trouble speaking a foreign language. Yet, the man in front of me was able to speak it fluently with minimal interference from his own accent.
"Yes, yes I am."
"Welcome to Japan. My name is Tanaka Akira, I will be your driver today."
I noticed that it was the proper order of surname – a given name used commonly in the area under influence of Chinese influence (as much as my nationalism found the part "influence" annoying). Clearly, this man had done his homework. In Vietnam, the naming convention was just like that: surname, optional middle name, and given name. The same could not be said for the Western world though.
"Thank you Mr. Tanaka, it's nice to meet you."
And just like Home had ordered me, I needed to be friendly and cooperative. I did not really enjoy talking to other people. Not like the introvert where they were drained after a conversation, but more like I preferred being alone and playing video games than making small talk. At least basic talking and being polite was doable by me.
The ride quickly started, and luckily, the chauffeur (or at least, the Academy) was kind enough to leave some reading materials inside the cabin. I tried skimming them, but unfortunately, they were not my taste. Too many tabloids and lacking in technology. At least I still had my phone. Thanks to my… status (a male IS pilot and a junior cadet of the military), I had unlimited data credit. It was a real boon to have when I got bored on the road. In combination with the soft seats and the drinks, it took little time before I was totally engrossed in the game.
Normally, that would be the end of the day. The whole trip from the airport to the Academy was spent on video games. However, my luck was just rotten sometimes. First, I was stuck in a warzone, then I found myself capable of controlling an IS suit, later I remembered running through a jungle with a naked butt.
This time, I found my limousine being boxed on all sides by unmarked cars.
It was only now that I understood why my trainers told me not to look at my phone while on any car. I originally scoffed at that, but now, it finally dawned on me that I should always keep my guard up. Seriously, if I was a bit more vigilant, I would have sported them earlier. No use crying for spilt milk though.
My danger sense started growling, and I immediately sent a text message to Home. With a real-time connection, it would be just a minute or two before the Vietnamese Ambassador in Japan was alerted. In the best-case scenario, this would be a false alarm. But then, for the worst case, it would not be likely for me to see the next day. It was always better to be careful in situations like this.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. If Home was a bit more… aggressive, my country could have armed me with more than basic combat skills, and they could have definitely given me some weapons. Sure, an IS suit was good, but it was flashy, cumbersome, and a giant target on my back. Meanwhile, a blade or a silenced gun could do wonders… But no! Home just had to follow strict protocols. The military training they gave me was excessive already, they said. I had to show the world the friendly face of Vietnam, they ordered.
Fuck politics.
Seriously, was that too much to have more than basic formation drilling and marksmanship? I wanted to have even more hand-on training with live ammunition, knowledge in explosive and engineering, and perhaps something about CBRN defence… But nooooo! It was too much.
Again, fuck politics.
So, here I was, being stuck on all side by unknown assailants with no immediate solution to breakthrough. If I died here, I would definitely kill those old geezers.
The unknown cars were good, I must credit them that, they were able to finally force the limousine to a complete stop on the side of the road. The chauffeur might be professional in delivering VIPs, but he was a civilian, not a sassy super spy in disguise. Though to be honest, I would really love that to be the truth. It would be really helpful in breaking out of this encirclement.
Someone was stepping off the assailant cars now, a bunch of women. Asian ethnicity, with black hairs, round faces, and slim build. All were wearing business suits with black blazers, black skirts and black leather high-heel shoes. It would not be a stretch to say that they were a group of highly capable businesswomen at first glance. However, normal businesswomen would not ride in unmarked vehicles, and they would not be carrying weapons. Melee weapons, but still weapons nonetheless
I counted six standing in the open, one was visibly unarmed, four more were carrying short swords on their hands. How did they call that? Katana? No, a katana would be longer… I briefly wondered if I should have beefed up my Japanese before coming here. But that was neither "here" and "now". I had a more pressing issue, namely the last woman.
She had already loosened up the buttons on her blazer, showing a holstered pistol. She was the boss, I believed. She wore more jewelry, with earrings and a golden necklace. Now that I watched it more carefully, look like she had some hint of brown in the glint of her hair and some blue in the spark of her eyes. Mix-blood? Probably. In addition to these six, at least four more women were staying in the four cars surrounding us with unknown weaponry. So a ten against one odd, not precisely the best scenario for a direct flight.
The unarmed woman knocked on the window, which was pretty much the universal language for "Please open the window". Here, I was pretty sure that the word "please" was absent. Unsurprisingly, the order was simple, given in an accented voice:
"Get out."
Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I had no option left but to follow their words and to step out of the car. I kept my hands low though, if I raised them high, it would look like I was surrendering. Technically, I was surrendering, but it would be the image that counted. That, and my pride was actively preventing me from doing so.
They were taller than me. A lot. By at least 20 centimetres (about 8 inches for the Americans). I suddenly felt some intimidation as well as some uneasy memory. It was called "being scared", and the best way of defeating it was to merge myself with the mask of "not being scared". Fake it until on ace it, as the saying went.
"So, are you ladies here to ask me for a dance?"
Taunting my own opponent was not a wise idea, especially when I held no card. But to be honest, I did not care about it. After the war, it was hard for me to find joy anymore. Not normal fun stuff, at least. So, I had no choice but to find amusement in soldier's dark humour and some snarky comebacks. One day, it would definitely result in having my head blown off, but not today (probably). And as I had said, I did not care about it.
The unarmed woman tried to slap me. Well, tried. I was able to block it and held her wrist tightly. Of course, I released her the moment I saw two other women behind her slightly unsheathe their blades. No need to escalate the situation any more. For now, at least. Besides, I was able to deliver a comeback, so it was an acceptable trade for me.
The lead woman then said something in Japanese, and it almost went over my head. Something about "car" and "move". As I said, I was rusty in Japanese, even the rush course that Home gave me failed to show me any meaningful insight into this order. In short, I had completely no idea what she had just said. My eyes just blinked once, then again while my mouth did not even move at all. No one was saying anything, all eyes were still kept on me.
The silence was fairly… awkward, or suffocating. These women were not likely to tell me what they want in English, so I glanced to the side. Noticing my gaze, he quickly got my unspoken question and spoke:
"She wants you to get into that car and follow them."
"Ask her this, what if I don't want to?"
The answer was quite immediate. The moment he finished translating my question, the four sword-bitches quickly unsheathed their blades and the lead female unholstered her gun and unclicked the safety. A picture was worth a thousand words, after all, I would do what they said, or they would kill me. I had no fear of death, but dying before completing the mission was highly wasteful. Therefore, following their orders was the only option left for me.
Granted, I could always lash out, but the chauffeur would be unlikely to survive unscathed. I would be immediately blacklisted if I left a civilian died on my watch. Besides, if I followed their orders now, playing the docile role, there was always a chance for me to break out of captivity and wreak havoc on their arses. Some luck would be needed though.
All five females quickly put their weapons back in the holsters, and their faces were nothing but pure contempt, disgust and hate. Though it was not that hard to notice the glee in their eyes. From someone like me, that was something. Anger and wrath were rising in my head, but I forcibly kept them from reaching my faces. If these brats thought that I was easily bullied, they were dead wrong. If these bitches believed that they could walk over me simply because they were women and I was a man, I would make sure it would be the last thing they would ever do.
"What about the driver?"
I asked, and the chauffeur translated for me again, this time, the answer came much sooner. It was not that hard to notice sorrow and dread in his voice when he answered my query:
"Nothing, they are interested in you only. Mister, I'm sorry about that."
"Don't worry, it's not your fault. Mr. Tanaka, please drive away and call for support immediately."
On the one hand, the civilian was able to stay out of the way. On the other hand, I would be completely alone and without support. So, there would be no choice left but to head in the fire all by myself. It was quite a tall order to be honest. The whole training I got for situations like this was practically "hunker down and call fire support".
Normally, it would be fairly easy to do. However, the… kidnappers were nothing but careful, they had already confiscated my phone (with no sensitive information stored on in) and my IS ring (already deactivated the moment I smelt trouble).
Suddenly, I felt something connecting to my stomach. The lead bitch was able to sucker-punch me, it seemed. She was adept with quick strikes, I must credit her that. However, she was not strong enough, so I was still standing tall and proud. For some strange reasons though, she yelped and caress over her own fist, which made me the target of her underlings' glare. Funny, I only felt an itch, but somehow, she felt pain.
Two of the sword-bitches stepped up and drawing out their swords. Fighting against two of them was still hard, but more manageable than fighting four swords and one gun at the same time. It would be hard, and there was no guarantee that I would be intact by the end of the fight. Unacceptable risk, but unavoidable fight. My brain started to analyze the pattern and drawing out potential ways to fight and counter. However, before I had the chance to actually clash, the lead bitch raised her hand to stopped them, and then, using the other hand, she pulled out her handgun.
She did not unclick her safety, which was good. The bad news was that she used it to whip me. I could not block it, I could not evade it, and I possessed no skill to properly counter it. Needless to say, it hurt like a bitch. I fell to the ground with stars filling my vision. The pain was throbbing on the side of my head, with groan escaping my throat. Luckily, my pain tolerance kicked in, quickly helped me to ease all of it down. The women were laughing now, they looked totally relax… one of the sword-bitch was even bringing out her phone and taking pictures of me laying on the ground.
Good. As long as they were relaxed, they would not be watching me closely (I hoped). The unconscious part of my brain was adjusting the breath and pumping out adrenaline, killing the pain. Meanwhile, the conscious part of my brain was plotting those bitches' demise, up to and including how to kill them efficiently.
I was pushed into a car. Though "pushed" might be a bit wrong, "thrown in" might be a better option. The pistol whip on me was highly effective in making those females dropping most of their guards. They did not even bother covering their attempt of dropping our poor limousine chauffeur. At least he was just out cold and sleeping peacefully in the car. I hope that he would wake up soon and call for reinforcement. Fighting my way out would be… practically impossible.
For now, it was better to hunker down and plan my escape. I had already picked up three phrases being repeated constantly. I lack the background information to deduce anything, but those would help for the payback (hopefully). Not enough for me to gain immediate and actionable intelligence, but guaranteed retaliation strikes (whenever that happened)
The window was tinted lightly. The view outside was only dimmed and not made invisible. I had no idea why they were that stupid, leaving me even more chance to gain intelligence. However, as the military mantra said: One should not stop the enemy who was making a mistake. The view outside was changing. It had turned from the express highway to the roads of the suburb area of Tokyo. Well, "relative" suburb of course. Tokyo was a big-arse city, and it could be said that there were even sub-cities inside. At the moment, we were at one of those areas. A bit north of the Ota ward, at the southern side of the Tokyo proper, if my estimation was correct.
I had consider breaking out and wreaking havoc. However, I was sat between two underlings, both of who had their blades out, ready to cut me down. The lead bitch, who had a gun, was behind me, giving me too little room to surprise them and take over. The risk was just too great. Dying was not an issue, after all, it was the absolute honour one soldier could ask for, but dying foolishly was just… stupid.
The convoy stopped at the conjunction of the main road with a branch street, and I was immediately dragged off the vehicle. I used a few seconds, trying to note any worthy landmark. North of Ota was still too vague for the reinforcement to arrive, I needed a better solution than brute force my way through. Too bad, this was when my luck ran out. First, I found none. Then, there was another woman waiting there.
She was bad news, I could totally feel it. Dressed sharply in form-fitting business, she finished her deadly look with a black, semi-transparent pair of leggings. With a busty top and a slim waist, it was quite easy to mistake her with a model, especially with the long smooth black hair behind her back. Hell, if I was not kidnapped in the first place, I would love to watch her hip swaying from side to side while walking towards me.
The jingling of her top, the breeze of her hair, the red of her lips, the smooth, enticing, wondrous slim legs encased in black leggings… and the very strange sparkle in her eyes.
As I said, a pity.
She was more dangerous than the whole gang sent to kidnap me, for she was holding a bag in her hand. A thick black fabric bag used to put over my head to be precise.
Darkness was all I could see next. Sure, I was able to vaguely say that there was light coming through the fabric, but I had a lot of trouble seeing through it. With that, there went my chance to gain last-minute intelligence. No way to know the precise location of my site, so I had to rely on estimation. Counting the number of steps I had taken under blindfold and estimating the direction, some mental calculation was made with reference to the last stop.
Not good enough for a Close-support package, but that should be fine to mount a rescue attempt. Especially after I gained some communication device.
Still, it would be harder, considering that the new woman also brought along some zip-ties. My wrists quickly noticed and reported the sensation of pain. It made my escape plans being… a bit harder. Then, I had to hold back the sigh on my tongue when I felt some blade (or something just as pointy) at my back. The walk went on with silence on my end. I was not used to being whiny, and these ladies were definitely not in a good mood for talking. Besides, there was likely no reason for them to be chatty. Luckily, it did not last longer than a few minutes, which meant I had walked less than a kilometre.
The bag was removed from my head, and I quickly saw a four-floor building. It was square-ish looking, with white walls, curtained window at the front, and a V-shaped roof. A small garden of sort was walled up in front of the house, with the main door being offset to the right. No decoration, no special mark was found. It was practically as unassuming as I could describe it. The neighbourhood was barely better, having nothing but a mixture of grey, white and yellow colour.
I did not have much time to dwell on the situation, trying to find a street name or landmark though. The deadly woman had already opened the door, leading the boss bitch (and subsequently, the whole gang) in. My brain started collecting the information again. This would be the shortest (and probably the bloodiest) way to freedom. Going up to the third floor, fifth door on the left. Fairly easy to remember. On my way, I saw no further camera or surveillance system, there was also no other people.
Despite the lack of any people, the building seemed to be well-furnished, giving a somewhat lived-in atmosphere… as long as one could count "lack of any personal belongings" as criteria. That, and it was quite spacious. Much larger than a common house in Japan…
I was dumped into a room. Unceremoniously, I might add. The boss bitch sneered at me, as if she had something better to do, before leaving just a pair of guards behind. Meanwhile, the new, strange woman just silently shook her head. Seemed like she was the smart and responsible one. Too bad, when I got out, she would be on the top of my kill list.
The delegation quickly left, presumable to have further discussion, leaving me alone in the room with two women, still dressed sharply in business suits. They would be quite some eye candies, even if they were armed with blades… No, they were simply my kidnappers, which put them fairly high on my shitlist.
"You stop being an IS pilot, say that to everyone, and you will be free."
A guard spoke in broken English with a certain tinge of the Japanese accent. So, this would answer quite a few questions. They were just a bunch of zealots, a gang of idiots, a horde of terrorists. And above all, they had trespassed against me.
That would be the last mistake they would ever make.
Time to pounce.
Furthermore, there will be many brutal features in my own work. I will explicitly say that my character had killed someone else in any ways possible (though I will not described it in full gory details, to keep this at M- or T-rating). Politics and social changes, for good and bad, will be mentioned described.
Content-wise, that would be the change from the older version.
For appearance-wise (that is, how I write this story), I sincerely expect constructive criticism.
Thank you for your support.
-------------------------------------------------------
This story is also posted on the following websites and forums: Fanfiction, SpaceBattles, SufficientVelocity, Wattpads, Webnovels.
I would also consider ArchiveofOurWork in the near future.
*Updated on 24/1/2020
-------------------------------------------------------
So, this was the Haneda international airport in Japan. Even for a Sunday afternoon, it was fairly busy. The lines for the customs offices were quite long, easily packing hundreds of people. I failed to resist the urge to scan the reception halls. Old habits died hard, and ones forged in the fire of war were even harder to cure. Sure, officially, it was not a war, but a "terrorist" attack. But for me, an unfortunate soul who was stuck behind the line for nearly three-quarters of the whole debacle? Heh, it was a war for me.
Contrast to my fear and suspicion, the border control officer cleared my passport fairly quickly. Though I was sure that the officer whose booth I went through had his eyebrows raised high for a very brief moment. Considering the shit I went through, it would be strange not having my name logged in some database. Not persona non grata (unwelcomed people), but probably an entry on "people of interest" list.
Not wonderful, but at least, not terrible. I had seen worse.
Clicking my tongue, I quietly collected my baggage while still scanning around. No one was looking in my direction, or rather, being caught while doing so. No muscular men with the sunglasses on standing in the corner. And above all, no one was shooting at me. Peacetime was great, I must say.
A few advertisements were running for the Amazon Brigade, the union of IS pilots around the world. Seeing them made me a bit annoyed, there was bad blood between me and them. Though to be honest, I would say it was coming from me only, my own biased, one could say, shaped through a turbulent time known as "school".
At least the custom office was much nicer. Not super comfortable like fully leather-cladded sofa and with a steaming cup of tea served by a beautiful lady with a form-fitting business suit, but still "nice" for someone who wanted nothing more than peace and tranquillity. Of course, for me, those two would be something luxurious and unachievable. Being an official IS pilot meant access to an opulent lifestyle. Being a boy in an IS-dominated society meant losing a lot of prestige and dignity.
Being the first male IS pilot, on the other hand, put me in the "people of interest" list. By the way, me being an IS pilot (despite having XY chromosomes) was a long story, and I had no idea how that happened.
That, and I was not allowed to have the IS suit being near me during flight. Something about safety regulation. But seriously, my suit could be stored safely in a ring, so why would they be bothered by that? Just chucking it into a box and I could safely bring it with me into the cabin without fear of "accidental activation."
Still, rules were rules. Even if I was not enjoying them, I still had to follow them. The Japanese officials were also quite understanding too. Hands were shaken, condolences were spoken and notes were exchanged. Having an expert's knowledge of custom business never hurt.
The ring fit nicely on my finger, the left middle finger to be precise. It was just a plain, dull, grey metallic ring with a completely unassuming appearance. The only thing noteworthy was that it seemed to be slightly thicker than a normal ring. Still, it was just as wide as its cousins found on rock singers' fingers, so there was nothing thing strange about it. Well, until the people realized that I was storing my fully combat-capable Infinite Stratos suit.
Bidding farewell to the custom office in the airport, there was only one thing left to do: finding my ride to the Academy. And this was where things started to go wrong. I had made a request to have an incognito ride, and I knew for sure that a freaking white limousine with the emblem of IS Academy on it was not "incognito". It took a few more calls to Home to confirm this change. The Headmistress of the Academy did not enjoy having a VIP riding in a mundane vehicle. Home just shrugged their shoulders and neglected to inform me that.
Something about me being childish. Well, excuse them, I was just seventeen, I hated being in the spotlight and I was being called childish? Yeah, the trip to Japan just had to begin fine and dandy like this…
I suppress my own annoyance, I walked up to the chauffeur, who was a forty-something man with slim built, black hair, black suits and white gloves. Before I had the chance to say anything, he had already spoken up:
"Are you Nguyen Quang Anh? The new Vietnamese student at the Academy?"
English. I was impressed. The stories online painted Japanese as people with… a lot of trouble speaking a foreign language. Yet, the man in front of me was able to speak it fluently with minimal interference from his own accent.
"Yes, yes I am."
"Welcome to Japan. My name is Tanaka Akira, I will be your driver today."
I noticed that it was the proper order of surname – a given name used commonly in the area under influence of Chinese influence (as much as my nationalism found the part "influence" annoying). Clearly, this man had done his homework. In Vietnam, the naming convention was just like that: surname, optional middle name, and given name. The same could not be said for the Western world though.
"Thank you Mr. Tanaka, it's nice to meet you."
And just like Home had ordered me, I needed to be friendly and cooperative. I did not really enjoy talking to other people. Not like the introvert where they were drained after a conversation, but more like I preferred being alone and playing video games than making small talk. At least basic talking and being polite was doable by me.
The ride quickly started, and luckily, the chauffeur (or at least, the Academy) was kind enough to leave some reading materials inside the cabin. I tried skimming them, but unfortunately, they were not my taste. Too many tabloids and lacking in technology. At least I still had my phone. Thanks to my… status (a male IS pilot and a junior cadet of the military), I had unlimited data credit. It was a real boon to have when I got bored on the road. In combination with the soft seats and the drinks, it took little time before I was totally engrossed in the game.
Normally, that would be the end of the day. The whole trip from the airport to the Academy was spent on video games. However, my luck was just rotten sometimes. First, I was stuck in a warzone, then I found myself capable of controlling an IS suit, later I remembered running through a jungle with a naked butt.
This time, I found my limousine being boxed on all sides by unmarked cars.
It was only now that I understood why my trainers told me not to look at my phone while on any car. I originally scoffed at that, but now, it finally dawned on me that I should always keep my guard up. Seriously, if I was a bit more vigilant, I would have sported them earlier. No use crying for spilt milk though.
My danger sense started growling, and I immediately sent a text message to Home. With a real-time connection, it would be just a minute or two before the Vietnamese Ambassador in Japan was alerted. In the best-case scenario, this would be a false alarm. But then, for the worst case, it would not be likely for me to see the next day. It was always better to be careful in situations like this.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. If Home was a bit more… aggressive, my country could have armed me with more than basic combat skills, and they could have definitely given me some weapons. Sure, an IS suit was good, but it was flashy, cumbersome, and a giant target on my back. Meanwhile, a blade or a silenced gun could do wonders… But no! Home just had to follow strict protocols. The military training they gave me was excessive already, they said. I had to show the world the friendly face of Vietnam, they ordered.
Fuck politics.
Seriously, was that too much to have more than basic formation drilling and marksmanship? I wanted to have even more hand-on training with live ammunition, knowledge in explosive and engineering, and perhaps something about CBRN defence… But nooooo! It was too much.
Again, fuck politics.
So, here I was, being stuck on all side by unknown assailants with no immediate solution to breakthrough. If I died here, I would definitely kill those old geezers.
The unknown cars were good, I must credit them that, they were able to finally force the limousine to a complete stop on the side of the road. The chauffeur might be professional in delivering VIPs, but he was a civilian, not a sassy super spy in disguise. Though to be honest, I would really love that to be the truth. It would be really helpful in breaking out of this encirclement.
Someone was stepping off the assailant cars now, a bunch of women. Asian ethnicity, with black hairs, round faces, and slim build. All were wearing business suits with black blazers, black skirts and black leather high-heel shoes. It would not be a stretch to say that they were a group of highly capable businesswomen at first glance. However, normal businesswomen would not ride in unmarked vehicles, and they would not be carrying weapons. Melee weapons, but still weapons nonetheless
I counted six standing in the open, one was visibly unarmed, four more were carrying short swords on their hands. How did they call that? Katana? No, a katana would be longer… I briefly wondered if I should have beefed up my Japanese before coming here. But that was neither "here" and "now". I had a more pressing issue, namely the last woman.
She had already loosened up the buttons on her blazer, showing a holstered pistol. She was the boss, I believed. She wore more jewelry, with earrings and a golden necklace. Now that I watched it more carefully, look like she had some hint of brown in the glint of her hair and some blue in the spark of her eyes. Mix-blood? Probably. In addition to these six, at least four more women were staying in the four cars surrounding us with unknown weaponry. So a ten against one odd, not precisely the best scenario for a direct flight.
The unarmed woman knocked on the window, which was pretty much the universal language for "Please open the window". Here, I was pretty sure that the word "please" was absent. Unsurprisingly, the order was simple, given in an accented voice:
"Get out."
Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I had no option left but to follow their words and to step out of the car. I kept my hands low though, if I raised them high, it would look like I was surrendering. Technically, I was surrendering, but it would be the image that counted. That, and my pride was actively preventing me from doing so.
They were taller than me. A lot. By at least 20 centimetres (about 8 inches for the Americans). I suddenly felt some intimidation as well as some uneasy memory. It was called "being scared", and the best way of defeating it was to merge myself with the mask of "not being scared". Fake it until on ace it, as the saying went.
"So, are you ladies here to ask me for a dance?"
Taunting my own opponent was not a wise idea, especially when I held no card. But to be honest, I did not care about it. After the war, it was hard for me to find joy anymore. Not normal fun stuff, at least. So, I had no choice but to find amusement in soldier's dark humour and some snarky comebacks. One day, it would definitely result in having my head blown off, but not today (probably). And as I had said, I did not care about it.
The unarmed woman tried to slap me. Well, tried. I was able to block it and held her wrist tightly. Of course, I released her the moment I saw two other women behind her slightly unsheathe their blades. No need to escalate the situation any more. For now, at least. Besides, I was able to deliver a comeback, so it was an acceptable trade for me.
The lead woman then said something in Japanese, and it almost went over my head. Something about "car" and "move". As I said, I was rusty in Japanese, even the rush course that Home gave me failed to show me any meaningful insight into this order. In short, I had completely no idea what she had just said. My eyes just blinked once, then again while my mouth did not even move at all. No one was saying anything, all eyes were still kept on me.
The silence was fairly… awkward, or suffocating. These women were not likely to tell me what they want in English, so I glanced to the side. Noticing my gaze, he quickly got my unspoken question and spoke:
"She wants you to get into that car and follow them."
"Ask her this, what if I don't want to?"
The answer was quite immediate. The moment he finished translating my question, the four sword-bitches quickly unsheathed their blades and the lead female unholstered her gun and unclicked the safety. A picture was worth a thousand words, after all, I would do what they said, or they would kill me. I had no fear of death, but dying before completing the mission was highly wasteful. Therefore, following their orders was the only option left for me.
Granted, I could always lash out, but the chauffeur would be unlikely to survive unscathed. I would be immediately blacklisted if I left a civilian died on my watch. Besides, if I followed their orders now, playing the docile role, there was always a chance for me to break out of captivity and wreak havoc on their arses. Some luck would be needed though.
All five females quickly put their weapons back in the holsters, and their faces were nothing but pure contempt, disgust and hate. Though it was not that hard to notice the glee in their eyes. From someone like me, that was something. Anger and wrath were rising in my head, but I forcibly kept them from reaching my faces. If these brats thought that I was easily bullied, they were dead wrong. If these bitches believed that they could walk over me simply because they were women and I was a man, I would make sure it would be the last thing they would ever do.
"What about the driver?"
I asked, and the chauffeur translated for me again, this time, the answer came much sooner. It was not that hard to notice sorrow and dread in his voice when he answered my query:
"Nothing, they are interested in you only. Mister, I'm sorry about that."
"Don't worry, it's not your fault. Mr. Tanaka, please drive away and call for support immediately."
On the one hand, the civilian was able to stay out of the way. On the other hand, I would be completely alone and without support. So, there would be no choice left but to head in the fire all by myself. It was quite a tall order to be honest. The whole training I got for situations like this was practically "hunker down and call fire support".
Normally, it would be fairly easy to do. However, the… kidnappers were nothing but careful, they had already confiscated my phone (with no sensitive information stored on in) and my IS ring (already deactivated the moment I smelt trouble).
Suddenly, I felt something connecting to my stomach. The lead bitch was able to sucker-punch me, it seemed. She was adept with quick strikes, I must credit her that. However, she was not strong enough, so I was still standing tall and proud. For some strange reasons though, she yelped and caress over her own fist, which made me the target of her underlings' glare. Funny, I only felt an itch, but somehow, she felt pain.
Two of the sword-bitches stepped up and drawing out their swords. Fighting against two of them was still hard, but more manageable than fighting four swords and one gun at the same time. It would be hard, and there was no guarantee that I would be intact by the end of the fight. Unacceptable risk, but unavoidable fight. My brain started to analyze the pattern and drawing out potential ways to fight and counter. However, before I had the chance to actually clash, the lead bitch raised her hand to stopped them, and then, using the other hand, she pulled out her handgun.
She did not unclick her safety, which was good. The bad news was that she used it to whip me. I could not block it, I could not evade it, and I possessed no skill to properly counter it. Needless to say, it hurt like a bitch. I fell to the ground with stars filling my vision. The pain was throbbing on the side of my head, with groan escaping my throat. Luckily, my pain tolerance kicked in, quickly helped me to ease all of it down. The women were laughing now, they looked totally relax… one of the sword-bitch was even bringing out her phone and taking pictures of me laying on the ground.
Good. As long as they were relaxed, they would not be watching me closely (I hoped). The unconscious part of my brain was adjusting the breath and pumping out adrenaline, killing the pain. Meanwhile, the conscious part of my brain was plotting those bitches' demise, up to and including how to kill them efficiently.
I was pushed into a car. Though "pushed" might be a bit wrong, "thrown in" might be a better option. The pistol whip on me was highly effective in making those females dropping most of their guards. They did not even bother covering their attempt of dropping our poor limousine chauffeur. At least he was just out cold and sleeping peacefully in the car. I hope that he would wake up soon and call for reinforcement. Fighting my way out would be… practically impossible.
For now, it was better to hunker down and plan my escape. I had already picked up three phrases being repeated constantly. I lack the background information to deduce anything, but those would help for the payback (hopefully). Not enough for me to gain immediate and actionable intelligence, but guaranteed retaliation strikes (whenever that happened)
The window was tinted lightly. The view outside was only dimmed and not made invisible. I had no idea why they were that stupid, leaving me even more chance to gain intelligence. However, as the military mantra said: One should not stop the enemy who was making a mistake. The view outside was changing. It had turned from the express highway to the roads of the suburb area of Tokyo. Well, "relative" suburb of course. Tokyo was a big-arse city, and it could be said that there were even sub-cities inside. At the moment, we were at one of those areas. A bit north of the Ota ward, at the southern side of the Tokyo proper, if my estimation was correct.
I had consider breaking out and wreaking havoc. However, I was sat between two underlings, both of who had their blades out, ready to cut me down. The lead bitch, who had a gun, was behind me, giving me too little room to surprise them and take over. The risk was just too great. Dying was not an issue, after all, it was the absolute honour one soldier could ask for, but dying foolishly was just… stupid.
The convoy stopped at the conjunction of the main road with a branch street, and I was immediately dragged off the vehicle. I used a few seconds, trying to note any worthy landmark. North of Ota was still too vague for the reinforcement to arrive, I needed a better solution than brute force my way through. Too bad, this was when my luck ran out. First, I found none. Then, there was another woman waiting there.
She was bad news, I could totally feel it. Dressed sharply in form-fitting business, she finished her deadly look with a black, semi-transparent pair of leggings. With a busty top and a slim waist, it was quite easy to mistake her with a model, especially with the long smooth black hair behind her back. Hell, if I was not kidnapped in the first place, I would love to watch her hip swaying from side to side while walking towards me.
The jingling of her top, the breeze of her hair, the red of her lips, the smooth, enticing, wondrous slim legs encased in black leggings… and the very strange sparkle in her eyes.
As I said, a pity.
She was more dangerous than the whole gang sent to kidnap me, for she was holding a bag in her hand. A thick black fabric bag used to put over my head to be precise.
Darkness was all I could see next. Sure, I was able to vaguely say that there was light coming through the fabric, but I had a lot of trouble seeing through it. With that, there went my chance to gain last-minute intelligence. No way to know the precise location of my site, so I had to rely on estimation. Counting the number of steps I had taken under blindfold and estimating the direction, some mental calculation was made with reference to the last stop.
Not good enough for a Close-support package, but that should be fine to mount a rescue attempt. Especially after I gained some communication device.
Still, it would be harder, considering that the new woman also brought along some zip-ties. My wrists quickly noticed and reported the sensation of pain. It made my escape plans being… a bit harder. Then, I had to hold back the sigh on my tongue when I felt some blade (or something just as pointy) at my back. The walk went on with silence on my end. I was not used to being whiny, and these ladies were definitely not in a good mood for talking. Besides, there was likely no reason for them to be chatty. Luckily, it did not last longer than a few minutes, which meant I had walked less than a kilometre.
The bag was removed from my head, and I quickly saw a four-floor building. It was square-ish looking, with white walls, curtained window at the front, and a V-shaped roof. A small garden of sort was walled up in front of the house, with the main door being offset to the right. No decoration, no special mark was found. It was practically as unassuming as I could describe it. The neighbourhood was barely better, having nothing but a mixture of grey, white and yellow colour.
I did not have much time to dwell on the situation, trying to find a street name or landmark though. The deadly woman had already opened the door, leading the boss bitch (and subsequently, the whole gang) in. My brain started collecting the information again. This would be the shortest (and probably the bloodiest) way to freedom. Going up to the third floor, fifth door on the left. Fairly easy to remember. On my way, I saw no further camera or surveillance system, there was also no other people.
Despite the lack of any people, the building seemed to be well-furnished, giving a somewhat lived-in atmosphere… as long as one could count "lack of any personal belongings" as criteria. That, and it was quite spacious. Much larger than a common house in Japan…
I was dumped into a room. Unceremoniously, I might add. The boss bitch sneered at me, as if she had something better to do, before leaving just a pair of guards behind. Meanwhile, the new, strange woman just silently shook her head. Seemed like she was the smart and responsible one. Too bad, when I got out, she would be on the top of my kill list.
The delegation quickly left, presumable to have further discussion, leaving me alone in the room with two women, still dressed sharply in business suits. They would be quite some eye candies, even if they were armed with blades… No, they were simply my kidnappers, which put them fairly high on my shitlist.
"You stop being an IS pilot, say that to everyone, and you will be free."
A guard spoke in broken English with a certain tinge of the Japanese accent. So, this would answer quite a few questions. They were just a bunch of zealots, a gang of idiots, a horde of terrorists. And above all, they had trespassed against me.
That would be the last mistake they would ever make.
Time to pounce.
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Chapter 2
- Location
- Netherlands
"Ladies, I want to go to the toilet. Would you mind cut the ropes?"
"We are not allowed to do so."
"So do you really want to unzip my pants?"
The idea was simple, I tricked them to cut the zip-tie. With my hands free, it would be easier to fight them. Sure, it was one against two, I was not specialized in CQC, and they were armed. However, it would be much harder if my hands were still being tied. Besides, I had already made up my mind. Fight to kill, no quarter, no mercy, no prisoner.
Funny thing to think about it. Barely a year ago, I had quite a lot of trouble taking any lives, even if it was just a fish or a chicken. Now, killing someone, while still distasteful, was much easier for me. Guess that goddamned terrorist attack did more than changing my mindset. Well, I did some serious shit back then, having my first morally challenging choice, removing a few threats to national security, being awarded a medal (or two), and losing my first kiss.
The two female guards, while cute, were not as good-looking as that girl. Not to mention that their personalities left much to desire…
"Yeah, we will do that… not like we actually want to do it!"
Was that me or they both sounded like some tsundere teenage girls? No, that kind of shit only happened in shitty anime and manga, not real life. Though to be honest, a story written by a bored and horny bastard would be a close guess… Any way, it was not important. They were enemies. Therefore, they must be killed.
The two girls quickly led me to the bathroom, which was attached to the side of my prison cell. One girl at my front, the other at my back. I spared half a second enjoying the view of the girls, one with smooth brown shoulder-length hair, the other with black hair being tied to a bun. Pity.
Without warning, I raised both of my hands (still being tied) high in the air and then quickly pull them down and backward, with my shoulder blade opened wide. It was a trick I was taught at the military academy, aiming to break the zip tie when my hands were tied in front of me. Under the sudden increase of pressure, the zip tie snapped off with a loud cry, surprising both escorts.
The first target was the one behind me, the one with short brown hair. She was roughly as tall as I was, perhaps a bit taller. Therefore, with my own body as reference, I could reliably adjust the height of my strikes so that they landed on critical spots. First, I swung my left elbow backward, hitting her chin head on. The attack was followed by a right hook right at her temple, which made her eyes rolled back. Her cry of help was stopped because my left hand had already punched into her torso. Due to the combination of my body weight and momentum, she was pushed back, collapsing on the ground. With inertia, I followed up with the right elbow striking upward, into her chin.
Fast and hard was the game there. My fists and elbows stung a bit after those strikes. After all, all of my attacks landed on areas with some bone protection. Critical spots, yes, but they were also moderately protected. At least she had already fallen.
By now, her companion had already recovered and responded with a surprised cry. When I turned around, she was drawing out her blade. The initiative was still on my side, for the time being, so I had to press up the attack. I jumped toward her, bragged her right wrist, and then I twisted and turned it making her to drop the blade. Then, to finish, I pushed my body close to her, turned around and quickly flipped her over my shoulder. A thundering "Thud" was heard and her eyes had already lost the focus. However, she was still conscious, which meant she was still a valid combatant.
Actually, scratch that, both women were still dangerous and combat capable. They were just stunned and dazed. Leave them for a while and they would be back with a vengeance. Luckily, they had already provided me a solution.
Picking up the discarded blade on the ground, I plunged it into the heart of the woman with the black hair tied into a bun. The blade slipped easily between the two ribs and blood quickly oozed out of the wound. With the twist and turns of my blade, she died quickly without making any more sound. One down, one to go.
Then, I dashed toward the other woman, removing her blade from the sheath. By now, she had somewhat recovered from the attack and actively did her best to hamper me. However, a fist slamming on her nose convinced her to do something else. While she was busy moaning, I had already pulled out her blade and sliced through her throat. Blood was spitting out of the cut, not like a fountain, but… yeah, it was messy. For good measures, I also stabbed her in the heart, again.
She died within a few seconds.
It was only then that I finally exhaled. Two more kills on my list. On the one hand, I felt like crap. Killing was never easy, one only got used to it over time… On the other hand, I did not see any other viable option to secure a safe escape. They were in my way, so to speak. Besides, they had already told me their intention of making denouncing my position as an IS pilot. So, it was probably justifiable…
I did not think it would fly in the court though. Still, I had to be alive and in one piece to stand in trial first. And to do so, I must get out of here first. Intact, of course.
In order to escape safely, I needed extraction, preferably one that came in the form of a Special force team. A SWAT team would be nice, but a SpecOp unit with the full party gear coming for rescue would be way better. Especially if I was on their side and they were not pointing their business end at me. And in order to do it, I needed a phone.
Luckily, I got two warm dead bodies here. And thankfully, they got phones. It was quite a discomfort getting this close to them. I was not a full stranger to death and violence anymore, but doing this still cast some heavy shadows on my mind. A man got to do what a man got to do though. Looting the (freshly) dead was the only way for me to contact for help. The black haired woman had a phone tucked inside of her blazer. A foldable model, with no button and the screen fully occupied the whole front of the phone. It was locked by… iris scanning. I clicked my tongue in annoyance. It would be quite a choir to scan the eyes of the killed female guard properly.
At least it was much better than guessing the pattern or the PIN. Besides, with the phone secured, I could gain a potential source of intelligence, which hopefully would cut down the time I had to spend in jail for my "murder". If one was not enough, well, I could search the other woman and get the second phone. Two sources of intelligence were always better than one.
And now, I would ring Home. Calling the Japanese police and telling them that I had killed someone were… not precisely a wise idea. At least, back Home, I got some back-up. The Major was taking me under his wing (mostly for hiding away his porn stash), and he was bored these days. As they said, a bored soldier was a dangerous one. It was perhaps better to find some job for him to do (in this case, cleaning the mess) than having none at all.
With the phone number being memorized, I quickly dialed it. International call would be expensive, but this girl was using a postpaid plan, which meant that there was no credit to deduct the fee from. I could make calls as long as I like, and she would be the one paying the bill, not me. Quite lucky for me, I might add.
A few ringtones, and Major answered the call.
"Who is this?"
"I'm an illustrious engineer wearing a black backpack sir. The owner of this phone has just unfortunately being stuck in an accident. I was simply contacting the first phone number in her list."
"Understood, and what it the situation there?"
"It is quite hairy, sir. It involves a limousine and a truck"
It was a series of codes, pre-arranged from before. Breaking down, things went as followed. First, I was identifying myself. "Illustrious" was not a very common word to utter every day, and "black backpack" was simply its reinforcement. Sure, if I had time, I would be able to weave those two phrases much better. But here, time was a luxury that I could not afford… The next part of the code reported that I was salvaging hostile phones and using non-secure line, which explained why I simply did not spell out everything. The second line of mine detailed the situation: things were bad, and I was kidnapped on the way from the airport to the IS Academy.
"… Understood. Would you like me to contact the fixer team?"
"Yes please, tell them to bring flowers, if possible. The ladies here are a bit miffed with my impoliteness."
The military Special force group of the JSDF (called Tokusen in Japanese) would be contacted immediately. I also asked them to pack extra firepower and other equivalent party flavors to the mix. This was due to the kidnappers were deemed fairly dangerous. Armed and driven, a terrible combination for any hostile force. Sure, it was not enough to request Tier One unit, but the rescue party must be SpecOp nevertheless. Any unit less than that may suffer serious casualty.
"What happened there?"
"The girl whose phone I'm calling from just crashed into another. From the look of it, both of them perished immediately."
I had… issues reporting that line. As much as I could temporarily suppress and control my own emotions, tiredness and distaste were still able to worm into my voice. After all, I had just killed two more.
"When should I call you back?"
"You should not. I'm gonna hand the phone to the police. It would be unwise to disrupt their meeting."
That one was not precisely coded, but the situation did not require for any cypher. My site was not secured, so it was simply unwise to have anyone rang me first. Hell, even the phone conversation I was speaking in was not totally secured. Calling me back would draw unwanted attraction, not to mention that it could break stealth in case I was being sneaky. I was lucky in dealing with these two women, using raw aggression and strength with the element of surprise. Facing others, I did not think that I would fare better.
"Understood. Please update me with new situation if possible."
"Likewise. I'll be contacting her uncle now. After that, I'll call you again for updates."
"Understood. Thanks for your assistance."
"You are welcomed."
The next part of the job was calling the Vietnamese Embassy, and officially getting the rescue party. The Ambassador would be in charge of facilitating the rescue. Then, Home would be the people wrangling out as many concessions and benefits as possible. After all, a foreign citizen was just kidnapped in broad daylight on Japanese soil. Some shit must be done. Besides, Major loved nothing more than rubbing in the face of the Japanese IS force, something about a fiasco years ago as he told me earlier.
Surprisingly, the speed and efficiency were quite respectable. Clearly, after a lot of complaints earlier this century, the high-ups had finally decided to flex their muscles. The moment I finished saying that I was kidnapped, well, the receptionist transferred me to the one being responsible for the job. Then, when he was able to verify my identity, the phone was transferred to the military attaché of the Embassy. I told him everything I knew so far.
I was speaking when the door suddenly opened. Another woman, still with the business dress of black skirt and blazers, stepped in, speaking something in Japanese. She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed her friend was laying with blood on the floor. She never said anything else, because a blade had already plunged into her throat.
"Sitrep!"
"I'm potentially busted, the kidnappers just send someone to check on my guard. She is down, but I assume that my cover is blown. Will attempt to reach the roof. Over."
"Roger that. Proceed with the order. Find and secure another place if that fails. Over."
"Should we keep the line open?"
"Let's. I'm contacting the JSDF now, press for safety and keep me updated."
"Copy."
While I was receiving the last set of instructions from the attaché, I quickly dragged the new dead body into the room. Time was of an essence now. It was likely that the boss bitch was demanding my presence (presumably to have me denouncing my title). The last woman was sent here to fetch me… why they did not do it over a phone call? I had no idea. But I had little time to think. Now, I had to run.
**Updated on 30/1/2020
First, weapons. Running empty hand in hostile territory was a bad idea, if not a terrible one. No gun here, only blades, which was… sub-optimal. I preferred guns over them, easier to use and master. Sure, it took longer to produce and maintenance, but all bullets were deadly. Blade attacks? Not so much. Besides, in order to kill with melee weapon, a long-arse training time was needed. Hell, I just got lucky here, using wrath and anger as fuel with help from surprise.
For a quick and sneak attack, they would be sufficient. But to slip out from a bunch of zealous and well-armed women, I would need much more than a handful of blades
Still, beggars could not be choosers. Having some blades was still better than being unarmed.
Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I peeked my head outside. In both directions, no human presence was found, which meant, the coast was clear.
For now.
Let's push it before the boss bitch realized that I had already been out of constraints and taken down three of her gals. If I were in her shoes, being infuriated would be mildly describing it.
"We are not allowed to do so."
"So do you really want to unzip my pants?"
The idea was simple, I tricked them to cut the zip-tie. With my hands free, it would be easier to fight them. Sure, it was one against two, I was not specialized in CQC, and they were armed. However, it would be much harder if my hands were still being tied. Besides, I had already made up my mind. Fight to kill, no quarter, no mercy, no prisoner.
Funny thing to think about it. Barely a year ago, I had quite a lot of trouble taking any lives, even if it was just a fish or a chicken. Now, killing someone, while still distasteful, was much easier for me. Guess that goddamned terrorist attack did more than changing my mindset. Well, I did some serious shit back then, having my first morally challenging choice, removing a few threats to national security, being awarded a medal (or two), and losing my first kiss.
The two female guards, while cute, were not as good-looking as that girl. Not to mention that their personalities left much to desire…
"Yeah, we will do that… not like we actually want to do it!"
Was that me or they both sounded like some tsundere teenage girls? No, that kind of shit only happened in shitty anime and manga, not real life. Though to be honest, a story written by a bored and horny bastard would be a close guess… Any way, it was not important. They were enemies. Therefore, they must be killed.
The two girls quickly led me to the bathroom, which was attached to the side of my prison cell. One girl at my front, the other at my back. I spared half a second enjoying the view of the girls, one with smooth brown shoulder-length hair, the other with black hair being tied to a bun. Pity.
Without warning, I raised both of my hands (still being tied) high in the air and then quickly pull them down and backward, with my shoulder blade opened wide. It was a trick I was taught at the military academy, aiming to break the zip tie when my hands were tied in front of me. Under the sudden increase of pressure, the zip tie snapped off with a loud cry, surprising both escorts.
The first target was the one behind me, the one with short brown hair. She was roughly as tall as I was, perhaps a bit taller. Therefore, with my own body as reference, I could reliably adjust the height of my strikes so that they landed on critical spots. First, I swung my left elbow backward, hitting her chin head on. The attack was followed by a right hook right at her temple, which made her eyes rolled back. Her cry of help was stopped because my left hand had already punched into her torso. Due to the combination of my body weight and momentum, she was pushed back, collapsing on the ground. With inertia, I followed up with the right elbow striking upward, into her chin.
Fast and hard was the game there. My fists and elbows stung a bit after those strikes. After all, all of my attacks landed on areas with some bone protection. Critical spots, yes, but they were also moderately protected. At least she had already fallen.
By now, her companion had already recovered and responded with a surprised cry. When I turned around, she was drawing out her blade. The initiative was still on my side, for the time being, so I had to press up the attack. I jumped toward her, bragged her right wrist, and then I twisted and turned it making her to drop the blade. Then, to finish, I pushed my body close to her, turned around and quickly flipped her over my shoulder. A thundering "Thud" was heard and her eyes had already lost the focus. However, she was still conscious, which meant she was still a valid combatant.
Actually, scratch that, both women were still dangerous and combat capable. They were just stunned and dazed. Leave them for a while and they would be back with a vengeance. Luckily, they had already provided me a solution.
Picking up the discarded blade on the ground, I plunged it into the heart of the woman with the black hair tied into a bun. The blade slipped easily between the two ribs and blood quickly oozed out of the wound. With the twist and turns of my blade, she died quickly without making any more sound. One down, one to go.
Then, I dashed toward the other woman, removing her blade from the sheath. By now, she had somewhat recovered from the attack and actively did her best to hamper me. However, a fist slamming on her nose convinced her to do something else. While she was busy moaning, I had already pulled out her blade and sliced through her throat. Blood was spitting out of the cut, not like a fountain, but… yeah, it was messy. For good measures, I also stabbed her in the heart, again.
She died within a few seconds.
It was only then that I finally exhaled. Two more kills on my list. On the one hand, I felt like crap. Killing was never easy, one only got used to it over time… On the other hand, I did not see any other viable option to secure a safe escape. They were in my way, so to speak. Besides, they had already told me their intention of making denouncing my position as an IS pilot. So, it was probably justifiable…
I did not think it would fly in the court though. Still, I had to be alive and in one piece to stand in trial first. And to do so, I must get out of here first. Intact, of course.
In order to escape safely, I needed extraction, preferably one that came in the form of a Special force team. A SWAT team would be nice, but a SpecOp unit with the full party gear coming for rescue would be way better. Especially if I was on their side and they were not pointing their business end at me. And in order to do it, I needed a phone.
Luckily, I got two warm dead bodies here. And thankfully, they got phones. It was quite a discomfort getting this close to them. I was not a full stranger to death and violence anymore, but doing this still cast some heavy shadows on my mind. A man got to do what a man got to do though. Looting the (freshly) dead was the only way for me to contact for help. The black haired woman had a phone tucked inside of her blazer. A foldable model, with no button and the screen fully occupied the whole front of the phone. It was locked by… iris scanning. I clicked my tongue in annoyance. It would be quite a choir to scan the eyes of the killed female guard properly.
At least it was much better than guessing the pattern or the PIN. Besides, with the phone secured, I could gain a potential source of intelligence, which hopefully would cut down the time I had to spend in jail for my "murder". If one was not enough, well, I could search the other woman and get the second phone. Two sources of intelligence were always better than one.
And now, I would ring Home. Calling the Japanese police and telling them that I had killed someone were… not precisely a wise idea. At least, back Home, I got some back-up. The Major was taking me under his wing (mostly for hiding away his porn stash), and he was bored these days. As they said, a bored soldier was a dangerous one. It was perhaps better to find some job for him to do (in this case, cleaning the mess) than having none at all.
With the phone number being memorized, I quickly dialed it. International call would be expensive, but this girl was using a postpaid plan, which meant that there was no credit to deduct the fee from. I could make calls as long as I like, and she would be the one paying the bill, not me. Quite lucky for me, I might add.
A few ringtones, and Major answered the call.
"Who is this?"
"I'm an illustrious engineer wearing a black backpack sir. The owner of this phone has just unfortunately being stuck in an accident. I was simply contacting the first phone number in her list."
"Understood, and what it the situation there?"
"It is quite hairy, sir. It involves a limousine and a truck"
It was a series of codes, pre-arranged from before. Breaking down, things went as followed. First, I was identifying myself. "Illustrious" was not a very common word to utter every day, and "black backpack" was simply its reinforcement. Sure, if I had time, I would be able to weave those two phrases much better. But here, time was a luxury that I could not afford… The next part of the code reported that I was salvaging hostile phones and using non-secure line, which explained why I simply did not spell out everything. The second line of mine detailed the situation: things were bad, and I was kidnapped on the way from the airport to the IS Academy.
"… Understood. Would you like me to contact the fixer team?"
"Yes please, tell them to bring flowers, if possible. The ladies here are a bit miffed with my impoliteness."
The military Special force group of the JSDF (called Tokusen in Japanese) would be contacted immediately. I also asked them to pack extra firepower and other equivalent party flavors to the mix. This was due to the kidnappers were deemed fairly dangerous. Armed and driven, a terrible combination for any hostile force. Sure, it was not enough to request Tier One unit, but the rescue party must be SpecOp nevertheless. Any unit less than that may suffer serious casualty.
"What happened there?"
"The girl whose phone I'm calling from just crashed into another. From the look of it, both of them perished immediately."
I had… issues reporting that line. As much as I could temporarily suppress and control my own emotions, tiredness and distaste were still able to worm into my voice. After all, I had just killed two more.
"When should I call you back?"
"You should not. I'm gonna hand the phone to the police. It would be unwise to disrupt their meeting."
That one was not precisely coded, but the situation did not require for any cypher. My site was not secured, so it was simply unwise to have anyone rang me first. Hell, even the phone conversation I was speaking in was not totally secured. Calling me back would draw unwanted attraction, not to mention that it could break stealth in case I was being sneaky. I was lucky in dealing with these two women, using raw aggression and strength with the element of surprise. Facing others, I did not think that I would fare better.
"Understood. Please update me with new situation if possible."
"Likewise. I'll be contacting her uncle now. After that, I'll call you again for updates."
"Understood. Thanks for your assistance."
"You are welcomed."
The next part of the job was calling the Vietnamese Embassy, and officially getting the rescue party. The Ambassador would be in charge of facilitating the rescue. Then, Home would be the people wrangling out as many concessions and benefits as possible. After all, a foreign citizen was just kidnapped in broad daylight on Japanese soil. Some shit must be done. Besides, Major loved nothing more than rubbing in the face of the Japanese IS force, something about a fiasco years ago as he told me earlier.
Surprisingly, the speed and efficiency were quite respectable. Clearly, after a lot of complaints earlier this century, the high-ups had finally decided to flex their muscles. The moment I finished saying that I was kidnapped, well, the receptionist transferred me to the one being responsible for the job. Then, when he was able to verify my identity, the phone was transferred to the military attaché of the Embassy. I told him everything I knew so far.
I was speaking when the door suddenly opened. Another woman, still with the business dress of black skirt and blazers, stepped in, speaking something in Japanese. She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed her friend was laying with blood on the floor. She never said anything else, because a blade had already plunged into her throat.
"Sitrep!"
"I'm potentially busted, the kidnappers just send someone to check on my guard. She is down, but I assume that my cover is blown. Will attempt to reach the roof. Over."
"Roger that. Proceed with the order. Find and secure another place if that fails. Over."
"Should we keep the line open?"
"Let's. I'm contacting the JSDF now, press for safety and keep me updated."
"Copy."
While I was receiving the last set of instructions from the attaché, I quickly dragged the new dead body into the room. Time was of an essence now. It was likely that the boss bitch was demanding my presence (presumably to have me denouncing my title). The last woman was sent here to fetch me… why they did not do it over a phone call? I had no idea. But I had little time to think. Now, I had to run.
**Updated on 30/1/2020
First, weapons. Running empty hand in hostile territory was a bad idea, if not a terrible one. No gun here, only blades, which was… sub-optimal. I preferred guns over them, easier to use and master. Sure, it took longer to produce and maintenance, but all bullets were deadly. Blade attacks? Not so much. Besides, in order to kill with melee weapon, a long-arse training time was needed. Hell, I just got lucky here, using wrath and anger as fuel with help from surprise.
For a quick and sneak attack, they would be sufficient. But to slip out from a bunch of zealous and well-armed women, I would need much more than a handful of blades
Still, beggars could not be choosers. Having some blades was still better than being unarmed.
Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I peeked my head outside. In both directions, no human presence was found, which meant, the coast was clear.
For now.
Let's push it before the boss bitch realized that I had already been out of constraints and taken down three of her gals. If I were in her shoes, being infuriated would be mildly describing it.
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Chapter 3
- Location
- Netherlands
Updated on 7/2/2020
The coast was clear, but not for long… I grimaced while looting the earphone from my last kill, plugging it to my ear. In combat, both hands should be used to fight, not to hold a phone. I could certainly see the wisdom in that…
Glancing one last time to the killed women, I had to grimace. It was gruesome, blood was leaking from their wound, dying their shirts red and staining the floor. No other choice than being brutal here, to be honest. Sure, I would only knock them out if I had the choice, but my own traumas and lack of specialized training led to this. There was no other option for me than killing them.
Regrettable, but also unavoidable.
Steeling my nerve, I forcefully ignore them for now. First, I had to get out of here. The target would be the roof of the building. From there, I would be much easier for me to spotted and evac-ed. Slightly pushing the door over, I stared through the gap, watching both sides of the hallway. Luckily, it was empty. I was not in any mood to extend my kill list.
Good, next step was to moving up through the stairs. If I remembered correctly, they were on my left. About a dozen steps or so. Fifteen meters, give or take. Around me, there was only silence. The house was well-lit, but I did not have the "homey" feeling. It was as if this was a front for something, the building was purely there as a backup solution and not to be used as a residence. I felt something quizzical, had I been entangled by some alphabetic soup agencies? Let's hope not.
The staircase was just as I expected: void of everyone, in both and down directions. There was not even a shadow moving within my sight. It was strange, considering that there should be about a dozen people in the building now… Maybe they were in their respective rooms at the moment? Maybe, maybe not. Still, that was not the critical subject at the moment. My job was to GTFO, not to investigate or to clear out the weed.
Hugging the wall to prevent being spotted (from both downstairs and upstairs), I crept upward on the stairs, going as high as possible. It was still quiet, as still as a graveyard. Heck, I was not sure if I actually enjoyed this. On the one hand, no one was launching themselves as me, effectively meaning that I would be living (much) longer. On the other hand, the stress was rushing in my spine. I was as taunt as possible, ready to leap at any target, real or imagined.
A SpecOps soldier would know how to control that stress. He would contain it and only release it in the form accurately and highly damaging packages. However, I was not trained in any tactics like that. I only had the basic package of a Junior officer cadet… In translation, it was just a ceremonial title. With the confirmation that I could pilot the IS suit, I volunteered to join the army. But legality and shit like that prevented me from being a full-fledge member, thus some dudes up top reactivated the Junior officer cadet program. On the one hand, I was in the army, giving me some breathing room and a sense of purpose (and keeping me from being dissected). On the other hand, what I really wanted (full and intensive training) was not granted.
Initially, I grudgingly accepted the fact that the Insurrection was over, there was no needed to be aggressive and alerted. The secret service would be handled by the professionals. My job was to be polite and friendly… and then I was kidnapped with no clear solution of breaking out and gathering the intelligence. Well, they gotta give me the full course training I was asking for. Assuming I could get out of here intact, of course.
Among what I wanted to learn, CQC would be very high on the list. It was the department I shit the most. Marksmanship and demolition were surprisingly easy enough, especially when I had known the general principle beforehand. However, thanks to a fairly long time of physical inactivity and being lazy, I was not precisely in the best shape. It would explain why I got my arse kicked and I had to pull back, sniping from afar to live longer. A certain girl faced the opposite problem though…
Anyhow, I was monologue here. Trying to keep my mind constantly running, being as alert as possible. And then, a dead-end was presented at my eyes. The stairs had ended, not with a door to the roof though. My sense of height and the estimation of distance told me that the roof was still above my head, yet, the stairs had already ended. A closed room was blocking my way… Seriously, what kind of architecture was this?
I had to bite back the urge to curse. There was definitely a room after this. A room with an enclosed environment meant CQC, close-quarter combat, which was something I really hated. A normal breach would have one flashbang thrown in first, yet I had nothing on my body but two blades and a phone. Moreover, breaching specialists were also armed with shields and guns… Yeah, I would be fucked sideways here.
But first, a report. The military attaché was still on the line, presumably calling down the rescue party. If I died here, he had to know in what situation I lost my life.
"Are you there?"
"Yeah, still here. Report?"
"Already moved up the stairs. Face with a door, prep for breach."
"Copy."
Good. Friendly had been briefed with my next plan of action. If I died or recapture, they would immediately know why, and thus, the rescue party would have an extra fire lit under their butts. If I survived the next ordeal, well, they would still be informed about the development.
Thanks to the alignment of the door, I pressed my left shoulder on it while holding the blade in a reverse grip with my right hand. My idea was simple, using stealth and silence to sneak in and then close the door behind me. Leaving no trace behind and that line of work.
Big G on the Heaven had other ideas though. As soon as I touched the handle, it suddenly turned and the door quickly opened up.
A woman was standing in the doorframe, the strange one that put a bag over my head. Behind her was the "boss bitch". Both of them were wearing matching outfits of business suits, black blazers, black skirts and white shirts. Both of the blazers were unbuttoned, revealing holstered weapons strapped to their sides. And both of them were stunned seeing me standing there.
Then, hell broke loose.
I slammed the back of my fist against the cheek of the "strange woman". The collide made my knuckles stung a bit, but I bit down the sensation. Twisting my hip, I angled my blade to slash through her face. The whole fight was harder than it sounded, really. I was only 1.6 meters, slightly below average (or in another word "short"). Meanwhile, the strange woman here is tall, must be around 1.8. It was hard to land a hit on her, heck, my blade attack even missed. At least my fist was able to dazzle her a bit.
Using my left hand to grab her hair, I pushed her head down, clearing a firing lane against the "boss bitch" while kneeing the strange woman in her face. I had to act quickly because the "boss bitch" was on her way to recovering from the shock. She was moving her hand, and I assumed that she was planning to pull out her handgun. A normal boy with a blade would consider closing in for hack and slash. Me? I was not a normal boy, so I simply flipped the blade in my right hand over, grabbed the business end and then threw it away.
The blade spun and flew straight before finally plunged into her stomach. A yell from her told me that I was already succeeded in my attack, she quickly collapsed on the ground, holding the wound. I tore my eyes away from her though, I was tangling with another fight, and dividing my attention was always a bad idea. I must finish off this strange woman quickly, and even if a knee in the face was painful, it was not enough to bring someone down. So I kneed her again, this time to her face. Her nose might get broken, probably…
Of course, the fight was not over, yet. My elbows quickly followed, slamming on her back and neck. They were not aimed to break any bones, rather, I was just hoping for some internal damage. It was hard to fight when one's lung and heart were burning and in great pain. She quickly struggled, probably using the sudden flush of adrenaline to wrestle with me. Using her body weight and low centre of gravity, she hugged my waist and started pushing me back.
Grunting and yelling, I sent her a right hook, slamming into her left temple. Unlike the previous time, I did not hold back this time. Grabbing her hair and pulling it back, more anger was put into the punches. Temple, nose, cheek… Full power and full speed, I aimed to kill this time. Not to escape or to knock out, but to kill. Anything less would be time-consuming, taking away my precious window to escape.
Then, I suddenly remembered that I was packing another blade on my body. It was still dangling in front of my chest. A blink of an eye later, the strange woman had already stopped pushing me, because her waist was now punctured with a blade. I wrung out the blade, and blood dripped from it to the floor. On the one hand, pulling it out would be more hazardous to her health. The blade (while slowly killing her) would act as a stop-gap clog, prevent blood loss. On the other hand, leaving a weapon on her body meant that I would be easier to be killed.
"Put pressure on your wound. Or you will die in 20 minutes."
I grunted to her while laying her next to the wall. She was sitting upright, mostly to prevent even more blood loss. Kind of. I was not specialized in stuff like this, so I just thought that if her body was not in a straight line, blood would have (slightly) more trouble to circulate, thus slowing the rate it was oozing out of the wound.
In the room, the "boss bitch" was still clutching the blade plunged into her stomach. So she had not removed that yet… Smart. Pulling the blade out might be even more dangerous, the reason for that was simple. The blade was actually filling the gap of the wound, removing it meant that there would be nothing left there to stop the blood. The danger of death due to blood loss would be real. She was neutralized then, not many people were strong (and crazy) enough to fight with a knife stabbed in his stomach.
So, both hostile were taken down within sixty seconds. Not too shabby if I must say, especially when I heard no other commotion. The fight here had not attracted any attention from any other bitches, which was a real relief. I hated fighting and killing any more – at least for the rest of the day. Now, the door was secured, I simply had to step in and hold there, waiting for rescue.
I jumped into the room and quickly locked the door, securing my own backside. My eyes scanned around, and I quickly noticed four things. One, this room was being equipped with a series of electronics equipment, computers, screens and cameras. Two, there was a stair leading upward in the corner of the room (I refused to comment on the stupidity of this). Three, there was a balcony, a fairly large one at that. It was not enough to land a chopper in, but it was enough for four or five guys standing there without feeling crowded. Extra breach heads, I suppose. And four, well, this whole kidnapping fiasco here was bigger than I originally thought.
"Okay… Are you still there?"
"Yes. I heard shuffling, what happens?"
"Clash with the potential ring leader, but not the mastermind. It is an unlucky business. Assume stealth cover has been lost. And we have serious complications here."
"… Define complications."
"We have another VIP here. Sarashiki Kanzashi is also present here, another kidnapped. I repeat, Sarashiki Kazashi, the Cadet Rep of Japan is also being kidnapped and stored here."
"Shit. Anything else?"
"Yes. Their family is being ransomed when I got in, and they are looking at me?"
"… Fuck. You know what to do. The rescue party is moving, post haste. ETA five minutes."
"Five minutes. Copy."
Yeah. This whole fiasco was getting really complicated. Sitting in a corner (and being tied to a chair) is Sarashiki Kanzashi, second daughter of Sarashiki Akari. The latter was the current head of Sarashiki Incorporation, a leading company within the technology derived from the Infinite Stratos suits within Japan. She was also a former Cadet Representative for Russia (something about a trade deal, I was told), a certified Ace (she had over 20 victories in various IS tournaments), and if words down on the vine were right, her husband was a former Spetnaz.
Not just "a Spetnaz" (even if that term was more than capable of evoking fear and dread), but an "Alfa Group Spetnaz", the best of the Russian best. Nothing else was known about this marriage, and that had spoken much about the prowess of the Sarashiki elders.
I was half pitying the ones stupid enough to kidnap their daughter, and half dreading about the fact that they were actually able to pull that off. No one fuck'ed with a Russian citizen (or "Russian minority") and got away in one piece.
I turned toward the TV, where both of them were shown, and I had to admit, if I did not clear the situation immediately, I would also be on the shit list.
"Good morning ma'am, sir. My name is Nguyen Quang Anh, IS pilot cadet from Vietnam. I was also kidnapped and put on the same site as your daughter. Reinforcement is inbound and I promise that your daughter would be home safely within a few hours."
They eyed me critically through the camera (there was on integrated within the TV itself, I saw it already). The angle might be a bit off, but it was no doubt that they had seen me taken down these kidnappers. It was never a good idea to have the first impression on a girl's parents with blood and gore… I willingly pushed down that line of thought. Sure, the girl was cute, small, slim, cosy with short and soft blue hair, a warm red-brown pair of eyes, and a form-fitting uniform… but she was not that cute.
Still, I was not standing for a response from the elders. Their daughter was still being tied and gagged, and just now, I noticed there was something on the table. Guns. Two of them. I suddenly felt lucky that the two women did not have the chance to pick them up. If they did, well, things would be Bad – with a capital B.
Both were Glocks, Glock-43, solid handgun for self-defence purpose. The easy movements of the sliders suggested that they were well-maintained. And the ammunition, six in the magazine, plus one in the chamber, which gave me 14 rounds in total. Oh, and there were also two spare and fully loaded magazine on the table, so I would have 26 rounds to shoot, more than enough to force my way out if the heat was too much.
"Be advised, I just find some guns here. Unknown if other kidnappers are also being armed similarly. But assume they are being armed with firearms."
"Copy. Transferring new intelligence to the team."
Then, I used the blade (still coated with some blood) to cut the restraints, freeing the Japanese Cadet Rep. She was still sporting a stone-cold face. Not sure if she was trying to be brave, or if she was suffering from some mental conditions. Maybe a bit of both. But asking never hurt after all.
"Miss Sarashiki, are you alright?"
"I'm alright."
I found this… concerning. Her voice was cold, void of all emotion. Just like me. And that was definitely not a good way to say. I just took down two full-size adults in cold blood and not even bat an eye at that. Hell, one should also note that I had already killed two other beforehand. I was somewhat in an emotional turmoil, and the only thing kept me at bay was that I had already seen worse before. Yet, Kanzashi was still acting normally, with no sign of agitation or anything like that. It was as if she was suffering from apathy, or at least she was closing off all of her emotion. It would be dangerous, as I had seen and done it myself…
"Just… be careful."
"I will."
However, to solve that problem, I needed time and a psychiatrist, both of which was not available for me at the moment. I then signalled her to come with me. The balcony of this room was too small for easy extraction by helicopter, so I simply moved upward, to the roof. The fresh air of (almost) freedom rushed to my face, blanket me with the cool weather. Sun was shining, but thanks to relatively high latitude, it was not too hot (unlike my homeland Vietnam).
I embraced the air for a second before moving out of the door. There was… literally nothing on the roof. Not. A. Single. Thing. Well, it made landing the chopper easier, but I was not sure if an empty roof was a good sign. Something was nagging at my brain, but I had no idea what it was.
The situation was still quiet, but not for long. I totally expect that the strange woman had already screamed up by now. Calling up her underlings, they would instantly know that I had broken free and rescued their other target. I would say that I have less than sixty seconds. At least, help was coming, and if I was not mistaken, that was the thumping sound of a chopper's rotor.
"The rescue team should have line of sight to you by now. They are coming from the North-east, a bit left if you are looking at the sun's direction. Call Blue, respond Ridge."
The cavalry was here. And yep, I noticed a black silhouette coming through the air. A black and completely unmarked helicopter. The Calvary was here. I let out a content sigh, my job here was almost done.
Thirty seconds later, the chopper finally arrived, blowing winds into my face and making me squint my eyes. Then, three pair of boots jumped on the concrete roof, pointing their guns at me. Well, figure. I was still holding a gun and two blades were still in the holster on my body. From their point of view, my danger level was still too high to be accepted. I just throw down the gun on the floor before raising both of my hands into the air. Just in time for the figure in the centre (fully cladded in black) to approach me and yell into my ears over the wind howling.
"Blue?"
"Ridge!"
He simply nodded. It meant that the code word from the military attaché had worked. They would know and confirm that I was also being kidnapped and not a kidnapper in the first place. Behind the man's back, two more figures dropped off the chopper. Among the five members of the rescue party, three were stacking at the door, I was talking to one (presumably the commanding officer of the unit), and one more was standing behind him. The captain then yelled out again while pointing at his comrade:
"My man will escort you to the Camp Megumo, you will be debriefed there."
"Roger!"
"Give him the looted weapon, and then sit tight. You know the drill, yes?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good, then get a move on. Now!"
He then shoved me towards his man, who was pulling Kanzashi to the chopper. I was the first to get in, pulling out a hand to help Kanzashi getting on board. I shoved her into a seat and quickly put seat belts over her. At least this was something I learned while under the title "junior officer cadet". Home may not train me in the art of killing, but they taught me a lot on how to stay safe while riding military vehicles.
Then, after she was secured, I sat down, next to her and did the same. The seat belt was crucial in staying safe in any vehicles, really. My escort offered me a nod after closing the door. While I was not able to see his face, I somehow got the strange feeling that he was approving of my actions here. Or at least, that was what I hoped.
With the door closed, the noise dwindled down instantly, and then, the chopper suddenly lurched upward, bringing us to safety. I spoke into my phone, reporting that I had been secured onboard the chopper of the Japanese, and being escorted to the JSDF camp.
"Copy that. Good job kid, you have done well today."
"I could have done better though."
"You are not trained to do better. You have done to the best of your ability already."
"Including the part where I killed two of them, and heavily injured two more?"
"… Yeah, including that part. But leave the fall out to us, you have done your part."
It was not really alright to me though, having others suffering the consequences of my works was not precisely my style. Besides, I was actually killing on foreign soil. No matter how one look at it, it was shit. And thinking about that, the whole feeling of disgust was hitting me now. With safety finally secured, my mind instantly wandered back to what I had done. Maybe I could do it differently, I could have just knocked them out, and not killing them. I could have tried to bluff them, and not instantly striking at them.
"I mean it, kid. Do not underestimate our Diplomacy and Intelligence arms. You have done the best you could. Take a deep breath and rest. Do not work yourself up on this. Just leave this to us. Clear?"
"… I will try."
"Do or do not, there is no try."
"What? Are you quoting classical Star Wars now?"
"But it fits. And seriously, please just leave the whole fall out for us."
I just… sighed listening to that. Something inside was still disagreeing with that, but the more logical and rational side of mine was seeing no other choice but to accept the order.
"Roger. I will do so."
"Thanks, kid. Take a breath. You are safe now."
The phone call finally terminated with that, and I unknowingly let out a sigh. My body sunk into the chair, trying to find respite on the metal seat of the chopper. The whole situation was depressing. I was kidnapped on the first day in Japan (simply because my ability ran against benefits of a bunch of zealous bitches), life gave me no other option but to hurt and kill (again). Then, I just had to do so in front of a cute girl.
God must really hate me then.
I suddenly felt something on my hand… and it was Kanzashi who was putting her hand over mine. I was… surprised. My mind instantly went blank due to the shock. Despite having already lived for nearly 17 years, I had never held hand with any girl. In fact, my romantic life was practically non-existent. So, having a good-looking girl (and a VIP) like Kanzashi holding my hand was something out of the blue.
Yeah, and it was not a deliberate pun. She had blue hair, and "out of the blue"… I think I should stop. My sense of humour was shit too.
"Thanks for rescuing me."
Her voice was soft, somewhat meek. But her pronunciation was crystal clear, free of any accent (that was quite rare for a Japanese). Heck, the only thing softer than her voice would be her hand, which was really sensational on mine.
"You… you're welcome?"
"Take a rest, Mr Nguyen. What you have done down there was unavoidable, there was simply no other option, let alone a peaceful one."
"Aye…"
"You have done the best you could do already. So please, just take a rest. You have saved me, you deserve it at least."
For strange reasons, I just… felt more inclined to believe her in this. Heh, the elders had said it, a thousand of advice from the teacher is not worth as much as a single one from a cute girl. I just shook my head while letting out a dry laugh.
But she was still right in one matter. I really needed a rest.
At least, a cute girl was holding my hand, unlike the last time.
The coast was clear, but not for long… I grimaced while looting the earphone from my last kill, plugging it to my ear. In combat, both hands should be used to fight, not to hold a phone. I could certainly see the wisdom in that…
Glancing one last time to the killed women, I had to grimace. It was gruesome, blood was leaking from their wound, dying their shirts red and staining the floor. No other choice than being brutal here, to be honest. Sure, I would only knock them out if I had the choice, but my own traumas and lack of specialized training led to this. There was no other option for me than killing them.
Regrettable, but also unavoidable.
Steeling my nerve, I forcefully ignore them for now. First, I had to get out of here. The target would be the roof of the building. From there, I would be much easier for me to spotted and evac-ed. Slightly pushing the door over, I stared through the gap, watching both sides of the hallway. Luckily, it was empty. I was not in any mood to extend my kill list.
Good, next step was to moving up through the stairs. If I remembered correctly, they were on my left. About a dozen steps or so. Fifteen meters, give or take. Around me, there was only silence. The house was well-lit, but I did not have the "homey" feeling. It was as if this was a front for something, the building was purely there as a backup solution and not to be used as a residence. I felt something quizzical, had I been entangled by some alphabetic soup agencies? Let's hope not.
The staircase was just as I expected: void of everyone, in both and down directions. There was not even a shadow moving within my sight. It was strange, considering that there should be about a dozen people in the building now… Maybe they were in their respective rooms at the moment? Maybe, maybe not. Still, that was not the critical subject at the moment. My job was to GTFO, not to investigate or to clear out the weed.
Hugging the wall to prevent being spotted (from both downstairs and upstairs), I crept upward on the stairs, going as high as possible. It was still quiet, as still as a graveyard. Heck, I was not sure if I actually enjoyed this. On the one hand, no one was launching themselves as me, effectively meaning that I would be living (much) longer. On the other hand, the stress was rushing in my spine. I was as taunt as possible, ready to leap at any target, real or imagined.
A SpecOps soldier would know how to control that stress. He would contain it and only release it in the form accurately and highly damaging packages. However, I was not trained in any tactics like that. I only had the basic package of a Junior officer cadet… In translation, it was just a ceremonial title. With the confirmation that I could pilot the IS suit, I volunteered to join the army. But legality and shit like that prevented me from being a full-fledge member, thus some dudes up top reactivated the Junior officer cadet program. On the one hand, I was in the army, giving me some breathing room and a sense of purpose (and keeping me from being dissected). On the other hand, what I really wanted (full and intensive training) was not granted.
Initially, I grudgingly accepted the fact that the Insurrection was over, there was no needed to be aggressive and alerted. The secret service would be handled by the professionals. My job was to be polite and friendly… and then I was kidnapped with no clear solution of breaking out and gathering the intelligence. Well, they gotta give me the full course training I was asking for. Assuming I could get out of here intact, of course.
Among what I wanted to learn, CQC would be very high on the list. It was the department I shit the most. Marksmanship and demolition were surprisingly easy enough, especially when I had known the general principle beforehand. However, thanks to a fairly long time of physical inactivity and being lazy, I was not precisely in the best shape. It would explain why I got my arse kicked and I had to pull back, sniping from afar to live longer. A certain girl faced the opposite problem though…
Anyhow, I was monologue here. Trying to keep my mind constantly running, being as alert as possible. And then, a dead-end was presented at my eyes. The stairs had ended, not with a door to the roof though. My sense of height and the estimation of distance told me that the roof was still above my head, yet, the stairs had already ended. A closed room was blocking my way… Seriously, what kind of architecture was this?
I had to bite back the urge to curse. There was definitely a room after this. A room with an enclosed environment meant CQC, close-quarter combat, which was something I really hated. A normal breach would have one flashbang thrown in first, yet I had nothing on my body but two blades and a phone. Moreover, breaching specialists were also armed with shields and guns… Yeah, I would be fucked sideways here.
But first, a report. The military attaché was still on the line, presumably calling down the rescue party. If I died here, he had to know in what situation I lost my life.
"Are you there?"
"Yeah, still here. Report?"
"Already moved up the stairs. Face with a door, prep for breach."
"Copy."
Good. Friendly had been briefed with my next plan of action. If I died or recapture, they would immediately know why, and thus, the rescue party would have an extra fire lit under their butts. If I survived the next ordeal, well, they would still be informed about the development.
Thanks to the alignment of the door, I pressed my left shoulder on it while holding the blade in a reverse grip with my right hand. My idea was simple, using stealth and silence to sneak in and then close the door behind me. Leaving no trace behind and that line of work.
Big G on the Heaven had other ideas though. As soon as I touched the handle, it suddenly turned and the door quickly opened up.
A woman was standing in the doorframe, the strange one that put a bag over my head. Behind her was the "boss bitch". Both of them were wearing matching outfits of business suits, black blazers, black skirts and white shirts. Both of the blazers were unbuttoned, revealing holstered weapons strapped to their sides. And both of them were stunned seeing me standing there.
Then, hell broke loose.
I slammed the back of my fist against the cheek of the "strange woman". The collide made my knuckles stung a bit, but I bit down the sensation. Twisting my hip, I angled my blade to slash through her face. The whole fight was harder than it sounded, really. I was only 1.6 meters, slightly below average (or in another word "short"). Meanwhile, the strange woman here is tall, must be around 1.8. It was hard to land a hit on her, heck, my blade attack even missed. At least my fist was able to dazzle her a bit.
Using my left hand to grab her hair, I pushed her head down, clearing a firing lane against the "boss bitch" while kneeing the strange woman in her face. I had to act quickly because the "boss bitch" was on her way to recovering from the shock. She was moving her hand, and I assumed that she was planning to pull out her handgun. A normal boy with a blade would consider closing in for hack and slash. Me? I was not a normal boy, so I simply flipped the blade in my right hand over, grabbed the business end and then threw it away.
The blade spun and flew straight before finally plunged into her stomach. A yell from her told me that I was already succeeded in my attack, she quickly collapsed on the ground, holding the wound. I tore my eyes away from her though, I was tangling with another fight, and dividing my attention was always a bad idea. I must finish off this strange woman quickly, and even if a knee in the face was painful, it was not enough to bring someone down. So I kneed her again, this time to her face. Her nose might get broken, probably…
Of course, the fight was not over, yet. My elbows quickly followed, slamming on her back and neck. They were not aimed to break any bones, rather, I was just hoping for some internal damage. It was hard to fight when one's lung and heart were burning and in great pain. She quickly struggled, probably using the sudden flush of adrenaline to wrestle with me. Using her body weight and low centre of gravity, she hugged my waist and started pushing me back.
Grunting and yelling, I sent her a right hook, slamming into her left temple. Unlike the previous time, I did not hold back this time. Grabbing her hair and pulling it back, more anger was put into the punches. Temple, nose, cheek… Full power and full speed, I aimed to kill this time. Not to escape or to knock out, but to kill. Anything less would be time-consuming, taking away my precious window to escape.
Then, I suddenly remembered that I was packing another blade on my body. It was still dangling in front of my chest. A blink of an eye later, the strange woman had already stopped pushing me, because her waist was now punctured with a blade. I wrung out the blade, and blood dripped from it to the floor. On the one hand, pulling it out would be more hazardous to her health. The blade (while slowly killing her) would act as a stop-gap clog, prevent blood loss. On the other hand, leaving a weapon on her body meant that I would be easier to be killed.
"Put pressure on your wound. Or you will die in 20 minutes."
I grunted to her while laying her next to the wall. She was sitting upright, mostly to prevent even more blood loss. Kind of. I was not specialized in stuff like this, so I just thought that if her body was not in a straight line, blood would have (slightly) more trouble to circulate, thus slowing the rate it was oozing out of the wound.
In the room, the "boss bitch" was still clutching the blade plunged into her stomach. So she had not removed that yet… Smart. Pulling the blade out might be even more dangerous, the reason for that was simple. The blade was actually filling the gap of the wound, removing it meant that there would be nothing left there to stop the blood. The danger of death due to blood loss would be real. She was neutralized then, not many people were strong (and crazy) enough to fight with a knife stabbed in his stomach.
So, both hostile were taken down within sixty seconds. Not too shabby if I must say, especially when I heard no other commotion. The fight here had not attracted any attention from any other bitches, which was a real relief. I hated fighting and killing any more – at least for the rest of the day. Now, the door was secured, I simply had to step in and hold there, waiting for rescue.
I jumped into the room and quickly locked the door, securing my own backside. My eyes scanned around, and I quickly noticed four things. One, this room was being equipped with a series of electronics equipment, computers, screens and cameras. Two, there was a stair leading upward in the corner of the room (I refused to comment on the stupidity of this). Three, there was a balcony, a fairly large one at that. It was not enough to land a chopper in, but it was enough for four or five guys standing there without feeling crowded. Extra breach heads, I suppose. And four, well, this whole kidnapping fiasco here was bigger than I originally thought.
"Okay… Are you still there?"
"Yes. I heard shuffling, what happens?"
"Clash with the potential ring leader, but not the mastermind. It is an unlucky business. Assume stealth cover has been lost. And we have serious complications here."
"… Define complications."
"We have another VIP here. Sarashiki Kanzashi is also present here, another kidnapped. I repeat, Sarashiki Kazashi, the Cadet Rep of Japan is also being kidnapped and stored here."
"Shit. Anything else?"
"Yes. Their family is being ransomed when I got in, and they are looking at me?"
"… Fuck. You know what to do. The rescue party is moving, post haste. ETA five minutes."
"Five minutes. Copy."
Yeah. This whole fiasco was getting really complicated. Sitting in a corner (and being tied to a chair) is Sarashiki Kanzashi, second daughter of Sarashiki Akari. The latter was the current head of Sarashiki Incorporation, a leading company within the technology derived from the Infinite Stratos suits within Japan. She was also a former Cadet Representative for Russia (something about a trade deal, I was told), a certified Ace (she had over 20 victories in various IS tournaments), and if words down on the vine were right, her husband was a former Spetnaz.
Not just "a Spetnaz" (even if that term was more than capable of evoking fear and dread), but an "Alfa Group Spetnaz", the best of the Russian best. Nothing else was known about this marriage, and that had spoken much about the prowess of the Sarashiki elders.
I was half pitying the ones stupid enough to kidnap their daughter, and half dreading about the fact that they were actually able to pull that off. No one fuck'ed with a Russian citizen (or "Russian minority") and got away in one piece.
I turned toward the TV, where both of them were shown, and I had to admit, if I did not clear the situation immediately, I would also be on the shit list.
"Good morning ma'am, sir. My name is Nguyen Quang Anh, IS pilot cadet from Vietnam. I was also kidnapped and put on the same site as your daughter. Reinforcement is inbound and I promise that your daughter would be home safely within a few hours."
They eyed me critically through the camera (there was on integrated within the TV itself, I saw it already). The angle might be a bit off, but it was no doubt that they had seen me taken down these kidnappers. It was never a good idea to have the first impression on a girl's parents with blood and gore… I willingly pushed down that line of thought. Sure, the girl was cute, small, slim, cosy with short and soft blue hair, a warm red-brown pair of eyes, and a form-fitting uniform… but she was not that cute.
Still, I was not standing for a response from the elders. Their daughter was still being tied and gagged, and just now, I noticed there was something on the table. Guns. Two of them. I suddenly felt lucky that the two women did not have the chance to pick them up. If they did, well, things would be Bad – with a capital B.
Both were Glocks, Glock-43, solid handgun for self-defence purpose. The easy movements of the sliders suggested that they were well-maintained. And the ammunition, six in the magazine, plus one in the chamber, which gave me 14 rounds in total. Oh, and there were also two spare and fully loaded magazine on the table, so I would have 26 rounds to shoot, more than enough to force my way out if the heat was too much.
"Be advised, I just find some guns here. Unknown if other kidnappers are also being armed similarly. But assume they are being armed with firearms."
"Copy. Transferring new intelligence to the team."
Then, I used the blade (still coated with some blood) to cut the restraints, freeing the Japanese Cadet Rep. She was still sporting a stone-cold face. Not sure if she was trying to be brave, or if she was suffering from some mental conditions. Maybe a bit of both. But asking never hurt after all.
"Miss Sarashiki, are you alright?"
"I'm alright."
I found this… concerning. Her voice was cold, void of all emotion. Just like me. And that was definitely not a good way to say. I just took down two full-size adults in cold blood and not even bat an eye at that. Hell, one should also note that I had already killed two other beforehand. I was somewhat in an emotional turmoil, and the only thing kept me at bay was that I had already seen worse before. Yet, Kanzashi was still acting normally, with no sign of agitation or anything like that. It was as if she was suffering from apathy, or at least she was closing off all of her emotion. It would be dangerous, as I had seen and done it myself…
"Just… be careful."
"I will."
However, to solve that problem, I needed time and a psychiatrist, both of which was not available for me at the moment. I then signalled her to come with me. The balcony of this room was too small for easy extraction by helicopter, so I simply moved upward, to the roof. The fresh air of (almost) freedom rushed to my face, blanket me with the cool weather. Sun was shining, but thanks to relatively high latitude, it was not too hot (unlike my homeland Vietnam).
I embraced the air for a second before moving out of the door. There was… literally nothing on the roof. Not. A. Single. Thing. Well, it made landing the chopper easier, but I was not sure if an empty roof was a good sign. Something was nagging at my brain, but I had no idea what it was.
The situation was still quiet, but not for long. I totally expect that the strange woman had already screamed up by now. Calling up her underlings, they would instantly know that I had broken free and rescued their other target. I would say that I have less than sixty seconds. At least, help was coming, and if I was not mistaken, that was the thumping sound of a chopper's rotor.
"The rescue team should have line of sight to you by now. They are coming from the North-east, a bit left if you are looking at the sun's direction. Call Blue, respond Ridge."
The cavalry was here. And yep, I noticed a black silhouette coming through the air. A black and completely unmarked helicopter. The Calvary was here. I let out a content sigh, my job here was almost done.
Thirty seconds later, the chopper finally arrived, blowing winds into my face and making me squint my eyes. Then, three pair of boots jumped on the concrete roof, pointing their guns at me. Well, figure. I was still holding a gun and two blades were still in the holster on my body. From their point of view, my danger level was still too high to be accepted. I just throw down the gun on the floor before raising both of my hands into the air. Just in time for the figure in the centre (fully cladded in black) to approach me and yell into my ears over the wind howling.
"Blue?"
"Ridge!"
He simply nodded. It meant that the code word from the military attaché had worked. They would know and confirm that I was also being kidnapped and not a kidnapper in the first place. Behind the man's back, two more figures dropped off the chopper. Among the five members of the rescue party, three were stacking at the door, I was talking to one (presumably the commanding officer of the unit), and one more was standing behind him. The captain then yelled out again while pointing at his comrade:
"My man will escort you to the Camp Megumo, you will be debriefed there."
"Roger!"
"Give him the looted weapon, and then sit tight. You know the drill, yes?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good, then get a move on. Now!"
He then shoved me towards his man, who was pulling Kanzashi to the chopper. I was the first to get in, pulling out a hand to help Kanzashi getting on board. I shoved her into a seat and quickly put seat belts over her. At least this was something I learned while under the title "junior officer cadet". Home may not train me in the art of killing, but they taught me a lot on how to stay safe while riding military vehicles.
Then, after she was secured, I sat down, next to her and did the same. The seat belt was crucial in staying safe in any vehicles, really. My escort offered me a nod after closing the door. While I was not able to see his face, I somehow got the strange feeling that he was approving of my actions here. Or at least, that was what I hoped.
With the door closed, the noise dwindled down instantly, and then, the chopper suddenly lurched upward, bringing us to safety. I spoke into my phone, reporting that I had been secured onboard the chopper of the Japanese, and being escorted to the JSDF camp.
"Copy that. Good job kid, you have done well today."
"I could have done better though."
"You are not trained to do better. You have done to the best of your ability already."
"Including the part where I killed two of them, and heavily injured two more?"
"… Yeah, including that part. But leave the fall out to us, you have done your part."
It was not really alright to me though, having others suffering the consequences of my works was not precisely my style. Besides, I was actually killing on foreign soil. No matter how one look at it, it was shit. And thinking about that, the whole feeling of disgust was hitting me now. With safety finally secured, my mind instantly wandered back to what I had done. Maybe I could do it differently, I could have just knocked them out, and not killing them. I could have tried to bluff them, and not instantly striking at them.
"I mean it, kid. Do not underestimate our Diplomacy and Intelligence arms. You have done the best you could. Take a deep breath and rest. Do not work yourself up on this. Just leave this to us. Clear?"
"… I will try."
"Do or do not, there is no try."
"What? Are you quoting classical Star Wars now?"
"But it fits. And seriously, please just leave the whole fall out for us."
I just… sighed listening to that. Something inside was still disagreeing with that, but the more logical and rational side of mine was seeing no other choice but to accept the order.
"Roger. I will do so."
"Thanks, kid. Take a breath. You are safe now."
The phone call finally terminated with that, and I unknowingly let out a sigh. My body sunk into the chair, trying to find respite on the metal seat of the chopper. The whole situation was depressing. I was kidnapped on the first day in Japan (simply because my ability ran against benefits of a bunch of zealous bitches), life gave me no other option but to hurt and kill (again). Then, I just had to do so in front of a cute girl.
God must really hate me then.
I suddenly felt something on my hand… and it was Kanzashi who was putting her hand over mine. I was… surprised. My mind instantly went blank due to the shock. Despite having already lived for nearly 17 years, I had never held hand with any girl. In fact, my romantic life was practically non-existent. So, having a good-looking girl (and a VIP) like Kanzashi holding my hand was something out of the blue.
Yeah, and it was not a deliberate pun. She had blue hair, and "out of the blue"… I think I should stop. My sense of humour was shit too.
"Thanks for rescuing me."
Her voice was soft, somewhat meek. But her pronunciation was crystal clear, free of any accent (that was quite rare for a Japanese). Heck, the only thing softer than her voice would be her hand, which was really sensational on mine.
"You… you're welcome?"
"Take a rest, Mr Nguyen. What you have done down there was unavoidable, there was simply no other option, let alone a peaceful one."
"Aye…"
"You have done the best you could do already. So please, just take a rest. You have saved me, you deserve it at least."
For strange reasons, I just… felt more inclined to believe her in this. Heh, the elders had said it, a thousand of advice from the teacher is not worth as much as a single one from a cute girl. I just shook my head while letting out a dry laugh.
But she was still right in one matter. I really needed a rest.
At least, a cute girl was holding my hand, unlike the last time.
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Chapter 4
- Location
- Netherlands
Updated on 13/2/2020
I had heard (and read) that soldiers really hated paperwork. Something about writing everything they had done in an op down to minute details, and then fill it in triplicate. Sure, computers helped a bit, with grammar/spelling checks and Ctrl-C and Ctrl-V combo. But still, it was paperwork, tedious, thankless and above all, boring. Now, I was enjoying that demon first-hand.
Sure, the Embassy helped me out a lot. For one, I was "one of their", albeit that the situation led to that was one fuck of a story. "Leave no one behind" and "Behind you and us is our Motherland" were their motto, ones that got into the serious mood after the Coronavirus in 2019. One fuck of a story, that time… Considering that I was messing up in Japan under the "self-defence" right, they were helping me out. Of course, they teased me a lot about that, something about getting out of a frying pan with a cute girl.
Welp, I got to suck it up. Besides, Kanzashi was quite an eye-candy, small, cute, and fluffy. The online term for that was "smol", I believe. It would be nice knowing her more, but considering my past romantic experience (or to be more precise, the lack thereof), I was quite hesitate doing so. No idea what to do and what to say. It was a headache figuring out the best shit to do, so I focused on the slightly less headache-induced job: paperwork.
Then, Japanese intelligence just had to quiz me. Like it or not, I had killed some people on their soil. Even with good intention and the fact that those were just bitches, laws were still laws. Sure, the press did not get any wind of this, and the police was only informed in the barest details, so I was spared of the legality of the matter. To keep it short, I stayed out of prison and/or confinement, however, I was put under watch. It was… much better than what I had feared earlier. Besides, I was a military cadet transferring to foreign soil, being under watch constantly was a given.
Still, I was drained afterwards. My mind was exhausted and my hand was cramped. It was even worse than rush studying for the exams. Seriously, I should have stay civilian. Even with that status, I could still pilot an IS suit and do good shit for my country. Alas, my sense of duty thought differently, and now, the bastard was sulking in my mind.
At least on the bright side, I was able to secure some good stuff. Being kidnapped on foreign soil was a good reason to ask for… compensation. Not exactly sure how Home did that, but the Japanese government gave me quite a few. Firstly, I was allowed to carry arms into the IS Academy. Of course, all of those must be registered to the school (though the precise details could be kept a secret), and I was not allowed to actually "openly carry" them into class (which I had no intention of doing so in the first place). The sweetest part was that I could have "concealed carry" even if I was in class. Sure, openly discharging them without a valid reason would mean the whole machinery of Japanese defence force gunning for my life… More reason for me to be responsible for the whole issue.
Secondly, the mistake of my IS suit was remedied. Now, I could bring it with me anytime, anywhere (even when I was travelling). Sure, I still had to declare it whenever I stepped through the security at the airport, but it was expected in the first place.
Thirdly, well, there was always hush money. Not much, but when I was considering the "strategical" level, anything below one million USD mark was "not much". Most of that went to Home's budget for obvious reasons (words through the rumour mill said that Japan would open up some new construction projects in Vietnam). Still, fifty grand was more than enough to cover me from now until graduation from the Academy. I did not have to pay the tuition fee, and in fact, all of the basic cost of me being here had been covered by Home already. So, I simply had $50000 to burn on stuff. I had always been dreaming about visiting Akihabara. Hope the English of the maid cafes there was good enough, for my Japanese was crap after all.
Anyhow, the most important part of the deal was that I was armed for most possible situations. Most, of course. I would have troubles assaulting a fortified position or breaching into a room, but for "shooting" part only, there would be no trouble. While explosives and heavy weaponry were not accepted, all hand-held weapons (ones that could be used comfortably by a single soldier) were open for my selection, including assault rifles and DMR.
Not that I mind, of course, I just loved guns. And when the guns came straight from the SpecOp's armoury and paid at the expense of the Japanese government? Oh, yes, please!
Firstly, it was unlikely that I would have to face some spectral terrorist groups. The most I would have to face would be a jealous and hormonal teenage girl. For that solution, the Japanese gave me a taser. Unlike the traditional ones, this one could shoot twice before needing to reload. Furthermore, highly ergonomics design also allowed a quick change of taser cartridges. With practice, one could deliver four shots within six seconds.
However, for actual cases of terrorist attacks, where lives were on the line. Serious firepower was needed. Thus, I got the sidearm SIG Sauer P420, improved version of the P320, and the compact version P450. Both of them used 9x19mm Parabellum ammunition. Recontoured grips. Flared magwell for easier reloading. Custom muzzle to increase barrel longevity. Suppressors and muzzle flashes were also available, just in case I needed to be… stealthy.
For longer range, but still adaptable for urban combat within the Academy proper, I got the AKS-25u, carbine version of the AK-25, using the same 5.45x39mm rounds, standard armour penetration from the factory setting. Ambidextrous charging handle, allowing smooth and quick reloads. Customised muzzle flash helped to mitigate the recoil and the actual flashes of the gunshots. Picatinny rail came attached on the block, currently attached with a holographic sight, 1.6 magnification. Quite a choice when I needed to make my defence personal. However, when I wanted to extend my lethal range? Simple, slap on a 4x hybrid scope on that, just a flip and the scope would be on, giving me better zoom into targets slightly away.
When things were too close for comfort, I would have to switch for CQC. The Japanese intelligence was well-aware of how shit I was in that department, and for that, they also gave me a few items to even the odd. The first, again, was a non-lethal variant. A collapsible stun baton, capable of shocking an adult on the ground. Even without the stun effect, it was still capable of leaving a nasty bruise on other's heads.
In the case where my opponent was extremely hostile, putting me in a life-or-death situation, I was clear for more extreme retaliation. The venerable E-tool of the Russian armed forces, capable of both entrenching and chopping down threats. The Ka-bar of the US Marines, famous for their utilities. With these two, I would be able to hold my own ground against most threats.
One may feel discomfort when I was inspecting those weapons, and they could even say that I was quite… giddy when I picked up the weapons. OK, to be honest, I giggled like a school girl when I picked up and tried those guns out. Some might say that such… enthusiasm might not be totally healthy, suggesting some issue in my mental health. Well, I was guilty as charged. I liked my guns after all.
Of course, things went without saying that those guns must be secured. As in safely locked and stowed away. After all, political and diplomatic concessions or not, everyone agreed that putting lethal weapons within the arm's reach of a bunch of hormonal teenage girls was a "very bad idea". Thus, the academy would have custody of those weapons. If, and only if, the terrorist launched an attack on the site, I would be allowed to break them out.
At least, I could keep the non-lethal weapons on me all the time. Words through the grapevine said that I would need them sooner than later. Reason? There were only three words for that: Hormonal. Teenage. Girls.
I just pretended I understood that when the Japanese intelligence told me. With no romantic experience, I had no idea what it meant. As usual, porn and hentai were terrible sources of intel in dealing with the problem. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?
… Actually, I should not jinx myself, should I? After all, the Academy was stocked with IS suits, which were practically the deterrent against WMDs (Weapons of Mass Destruction), and under correct circumstances, they were WMDs themselves.
Still, it could not be too bad. With WMDs nearby, they would have been trained in professionalism. Quirky personalities were accepted, as long as they had finger discipline. I hoped.
Anyhow, I was getting sentimental here. The main point was that with the weapons being safely hidden and locked away, I would attract less attention (relatively, being the first male IS pilot painted a big arse target on my back). Therefore, there would be less molest aiming at my butt. So far, there was no molest, but there was definitely a lot of staring. After all, among the whole sea of estrogen, I was the one with the highest concentration of testosterone. Furthermore, while all of those chicks were wearing the white uniforms of the IS Academy (albeit with a lot of customization), I was the only one wearing a military's service dress uniform. It was a dark green, long-sleeved shirt with a pair of matching colour pants. Plain red insignias surrounded by the gold borders on my shoulder denoting my "rank" as an officer cade. My lapels were just a plain colour red though, which meant I was just a cadet with no specialization.
So, why was I not wearing the IS Academy's uniform? Simple, the chauffeur had already brought it to the Academy, and the officials were neglecting bringing me there. This led to that, and the Embassy finally gave me a spare set of uniform. Why they actually had one of my size was… a mystery. At least I got a night staying in one of their guest room – I must admit, I was a really comfortable bed.
"Sorry for asking, but are you Nguyen Quang Anh?"
The question from a girl with a deep (yet still feminine) jolted me from my musing. I turned to the side, and the first thing I noticed was a short light blue hair and a pair of red eyes. She was quite tall, 1.7m minimum, with a customized set of Academy uniform. A white shirt and an orange-yellow tie were covered by a light yellow sleeveless blazer… Now with a closer look, I would say that that "white shirt" was also double as a skirt, one that reached mid-thigh of this beauty. And to finalize the whole picture, she was wearing a pair of brown-red stockings.
Normally, I would call her a beauty, but her mischievous smile made me re-think my option. That smile on a porcelain face told me that she knew much more than I did, and I would incline to agree. I knew that among the 500+ students of the Academy, there was only one match.
"Good morning, Miss Sarashiki, or should I call you Madam President of the Student Council."
Besides, she was the best pilot of the Academy. I could probably take her in a non-IS situation (preferably from 100m away, with the element of surprise), but I really did not want to test that. Besides, the politeness could help me reach much further.
"Ara ara, aren't you polite?"
"As my instructor has said, be polite and be professional, it would help me to go further."
"Good advice."
"Aye."
We were just trading small talk so far, but why was she hiding her smile under the fan… and what was written on it, by the way? I had complete zero knowledge in Japanese calligraphy.
From the corner of my eyes, some girls around were getting antsy. Either because I was talking casually with the Prez, or I was a boy in a military uniform.
"For your question, you can call me Tatenashi. You save my sister, you earn that, at least."
"Then feel free to call me Quang Anh."
This was where the Vietnamese and Japanese culture diverse despite sharing many elements of the Sinosphere. We Vietnamese considered calling each other by given names as relatively normal, but the Japanese did not think so. In fact, I was pretty sure that even classmates after a few years studying together may still call each other by surname, plus the correct honorific.
So, in short, the part where the President of the Student Council allowed me to call her by her first name was… quite tremendous, I would say. The gasps of a few passersby were perhaps proof of this.
"I must say it again, thank you for saving my sister."
"Don't fret, I was just doing my job. I have sworn an oath to protect the civilians, granted, it is originally to protect my people, but there is no such explicit saying, so ya know, we can probably stretch the words a bit."
"My my, aren't you the cunning one."
"Speaking of your sister, is she alright? Being kidnapped, and then having her ransom being broadcasted right in front of her face, was… quite an experience."
"…"
Was that I or the girl's aura had just shifted a bit?
"She was taking it well. Or at least, well enough considering the situations. Speaking of her, well, here she was."
=================
Less than an hour in the Academy, and I was considering putting the President on my shit list.
Oh, one should not take it wrong, she was pleasant enough… right until she asked me to escort her sister to the dorm, and then the classroom. If there was an obvious attempt of an older sibling to play match-making with a younger one, there would be nothing worse than this. I had to resist the urge to facepalm, especially when I heard the maniac laughter from where the President just disappeared. Besides, we were still saddled with our own belongings, ones that she had also conveniently asked me to help Kanzashi with.
"Ain't she a handful?"
"She… could be worse."
"Of that, I have no doubt."
I grimaced, but not showing it on my face. It was as neutral as it could be. Hiding my own thoughts and emotions were a common activity for me. Men would not cry, they would only shed a tear in silence. And something like that. Combined with a long history of being pranked (and bullied), I had already made myself into a man of stone.
Apparently, Kanzashi was also adept at hiding her emotion, but that was the issue. Someone like her should have everything in the world. She was the second-in-line for the Chairman position of the Sarashiki incorporation, one that accounted for nearly 10% of GDP value of the whole of Japan. It was a company focused on IS tech, but it had been able to expand into various fields. Last I checked (read: the intel was forced down on my throat, then I get quizzed on), they had at least ten sub-companies, ranging from agriculture to energy sectors.
So, with such a prestigious background, she should have everything taken care for her. She would have the best healthcare plan (including insurance for her teeth and eyes, which were normally very expensive and only present in a premium package). The best school and tutors would be available to her, heck, I would not be too surprised if this was the first school she had ever been to, too busy coping with highly professional tutors and all that. For some princesses like her, I would say that she had everything in the world.
Unlike me…
Still, no time to dwell. The class was starting soon, and like it or not, I still had to be gallant.
"So, would you mind me helping you?"
"Hmh? Actually, I do mind a bit. I can move my suitcases myself, thank you very much."
"I'm a man, so…"
"Technically, you are a boy. You are not 18 yet, per Vietnamese laws, you are yet to be considered as an adult."
Snarky. I liked this one. Deadpan deliveries with a stone-cold face. Now I could certainly understand the charm of the cold and emotionless girls in the animes.
"And in Japan…"
"It is also 18, boya."
"… I was planning to say the age of consent, you people are very strange in that matter."
Yeah, who thought 13 was a good age for consent? At least Kanzashi was sharing my same sentiment.
"My family and my allies are putting to change that. Things are progressing, we expect to have it changed by the next Diet meeting."
"Good luck."
"… Thanks."
"… So would you let me help you? Consider it as friendly courtesy and chivalry."
"Would you say that to every girl you meet?"
"Only the cute ones and the ones I have already met."
If she wanted to play the snarky game, I could keep up with her. And it was working, as I hoped. She seemed to be reluctantly accepting my offer (after grunting and mumbling something). On my right was my suitcase (I had already recovered them from the chauffeur's deposit yesterday), on top of it was a "mysterious" bulky box. The latter contained my entire lethal arsenal, and if Kanzashi had already figured it out, she was keeping quiet. Meanwhile, on my left was her suitcase. She was also just having one, it seemed… Well, she was the native here, so it made sense that she was packing lightly.
I pushed the two suitcases forward to the dorm. Kanzashi was walking next to me, keeping her silence. It was… awkward, somehow. Or it was just me though. I was feeling somewhat antsy. Partially because I shed blood in front of her eyes yesterday, and partially because I had not apologized for that… And also because she had already consoled me and held my hand afterward. Did that make us a couple?
Probably not, it was just anime logic, and it was barely above hentai logic.
"And… Uhm… Miss Sarashiki?"
"Call me Sarashiki-san, please. We are in Japan here."
And she was half-Japanese, half-Russian. Well, when in Rome, did it like Roman. Even if her sister had done it differently by calling my given name already, the two of them were clearly different from each other. Especially within the personality department.
"Fine, Sarashiki-san, are you ok with the… issue yesterday?"
"You mean the kidnapping?"
"Yeah."
"… I'm fine, don't worry."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm pretty sure, I knew my own thinking!"
She raised her voice a bit at the end. Not much, but it was enough for me… Sure, I knew she was not being totally truthful. I really wanted to know more, but it was not my place. I only met her yesterday, and the situation was not optimal. Maybe if I knew her longer, I would be able to do so. But until then, we would be simply acquaintance at best.
I was getting nervous here. I meant… I had never spoken with a girl face-to-face for this long. It was quite nerve-wracking, and I had no idea what to say. Sure, I wanted to apologise her for being a bit too brutal… or I got way overboard when I was rescuing her yesterday… But I had no idea how to do so. Well, not in a flowery way. The blunt way was easy, but it was not really fit for talking with girls. We walked for a few more minutes, which I used to think over. The more I thought though, the fewer options I found. I was completely lacking in the flowery and flattery department, so I had no option other than being blunt and direct.
"Uhm… Sarashiki-san?"
"Yes?"
"About the kidnapping, I would like to apologise."
She seemed to be surprised there, she just stopped, arching her eyebrows while staring at me. Well, it took me a few seconds to notice that. When I turned around, I noticed her glimmering red eyes, they were staring at me with quite an intensity. I had no idea what it meant, to be honest. I was not a specialist in seduction after all.
"What's wrong?"
"You are apologizing?"
"I went overboard with them. Or rather, I went overboard with them with you seeing the whole debacle."
"Is that something worth apologizing for?"
Now I was getting a bit worried. A normal civilian should feel troubled at the sight of blood and gore, considering that they had never seen that before. However, Kanzashi was really calm taking that, or perhaps too calm. There were only two categories of people capable of doing so: the grizzled ones, and the ones with apathy. I was the first group, and I had no reason to think that she had prior training and combat experience. Her body and eyes lacked the steel and bloodthirst usually found in veterans…. Therefore, I believed that she was suffering from apathy, a lack of interest from… well, everything.
"Don't fret, Nguyen-kun. When I say it's alright, it is alright. Besides, have you already forgotten?"
"Hmh?"
"There was no other option for you but to kill."
I relented, she actually said that, after all. However, I still felt a bit iffy at the situation. She seemed non-fazed by the debacle and the bloodshed. Sure, I was able to keep my breakfast after the first time seeing blood and death, and I did not fall unconsciously after my first kill. But one should note that I had already spent a good while playing video games and reading war stories. My mind had already been hardened a bit. Hers had not.
Which meant she was suffering from apathy, probably. It was quite dangerous. I almost turned into a bloodthirsty, no-remorse killer because of that. It took a crap ton of therapy and medicine to bring me out of that hell hole. Concealing emotion was fine and dandy, but sticking to it too long, the mask would become yourself. You would become someone with no emotion, while it was somewhat okay for analysis, it would be batshit insane.
I really wanted to pry in, I would love to help her. But then, I had no idea how to do so. As I said a few times already, my speciality was combat, not small-talk. I would have troubles (like a lot of them) initiating a conversation without pissing her off. Heck, it was pretty much a guarantee that I would accidentally make her mad if I tried to be a shrink here.
Furthermore, all of that talk could only work if she wanted to be helped in the first place. If she genuinely believed that she was alright, and/or she believed the whole issue was acceptable, and/or she refused help, that would not work. Personal experience, trust me. I took consistency from the shrink and more important, a direct order from the Major, to somewhat open up and take the therapy a bit more seriously.
Seeing no other option, I kept my silence. After all, if Kanzashi had said she was alright, it should be alright, right?
We kept walking in silence, running out of ideas to talk. Apparently, both of us had issues in this manner. Small talk and actual heart to heart conversation were something completely out of my league. Normally, I would only focus on my strengths and avoid my weaknesses. In other words, give me the order to hit on someone, order me to fight my way out of a pinch, ask me to solve some STEM problems, order, quiz me on history events… but please, by the ancestors, one should not ask me to flirt or make small talks.
Yeah, and to think this was just the first day at the Academy. I had yet to get into class properly, and I had a case of mental issues on my hands already. I was powerless in this, having no idea how to fix it… and no authority to actually attempt it. Life sucked. What gonna came next? A princess got too high on her own self-importance?
Knowing my luck, I preferred a bunch of (incompetent but highly zealous) terrorist storming into the Academy. At least, with these, I had a good and valid reason to kill them all.
I had heard (and read) that soldiers really hated paperwork. Something about writing everything they had done in an op down to minute details, and then fill it in triplicate. Sure, computers helped a bit, with grammar/spelling checks and Ctrl-C and Ctrl-V combo. But still, it was paperwork, tedious, thankless and above all, boring. Now, I was enjoying that demon first-hand.
Sure, the Embassy helped me out a lot. For one, I was "one of their", albeit that the situation led to that was one fuck of a story. "Leave no one behind" and "Behind you and us is our Motherland" were their motto, ones that got into the serious mood after the Coronavirus in 2019. One fuck of a story, that time… Considering that I was messing up in Japan under the "self-defence" right, they were helping me out. Of course, they teased me a lot about that, something about getting out of a frying pan with a cute girl.
Welp, I got to suck it up. Besides, Kanzashi was quite an eye-candy, small, cute, and fluffy. The online term for that was "smol", I believe. It would be nice knowing her more, but considering my past romantic experience (or to be more precise, the lack thereof), I was quite hesitate doing so. No idea what to do and what to say. It was a headache figuring out the best shit to do, so I focused on the slightly less headache-induced job: paperwork.
Then, Japanese intelligence just had to quiz me. Like it or not, I had killed some people on their soil. Even with good intention and the fact that those were just bitches, laws were still laws. Sure, the press did not get any wind of this, and the police was only informed in the barest details, so I was spared of the legality of the matter. To keep it short, I stayed out of prison and/or confinement, however, I was put under watch. It was… much better than what I had feared earlier. Besides, I was a military cadet transferring to foreign soil, being under watch constantly was a given.
Still, I was drained afterwards. My mind was exhausted and my hand was cramped. It was even worse than rush studying for the exams. Seriously, I should have stay civilian. Even with that status, I could still pilot an IS suit and do good shit for my country. Alas, my sense of duty thought differently, and now, the bastard was sulking in my mind.
At least on the bright side, I was able to secure some good stuff. Being kidnapped on foreign soil was a good reason to ask for… compensation. Not exactly sure how Home did that, but the Japanese government gave me quite a few. Firstly, I was allowed to carry arms into the IS Academy. Of course, all of those must be registered to the school (though the precise details could be kept a secret), and I was not allowed to actually "openly carry" them into class (which I had no intention of doing so in the first place). The sweetest part was that I could have "concealed carry" even if I was in class. Sure, openly discharging them without a valid reason would mean the whole machinery of Japanese defence force gunning for my life… More reason for me to be responsible for the whole issue.
Secondly, the mistake of my IS suit was remedied. Now, I could bring it with me anytime, anywhere (even when I was travelling). Sure, I still had to declare it whenever I stepped through the security at the airport, but it was expected in the first place.
Thirdly, well, there was always hush money. Not much, but when I was considering the "strategical" level, anything below one million USD mark was "not much". Most of that went to Home's budget for obvious reasons (words through the rumour mill said that Japan would open up some new construction projects in Vietnam). Still, fifty grand was more than enough to cover me from now until graduation from the Academy. I did not have to pay the tuition fee, and in fact, all of the basic cost of me being here had been covered by Home already. So, I simply had $50000 to burn on stuff. I had always been dreaming about visiting Akihabara. Hope the English of the maid cafes there was good enough, for my Japanese was crap after all.
Anyhow, the most important part of the deal was that I was armed for most possible situations. Most, of course. I would have troubles assaulting a fortified position or breaching into a room, but for "shooting" part only, there would be no trouble. While explosives and heavy weaponry were not accepted, all hand-held weapons (ones that could be used comfortably by a single soldier) were open for my selection, including assault rifles and DMR.
Not that I mind, of course, I just loved guns. And when the guns came straight from the SpecOp's armoury and paid at the expense of the Japanese government? Oh, yes, please!
Firstly, it was unlikely that I would have to face some spectral terrorist groups. The most I would have to face would be a jealous and hormonal teenage girl. For that solution, the Japanese gave me a taser. Unlike the traditional ones, this one could shoot twice before needing to reload. Furthermore, highly ergonomics design also allowed a quick change of taser cartridges. With practice, one could deliver four shots within six seconds.
However, for actual cases of terrorist attacks, where lives were on the line. Serious firepower was needed. Thus, I got the sidearm SIG Sauer P420, improved version of the P320, and the compact version P450. Both of them used 9x19mm Parabellum ammunition. Recontoured grips. Flared magwell for easier reloading. Custom muzzle to increase barrel longevity. Suppressors and muzzle flashes were also available, just in case I needed to be… stealthy.
For longer range, but still adaptable for urban combat within the Academy proper, I got the AKS-25u, carbine version of the AK-25, using the same 5.45x39mm rounds, standard armour penetration from the factory setting. Ambidextrous charging handle, allowing smooth and quick reloads. Customised muzzle flash helped to mitigate the recoil and the actual flashes of the gunshots. Picatinny rail came attached on the block, currently attached with a holographic sight, 1.6 magnification. Quite a choice when I needed to make my defence personal. However, when I wanted to extend my lethal range? Simple, slap on a 4x hybrid scope on that, just a flip and the scope would be on, giving me better zoom into targets slightly away.
When things were too close for comfort, I would have to switch for CQC. The Japanese intelligence was well-aware of how shit I was in that department, and for that, they also gave me a few items to even the odd. The first, again, was a non-lethal variant. A collapsible stun baton, capable of shocking an adult on the ground. Even without the stun effect, it was still capable of leaving a nasty bruise on other's heads.
In the case where my opponent was extremely hostile, putting me in a life-or-death situation, I was clear for more extreme retaliation. The venerable E-tool of the Russian armed forces, capable of both entrenching and chopping down threats. The Ka-bar of the US Marines, famous for their utilities. With these two, I would be able to hold my own ground against most threats.
One may feel discomfort when I was inspecting those weapons, and they could even say that I was quite… giddy when I picked up the weapons. OK, to be honest, I giggled like a school girl when I picked up and tried those guns out. Some might say that such… enthusiasm might not be totally healthy, suggesting some issue in my mental health. Well, I was guilty as charged. I liked my guns after all.
Of course, things went without saying that those guns must be secured. As in safely locked and stowed away. After all, political and diplomatic concessions or not, everyone agreed that putting lethal weapons within the arm's reach of a bunch of hormonal teenage girls was a "very bad idea". Thus, the academy would have custody of those weapons. If, and only if, the terrorist launched an attack on the site, I would be allowed to break them out.
At least, I could keep the non-lethal weapons on me all the time. Words through the grapevine said that I would need them sooner than later. Reason? There were only three words for that: Hormonal. Teenage. Girls.
I just pretended I understood that when the Japanese intelligence told me. With no romantic experience, I had no idea what it meant. As usual, porn and hentai were terrible sources of intel in dealing with the problem. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?
… Actually, I should not jinx myself, should I? After all, the Academy was stocked with IS suits, which were practically the deterrent against WMDs (Weapons of Mass Destruction), and under correct circumstances, they were WMDs themselves.
Still, it could not be too bad. With WMDs nearby, they would have been trained in professionalism. Quirky personalities were accepted, as long as they had finger discipline. I hoped.
Anyhow, I was getting sentimental here. The main point was that with the weapons being safely hidden and locked away, I would attract less attention (relatively, being the first male IS pilot painted a big arse target on my back). Therefore, there would be less molest aiming at my butt. So far, there was no molest, but there was definitely a lot of staring. After all, among the whole sea of estrogen, I was the one with the highest concentration of testosterone. Furthermore, while all of those chicks were wearing the white uniforms of the IS Academy (albeit with a lot of customization), I was the only one wearing a military's service dress uniform. It was a dark green, long-sleeved shirt with a pair of matching colour pants. Plain red insignias surrounded by the gold borders on my shoulder denoting my "rank" as an officer cade. My lapels were just a plain colour red though, which meant I was just a cadet with no specialization.
So, why was I not wearing the IS Academy's uniform? Simple, the chauffeur had already brought it to the Academy, and the officials were neglecting bringing me there. This led to that, and the Embassy finally gave me a spare set of uniform. Why they actually had one of my size was… a mystery. At least I got a night staying in one of their guest room – I must admit, I was a really comfortable bed.
"Sorry for asking, but are you Nguyen Quang Anh?"
The question from a girl with a deep (yet still feminine) jolted me from my musing. I turned to the side, and the first thing I noticed was a short light blue hair and a pair of red eyes. She was quite tall, 1.7m minimum, with a customized set of Academy uniform. A white shirt and an orange-yellow tie were covered by a light yellow sleeveless blazer… Now with a closer look, I would say that that "white shirt" was also double as a skirt, one that reached mid-thigh of this beauty. And to finalize the whole picture, she was wearing a pair of brown-red stockings.
Normally, I would call her a beauty, but her mischievous smile made me re-think my option. That smile on a porcelain face told me that she knew much more than I did, and I would incline to agree. I knew that among the 500+ students of the Academy, there was only one match.
"Good morning, Miss Sarashiki, or should I call you Madam President of the Student Council."
Besides, she was the best pilot of the Academy. I could probably take her in a non-IS situation (preferably from 100m away, with the element of surprise), but I really did not want to test that. Besides, the politeness could help me reach much further.
"Ara ara, aren't you polite?"
"As my instructor has said, be polite and be professional, it would help me to go further."
"Good advice."
"Aye."
We were just trading small talk so far, but why was she hiding her smile under the fan… and what was written on it, by the way? I had complete zero knowledge in Japanese calligraphy.
From the corner of my eyes, some girls around were getting antsy. Either because I was talking casually with the Prez, or I was a boy in a military uniform.
"For your question, you can call me Tatenashi. You save my sister, you earn that, at least."
"Then feel free to call me Quang Anh."
This was where the Vietnamese and Japanese culture diverse despite sharing many elements of the Sinosphere. We Vietnamese considered calling each other by given names as relatively normal, but the Japanese did not think so. In fact, I was pretty sure that even classmates after a few years studying together may still call each other by surname, plus the correct honorific.
So, in short, the part where the President of the Student Council allowed me to call her by her first name was… quite tremendous, I would say. The gasps of a few passersby were perhaps proof of this.
"I must say it again, thank you for saving my sister."
"Don't fret, I was just doing my job. I have sworn an oath to protect the civilians, granted, it is originally to protect my people, but there is no such explicit saying, so ya know, we can probably stretch the words a bit."
"My my, aren't you the cunning one."
"Speaking of your sister, is she alright? Being kidnapped, and then having her ransom being broadcasted right in front of her face, was… quite an experience."
"…"
Was that I or the girl's aura had just shifted a bit?
"She was taking it well. Or at least, well enough considering the situations. Speaking of her, well, here she was."
=================
Less than an hour in the Academy, and I was considering putting the President on my shit list.
Oh, one should not take it wrong, she was pleasant enough… right until she asked me to escort her sister to the dorm, and then the classroom. If there was an obvious attempt of an older sibling to play match-making with a younger one, there would be nothing worse than this. I had to resist the urge to facepalm, especially when I heard the maniac laughter from where the President just disappeared. Besides, we were still saddled with our own belongings, ones that she had also conveniently asked me to help Kanzashi with.
"Ain't she a handful?"
"She… could be worse."
"Of that, I have no doubt."
I grimaced, but not showing it on my face. It was as neutral as it could be. Hiding my own thoughts and emotions were a common activity for me. Men would not cry, they would only shed a tear in silence. And something like that. Combined with a long history of being pranked (and bullied), I had already made myself into a man of stone.
Apparently, Kanzashi was also adept at hiding her emotion, but that was the issue. Someone like her should have everything in the world. She was the second-in-line for the Chairman position of the Sarashiki incorporation, one that accounted for nearly 10% of GDP value of the whole of Japan. It was a company focused on IS tech, but it had been able to expand into various fields. Last I checked (read: the intel was forced down on my throat, then I get quizzed on), they had at least ten sub-companies, ranging from agriculture to energy sectors.
So, with such a prestigious background, she should have everything taken care for her. She would have the best healthcare plan (including insurance for her teeth and eyes, which were normally very expensive and only present in a premium package). The best school and tutors would be available to her, heck, I would not be too surprised if this was the first school she had ever been to, too busy coping with highly professional tutors and all that. For some princesses like her, I would say that she had everything in the world.
Unlike me…
Still, no time to dwell. The class was starting soon, and like it or not, I still had to be gallant.
"So, would you mind me helping you?"
"Hmh? Actually, I do mind a bit. I can move my suitcases myself, thank you very much."
"I'm a man, so…"
"Technically, you are a boy. You are not 18 yet, per Vietnamese laws, you are yet to be considered as an adult."
Snarky. I liked this one. Deadpan deliveries with a stone-cold face. Now I could certainly understand the charm of the cold and emotionless girls in the animes.
"And in Japan…"
"It is also 18, boya."
"… I was planning to say the age of consent, you people are very strange in that matter."
Yeah, who thought 13 was a good age for consent? At least Kanzashi was sharing my same sentiment.
"My family and my allies are putting to change that. Things are progressing, we expect to have it changed by the next Diet meeting."
"Good luck."
"… Thanks."
"… So would you let me help you? Consider it as friendly courtesy and chivalry."
"Would you say that to every girl you meet?"
"Only the cute ones and the ones I have already met."
If she wanted to play the snarky game, I could keep up with her. And it was working, as I hoped. She seemed to be reluctantly accepting my offer (after grunting and mumbling something). On my right was my suitcase (I had already recovered them from the chauffeur's deposit yesterday), on top of it was a "mysterious" bulky box. The latter contained my entire lethal arsenal, and if Kanzashi had already figured it out, she was keeping quiet. Meanwhile, on my left was her suitcase. She was also just having one, it seemed… Well, she was the native here, so it made sense that she was packing lightly.
I pushed the two suitcases forward to the dorm. Kanzashi was walking next to me, keeping her silence. It was… awkward, somehow. Or it was just me though. I was feeling somewhat antsy. Partially because I shed blood in front of her eyes yesterday, and partially because I had not apologized for that… And also because she had already consoled me and held my hand afterward. Did that make us a couple?
Probably not, it was just anime logic, and it was barely above hentai logic.
"And… Uhm… Miss Sarashiki?"
"Call me Sarashiki-san, please. We are in Japan here."
And she was half-Japanese, half-Russian. Well, when in Rome, did it like Roman. Even if her sister had done it differently by calling my given name already, the two of them were clearly different from each other. Especially within the personality department.
"Fine, Sarashiki-san, are you ok with the… issue yesterday?"
"You mean the kidnapping?"
"Yeah."
"… I'm fine, don't worry."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm pretty sure, I knew my own thinking!"
She raised her voice a bit at the end. Not much, but it was enough for me… Sure, I knew she was not being totally truthful. I really wanted to know more, but it was not my place. I only met her yesterday, and the situation was not optimal. Maybe if I knew her longer, I would be able to do so. But until then, we would be simply acquaintance at best.
I was getting nervous here. I meant… I had never spoken with a girl face-to-face for this long. It was quite nerve-wracking, and I had no idea what to say. Sure, I wanted to apologise her for being a bit too brutal… or I got way overboard when I was rescuing her yesterday… But I had no idea how to do so. Well, not in a flowery way. The blunt way was easy, but it was not really fit for talking with girls. We walked for a few more minutes, which I used to think over. The more I thought though, the fewer options I found. I was completely lacking in the flowery and flattery department, so I had no option other than being blunt and direct.
"Uhm… Sarashiki-san?"
"Yes?"
"About the kidnapping, I would like to apologise."
She seemed to be surprised there, she just stopped, arching her eyebrows while staring at me. Well, it took me a few seconds to notice that. When I turned around, I noticed her glimmering red eyes, they were staring at me with quite an intensity. I had no idea what it meant, to be honest. I was not a specialist in seduction after all.
"What's wrong?"
"You are apologizing?"
"I went overboard with them. Or rather, I went overboard with them with you seeing the whole debacle."
"Is that something worth apologizing for?"
Now I was getting a bit worried. A normal civilian should feel troubled at the sight of blood and gore, considering that they had never seen that before. However, Kanzashi was really calm taking that, or perhaps too calm. There were only two categories of people capable of doing so: the grizzled ones, and the ones with apathy. I was the first group, and I had no reason to think that she had prior training and combat experience. Her body and eyes lacked the steel and bloodthirst usually found in veterans…. Therefore, I believed that she was suffering from apathy, a lack of interest from… well, everything.
"Don't fret, Nguyen-kun. When I say it's alright, it is alright. Besides, have you already forgotten?"
"Hmh?"
"There was no other option for you but to kill."
I relented, she actually said that, after all. However, I still felt a bit iffy at the situation. She seemed non-fazed by the debacle and the bloodshed. Sure, I was able to keep my breakfast after the first time seeing blood and death, and I did not fall unconsciously after my first kill. But one should note that I had already spent a good while playing video games and reading war stories. My mind had already been hardened a bit. Hers had not.
Which meant she was suffering from apathy, probably. It was quite dangerous. I almost turned into a bloodthirsty, no-remorse killer because of that. It took a crap ton of therapy and medicine to bring me out of that hell hole. Concealing emotion was fine and dandy, but sticking to it too long, the mask would become yourself. You would become someone with no emotion, while it was somewhat okay for analysis, it would be batshit insane.
I really wanted to pry in, I would love to help her. But then, I had no idea how to do so. As I said a few times already, my speciality was combat, not small-talk. I would have troubles (like a lot of them) initiating a conversation without pissing her off. Heck, it was pretty much a guarantee that I would accidentally make her mad if I tried to be a shrink here.
Furthermore, all of that talk could only work if she wanted to be helped in the first place. If she genuinely believed that she was alright, and/or she believed the whole issue was acceptable, and/or she refused help, that would not work. Personal experience, trust me. I took consistency from the shrink and more important, a direct order from the Major, to somewhat open up and take the therapy a bit more seriously.
Seeing no other option, I kept my silence. After all, if Kanzashi had said she was alright, it should be alright, right?
We kept walking in silence, running out of ideas to talk. Apparently, both of us had issues in this manner. Small talk and actual heart to heart conversation were something completely out of my league. Normally, I would only focus on my strengths and avoid my weaknesses. In other words, give me the order to hit on someone, order me to fight my way out of a pinch, ask me to solve some STEM problems, order, quiz me on history events… but please, by the ancestors, one should not ask me to flirt or make small talks.
Yeah, and to think this was just the first day at the Academy. I had yet to get into class properly, and I had a case of mental issues on my hands already. I was powerless in this, having no idea how to fix it… and no authority to actually attempt it. Life sucked. What gonna came next? A princess got too high on her own self-importance?
Knowing my luck, I preferred a bunch of (incompetent but highly zealous) terrorist storming into the Academy. At least, with these, I had a good and valid reason to kill them all.
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Chapter 5
- Location
- Netherlands
Class 1-1 was, surprisingly, a tame affair. It was compared to the raging fire of my baptism, or the hellish training as a Commando. The first saw casualty in the thousands within a single day (90% of which was civilian), and the second had a net 50% survival rate. So… yeah. I had already seen two broken environments, so a new area filled with estrogen should not inconvenient me… much.
"Should" was the keyword here. For the moment I walked in, all eyes were upon me. To be fair, I was wearing a green military service uniform, being armed, and I was the epitome of being deadly serious. The annoyance and concern from the previous conversation (or lack thereof) with Kanzashi added in some specks of darkness there. My face was not with a scowl, but it was easy to see the hard stone was etched there. That was the face of someone without a single fuck left to give… Or at least, that was what I hoped.
Then, the interrogation began in earnest. Most of the girls instantly swarmed over me when I sat down on my seat, bombarding me with questions. Normally, I would be glad that I became the attention of many cute girls like this, but this was anything but normal. A Commando could not be classified as a "normie" after all, and that was before the fact that I was actually carrying a loaded firearm into the class… Well, two loaded firearms actually. My back-up was tugged into my sock, hidden from view thanks to my pants. And then, to top it off, I was the first male IS pilot of the world, and I was the only confirmed IS-killer on the world. To be curious would be an understatement to describe these girls. They were goddamned inquisitive, especially about the fiasco yesterday.
Clearly, I could not satisfy them with the bare-bone details. They wanted more, they needed to hear the juicy details, and they did not take "no" for an answer. Some of them even pressed onto me, using the feminine charm to their benefits. The scent of perfume, the smell of fresh shampoo, the elegant and smooth faces, the soft and firm body behind the cloth… All of them were mixing together into one hell of a concert. I was also pretty sure that there was a girl (or two) having a few buttons on their shirt undone. And on them, I got a glimpse of something coloured under the white fabric of the uniforms. Fuck, I thought the torture resistant training was terrible, this was even worse. It was lucky for me that no girl was attempting the ultimate trick: sitting on my lap. She would instantly know something was, well, excited.
Major had said that an excited boy would have a very loose lip.
I almost reached the breaking point and purring like a cat being please, the sensation here was literally overwhelming. Heck, hormones were running amok in my system, and if those girls ramped up their effort a bit, they would beat me.
Luckily, I was saved by a highly surprising figure: Orimura Ichika. As soon as the door opened, everyone turned towards him, and the poor bastard was like a deer caught in the headlight. His head jerked up with fear evident on his face, and it turned into terror the moment I got a toothy grin.
"Due to my occupation, I had a lot of non-disclosure agreements. But Mr Orimura over there is just a civilian, so he doesn't have to keep it quiet as I do. Why don't you girls ask him?"
Sure, I was shifting the target from myself to the boy, but seriously, I thought he could use a bit of feminine attention. Besides, he should get used to that, with 500+ female students here, there would be more than 250 students (on average) gunning for either him or me. Without a strong mental shield and/or inoculation, he would fall fairly quickly.
I had no idea what the teacher, (Miss) Orimura Chifuyu, would say if her brother got caught in a honey trap. That would be… bloody, I thought. Well, it would not be my blood, so I paid it no attention. Besides, there was a betting pool back in Home, and the money was good, really good.
With a much lesser pressure, I was able to calm my mind down a bit. Sure, a few girls still lingered around me, pestering me for more information, but I shot them all down with obviously much less effort. With the edge in quantity gone, my mind with the baptism in fire and the hellish training was able to mount a better resistance to those clingy girls. Now, instead of breathing heavily and trying to control my excited body parts, I simply enjoyed the whole fiasco… Well, the fiasco and the soft feeling on my arm.
I was still a growing boy with a lot of spared (and suppressed) hormones, after all.
Of course, anything good must end soon. Someone was approaching me from behind, and from the twitch of the girl on my left, it seemed that they had also noticed that.
"Excuse me, may I have a moment with you?"
It was a Caucasian girl with long smooth blond hair and crystal blue eyes. A blue bow with while frill was put upon her head. Just like many other girls, she was also wearing the white dress uniform of the Academy and a pair of black stockings. For some reason, her whole aura spelt out "princess", or "ojou-sama" for some weeboo. I knew who she was.
Cecilia Marianna Alcott, "Cissy", UK Cadet Representative, 16 years old, hail from a minor branch of the Royal Family with no chance for a shot at the throne. The pilot of the "Blue Tears" IS suit, one that specialized in sniping and drone attack. Intelligence suggested that she had… mental problems, something to do with a train accident when she was much younger. Well, that, and she would inherit a hereditary hedge fund of more than 50 million pounds (10% growth rate currently) when she reached the age of 18.
"Sure, no problem. How can I help you?"
She was probably expecting me to cower under her. Having 50 million pounds in your pocket and being a girl in a female supremacy society could do that to your perception. Too bad for her then, she had already forgotten a crucial fact: Vietnamese would never kneel. Well, that, and I was batshit insane.
"Oh? What kind of response is that? You should be honoured being talked to by a Cadet Representative like myself. I am talking to you, boy, so you should better show some respect!"
"That is the polite and informal response considering we've just met. I think the British had better manners than this, but well, British manner is just a stereotype."
It was stereotyping. I had done my own research (or pastime reading), and during my training, I had access to certain public (but not common) knowledge about the UK. Needless to say, it reinforced my belief: there was no "black" and "white", there were only various shades of grey. Every country had their own skeletons, Vietnam had, the UK had – and some documents even suggested that the two countries were sharing some skeletons together. And it was not like I would make that information public, of course.
"And you are just a male! A boy even! You should listen to your better, like me!"
Immediately, anger started to spike in my own mind. What the fuck this bitch was fucking thinking? Sexism at its finest. No male specimen of the 21st century, even in the age before IS, would speak something like that aloud. We could be arrogant and narcissistic, but we knew when to close our mouths. However, after the introduction of IS suits and the rise of female supremacy, that idea did not apply anymore. Girls earned the right to openly show their disdain towards boys. Heck, the fucking Amazon Brigade was formed for that explicit duty.
I was even a victim of that myself, back during my innocence day, the sole reason was that I was a boy. Or worse, I was an academically inclined boy. I tried to fight back a few times, even going as far as dragging the teachers into the mess (which made me a "snitch" in some pupils' eyes). However, none of that worked, I even became a worse black sheep at school. The girls sometimes used that as a valid excuse to torment me even more. It made me… bitter, cynical, and outright suicidal in certain cases. Somehow, I… felt glad that the fuckers of the international syndicate revealed themselves on that day, I was very close to actually snap off.
Now, all of those emotions were coming back. The anger, resentment, hatred… they were coming in full force. It was my shame and my own skeleton, I was bullied, I was ridiculed, and I was completely despised simply because I was a boy. Back in those days, I was no one, so I had to suffer. But now, I was a fucking Commando, and I was the first male IS pilot.
She would pay for this, preferably by digging her own grave.
"So, a girl is automatically better than a boy?"
"Obviously, we can control IS suits, you cannot."
"Oh, really, but aren't you forgetting something? There are two boys here capable of activating and piloting IS suits. Just one more confirmed case, and trust me, the whole woman-only part of the IS piloting? It would be a damned lie."
"Wh… What?"
"Once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, three times is enemy action, or at least, a pattern. If there were three confirmed male IS pilots, then the inventor of the IS suit, Shinonono Tabane has been lying about her own work for some reasons."
"But there are only two of you now, so my point stands! Men are not as good as women!"
"Until I punch your light out, sweetie."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Who dares wins. Remember that?"
By now, I had already stood up, staring straight into her face. Sure, I was shorter than her, and it made things a bit less intimidating for the blond. She may want to cow me into submission, but I was ready to kill her. The aura and the eyes of someone who had shed blood were not something one could ignore. I had already put a hand over the pistol holster (which was still secured, for now), and that was what scared the girls around me. They were probably considering putting a collar and a leash on me for fun, but they had also realized that I could take that as an affront, which I would retaliate in force.
And unlike other, I would make sure that my strike back was lethal. This was probably what made Cecilia paused. She may not know my full profile, but she probably knew that I was a Commando, a Special Operation operative, I was authorized to kill, and I would not hesitate to do so. Facing death was a good reason for one to stop and think.
The two of us could be standing there, staring into each other's eyes forever if needed. Well, things went like that, until our teachers stepped into the room. The commotion failed to distract my eyes, but I had already known the people who were stepping through the door.
Yamada Maya, deputy homeroom teacher, age 32, former Japan IS National Representative. She was wearing a yellow dress with black trimming reaching right above her knees, and from those to the ground was a pair of knee-high black stockings. A short, dark-green hair was up top, coming together with a rimless pair of glasses. The most outstanding feature in her figure would be… her boobs. They were huge, and I was damned sure that they would burst out of her dress at any moment.
The second figure was no one other than Orimura Chifuyu, homeroom teacher, age 27, Japan IS National Representative and the predecessor of Miss Yamada. The first and only holder of two consecutive Mondo Grosso Champion title. She was serious-like, with a black blazer, black knee-length skirt and white shirt. The long smooth black hair was tied into a ponytail behind her back. I would say that she was a bombshell in her own right, especially those slender legs (ones that wearing a pair of semi-transparent black stockings).
As Major would say, these two were definitely eye-candy. Even with strict discipline, I would not mind watching them every day. Assuming that I was not stuck in any "discussions" with the girls, of course.
But why did the girls look stunned and frozen in place? They did not even react when Chifuyu slammed down her attendance book on the table.
"Listen everyone, and listen closely. My name is Orimura Chifuyu, your homeroom teacher, this is Miss Yamada Maya, my deputy. In the next three years, we will turn you into functional and beneficial IS personnel for this world. So now, please go back to your seats so that the session can begin."
That was the cue for all hell to break loose.
"Chifuyu-sama! It's really Chifuyu-sama!"
"Please! Orimura-sama, I come all the way from New York to adore you!"
"Onee-sama, I will die for your sake!"
Fucking fangirls. They were the bane of my soul and the root of all problem. The last thing I wanted to have them forming a cult around their idol. Chifuyu would be sitting upon a golden throne then, with a black, high slit, sleeveless dress, and… Actually, I would stop thinking about that now, no point working up this early in the school year.
Up there, in front of the board, Chifuyu just grunted, though I had a hunch that I would be counter-productive:
"Seriously, did they put all the idiots in my class?"
And yeah, it got backfired. Completely backfired.
"ONEE-SAMA!"
"Please scold us more!"
"But be elegant while doing so!"
"And be gracious afterwards."
FUCK. YOU. ALL.
There should be something stopping them from reaching that low. I thought shit like that was only available within the context of anime and manga. The incessant screams and yells were completely out of the blue, and the whole situation was making me reconsidering my option. Last year, when my ability to control an IS suit was confirmed, Home gave me a choice: either become a lab rat or join the armed forces and enrol in the IS Academy. Now, five minutes into the first class, being a testing specimen had become tremendously more… beneficial. At least my sanity would not be damaged.
At least, with the teachers being in the class, the girls were able to calm down and get into the mood. Both Cecilia and I stepped down from our verbal spat. We might be hotheads, but we all knew that dragging teachers into our mess was something… unacceptable. Witnesses would show that the blond British girl was the first to throw the spat, and the teachers would remember that I was the one ready to escalate the whole situation. In short, both sides would be shafted, which was not really optimal. Therefore, we simply huffed and grunted at each other before sitting back down in our seats.
And now, I was made aware of the girls, or rather, my classmates. They had already switched from being worshipping Chifuyu to leering at the "good people", in this case, most of the girls were leering at Ichika, Chifuyu, and me. On the one hand, my ego was feeling glad that I was finally become attracted to the opposite sex. On the other hand, my self-preservation sense was getting alarmed at the part where those girls keep licking their lips while looking at me.
They were waiting for information, some juicy bit for gossips.
No doubt about that. So I had no choice but to grimaced when it was my turn:
"I'm Nguyen Quang Anh, surname Nguyen, given name Quang Anh. I'm from Vietnam, 17 years old. Currently, I'm a Junior Officer Cadet of the Vietnamese People's Army, Commando branch. I enjoy lazing around, listen to rock music and trying out my marksmanship. Please to be your acquaintances."
If Ichika got half of the class roused up (because he was the younger brother of the Chifu-fucking-yu), I got the whole class lit up with a glint in their eyes. After all, unlike Ichika, I got a handgun and an officer hat, and ladies loved that hat. The first to ask was a sleepy-looking girl, slim, petite and small. Her uniform was highly customized with both sleeves made way too long for someone at her size. In fact, the whole arms were covered in those sleeves.
"Yes, Miss Nohotoke?"
"Oh, Nguyen-kun, is it true that you were kidnapped yesterday?"
"Yes."
"… And?"
"And what?"
"Please tell us more!"
"So what do you want to know?"
"Who kidnapped you?"
"Classified."
"Why were you kidnapped?"
"Classified."
"How many kidnappers were there?"
"Classified."
Luckily, I knew the path of bullshitery. All I needed was to understand the questions literally and then give the answers with the barest details possible. Furthermore, the option "it is classified" was always a valid (and polite) way to say "I ain't a snitch.". Heck, they even asked me about my past, though I only confirmed that I was able to kill an IS pilot. Other than that, the precise details of how I did that were "classified". It ruffed their feathers, but hey, I needed to have some aces under my sleeve after all.
The girls were starting to catch the drift, with more than ten questions unanswered due to "classified matters". While I did not explicitly say it out loud, it was a given that military personnel like me took the secret as a very serious matter. The path was switched from the professional (namely, my history) to a more personal approach, namely…
"So… Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
It was a can of worm. No matter how I answered it, I would get shafted in the butt. So, I simply had to follow the path of the least resistance, and of the most benefits for me.
"At the moment, I don't. And to be honest, I really love to have someone to cuddle with."
Yeah, half of the girls in the class suddenly licked their lips and had their eyes lit up. I was not worried at all… Actually, I was. My posture was still straight, my voice was even and my face was neutral, but from the inside, I was really nervous. Using anime logic for real-life applications was… ill-advised at best. However, for a virgin with literally zero experience of flirting like me, using support from anime was still a better option than none at all. Considering I was not maimed or killed yet, things were looking quite well.
"Really? So what is your ideal girlfriend?"
Someone sane enough to keep me grounded, but also someone smart (and insane) enough to play around with me. It was not like I would say that out loud, besides, romance was never high on my list during the last 17 years of my life. Therefore… I just smirked:
"Classified."
That would earn me the attendance book slammed down on my head, courtesy of Chifuyu. Of course, "would" was the keyword, considering that I was able to grab the book and hold it before it connected with my skull.
"I would like to remark that this would be considered as physical assault, one that I'm allowed to retaliate in any way I see fit."
"I know, I just want to remind you that your time for self-introduction is over. If you keep standing there and smirking, those girls would jump your bone. All at once."
"And I'm confident that I can handle them all."
The whole class made an "ooh" sound… Though whether that was a good or bad reaction remained to be seen. Anyhow, I came back to my seat, which was in the middle of the class. The self-introduction session continued for a while longer, ending with the thirtieth member, a girl hailing from South Korea (and the sibling of an on-the-rise K-Pop star).
The next point on the topic was setting out the rules, including the general Academy's rules as well as special ones laid out by Chifuyu. There was nothing too surprising there, sure, it was a bit strict (Cecilia whined about being presence 10 minutes before the bell), but overall, it was cool for me. These girls had it easy, they had no idea about the punishment that the military had been doing…
Moping the yard under the rain. Filling up an oil barrel (nearly 160 litres) with a syringe bottle. Doing push-ups with no less than ten cigarettes being packed in one's mouth. Apologizing to "Comrade Pig" when I forgot to feed him (long story)… Good time.
So, listening to the loose regulations of the Academy, I just sat there smirking. Living here would be easy. Sure, there was no firing range here, but there were quite a few of simulation centres and arenas, which was even better because they allowed me to maintain my firearm skill in a "practical manner". I would have to jump through a few hoops and loops… but did the President of the Student Council say something about a "debt"?
It was underhanded, yes. But then, if it worked, it was good.
And then, it came the juicy part (for the girls, at least). "Class Representative". We had the same stuff back in Vietnam, though Class Reps there had less power and less work compared to Japan. Here, they had to do quite a lot, and it was before one remembered that this was the IS Academy.
"The Class Representative is a position of both responsibility and authority. This student would have to attend the monthly meeting of the Student Council, and they are in charge of planning their own class activities during school events. Furthermore, true to the name, or at least the English translation, this student also has to represent our class in the Inter-class tournament. In return, this student shall receive a small monthly stipend, free run on multiple Academy's facilities, as well as a reference for any future job or education."
The rewards were juicy, to be honest. Money was money, and it was always welcome. Free and easy access to the school facilities (and I was sure that it could help me to get past the red tapes) would give me the chance for even more IS training. The last, well, it was not that alluring to me. I would join the Military academy anyways, becoming a full-fledged Commando officer (or failing that, a staff officer). I would go full career with the VPA, and my current "job" as a Junior officer cadet was more than enough to put my name in without doing any test. Still, I would still be able to enrol in some prestigious universities if Vietnam had no more need of my martial skills (which was, seriously, my dream of peace).
"Now, I want some candidates. It does not matter if it's yourself or some other students. I know that it is sudden, but this student would assume the mantle temporarily. After one month, we would review to see if she, or he, is worthy enough of the job."
Fair enough. As in the terms and conditions Chifuyu put out were fair. The girls, on the other hand, were not. They went fully into the… wham mode.
"I nominate Ichika!"
"Seconded!"
"Third!"
"I call for Quang Anh!"
"Anh for Class Rep!"
"Good idea!"
"For the officer!"
"For the younger brother of onee-sama!"
And then, they just had to scream at each other for five minutes straight. I swore, they were getting on my nerve. If Home had not explicitly said that these bitches must be alive, they would be dead under my own hand already. It was getting really, really noisy.
It took more than a minute for the two teachers to calm down the girls, and then ten more to record the vote and tally the result. I voted for Ichika to be the Class Rep, and the sole reason for that was simple: I hated paperwork. The hellish bureaucracy yesterday was still fresh in my mind, and I was in no rush to repeat that again. I was a grunt, point me at something and I would blow it up. But filling in forms and doing paperwork? Nah-ah.
The rewards were fine and dandy, yes, but they were not enough to win me over. I still really loved my freedom, my napping time and my guns blazing. Being a Class Rep would cut into that time, a lot of time to be honest. So I tried to stay away from it as far as possible.
But like a cruel joke on the Vietnamese blood, heaven pushed what I hated into my lap:
"Mr Orimura has 5 votes, Ms Alcott has 2, and Mr Nguyen has 23. Congratulation Quang Anh, you are now the Class Representative of Class 1-1!"
Could I change from "congratulation" to a drink please? A chilled vodka, preferably. Probably not then… Still, I still had to answer, and I really did not want to take this job. Crap.
"Miss Yamada, I don't wa..."
"Be quiet, the one being nominated has no right to refuse, she, or he, must be prepared already."
The cold voice of Chifuyu quickly killed all of my hope to refuse the ordeal. Seriously, the last time I checked, Japan was a democratic country under a symbolic monarch… Right, I forget, "democracy" was a joke, and the Japanese society was still authoritarian. At least, I finally understood why some countries were still using a partially authoritarian system – they made sure that the only ones wanted to and had enough talent could hold the position.
"Well, I accepted the responsibility, as long as the objectives and rights are listed clearly. It was quite strange, but then the same could be said for field promotions."
And then, when the class was still surprised by my response, a shrieking voice was heard from the back of the class. I was not even sure if I should feel surprised there:
"What!? I refuse to accept this! Are you telling me that this male monkey will be my Class Representative for a full year? That is disgraceful and shameful! I am coming here to polish my IS skills, not to see and hear him playing around!"
I retracted my earlier statement. Now, I really wanted to be a Class Rep, just to spite this British bitch in the face. My anger flared up again, this girl had let the female supremacy getting to her head. A bit was alright, but this was too much, and as they said everything should be in moderation.
I was considering to persuade her peacefully, but then, Fate played a joke on me:
"Ladies, having a gook, a dink like him leading our class is the utmost shame for noblewomen like us! Do you really want a far-east sperm like him leading us?"
She was as good as dead meat now.
"Should" was the keyword here. For the moment I walked in, all eyes were upon me. To be fair, I was wearing a green military service uniform, being armed, and I was the epitome of being deadly serious. The annoyance and concern from the previous conversation (or lack thereof) with Kanzashi added in some specks of darkness there. My face was not with a scowl, but it was easy to see the hard stone was etched there. That was the face of someone without a single fuck left to give… Or at least, that was what I hoped.
Then, the interrogation began in earnest. Most of the girls instantly swarmed over me when I sat down on my seat, bombarding me with questions. Normally, I would be glad that I became the attention of many cute girls like this, but this was anything but normal. A Commando could not be classified as a "normie" after all, and that was before the fact that I was actually carrying a loaded firearm into the class… Well, two loaded firearms actually. My back-up was tugged into my sock, hidden from view thanks to my pants. And then, to top it off, I was the first male IS pilot of the world, and I was the only confirmed IS-killer on the world. To be curious would be an understatement to describe these girls. They were goddamned inquisitive, especially about the fiasco yesterday.
Clearly, I could not satisfy them with the bare-bone details. They wanted more, they needed to hear the juicy details, and they did not take "no" for an answer. Some of them even pressed onto me, using the feminine charm to their benefits. The scent of perfume, the smell of fresh shampoo, the elegant and smooth faces, the soft and firm body behind the cloth… All of them were mixing together into one hell of a concert. I was also pretty sure that there was a girl (or two) having a few buttons on their shirt undone. And on them, I got a glimpse of something coloured under the white fabric of the uniforms. Fuck, I thought the torture resistant training was terrible, this was even worse. It was lucky for me that no girl was attempting the ultimate trick: sitting on my lap. She would instantly know something was, well, excited.
Major had said that an excited boy would have a very loose lip.
I almost reached the breaking point and purring like a cat being please, the sensation here was literally overwhelming. Heck, hormones were running amok in my system, and if those girls ramped up their effort a bit, they would beat me.
Luckily, I was saved by a highly surprising figure: Orimura Ichika. As soon as the door opened, everyone turned towards him, and the poor bastard was like a deer caught in the headlight. His head jerked up with fear evident on his face, and it turned into terror the moment I got a toothy grin.
"Due to my occupation, I had a lot of non-disclosure agreements. But Mr Orimura over there is just a civilian, so he doesn't have to keep it quiet as I do. Why don't you girls ask him?"
Sure, I was shifting the target from myself to the boy, but seriously, I thought he could use a bit of feminine attention. Besides, he should get used to that, with 500+ female students here, there would be more than 250 students (on average) gunning for either him or me. Without a strong mental shield and/or inoculation, he would fall fairly quickly.
I had no idea what the teacher, (Miss) Orimura Chifuyu, would say if her brother got caught in a honey trap. That would be… bloody, I thought. Well, it would not be my blood, so I paid it no attention. Besides, there was a betting pool back in Home, and the money was good, really good.
With a much lesser pressure, I was able to calm my mind down a bit. Sure, a few girls still lingered around me, pestering me for more information, but I shot them all down with obviously much less effort. With the edge in quantity gone, my mind with the baptism in fire and the hellish training was able to mount a better resistance to those clingy girls. Now, instead of breathing heavily and trying to control my excited body parts, I simply enjoyed the whole fiasco… Well, the fiasco and the soft feeling on my arm.
I was still a growing boy with a lot of spared (and suppressed) hormones, after all.
Of course, anything good must end soon. Someone was approaching me from behind, and from the twitch of the girl on my left, it seemed that they had also noticed that.
"Excuse me, may I have a moment with you?"
It was a Caucasian girl with long smooth blond hair and crystal blue eyes. A blue bow with while frill was put upon her head. Just like many other girls, she was also wearing the white dress uniform of the Academy and a pair of black stockings. For some reason, her whole aura spelt out "princess", or "ojou-sama" for some weeboo. I knew who she was.
Cecilia Marianna Alcott, "Cissy", UK Cadet Representative, 16 years old, hail from a minor branch of the Royal Family with no chance for a shot at the throne. The pilot of the "Blue Tears" IS suit, one that specialized in sniping and drone attack. Intelligence suggested that she had… mental problems, something to do with a train accident when she was much younger. Well, that, and she would inherit a hereditary hedge fund of more than 50 million pounds (10% growth rate currently) when she reached the age of 18.
"Sure, no problem. How can I help you?"
She was probably expecting me to cower under her. Having 50 million pounds in your pocket and being a girl in a female supremacy society could do that to your perception. Too bad for her then, she had already forgotten a crucial fact: Vietnamese would never kneel. Well, that, and I was batshit insane.
"Oh? What kind of response is that? You should be honoured being talked to by a Cadet Representative like myself. I am talking to you, boy, so you should better show some respect!"
"That is the polite and informal response considering we've just met. I think the British had better manners than this, but well, British manner is just a stereotype."
It was stereotyping. I had done my own research (or pastime reading), and during my training, I had access to certain public (but not common) knowledge about the UK. Needless to say, it reinforced my belief: there was no "black" and "white", there were only various shades of grey. Every country had their own skeletons, Vietnam had, the UK had – and some documents even suggested that the two countries were sharing some skeletons together. And it was not like I would make that information public, of course.
"And you are just a male! A boy even! You should listen to your better, like me!"
Immediately, anger started to spike in my own mind. What the fuck this bitch was fucking thinking? Sexism at its finest. No male specimen of the 21st century, even in the age before IS, would speak something like that aloud. We could be arrogant and narcissistic, but we knew when to close our mouths. However, after the introduction of IS suits and the rise of female supremacy, that idea did not apply anymore. Girls earned the right to openly show their disdain towards boys. Heck, the fucking Amazon Brigade was formed for that explicit duty.
I was even a victim of that myself, back during my innocence day, the sole reason was that I was a boy. Or worse, I was an academically inclined boy. I tried to fight back a few times, even going as far as dragging the teachers into the mess (which made me a "snitch" in some pupils' eyes). However, none of that worked, I even became a worse black sheep at school. The girls sometimes used that as a valid excuse to torment me even more. It made me… bitter, cynical, and outright suicidal in certain cases. Somehow, I… felt glad that the fuckers of the international syndicate revealed themselves on that day, I was very close to actually snap off.
Now, all of those emotions were coming back. The anger, resentment, hatred… they were coming in full force. It was my shame and my own skeleton, I was bullied, I was ridiculed, and I was completely despised simply because I was a boy. Back in those days, I was no one, so I had to suffer. But now, I was a fucking Commando, and I was the first male IS pilot.
She would pay for this, preferably by digging her own grave.
"So, a girl is automatically better than a boy?"
"Obviously, we can control IS suits, you cannot."
"Oh, really, but aren't you forgetting something? There are two boys here capable of activating and piloting IS suits. Just one more confirmed case, and trust me, the whole woman-only part of the IS piloting? It would be a damned lie."
"Wh… What?"
"Once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, three times is enemy action, or at least, a pattern. If there were three confirmed male IS pilots, then the inventor of the IS suit, Shinonono Tabane has been lying about her own work for some reasons."
"But there are only two of you now, so my point stands! Men are not as good as women!"
"Until I punch your light out, sweetie."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Who dares wins. Remember that?"
By now, I had already stood up, staring straight into her face. Sure, I was shorter than her, and it made things a bit less intimidating for the blond. She may want to cow me into submission, but I was ready to kill her. The aura and the eyes of someone who had shed blood were not something one could ignore. I had already put a hand over the pistol holster (which was still secured, for now), and that was what scared the girls around me. They were probably considering putting a collar and a leash on me for fun, but they had also realized that I could take that as an affront, which I would retaliate in force.
And unlike other, I would make sure that my strike back was lethal. This was probably what made Cecilia paused. She may not know my full profile, but she probably knew that I was a Commando, a Special Operation operative, I was authorized to kill, and I would not hesitate to do so. Facing death was a good reason for one to stop and think.
The two of us could be standing there, staring into each other's eyes forever if needed. Well, things went like that, until our teachers stepped into the room. The commotion failed to distract my eyes, but I had already known the people who were stepping through the door.
Yamada Maya, deputy homeroom teacher, age 32, former Japan IS National Representative. She was wearing a yellow dress with black trimming reaching right above her knees, and from those to the ground was a pair of knee-high black stockings. A short, dark-green hair was up top, coming together with a rimless pair of glasses. The most outstanding feature in her figure would be… her boobs. They were huge, and I was damned sure that they would burst out of her dress at any moment.
The second figure was no one other than Orimura Chifuyu, homeroom teacher, age 27, Japan IS National Representative and the predecessor of Miss Yamada. The first and only holder of two consecutive Mondo Grosso Champion title. She was serious-like, with a black blazer, black knee-length skirt and white shirt. The long smooth black hair was tied into a ponytail behind her back. I would say that she was a bombshell in her own right, especially those slender legs (ones that wearing a pair of semi-transparent black stockings).
As Major would say, these two were definitely eye-candy. Even with strict discipline, I would not mind watching them every day. Assuming that I was not stuck in any "discussions" with the girls, of course.
But why did the girls look stunned and frozen in place? They did not even react when Chifuyu slammed down her attendance book on the table.
"Listen everyone, and listen closely. My name is Orimura Chifuyu, your homeroom teacher, this is Miss Yamada Maya, my deputy. In the next three years, we will turn you into functional and beneficial IS personnel for this world. So now, please go back to your seats so that the session can begin."
That was the cue for all hell to break loose.
"Chifuyu-sama! It's really Chifuyu-sama!"
"Please! Orimura-sama, I come all the way from New York to adore you!"
"Onee-sama, I will die for your sake!"
Fucking fangirls. They were the bane of my soul and the root of all problem. The last thing I wanted to have them forming a cult around their idol. Chifuyu would be sitting upon a golden throne then, with a black, high slit, sleeveless dress, and… Actually, I would stop thinking about that now, no point working up this early in the school year.
Up there, in front of the board, Chifuyu just grunted, though I had a hunch that I would be counter-productive:
"Seriously, did they put all the idiots in my class?"
And yeah, it got backfired. Completely backfired.
"ONEE-SAMA!"
"Please scold us more!"
"But be elegant while doing so!"
"And be gracious afterwards."
FUCK. YOU. ALL.
There should be something stopping them from reaching that low. I thought shit like that was only available within the context of anime and manga. The incessant screams and yells were completely out of the blue, and the whole situation was making me reconsidering my option. Last year, when my ability to control an IS suit was confirmed, Home gave me a choice: either become a lab rat or join the armed forces and enrol in the IS Academy. Now, five minutes into the first class, being a testing specimen had become tremendously more… beneficial. At least my sanity would not be damaged.
At least, with the teachers being in the class, the girls were able to calm down and get into the mood. Both Cecilia and I stepped down from our verbal spat. We might be hotheads, but we all knew that dragging teachers into our mess was something… unacceptable. Witnesses would show that the blond British girl was the first to throw the spat, and the teachers would remember that I was the one ready to escalate the whole situation. In short, both sides would be shafted, which was not really optimal. Therefore, we simply huffed and grunted at each other before sitting back down in our seats.
And now, I was made aware of the girls, or rather, my classmates. They had already switched from being worshipping Chifuyu to leering at the "good people", in this case, most of the girls were leering at Ichika, Chifuyu, and me. On the one hand, my ego was feeling glad that I was finally become attracted to the opposite sex. On the other hand, my self-preservation sense was getting alarmed at the part where those girls keep licking their lips while looking at me.
They were waiting for information, some juicy bit for gossips.
No doubt about that. So I had no choice but to grimaced when it was my turn:
"I'm Nguyen Quang Anh, surname Nguyen, given name Quang Anh. I'm from Vietnam, 17 years old. Currently, I'm a Junior Officer Cadet of the Vietnamese People's Army, Commando branch. I enjoy lazing around, listen to rock music and trying out my marksmanship. Please to be your acquaintances."
If Ichika got half of the class roused up (because he was the younger brother of the Chifu-fucking-yu), I got the whole class lit up with a glint in their eyes. After all, unlike Ichika, I got a handgun and an officer hat, and ladies loved that hat. The first to ask was a sleepy-looking girl, slim, petite and small. Her uniform was highly customized with both sleeves made way too long for someone at her size. In fact, the whole arms were covered in those sleeves.
"Yes, Miss Nohotoke?"
"Oh, Nguyen-kun, is it true that you were kidnapped yesterday?"
"Yes."
"… And?"
"And what?"
"Please tell us more!"
"So what do you want to know?"
"Who kidnapped you?"
"Classified."
"Why were you kidnapped?"
"Classified."
"How many kidnappers were there?"
"Classified."
Luckily, I knew the path of bullshitery. All I needed was to understand the questions literally and then give the answers with the barest details possible. Furthermore, the option "it is classified" was always a valid (and polite) way to say "I ain't a snitch.". Heck, they even asked me about my past, though I only confirmed that I was able to kill an IS pilot. Other than that, the precise details of how I did that were "classified". It ruffed their feathers, but hey, I needed to have some aces under my sleeve after all.
The girls were starting to catch the drift, with more than ten questions unanswered due to "classified matters". While I did not explicitly say it out loud, it was a given that military personnel like me took the secret as a very serious matter. The path was switched from the professional (namely, my history) to a more personal approach, namely…
"So… Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
It was a can of worm. No matter how I answered it, I would get shafted in the butt. So, I simply had to follow the path of the least resistance, and of the most benefits for me.
"At the moment, I don't. And to be honest, I really love to have someone to cuddle with."
Yeah, half of the girls in the class suddenly licked their lips and had their eyes lit up. I was not worried at all… Actually, I was. My posture was still straight, my voice was even and my face was neutral, but from the inside, I was really nervous. Using anime logic for real-life applications was… ill-advised at best. However, for a virgin with literally zero experience of flirting like me, using support from anime was still a better option than none at all. Considering I was not maimed or killed yet, things were looking quite well.
"Really? So what is your ideal girlfriend?"
Someone sane enough to keep me grounded, but also someone smart (and insane) enough to play around with me. It was not like I would say that out loud, besides, romance was never high on my list during the last 17 years of my life. Therefore… I just smirked:
"Classified."
That would earn me the attendance book slammed down on my head, courtesy of Chifuyu. Of course, "would" was the keyword, considering that I was able to grab the book and hold it before it connected with my skull.
"I would like to remark that this would be considered as physical assault, one that I'm allowed to retaliate in any way I see fit."
"I know, I just want to remind you that your time for self-introduction is over. If you keep standing there and smirking, those girls would jump your bone. All at once."
"And I'm confident that I can handle them all."
The whole class made an "ooh" sound… Though whether that was a good or bad reaction remained to be seen. Anyhow, I came back to my seat, which was in the middle of the class. The self-introduction session continued for a while longer, ending with the thirtieth member, a girl hailing from South Korea (and the sibling of an on-the-rise K-Pop star).
The next point on the topic was setting out the rules, including the general Academy's rules as well as special ones laid out by Chifuyu. There was nothing too surprising there, sure, it was a bit strict (Cecilia whined about being presence 10 minutes before the bell), but overall, it was cool for me. These girls had it easy, they had no idea about the punishment that the military had been doing…
Moping the yard under the rain. Filling up an oil barrel (nearly 160 litres) with a syringe bottle. Doing push-ups with no less than ten cigarettes being packed in one's mouth. Apologizing to "Comrade Pig" when I forgot to feed him (long story)… Good time.
So, listening to the loose regulations of the Academy, I just sat there smirking. Living here would be easy. Sure, there was no firing range here, but there were quite a few of simulation centres and arenas, which was even better because they allowed me to maintain my firearm skill in a "practical manner". I would have to jump through a few hoops and loops… but did the President of the Student Council say something about a "debt"?
It was underhanded, yes. But then, if it worked, it was good.
And then, it came the juicy part (for the girls, at least). "Class Representative". We had the same stuff back in Vietnam, though Class Reps there had less power and less work compared to Japan. Here, they had to do quite a lot, and it was before one remembered that this was the IS Academy.
"The Class Representative is a position of both responsibility and authority. This student would have to attend the monthly meeting of the Student Council, and they are in charge of planning their own class activities during school events. Furthermore, true to the name, or at least the English translation, this student also has to represent our class in the Inter-class tournament. In return, this student shall receive a small monthly stipend, free run on multiple Academy's facilities, as well as a reference for any future job or education."
The rewards were juicy, to be honest. Money was money, and it was always welcome. Free and easy access to the school facilities (and I was sure that it could help me to get past the red tapes) would give me the chance for even more IS training. The last, well, it was not that alluring to me. I would join the Military academy anyways, becoming a full-fledged Commando officer (or failing that, a staff officer). I would go full career with the VPA, and my current "job" as a Junior officer cadet was more than enough to put my name in without doing any test. Still, I would still be able to enrol in some prestigious universities if Vietnam had no more need of my martial skills (which was, seriously, my dream of peace).
"Now, I want some candidates. It does not matter if it's yourself or some other students. I know that it is sudden, but this student would assume the mantle temporarily. After one month, we would review to see if she, or he, is worthy enough of the job."
Fair enough. As in the terms and conditions Chifuyu put out were fair. The girls, on the other hand, were not. They went fully into the… wham mode.
"I nominate Ichika!"
"Seconded!"
"Third!"
"I call for Quang Anh!"
"Anh for Class Rep!"
"Good idea!"
"For the officer!"
"For the younger brother of onee-sama!"
And then, they just had to scream at each other for five minutes straight. I swore, they were getting on my nerve. If Home had not explicitly said that these bitches must be alive, they would be dead under my own hand already. It was getting really, really noisy.
It took more than a minute for the two teachers to calm down the girls, and then ten more to record the vote and tally the result. I voted for Ichika to be the Class Rep, and the sole reason for that was simple: I hated paperwork. The hellish bureaucracy yesterday was still fresh in my mind, and I was in no rush to repeat that again. I was a grunt, point me at something and I would blow it up. But filling in forms and doing paperwork? Nah-ah.
The rewards were fine and dandy, yes, but they were not enough to win me over. I still really loved my freedom, my napping time and my guns blazing. Being a Class Rep would cut into that time, a lot of time to be honest. So I tried to stay away from it as far as possible.
But like a cruel joke on the Vietnamese blood, heaven pushed what I hated into my lap:
"Mr Orimura has 5 votes, Ms Alcott has 2, and Mr Nguyen has 23. Congratulation Quang Anh, you are now the Class Representative of Class 1-1!"
Could I change from "congratulation" to a drink please? A chilled vodka, preferably. Probably not then… Still, I still had to answer, and I really did not want to take this job. Crap.
"Miss Yamada, I don't wa..."
"Be quiet, the one being nominated has no right to refuse, she, or he, must be prepared already."
The cold voice of Chifuyu quickly killed all of my hope to refuse the ordeal. Seriously, the last time I checked, Japan was a democratic country under a symbolic monarch… Right, I forget, "democracy" was a joke, and the Japanese society was still authoritarian. At least, I finally understood why some countries were still using a partially authoritarian system – they made sure that the only ones wanted to and had enough talent could hold the position.
"Well, I accepted the responsibility, as long as the objectives and rights are listed clearly. It was quite strange, but then the same could be said for field promotions."
And then, when the class was still surprised by my response, a shrieking voice was heard from the back of the class. I was not even sure if I should feel surprised there:
"What!? I refuse to accept this! Are you telling me that this male monkey will be my Class Representative for a full year? That is disgraceful and shameful! I am coming here to polish my IS skills, not to see and hear him playing around!"
I retracted my earlier statement. Now, I really wanted to be a Class Rep, just to spite this British bitch in the face. My anger flared up again, this girl had let the female supremacy getting to her head. A bit was alright, but this was too much, and as they said everything should be in moderation.
I was considering to persuade her peacefully, but then, Fate played a joke on me:
"Ladies, having a gook, a dink like him leading our class is the utmost shame for noblewomen like us! Do you really want a far-east sperm like him leading us?"
She was as good as dead meat now.
Chapter 6
- Location
- Netherlands
Updated on 18/2/2020
*********
Some people said that when they were completely mad, they would saw nothing but red. Some stories wrote that a man consumed by wrath would lose his temporary control. All of that was lies, of course. Beating the consciousness of man was no easy task, and anger was only able to dull the civilized sense, the chivalry code of honour, or the nice and mellow attitude. For a veteran and a trained Commando like me, such sentiment was a tool, not a crutch. The razor-sharp anger gave us purpose and desire, brought us to better focus and control, and it made us highly determined to see the job done.
Now, the boiling anger insides me was demanding her immediate death. However, the wrath inside me had other ideas, one that spelt "complete destruction". However, wrath was also accompanied by his friend sloth and caution. It was always better to give the enemy a chance to step back (so that I could kill the entire formation) than heading straight into the fire.
"Miss Alcott, I strongly advise you to retract that statement."
"Or what, monkey?"
She just had to say that, did she not?
I grimaced, slowly stood up and asked the two teachers. I did not even spare any effort to glance back at the British girl. For me, she was a dead bitch breathing.
"Miss Orimura, Miss Yamada, I would like to have the official confirmation and acknowledgement that Miss Alcott has just delivered a series of sexist and racist remarks."
"Confirmed. I'm about to reprimand her when you stepped in… And from the look of your face, I think I must do it now. My punishment would be extremely mercy compared to what you have in your mind, am I right?"
"Depending on your definition, I was just planning to throw her out of the window."
"Really?"
Of course not, but it paid to be a bit of humour.
"About a dozen times, or two. Preferably three."
"WHAT!?"
Ah, that would be my would-be victim. Time to play hardball now.
"Miss Alcott, I sincerely advise you this. Retract your statements and your remarks, and I won't look into them any further."
"Hah! Such a coward! Knowing nothing but begging. Get on your knees boy, and become my good little slave, and maybe I will consider your offer."
An image flashed in front of my mind, but it was not me in chain… No, it was her, Cecilia Alcott in a risqué maid outfit with the frilly black skirt barely cover her butt and the white shirt was almost transparent. The girl was also collared, chained, and was made kneeling in front of me. And her eyes were full of…
Lust. Goddammit. My lust, not the one I saw in dream-Cecilia's eyes.
Losing myself in lust here and now would be terrible. So my solution for this was simple, I focus on my anger and wrath. From a "figurative" standpoint, one could say that the persona of Wrath pulled out a shotgun and pumped Lust full of lead. Then Wrath poured gasoline over the dead body and enjoyed the BBQ. Sure, it would only mean to delay my Lust, but considering that it was what made up a part of me, delaying was more than sufficient.
"Huh, I guess we all have our kinks. I just prefer you being the one who kneels and being the pet in that sexual fantasy."
She may mean that figuratively, but I decided to interpret it in a literal sense. That would take a rise out of her (proven by an indignant yell of "Hey!"), and it played right in my book. An angry girl would have little chance to calm down and look at things critically, accidentally opening her up for me to exploit even it more. Sure, this was post-action rationalization (or, me finding an excuse for me doing stupid shit), but it was still beneficial for me, s… meh.
"But that asides, I'm serious, Miss Alcott. Retract your statement, this is your last chance."
"You are really a coward, aren't you?"
"No, no, you get it all wrong, Miss Alcott. I'm just lazy because there's a saying like this: a soldier is just either too lazy to kill you, or he would overkill you."
"What? You…"
"Yes, I want to kill you. I have already imagined and drawn up various ways to kill you. In fact, there are no less than five ways for me to do that, right here, right now. A pity that I have an explicit order not to do so."
Not quite, there was no such order. But then, making my country looked better was a part of my job and my duty. Again, it was a post-action rationalization. Oh, and I also lied about "more than five", I only had two ways to take her down immediately. However, the military tactics and doctrines were quite clear on this: one must constantly use deception to trick his own enemies.
Of course, this was just even more bull shit and blustering. I was not trained in the art of killing to a sufficient level (yet).
It was only now that I turned back, facing the blond British girl, and I let a cruel, bloodthirsty smile reaching my lips. A few girls at the back of the class suddenly recoiled back in horror and freight – they were the smart ones.
"And, well, Miss Alcott, the time is up, and you haven't retracted those statements. And I can safely say this, you have fucked it up, little girl."
Yeah, that was rich, I only reached her breast, but here, it was the aura that mattered. Well, aura and fire support, I had a shit ton of the later. The wrath inside me was giggling in anticipation.
"What do you mean? And why are you making a call?"
She was right to be surprised. Phones were banned during class time, but who in their right mind would say that to a highly pissed off soldier? Besides, the whole class looked like they were using my deeds and actions to shut Cecilia up, which suited me just fine.
Oh, and whom I called, you may ask? Well, instead of the "slightly overkill" of complaining to the UK Embassy in Japan, I went straight for the complete overkill mode. I dragged the VPA into this mess. As far as I knew, things were getting quieter back home, making many soldiers feel bored. Trust me, there was nothing more frightening than having a bored soldier. And who was a better man than my own instructor? Last I checked, he was grumbling about a lack of entertainment in his office.
"Yo, kid, m…"
"Major, sir, we are on a speaker, Yellow-level situation. Loud Mouth Bitch."
"… Do you have official confirmation?"
His tone changed quick, I had to give him that. He switched from a jolly man to a serious officer within a blink of an eye. Professionalism, one might say.
Behind me, Chifuyu spoke up:
"My name is Orimura Chifuyu, homeroom teacher of Class 1-1. I confirm and acknowledge that Miss Alcott has spoken multiple racist remarks."
And then, she repeated those, just for the record and bookkeeping. Heck, she was even able to mimic the tone and annotation quite well, and she did not even bother to censor the "bad words". I… had a bad feeling about that. On the one hand, it was the standard operating procedure. Both Major and I were professionals, so we were able to squash our anger at hearing those remarks again. On the other hand… this was the Major, he was my trainer, and he was extremely proficient at direct force application. It was a special mission requiring aggressiveness and balls.
"So, has Miss Alcott apologized for those remarks yet?"
This was bad. Major was quite jovial, care-free because not many people could be safe when he actually got serious. Now, he was getting serious. His tone was completely business-like with no place for emotion or friendliness. I only heard him using tone like that a few times, and only once with my own ears and own eyes. It was… quite troublesome to clean-up afterwards.
Upon hearing the "no" from Chifuyu, Major took a deep breath… and then, orders started flowing out:
"Cadet, you are not allowed to physically assault her under any circumstances, unless it is for sanctioned training under the Academy's rules or for self-defence."
"But sir…"
"Do you copy, cadet?"
I was not happy, to say the least. I really expected him changing the order so that I could deck that bitch. So, this was quite a surprise for me, it went against what I had been dreaming for… I protested, and well, I was cockblocked by my own commander. Within any military, orders were absolute.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now to the second order, the Chinese Cadet representative will enrol next week. What is your hypothesis on that?"
"Upon hearing the racist remarks, the Chinese girl will definitely plunder this British lass, in the most brutal way possible. Actually, scratch the last word, it should be humanly impossible."
"I concur, and this is your second order: you must stop the Chinese girl from killing the British."
What. The. Fuck?
This bitch just insulted our Motherland, and now my order was to protect her? What kind of literal bullshit was that? Since when we Vietnamese had to swallow such shame like that?
"Cadet, we are professional. Let the world see us as someone prefer peace over violence, we have a few bloodthirsty killers already. Besides, this is politics. We are not powerful enough to fuck the international rules, and we have already used up the quota of adventuring in foreign countries of this year already. Do you understand?"
"… Yes, sir. I will do my best to prevent the Chinese Cadet representative from killing the British one."
I was not happy with that order. In fact, I would be glad to disobey it. Cecilia had insulted and disrespected everything I held dear, and she must pay for that with her own life. Whether she died under my hand or someone else's was immaterial. Hell, if I could have someone do that, it would be the absolute best. It was not my hands that got dirty, after all.
Still, orders were orders, and I would follow them to the tee. I had not earned the right to disobey any order yet. Only the absolute best had such right, and even then, they had to use it sparingly.
"Good. Now, as I have said, it is all politics…"
Something was up. I just had that feeling. Then, I felt it, Major was smiling – a smile of a shark smelling blood in the water.
The remaining of the phone conversation only lasted for a few minutes. However, it was more than enough to have every knicker in a twist. Cecilia looked like she almost fainted on the spot, which, to be honest, was precisely what we had been aiming for. Colours had drained from her face, her knees were wobbling and she was breathing heavily.
Vengeance was nothing but sweet.
First off, Vietnam would start considering all active trade treaty with the UK. While the trade level between the two countries was not enough to "break" the UK, a lack of fruit and other food would be more than enough to inconvenient the general population. Furthermore, rice was being used as the staple food for the poor in the UK, without imported Vietnamese rice, there would be… issues. Then, we also had some electronic products, some car parts, some aeroplane parts, and there were even a few ships we were building for the UK. All of them would be on the table, ready to be stopped dead in our port. Oh, and the UK would have to pay for the fee.
Sure, all of those would be more like some inconvenience… until the Major mentioned that we Vietnamese had a lot of credits in the world of diplomacy. The entire Asian continent would have words of the racist remarks by nightfall, and, well, that would be some serious shit going on. China would stop giving electronic and consumer items, India would refuse to sell tea leaves and clothes, Korea would stop their scientific and cultural co-operation, Singapore might actually carry out their threat of raising the docking fee…
In combination, the threat implied could break the UK economically. Hell, it could make the whole Brexit ordeal looked like a walk in the park. Speaking of Brexit, did the UK barely recover from that clusterfuck a few years back? Their economy was pretty much fragile, one push and it would go straight to the flush.
In short, Major had explicitly spoken on how to break an Empire in a calm, professional and analytic tone. It was as if he knew precisely what to do. The whole talk would be highly awe-inspiring if the real-life implication was not that dire. Every country was just waiting for a chance to pounce on the UK, making Brexit nothing more than a breeze.
"Wh… What are you doing? You can break my country by doing so!"
"Then who is a racist and a sexist in the first place?"
Cecilia was, again, the one breaking the silence of the class. And again, I gave her no fuck. My thirst for vengeance had been fairly sated. Wrath was still in awed, and the remaining of my dark side felt no reason to press the issue further. Other than Lust (which was nothing more than my raging hormones), but no one cared about that.
"Thousands of people might starve to death! Do you have no heart?"
"News flash little girl: thousands die every day. And besides, who trigger that? Remember, everything you do has a price. The question remains, whether do you accept the responsibility."
She broke down… then glared at me.
"Yes, I accept the responsibility. I will become the Class Rep of Class 1-1, and then I will amend this own mistake with my deeds and skills."
To be honest, I did not expect this. But seriously, was she high? She had just shown herself as a racist and a sexist – and her homeland was about to be shafted for that. I had little knowledge in trades, finance and stuff like that, but I still knew that pissing off the entire Asian continent could do wonders to the struggling UK economy. Major did not give me a firm number, but that was already out of his comfort zone (and we suspect that the total loss could be in the billions of pound range).
Anyhow, the point stood: she was a racist and sexist bitch, yet she had not even apologized for that and still pressed on for the Class Rep position. I had changed my mind, she was not a pompous princess bitch, she was just a child throwing tantrum. Overwhelming and dangerous tantrums, yes, but tantrum nonetheless.
"So, other than Miss Alcott here, is there anyone challenging the Class Rep-elect Nguyen Quang Anh?"
Blyat cyka.
What the heck was that Chifuyu? Which side was you on? This blond British girl here was just yelling for attention. What people should do was to ignore her, not to add fuel into the fire. Anger flared again in my gut, and I glared at my two teachers. The glare of someone who had killed was starkly different from a normal person. Maya, the diminutive green hair teacher, let out a small yell and then shrank back. However, Chifuyu, the main target, just took my hatred glare head-on.
"I'm on no one's side but my own. Besides, there are two separate matters here, it would be highly unprofessional of you to mix them together."
You were correct, Chifuyu, but it was more beneficial for me to do so. Besides, it was called politics, especially evident in countries where the voting season was considered as "entertainment". That was how a black American rapper had become the current US President. At least he was sane enough not to rattle any sabre.
I held my gaze on the black hair teacher for a while. It was purely a steel versed steel fight. It was… interesting. Either she was a good poker player, or she was more than who she seemed to be. Coming from a confirmed killer, it was something to take notice. I clicked my tongue, conceding this round, there was no benefit in showing all my skills here. Besides, picking a fight with the best IS pilot of the world would be… hazardous to my health.
I would have a little problem (probably) taking her down in a conventional and non-IS fight, but there was no guarantee that she was not wearing any IS item at the moment. The risk was too high, even with the raised bar of SpecOps. Therefore, I would just bite down my anger and play by the rule. She had not shown any hostility against myself of my homeland, and for that, she would live a few days longer.
Noting my "surrender", Chifuyu gave an almost invisible nod, then continued:
"On the one hand, Miss Alcott had made a blunder in speaking racist and sexist remarks, making her invalid from the diplomatic spectrum of the job. On the other hand, she was the only verified Cadet Representative in our class, fit for IS-duty of the Class Rep position. Therefore, I propose a duel… and Mr Nguyen, I mean an IS duel."
She got me there. I was considering a deliberate misinterpretation of the word "duel". Instead of using the IS suits, we would use nothing but what was available to us right here and right now. This meant that I got a distinct advantage in beating the shit out of her… With the duel being an IS duel, well, I lost that advantage. The odd would be even, somewhat.
Well, I had faced worse odds.
"Fine enough. I agree with the idea of an IS duel. Bitch, what's your idea?"
"My name is not Bitch, it's…"
"Until you apologize, I will call you by whatever insulting term I have in mind, Cunt."
Call me cheapskate, but with the IS duel coming up, I needed whatever advantage I could have. The first angle of attack was via psychology, PSYOP, one might say. Breaking and destroying her morale would help to decrease her combat efficiency. Preferably, it would force her to concede before the fight even began. Pipe dream, sure, but it worth a shot. Besides, I still wanted to kick her, pissing off from her racist remarks and the like. Considering her flustering, my plan was working quite well.
"So, Pussy, do you have any objection to the proposing idea of the IS duel?"
"No. But…"
"Good. Second question: how much of a handicap do you want?"
"Already cheat for an easy win? Fair enough, I…"
"You are getting it wrong, Harlot, I'm asking you how much handicap I should give to myself."
That… take a gasp out of every single girl within the class. They had a point: she was a Class Rep, I was just a "normal" IS cadet (albeit one being male). She had a few years of intensive training, with up to a few hundred hours of flight time. In comparison, the net flight time of a student in the Academy over three years was just barely 100 hours. Such an advantage was undeniable… but then, I had a few tricks upon my sleeve too. After all, I was the only confirmed IS-killer on the planet.
"Are you insane?"
"I consider jumping out of a perfectly good aeroplane with nothing but a piece of cloth as a good way of entertainment. For serious business, I was always fighting while being outnumbered and outgunned, where a single misstep can kill me. So… yeah, I'm a bit insane."
The two of us stared into each other for a few more seconds, and then, she blinked first.
"Fine, if you are so inclined to failure, then show up with full ability, I will not hold back."
"Good to know that, Harlot. So, Miss Orimura, do you have a time and a place yet?"
"Next Monday afternoon, after school?"
I made a quick mental checklist. I had no pressing duty at that time – in fact, I had no plan at all. It would cut into my napping and reading time, but nothing I could not handle. Luckily, the blondie was the same, which meant our rumble was confirmed. One week from now, we would have our showdown. The winner would be the Class Representative of Class 1-1.
Whatever happened, I still won. The blond British had already lost her "moral" high ground, and she was desperate for some victories to save face. I was not sure if that could save her reputation back home. The end game here was to teach her a lesson, and the proposed retaliation from multiple Asian countries was more than enough for that. If I beat her in the duel, it would just make the lesson being more personal. Furthermore, I had no desire to be a Class Rep in the first place, so even if I lost, I simply had more free time.
"Good, do both of you have your own IS suits yet, or should I book one for you each?"
I hated the stock IS suit of the Academy. The Uchigane Mk.II-d, it was a cumbersome suit, focusing more on armour and shield rather than mobility or adaptability. For the fans of the sword, it was fine. But for gun-nuts and people who needed flexibility like me, it was a shit show. Luckily, I had an answer for that.
As usual, the blondie was the first to speak up while showing her earrings:
"Yes, ma'am, this is my Blue Tears."
Each earring was a blue crystal with a golden hook. Simple, elegant and quite efficient. Using the standard hyperspace arsenal, such common-looking item was able to hide a tactical WMD in plain sight. Not that I complain, obviously… I zoomed in on her earrings again. The left one held her physical suit, while the right one contained the weaponry. I briefly wondered what happened if I could shoot her ears down before the fight. It would not be clean, that for sure.
When it was my turn, I simply raised my left hand, pointing at my watch. Using the same mathematical principle, I stored my suit in there, along with its entire arsenal. My suit Dragoon was not as modern as Blue Tears, but it was no less dangerous thanks to a modular system and structure. Furthermore, it could use practically all kind of weaponry, giving it unparalleled flexibility.
"Oh… so you also have your own IS suit! Good… An experimental model, I presume?"
Normally, I had no reason to answer her. Confidential matter and all that jazz, besides, there was no reason to surrendering intel to the enemy (unless when I wanted to trick them). However, I saw the potential to press on PSYOP even more. After all, this info would come out eventually, and by spending more than 10 minutes on the internet, people could always come to a conclusion that fairly closed to the truth…
"No, it's a heavily modified, Russian mass-manufactured Ratnik. Gen two-point-five, you might say."
"Are you serious then? I thought you have a third-gen, you want to give yourself handicaps after all. Now, with just a Gen 2.5, you have proven the current worldwide situation again: men are no longer stronger than women."
Physically, and on average, men were still stronger than women. Still, I had to admit, IS suits was one hell of an equalizer… Until some (dominantly male) scientists and engineers got into work.
"If we went to war against you male, it would not be even five days when you surrender!"
Last year, the famous and most-used number was three. Guess that some netizen still had the meaty part called "brain". Sure, it was some brain cells, but still better than none at all. That would be a normal boy thinking.
But a "boy" in military business would have a different reaction. He just laughed. Because let's be honest, it was hilarious as shit.
"My gosh, five days? Harlot, you have no idea. Yes, it was five days, but the world will see the neutralization, if not complete destruction, of the IS force."
"Wha… What? There is no weapon could defeat the IS suit!"
"You are correct, but that is purely a 1 vs 1 fight, and there is no such fair fight in a war. A fair fight is a fight you would be dead by dusk."
"You… you cheating bastard!"
"I will be a military officer, fighting dirty is expected from me. Oh, and if you want hard proof, I suggest you search for Operation Archer I, launched by the British armed force two years after the White Knight Incident. It was the first investigation on a hypothetical fight between the IS force and conventional military force. One the one side, there were three first-gen IS suits armed with Tabane-pattern core and fifty first-gen with mass production core. On the other side, it was the entire British armed forces, sans the WMDs, being caught off-guard. After two days, 50% of the British was neutralized, mission-killed, wounded/damaged, or dead."
"See! It was just for two days! And…"
"I was not finished, Tramp! Yes, the British lost 50% of their men, but I should remark and emphasis that 10% actually happened within the first minute, considering that they were caught off-guard. However, after two days, they were still able to claim victory – with a total count of 30 mission-kills on the MPs, 15 MPs destroyed and the last five captured. The three true IS pilot was checkmated, they suffered little injury, but they could not fight anymore, having their fuel and ammunition ran out. So, yeah, you could say that after two days, the conventional British armed forces were able to DESTROY their hypothetical treacherous IS corp."
"It… it proved nothing!"
"Other countries say otherwise. These names are on the public domain, so I suggest you check them out. Sure, a good chunk of that was redacted, but the remaining was quite a read. Operation Archer II and III from the UK, Operation Independence and Liberation and Operation Flagstaff from the USA, Operation Red Lotus from China, Operation White Moon and Operation Blue Dragon from South Korea. The list goes on and on, but there is a common trend: over the year, the odd for the military force to defeat the IS corps has been rising significantly. I believe that a certain scenario in Operation Flagstaff brought the military a complete victory with no loss on their own."
"How…?"
Oh, little girl, you were asking the right question now. Getting out of my seat, I calmly walked to her place… and then, as quickly as possible, I raised my hand and stopped it at the very last moment. It had already formed into a blade and now, it was resting on the British's neck. There was a very small gap between my hand and her neck, of course. The order from Major still stood: I was not allowed to physically harm her.
"By removing them from the equation from the very first second."
Her yell of freight and fear was music to my ears. Hmmh, I thought I had to reconsider the whole schmuck here. Maybe it was not too bad after all.
*********
Some people said that when they were completely mad, they would saw nothing but red. Some stories wrote that a man consumed by wrath would lose his temporary control. All of that was lies, of course. Beating the consciousness of man was no easy task, and anger was only able to dull the civilized sense, the chivalry code of honour, or the nice and mellow attitude. For a veteran and a trained Commando like me, such sentiment was a tool, not a crutch. The razor-sharp anger gave us purpose and desire, brought us to better focus and control, and it made us highly determined to see the job done.
Now, the boiling anger insides me was demanding her immediate death. However, the wrath inside me had other ideas, one that spelt "complete destruction". However, wrath was also accompanied by his friend sloth and caution. It was always better to give the enemy a chance to step back (so that I could kill the entire formation) than heading straight into the fire.
"Miss Alcott, I strongly advise you to retract that statement."
"Or what, monkey?"
She just had to say that, did she not?
I grimaced, slowly stood up and asked the two teachers. I did not even spare any effort to glance back at the British girl. For me, she was a dead bitch breathing.
"Miss Orimura, Miss Yamada, I would like to have the official confirmation and acknowledgement that Miss Alcott has just delivered a series of sexist and racist remarks."
"Confirmed. I'm about to reprimand her when you stepped in… And from the look of your face, I think I must do it now. My punishment would be extremely mercy compared to what you have in your mind, am I right?"
"Depending on your definition, I was just planning to throw her out of the window."
"Really?"
Of course not, but it paid to be a bit of humour.
"About a dozen times, or two. Preferably three."
"WHAT!?"
Ah, that would be my would-be victim. Time to play hardball now.
"Miss Alcott, I sincerely advise you this. Retract your statements and your remarks, and I won't look into them any further."
"Hah! Such a coward! Knowing nothing but begging. Get on your knees boy, and become my good little slave, and maybe I will consider your offer."
An image flashed in front of my mind, but it was not me in chain… No, it was her, Cecilia Alcott in a risqué maid outfit with the frilly black skirt barely cover her butt and the white shirt was almost transparent. The girl was also collared, chained, and was made kneeling in front of me. And her eyes were full of…
Lust. Goddammit. My lust, not the one I saw in dream-Cecilia's eyes.
Losing myself in lust here and now would be terrible. So my solution for this was simple, I focus on my anger and wrath. From a "figurative" standpoint, one could say that the persona of Wrath pulled out a shotgun and pumped Lust full of lead. Then Wrath poured gasoline over the dead body and enjoyed the BBQ. Sure, it would only mean to delay my Lust, but considering that it was what made up a part of me, delaying was more than sufficient.
"Huh, I guess we all have our kinks. I just prefer you being the one who kneels and being the pet in that sexual fantasy."
She may mean that figuratively, but I decided to interpret it in a literal sense. That would take a rise out of her (proven by an indignant yell of "Hey!"), and it played right in my book. An angry girl would have little chance to calm down and look at things critically, accidentally opening her up for me to exploit even it more. Sure, this was post-action rationalization (or, me finding an excuse for me doing stupid shit), but it was still beneficial for me, s… meh.
"But that asides, I'm serious, Miss Alcott. Retract your statement, this is your last chance."
"You are really a coward, aren't you?"
"No, no, you get it all wrong, Miss Alcott. I'm just lazy because there's a saying like this: a soldier is just either too lazy to kill you, or he would overkill you."
"What? You…"
"Yes, I want to kill you. I have already imagined and drawn up various ways to kill you. In fact, there are no less than five ways for me to do that, right here, right now. A pity that I have an explicit order not to do so."
Not quite, there was no such order. But then, making my country looked better was a part of my job and my duty. Again, it was a post-action rationalization. Oh, and I also lied about "more than five", I only had two ways to take her down immediately. However, the military tactics and doctrines were quite clear on this: one must constantly use deception to trick his own enemies.
Of course, this was just even more bull shit and blustering. I was not trained in the art of killing to a sufficient level (yet).
It was only now that I turned back, facing the blond British girl, and I let a cruel, bloodthirsty smile reaching my lips. A few girls at the back of the class suddenly recoiled back in horror and freight – they were the smart ones.
"And, well, Miss Alcott, the time is up, and you haven't retracted those statements. And I can safely say this, you have fucked it up, little girl."
Yeah, that was rich, I only reached her breast, but here, it was the aura that mattered. Well, aura and fire support, I had a shit ton of the later. The wrath inside me was giggling in anticipation.
"What do you mean? And why are you making a call?"
She was right to be surprised. Phones were banned during class time, but who in their right mind would say that to a highly pissed off soldier? Besides, the whole class looked like they were using my deeds and actions to shut Cecilia up, which suited me just fine.
Oh, and whom I called, you may ask? Well, instead of the "slightly overkill" of complaining to the UK Embassy in Japan, I went straight for the complete overkill mode. I dragged the VPA into this mess. As far as I knew, things were getting quieter back home, making many soldiers feel bored. Trust me, there was nothing more frightening than having a bored soldier. And who was a better man than my own instructor? Last I checked, he was grumbling about a lack of entertainment in his office.
"Yo, kid, m…"
"Major, sir, we are on a speaker, Yellow-level situation. Loud Mouth Bitch."
"… Do you have official confirmation?"
His tone changed quick, I had to give him that. He switched from a jolly man to a serious officer within a blink of an eye. Professionalism, one might say.
Behind me, Chifuyu spoke up:
"My name is Orimura Chifuyu, homeroom teacher of Class 1-1. I confirm and acknowledge that Miss Alcott has spoken multiple racist remarks."
And then, she repeated those, just for the record and bookkeeping. Heck, she was even able to mimic the tone and annotation quite well, and she did not even bother to censor the "bad words". I… had a bad feeling about that. On the one hand, it was the standard operating procedure. Both Major and I were professionals, so we were able to squash our anger at hearing those remarks again. On the other hand… this was the Major, he was my trainer, and he was extremely proficient at direct force application. It was a special mission requiring aggressiveness and balls.
"So, has Miss Alcott apologized for those remarks yet?"
This was bad. Major was quite jovial, care-free because not many people could be safe when he actually got serious. Now, he was getting serious. His tone was completely business-like with no place for emotion or friendliness. I only heard him using tone like that a few times, and only once with my own ears and own eyes. It was… quite troublesome to clean-up afterwards.
Upon hearing the "no" from Chifuyu, Major took a deep breath… and then, orders started flowing out:
"Cadet, you are not allowed to physically assault her under any circumstances, unless it is for sanctioned training under the Academy's rules or for self-defence."
"But sir…"
"Do you copy, cadet?"
I was not happy, to say the least. I really expected him changing the order so that I could deck that bitch. So, this was quite a surprise for me, it went against what I had been dreaming for… I protested, and well, I was cockblocked by my own commander. Within any military, orders were absolute.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now to the second order, the Chinese Cadet representative will enrol next week. What is your hypothesis on that?"
"Upon hearing the racist remarks, the Chinese girl will definitely plunder this British lass, in the most brutal way possible. Actually, scratch the last word, it should be humanly impossible."
"I concur, and this is your second order: you must stop the Chinese girl from killing the British."
What. The. Fuck?
This bitch just insulted our Motherland, and now my order was to protect her? What kind of literal bullshit was that? Since when we Vietnamese had to swallow such shame like that?
"Cadet, we are professional. Let the world see us as someone prefer peace over violence, we have a few bloodthirsty killers already. Besides, this is politics. We are not powerful enough to fuck the international rules, and we have already used up the quota of adventuring in foreign countries of this year already. Do you understand?"
"… Yes, sir. I will do my best to prevent the Chinese Cadet representative from killing the British one."
I was not happy with that order. In fact, I would be glad to disobey it. Cecilia had insulted and disrespected everything I held dear, and she must pay for that with her own life. Whether she died under my hand or someone else's was immaterial. Hell, if I could have someone do that, it would be the absolute best. It was not my hands that got dirty, after all.
Still, orders were orders, and I would follow them to the tee. I had not earned the right to disobey any order yet. Only the absolute best had such right, and even then, they had to use it sparingly.
"Good. Now, as I have said, it is all politics…"
Something was up. I just had that feeling. Then, I felt it, Major was smiling – a smile of a shark smelling blood in the water.
The remaining of the phone conversation only lasted for a few minutes. However, it was more than enough to have every knicker in a twist. Cecilia looked like she almost fainted on the spot, which, to be honest, was precisely what we had been aiming for. Colours had drained from her face, her knees were wobbling and she was breathing heavily.
Vengeance was nothing but sweet.
First off, Vietnam would start considering all active trade treaty with the UK. While the trade level between the two countries was not enough to "break" the UK, a lack of fruit and other food would be more than enough to inconvenient the general population. Furthermore, rice was being used as the staple food for the poor in the UK, without imported Vietnamese rice, there would be… issues. Then, we also had some electronic products, some car parts, some aeroplane parts, and there were even a few ships we were building for the UK. All of them would be on the table, ready to be stopped dead in our port. Oh, and the UK would have to pay for the fee.
Sure, all of those would be more like some inconvenience… until the Major mentioned that we Vietnamese had a lot of credits in the world of diplomacy. The entire Asian continent would have words of the racist remarks by nightfall, and, well, that would be some serious shit going on. China would stop giving electronic and consumer items, India would refuse to sell tea leaves and clothes, Korea would stop their scientific and cultural co-operation, Singapore might actually carry out their threat of raising the docking fee…
In combination, the threat implied could break the UK economically. Hell, it could make the whole Brexit ordeal looked like a walk in the park. Speaking of Brexit, did the UK barely recover from that clusterfuck a few years back? Their economy was pretty much fragile, one push and it would go straight to the flush.
In short, Major had explicitly spoken on how to break an Empire in a calm, professional and analytic tone. It was as if he knew precisely what to do. The whole talk would be highly awe-inspiring if the real-life implication was not that dire. Every country was just waiting for a chance to pounce on the UK, making Brexit nothing more than a breeze.
"Wh… What are you doing? You can break my country by doing so!"
"Then who is a racist and a sexist in the first place?"
Cecilia was, again, the one breaking the silence of the class. And again, I gave her no fuck. My thirst for vengeance had been fairly sated. Wrath was still in awed, and the remaining of my dark side felt no reason to press the issue further. Other than Lust (which was nothing more than my raging hormones), but no one cared about that.
"Thousands of people might starve to death! Do you have no heart?"
"News flash little girl: thousands die every day. And besides, who trigger that? Remember, everything you do has a price. The question remains, whether do you accept the responsibility."
She broke down… then glared at me.
"Yes, I accept the responsibility. I will become the Class Rep of Class 1-1, and then I will amend this own mistake with my deeds and skills."
To be honest, I did not expect this. But seriously, was she high? She had just shown herself as a racist and a sexist – and her homeland was about to be shafted for that. I had little knowledge in trades, finance and stuff like that, but I still knew that pissing off the entire Asian continent could do wonders to the struggling UK economy. Major did not give me a firm number, but that was already out of his comfort zone (and we suspect that the total loss could be in the billions of pound range).
Anyhow, the point stood: she was a racist and sexist bitch, yet she had not even apologized for that and still pressed on for the Class Rep position. I had changed my mind, she was not a pompous princess bitch, she was just a child throwing tantrum. Overwhelming and dangerous tantrums, yes, but tantrum nonetheless.
"So, other than Miss Alcott here, is there anyone challenging the Class Rep-elect Nguyen Quang Anh?"
Blyat cyka.
What the heck was that Chifuyu? Which side was you on? This blond British girl here was just yelling for attention. What people should do was to ignore her, not to add fuel into the fire. Anger flared again in my gut, and I glared at my two teachers. The glare of someone who had killed was starkly different from a normal person. Maya, the diminutive green hair teacher, let out a small yell and then shrank back. However, Chifuyu, the main target, just took my hatred glare head-on.
"I'm on no one's side but my own. Besides, there are two separate matters here, it would be highly unprofessional of you to mix them together."
You were correct, Chifuyu, but it was more beneficial for me to do so. Besides, it was called politics, especially evident in countries where the voting season was considered as "entertainment". That was how a black American rapper had become the current US President. At least he was sane enough not to rattle any sabre.
I held my gaze on the black hair teacher for a while. It was purely a steel versed steel fight. It was… interesting. Either she was a good poker player, or she was more than who she seemed to be. Coming from a confirmed killer, it was something to take notice. I clicked my tongue, conceding this round, there was no benefit in showing all my skills here. Besides, picking a fight with the best IS pilot of the world would be… hazardous to my health.
I would have a little problem (probably) taking her down in a conventional and non-IS fight, but there was no guarantee that she was not wearing any IS item at the moment. The risk was too high, even with the raised bar of SpecOps. Therefore, I would just bite down my anger and play by the rule. She had not shown any hostility against myself of my homeland, and for that, she would live a few days longer.
Noting my "surrender", Chifuyu gave an almost invisible nod, then continued:
"On the one hand, Miss Alcott had made a blunder in speaking racist and sexist remarks, making her invalid from the diplomatic spectrum of the job. On the other hand, she was the only verified Cadet Representative in our class, fit for IS-duty of the Class Rep position. Therefore, I propose a duel… and Mr Nguyen, I mean an IS duel."
She got me there. I was considering a deliberate misinterpretation of the word "duel". Instead of using the IS suits, we would use nothing but what was available to us right here and right now. This meant that I got a distinct advantage in beating the shit out of her… With the duel being an IS duel, well, I lost that advantage. The odd would be even, somewhat.
Well, I had faced worse odds.
"Fine enough. I agree with the idea of an IS duel. Bitch, what's your idea?"
"My name is not Bitch, it's…"
"Until you apologize, I will call you by whatever insulting term I have in mind, Cunt."
Call me cheapskate, but with the IS duel coming up, I needed whatever advantage I could have. The first angle of attack was via psychology, PSYOP, one might say. Breaking and destroying her morale would help to decrease her combat efficiency. Preferably, it would force her to concede before the fight even began. Pipe dream, sure, but it worth a shot. Besides, I still wanted to kick her, pissing off from her racist remarks and the like. Considering her flustering, my plan was working quite well.
"So, Pussy, do you have any objection to the proposing idea of the IS duel?"
"No. But…"
"Good. Second question: how much of a handicap do you want?"
"Already cheat for an easy win? Fair enough, I…"
"You are getting it wrong, Harlot, I'm asking you how much handicap I should give to myself."
That… take a gasp out of every single girl within the class. They had a point: she was a Class Rep, I was just a "normal" IS cadet (albeit one being male). She had a few years of intensive training, with up to a few hundred hours of flight time. In comparison, the net flight time of a student in the Academy over three years was just barely 100 hours. Such an advantage was undeniable… but then, I had a few tricks upon my sleeve too. After all, I was the only confirmed IS-killer on the planet.
"Are you insane?"
"I consider jumping out of a perfectly good aeroplane with nothing but a piece of cloth as a good way of entertainment. For serious business, I was always fighting while being outnumbered and outgunned, where a single misstep can kill me. So… yeah, I'm a bit insane."
The two of us stared into each other for a few more seconds, and then, she blinked first.
"Fine, if you are so inclined to failure, then show up with full ability, I will not hold back."
"Good to know that, Harlot. So, Miss Orimura, do you have a time and a place yet?"
"Next Monday afternoon, after school?"
I made a quick mental checklist. I had no pressing duty at that time – in fact, I had no plan at all. It would cut into my napping and reading time, but nothing I could not handle. Luckily, the blondie was the same, which meant our rumble was confirmed. One week from now, we would have our showdown. The winner would be the Class Representative of Class 1-1.
Whatever happened, I still won. The blond British had already lost her "moral" high ground, and she was desperate for some victories to save face. I was not sure if that could save her reputation back home. The end game here was to teach her a lesson, and the proposed retaliation from multiple Asian countries was more than enough for that. If I beat her in the duel, it would just make the lesson being more personal. Furthermore, I had no desire to be a Class Rep in the first place, so even if I lost, I simply had more free time.
"Good, do both of you have your own IS suits yet, or should I book one for you each?"
I hated the stock IS suit of the Academy. The Uchigane Mk.II-d, it was a cumbersome suit, focusing more on armour and shield rather than mobility or adaptability. For the fans of the sword, it was fine. But for gun-nuts and people who needed flexibility like me, it was a shit show. Luckily, I had an answer for that.
As usual, the blondie was the first to speak up while showing her earrings:
"Yes, ma'am, this is my Blue Tears."
Each earring was a blue crystal with a golden hook. Simple, elegant and quite efficient. Using the standard hyperspace arsenal, such common-looking item was able to hide a tactical WMD in plain sight. Not that I complain, obviously… I zoomed in on her earrings again. The left one held her physical suit, while the right one contained the weaponry. I briefly wondered what happened if I could shoot her ears down before the fight. It would not be clean, that for sure.
When it was my turn, I simply raised my left hand, pointing at my watch. Using the same mathematical principle, I stored my suit in there, along with its entire arsenal. My suit Dragoon was not as modern as Blue Tears, but it was no less dangerous thanks to a modular system and structure. Furthermore, it could use practically all kind of weaponry, giving it unparalleled flexibility.
"Oh… so you also have your own IS suit! Good… An experimental model, I presume?"
Normally, I had no reason to answer her. Confidential matter and all that jazz, besides, there was no reason to surrendering intel to the enemy (unless when I wanted to trick them). However, I saw the potential to press on PSYOP even more. After all, this info would come out eventually, and by spending more than 10 minutes on the internet, people could always come to a conclusion that fairly closed to the truth…
"No, it's a heavily modified, Russian mass-manufactured Ratnik. Gen two-point-five, you might say."
"Are you serious then? I thought you have a third-gen, you want to give yourself handicaps after all. Now, with just a Gen 2.5, you have proven the current worldwide situation again: men are no longer stronger than women."
Physically, and on average, men were still stronger than women. Still, I had to admit, IS suits was one hell of an equalizer… Until some (dominantly male) scientists and engineers got into work.
"If we went to war against you male, it would not be even five days when you surrender!"
Last year, the famous and most-used number was three. Guess that some netizen still had the meaty part called "brain". Sure, it was some brain cells, but still better than none at all. That would be a normal boy thinking.
But a "boy" in military business would have a different reaction. He just laughed. Because let's be honest, it was hilarious as shit.
"My gosh, five days? Harlot, you have no idea. Yes, it was five days, but the world will see the neutralization, if not complete destruction, of the IS force."
"Wha… What? There is no weapon could defeat the IS suit!"
"You are correct, but that is purely a 1 vs 1 fight, and there is no such fair fight in a war. A fair fight is a fight you would be dead by dusk."
"You… you cheating bastard!"
"I will be a military officer, fighting dirty is expected from me. Oh, and if you want hard proof, I suggest you search for Operation Archer I, launched by the British armed force two years after the White Knight Incident. It was the first investigation on a hypothetical fight between the IS force and conventional military force. One the one side, there were three first-gen IS suits armed with Tabane-pattern core and fifty first-gen with mass production core. On the other side, it was the entire British armed forces, sans the WMDs, being caught off-guard. After two days, 50% of the British was neutralized, mission-killed, wounded/damaged, or dead."
"See! It was just for two days! And…"
"I was not finished, Tramp! Yes, the British lost 50% of their men, but I should remark and emphasis that 10% actually happened within the first minute, considering that they were caught off-guard. However, after two days, they were still able to claim victory – with a total count of 30 mission-kills on the MPs, 15 MPs destroyed and the last five captured. The three true IS pilot was checkmated, they suffered little injury, but they could not fight anymore, having their fuel and ammunition ran out. So, yeah, you could say that after two days, the conventional British armed forces were able to DESTROY their hypothetical treacherous IS corp."
"It… it proved nothing!"
"Other countries say otherwise. These names are on the public domain, so I suggest you check them out. Sure, a good chunk of that was redacted, but the remaining was quite a read. Operation Archer II and III from the UK, Operation Independence and Liberation and Operation Flagstaff from the USA, Operation Red Lotus from China, Operation White Moon and Operation Blue Dragon from South Korea. The list goes on and on, but there is a common trend: over the year, the odd for the military force to defeat the IS corps has been rising significantly. I believe that a certain scenario in Operation Flagstaff brought the military a complete victory with no loss on their own."
"How…?"
Oh, little girl, you were asking the right question now. Getting out of my seat, I calmly walked to her place… and then, as quickly as possible, I raised my hand and stopped it at the very last moment. It had already formed into a blade and now, it was resting on the British's neck. There was a very small gap between my hand and her neck, of course. The order from Major still stood: I was not allowed to physically harm her.
"By removing them from the equation from the very first second."
Her yell of freight and fear was music to my ears. Hmmh, I thought I had to reconsider the whole schmuck here. Maybe it was not too bad after all.
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Chapter 7
- Location
- Netherlands
***Updated on 20/2/2020***
On the freaking first day at the IS Academy, I was "pushed" to be the Class Rep. Half of myself was glad, considering that the dream of all boy was to become a leader. However, the other half was definitely not. In fact, that part of my mind was very grumpy and annoyed. Why? Simple, the answer could be summed up in two words.
FUCKING PAPERWORK.
Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with this Academy? The most modern school teaching the most modern tech to high schoolers, yet there were still paperback forms to be filled in by hand. Seriously, what would take more effort? Me filling in 10+ forms, or a message from Chifuyu to the headmistress, saying that I was selected/nominated/voted as the Class Rep? It got worse though, I had to carry out the more physical aspect of my new job much earlier than I thought. For a pacifist (well-armed pacifist), it was very annoying.
Thanks to the rumour mill, by the end of the day, the racist remarks of the British Cadet Representative had reached the entire student body. That may or may not lead to a lynch order on her head, which may or may not lead to me standing at the bottleneck and daring everyone to advance and keep bullying her.
Article 12, Paragraph 3 of the Class Representative's duty forced me to do so. In laymen's term, it basically meant that for both before and after the official punishment of the teacher, I had to protect the girl from harm. Sure, it was honourable and chivalry, but it went against my desires… Still, it went the same as my order, so like it or not, I had to follow them through. Tracking the British was easy, I simply had to follow the trail of destruction (and I had already found out about her room beforehand). My arrival was just in time to stop the gang from finishing their surrounding on Cecilia.
Dashing from their backs, I grabbed the collar of the first girl, pulling her backward. Next, I delivered a kick at the lower back of the second girl, planting her face on the ground. And to finish the breakthrough, I slammed my feet into the lower leg of the third girl, making her kneel. Then, I simply walked into the middle of the circle, watching the British girl breaking down in front of me. The other girls were yelling, but I kept the words out of my ears. The Brit was in a much direr need to be taken care of. She was… sobbing, crying, and moaning. All kind of jazz like that. Her light blond hair and her white uniform were soaked with fruit juice and other drinks.
Apparently, the Academy students were showing their displeasure. On the one hand, I felt vindictive, seeing the "payback". Like it or not, she insulted me, so I really hoped to see her suffer. On the other hand, well, even with the jaded and cynical side of me, I did not wish to see a girl suffering. Firstly, it was my policy to be quick and efficient, drawing out the suffering was simply… too wasteful. It satisfied nothing but the despicable and cowardice of a bastard or a bitch. In addition, I had also been taught to be respectful to others, so seeing a girl (a cute one, well, a racist one, but she was still cute) suffering like this was quite… shocking. I guess.
I watched her while grimacing. My gaze was hardening, in case like this, when all options were suck, there was just one single choice. That was to do what I believed was right, no matter the cost. Half-glancing back, I grunted to the girls:
"Disperse, leave her alone, or I will make you."
"Don't you remember that she was racist against you too?"
"I do, that is why I fucking call my CO and proceed to sucker punch her country. Our teacher has also given her a punishment, and I consider that as case close. Now, if you don't mind, scram or I will make you."
"How? We have twelve, you have yourself and a crying bitch."
"What a coincident, I also have twelve shock cartridges in total for my taser."
I calmly spoke that while bringing out the gun and clicking the safety off. Everyone looking at this would believe that I was ready to shock their arse.
And of course, I was tricking them. Actually pulling the trigger would be problematic. Sure, it was non-lethal, but the whole part where I actually fought them would be very annoying to deal with. The Japanese would definitely use this as a proof for my "lack of control over emotions", and then proceed to recover all of my weapons. And excuse me when I said that I loved my guns. Thus, it would be more beneficial for me to be the "lawful good", or at least, if I made sure I would not be caught.
"Come here to pity me?"
Then sometimes, Fate just kind of demanded me to donate skulls for the skull throne, and shed blood for the blood god. The British girl snarled made my blood boil. Seriously, a quick "thank you" was too much for her? It was just standard and normal social courtesy. At least I did not even pity her in the least.
"No, just following my orders here. I strongly recommend you to call me when someone is trying to lynch you. Having you killed before our duel would be… a waste."
That, and I just wanted to beat her out by myself. Sure, I was playing legally and following orders to a tee, but it did not mean that rules could not be bent or adapted. As I said earlier, honour and chivalry did not sit well with me. Not all the time.
"Yeah, like I would buy that."
Cecilia was still sobbing, but she was recovering well. I raised my eyebrows and gave her my grudging respect at that. The first time I got bullied, well, I cried and sobbed for almost the entire day. For better or for worse, my well of tears vanished almost as quickly as my source of anger appeared. No, not anger or wrath, it was just annoyance. For all intent and purpose, the British girl had been neutralized. She was not dangerous to me anymore. Unless she went renegade, but in that case, she would be a danger to everyone. At least in that case, there would be legitimate reasons to break out the firepower.
She was walking slowly to her room with quite a degree of grace. Or with as much grace as possible with juice dripping from her skirt and sobs punctured each of her steps.
Earlier, I denied that I felt any pity towards her. Though to be honest, I lied.
Sure, I wanted to do something… but I was afraid. Yeah, even a soldier (well, a soldier-to-be) would have some fear of his own. It was not illogical, obviously, because fear was what keeping humanity alive for the last few thousands years. Any how, I would definitely feel fear facing a machine gun nest, but "small talk" or to console a girl like this? I would be freak out completely. And when the said girl had been a racist against me and I had just saved her arse? Yeah, I was not the protagonist of some wet dream fictions, I knew better than pushing my luck.
Besides, I had no idea to make small-talks to a girl. I was not sure how many time I found it problematic, but I thought it still had to be repeated. Sure, professional talks were easy, discussion was easy, but flirting was something else completely. At least, I hoped that my next three years in the Academy (equivalent to a High school) would help me to fix that problem. The key word was "hoped".
Anyhow, I stood my spot, making sure that Cecilia had got in her dorm house before I moved away. She was somewhat of a grown-up. Sure, not enough to know the reasons or right from wrong, but she should be enough to take care of herself. If there was another lynch attempt, she would call for relief… or that was what I hoped. I wanted to tell her that (orders and such), but I had no way to paraphrase it into something polite.
Learnt that first-handed a while ago. Yeah, Tram was still somewhat pissed at that… even after I saved her arse a few more times.
Maybe I should stop looking out for Cecilia. She had made it clear that she did not want my help. Sure, she would be bullied, but she also needed to learn her lesson. If she actually asked for my intervention, then, and only then, would I strike with everything in my arsenal. Either do it or not, there was no try. Yeah, I hoped that after my second strike, the British girl would be more mature, showing some gratitude at least.
…
And why the fuck my mind was wandering to her kneeling and asking me to do so while wearing a skimpy maid outfit? Fucking hormones.
I swore, if Chifuyu made up the punishment on Cecilia with some intel on my sexual fantasies (one that I had told no one), I would probably punch her in the face. Unless she was someone that my as-yet-nonexistent girlfriend hold dearly.
==============================
With the fiasco with Cecilia solved, I had more… personal matter to attend to. Like checking on my suit again, preferably without any nosy party looking at me. Well, I got half of that. I had no nosy party, but there was definitely someone looking at me occasionally.
Three guess who I was stuck with when I phrased the request for a workshop via the official channel?
I swore, the matchmaking effort of the President was grating on my nerve now.
"Let me guess, my sister said that there was no empty workshop left."
"No opened workshop to be precise, this is the only one."
Kanzashi looked pretty miffed at that. To be fair, she was taking this better than I hoped for, the conversation this morning left quite a bad taste in my mouth after all.
Yeah, it was… awkward for me to be here. I had completely no idea what to say. Hell, small talk was not my forte, and flirting clearly was not even considered in my mind. Some Casanova would know what to say to get into her pants by nightfall. Not me. I was not a womanizer… or rather, I did not know how to be one. Not that I minded…
Well, I knew that I should speak something, maybe, probably. Actually, scratch that, I did not even know if I should say something here. And even if the answer was "yes", then I still had no idea what to say without making them upset. Therefore, I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut, which was quite easy, considering that I really did not enjoy socializing.
The last part might not be good though.
In her own section, the blue-haired girl had already made a not-so-quiet snort before going back to her own work, which occupied precisely half the workshop. Strange. Not the part where she took precisely took half of the workshop though, but rather what she was doing there. If my memory served correctly, she was the Cadet Representative of Japan. Therefore, a third-gen IS suit would be built for her, yet Kanzashi was tumbling with an Uchigane, second-gen. Strange indeed… But then, it was her story. I had learnt better to poke my nose in other's business.
Speaking of business, I turned to watch mine: a full series of aeroplane luggage containers. Twelve, to be precise. They were my, well, my early Christmas gifts. My whole load of IS-graded weaponry was stacked inside. Lots of firepowers, those crates had. Hell, I would not be surprised if I had the heaviest firepower in the whole Academy. The run-of-the-mill students would either use a sword for an Uchigane or a rifle for a Rafael, the Cadet Reps would use their highly specialized weapons for their suits. Me? My weapons were practically ripped out of other combat vehicles and adapted for my use.
My three assault rifles? From a US warship, a Russian plane, and a German SPAAG (Self-propelled Anti-Air Gun). My sniper rifle and my designated marksman rifle? Taken from a UK tank and an Israeli artillery piece respectively. The handgun was practically a modified and sawn-off Russian artillery with auto-loader… My point was that my whole arsenal was adapted from the conventional heavy weaponry. Highly modified with some weapons reached the 35th variant or so, but still sufficiently conventional. Or as conventional as possible with the incorporation of IS tech into usage and production.
Well, talking about my guns later, now, I needed to check on my suit. It was… special, in away. Steeling my mind, I bawled my left hand into a fist. The ring, situated on my left middle finger, activated, releasing the armour from the hyperspace arsenal. A glow of yellow light encased my full body, and barely two seconds later, it solidified into an armor with multiple shades of grey. It was a fully encased armor
In front of my eyes, the HUD quickly rebooted with lines of blue codes running at a rapid pace. Then, a very brief flash of red scanned over my eyes – that would be the iris scanner, confirming my identity. Well, I was who I was, so my suit did not trigger the lockdown feature. Originally, I asked for a self-destruct, but the idea was turned out. An explosion in the middle of the school was not "optimal".
Well, the start-up sequence had finished, so I could safely get out of the suit. My armour could totally run its own diagnostic software while I focused on other problems, such as assembling my weaponry. Things got… interesting after that. For some reasons, Kanzashi had stopped her work and now, she was watching me intensely.
"A third-gen suit?"
"No, a 2.5. A heavily modified one to be honest. Though for all intent and purpose, it is more like a totally new suit than a model of the old one."
"Which was?"
"The original chassis is the Russian suit Ratnik, but it is heavily upgraded with components from the French Rafael, the British Comet and the Chinese Chilong."
"And it has a fully enclosed armour."
"Yep, my own request. I do not enjoy showing my body or my face."
That and real combat experience of my own showed the standard open armour layout was a huge mistake, just begging to be exploited. Nothing illegal, per se, but definitely unconventional. But, well, military conventional would be drastically different from the IS conventional. In addition, there was no mentioning of using CBRN-esque weapons during IS tournaments, and it would only need one smart bitch to end that.
"Does it have a name?"
"… Gundam."
"… I see that the Vietnamese sense of humour is as good as it is claimed."
Yeah… About that… my suit was somehow modified to look like a Gundam with black armour. I was not sure of the model though, I only know that it was a Gundam. Still, knowing the diversity of the franchise, I would not be surprised if my suit was considered as a new variant or a new line of the Gundam, and no one would bat an eye.
Well, and I would not be surprised if the design team actually submit the photos and/or the model of my suit for a Gundam competition.
And more importantly: she knew about Gundam franchise? In recent years, such traditional and classic shows had been shelved in favour of more modern works (with a lot more skin showing and a lot less philosophy/drama). A pity and it made the question even more mysterious. Still, it was not too critical for me to find out the answer.
I glanced to her side of the workshop and notice an Uchigane suit being hooked up. Behind it and stashed in the corner was various boxes and crates. Some of them had the marks of "high explosive". Some others were marked with the sign for power weaponries, ones with high voltage. Interesting… so she was building her own suits? Sure, it was more like modifying, but this would be some serious upgrades and modifications. Not for the faint of hearts or the weak of minds.
Well, she had already opened up first, so I think I could capitalize on that to make small talks. It had been awkward enough already. I moved up next to her, and the girl was still staring at my suit with a very strange intensity in her eyes.
She was shorter than me, a bit, reaching my ear. Something inside me dutifully noted that down.
"So… you are building your own suit?"
"Yes."
Impressive. That would take a Class Four Engineering certificate, minimum. In order to do so, the normal course would be taking an university degree in Engineering. It would take about three to four years, full of hardships and pain. For a high school student to earn it before actually graduating, well, very impressive. Hell, even with a rush and harsh training course during the last year, I could only gain a Class Two. One should also note that I was in the top 10th percentile of my school.
"With all the attachments and weaponry?"
"Yes."
I got even more impressed and let out a small whistle. This princess was definitely packing a mean punch. Sure, she might have her people build the suit for her own, but in that case, an Uchigane would be "beneath" her, and there would be more technicians around here. Maybe a double-check with home would not be too hurtful. Trust, but verify and all that jazz.
"And you are building it practically by your own. I must say, you are a good waifu material."
Shit. I just got to say it, didn't I? To be honest, I was attracted to competent girls. Not necessarily smart and intelligent ones (but that would be definitely a plus), but just "skillful" in general. The Insurrection made me very distrustful of the classical deredere ones, the girls who were so girly and naïve that they could not do a single jackshit. Meanwhile, they one could actually do some shit (either fighting alongside me or simply supporting the evacuation) had earned my respect.
Anyhow, with my sudden exclamation, Kanzashi had already turned toward me completely. Her eyes briefly widened with her mouth opening, planning to say something. However, it was very brief, and it did not take long for her face to settle into the original cold and stony appearance. Ah, she got her emotion under control again. At least she knew how to deal with embarrassment better than me. Or within this kind of situation. She was perfectly still, yet I was scratching the back of my head…
A few seconds passed, I sighed out heavily, grumbling:
"This is awkward."
"No shit Sherlock."
That one jumped me. Did the cute little princess just swear?
"Hang on, you swear?"
"Like a freaking sailor if I had to, got a problem with that, soldier boy?"
A conservative and polite boy (ie the old me) would have a lot of troubles with that. Sure, I knew how to swear and curse (a few years in the public school system had that undesirable side-effect), but I generally shied away from it. It was just… unprofessional and impolite. But after a full brutal insurrection and the harsh cadet training course, shit like that came naturally to me. So, there was only one route left for me: I grinned.
No one said I was perfectly sane, after all.
"Ain't a problem for me. But are you sure that your older sister is cool with this shit?"
"I'm not a princess if that is what you are implying."
Well, there went my fantasy of calling a girl "princess". Still, I was in a good mood (somewhat), so I instantly scrapped that line of thought. There would be time for flirting later.
"For one, I would rather not to be caught off-guard by your sister. Just in case she blames me for corrupting her sister."
"Huh, she is the one corrupting me in the first place. Accidentally, of course."
"How?"
"Have you ever tried coding?"
Just at the same time, Kanzashi's console made a beeping sound behind us, and she let loose a few more muttering words. Well, this explained everything.
The better a code segment had, well, the less "what the fuck" could be heard per minute.
I just grinned watching her doing her work from behind her back. For some reasons, I felt inspired. Not because she was mousy, or she was cute, or she was mously cute (whatever that meant), but because she represented a challenge.
Someone equal to, if not surpassed, me in talents, skills, and stubbornness.
On the freaking first day at the IS Academy, I was "pushed" to be the Class Rep. Half of myself was glad, considering that the dream of all boy was to become a leader. However, the other half was definitely not. In fact, that part of my mind was very grumpy and annoyed. Why? Simple, the answer could be summed up in two words.
FUCKING PAPERWORK.
Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with this Academy? The most modern school teaching the most modern tech to high schoolers, yet there were still paperback forms to be filled in by hand. Seriously, what would take more effort? Me filling in 10+ forms, or a message from Chifuyu to the headmistress, saying that I was selected/nominated/voted as the Class Rep? It got worse though, I had to carry out the more physical aspect of my new job much earlier than I thought. For a pacifist (well-armed pacifist), it was very annoying.
Thanks to the rumour mill, by the end of the day, the racist remarks of the British Cadet Representative had reached the entire student body. That may or may not lead to a lynch order on her head, which may or may not lead to me standing at the bottleneck and daring everyone to advance and keep bullying her.
Article 12, Paragraph 3 of the Class Representative's duty forced me to do so. In laymen's term, it basically meant that for both before and after the official punishment of the teacher, I had to protect the girl from harm. Sure, it was honourable and chivalry, but it went against my desires… Still, it went the same as my order, so like it or not, I had to follow them through. Tracking the British was easy, I simply had to follow the trail of destruction (and I had already found out about her room beforehand). My arrival was just in time to stop the gang from finishing their surrounding on Cecilia.
Dashing from their backs, I grabbed the collar of the first girl, pulling her backward. Next, I delivered a kick at the lower back of the second girl, planting her face on the ground. And to finish the breakthrough, I slammed my feet into the lower leg of the third girl, making her kneel. Then, I simply walked into the middle of the circle, watching the British girl breaking down in front of me. The other girls were yelling, but I kept the words out of my ears. The Brit was in a much direr need to be taken care of. She was… sobbing, crying, and moaning. All kind of jazz like that. Her light blond hair and her white uniform were soaked with fruit juice and other drinks.
Apparently, the Academy students were showing their displeasure. On the one hand, I felt vindictive, seeing the "payback". Like it or not, she insulted me, so I really hoped to see her suffer. On the other hand, well, even with the jaded and cynical side of me, I did not wish to see a girl suffering. Firstly, it was my policy to be quick and efficient, drawing out the suffering was simply… too wasteful. It satisfied nothing but the despicable and cowardice of a bastard or a bitch. In addition, I had also been taught to be respectful to others, so seeing a girl (a cute one, well, a racist one, but she was still cute) suffering like this was quite… shocking. I guess.
I watched her while grimacing. My gaze was hardening, in case like this, when all options were suck, there was just one single choice. That was to do what I believed was right, no matter the cost. Half-glancing back, I grunted to the girls:
"Disperse, leave her alone, or I will make you."
"Don't you remember that she was racist against you too?"
"I do, that is why I fucking call my CO and proceed to sucker punch her country. Our teacher has also given her a punishment, and I consider that as case close. Now, if you don't mind, scram or I will make you."
"How? We have twelve, you have yourself and a crying bitch."
"What a coincident, I also have twelve shock cartridges in total for my taser."
I calmly spoke that while bringing out the gun and clicking the safety off. Everyone looking at this would believe that I was ready to shock their arse.
And of course, I was tricking them. Actually pulling the trigger would be problematic. Sure, it was non-lethal, but the whole part where I actually fought them would be very annoying to deal with. The Japanese would definitely use this as a proof for my "lack of control over emotions", and then proceed to recover all of my weapons. And excuse me when I said that I loved my guns. Thus, it would be more beneficial for me to be the "lawful good", or at least, if I made sure I would not be caught.
"Come here to pity me?"
Then sometimes, Fate just kind of demanded me to donate skulls for the skull throne, and shed blood for the blood god. The British girl snarled made my blood boil. Seriously, a quick "thank you" was too much for her? It was just standard and normal social courtesy. At least I did not even pity her in the least.
"No, just following my orders here. I strongly recommend you to call me when someone is trying to lynch you. Having you killed before our duel would be… a waste."
That, and I just wanted to beat her out by myself. Sure, I was playing legally and following orders to a tee, but it did not mean that rules could not be bent or adapted. As I said earlier, honour and chivalry did not sit well with me. Not all the time.
"Yeah, like I would buy that."
Cecilia was still sobbing, but she was recovering well. I raised my eyebrows and gave her my grudging respect at that. The first time I got bullied, well, I cried and sobbed for almost the entire day. For better or for worse, my well of tears vanished almost as quickly as my source of anger appeared. No, not anger or wrath, it was just annoyance. For all intent and purpose, the British girl had been neutralized. She was not dangerous to me anymore. Unless she went renegade, but in that case, she would be a danger to everyone. At least in that case, there would be legitimate reasons to break out the firepower.
She was walking slowly to her room with quite a degree of grace. Or with as much grace as possible with juice dripping from her skirt and sobs punctured each of her steps.
Earlier, I denied that I felt any pity towards her. Though to be honest, I lied.
Sure, I wanted to do something… but I was afraid. Yeah, even a soldier (well, a soldier-to-be) would have some fear of his own. It was not illogical, obviously, because fear was what keeping humanity alive for the last few thousands years. Any how, I would definitely feel fear facing a machine gun nest, but "small talk" or to console a girl like this? I would be freak out completely. And when the said girl had been a racist against me and I had just saved her arse? Yeah, I was not the protagonist of some wet dream fictions, I knew better than pushing my luck.
Besides, I had no idea to make small-talks to a girl. I was not sure how many time I found it problematic, but I thought it still had to be repeated. Sure, professional talks were easy, discussion was easy, but flirting was something else completely. At least, I hoped that my next three years in the Academy (equivalent to a High school) would help me to fix that problem. The key word was "hoped".
Anyhow, I stood my spot, making sure that Cecilia had got in her dorm house before I moved away. She was somewhat of a grown-up. Sure, not enough to know the reasons or right from wrong, but she should be enough to take care of herself. If there was another lynch attempt, she would call for relief… or that was what I hoped. I wanted to tell her that (orders and such), but I had no way to paraphrase it into something polite.
Learnt that first-handed a while ago. Yeah, Tram was still somewhat pissed at that… even after I saved her arse a few more times.
Maybe I should stop looking out for Cecilia. She had made it clear that she did not want my help. Sure, she would be bullied, but she also needed to learn her lesson. If she actually asked for my intervention, then, and only then, would I strike with everything in my arsenal. Either do it or not, there was no try. Yeah, I hoped that after my second strike, the British girl would be more mature, showing some gratitude at least.
…
And why the fuck my mind was wandering to her kneeling and asking me to do so while wearing a skimpy maid outfit? Fucking hormones.
I swore, if Chifuyu made up the punishment on Cecilia with some intel on my sexual fantasies (one that I had told no one), I would probably punch her in the face. Unless she was someone that my as-yet-nonexistent girlfriend hold dearly.
==============================
With the fiasco with Cecilia solved, I had more… personal matter to attend to. Like checking on my suit again, preferably without any nosy party looking at me. Well, I got half of that. I had no nosy party, but there was definitely someone looking at me occasionally.
Three guess who I was stuck with when I phrased the request for a workshop via the official channel?
I swore, the matchmaking effort of the President was grating on my nerve now.
"Let me guess, my sister said that there was no empty workshop left."
"No opened workshop to be precise, this is the only one."
Kanzashi looked pretty miffed at that. To be fair, she was taking this better than I hoped for, the conversation this morning left quite a bad taste in my mouth after all.
Yeah, it was… awkward for me to be here. I had completely no idea what to say. Hell, small talk was not my forte, and flirting clearly was not even considered in my mind. Some Casanova would know what to say to get into her pants by nightfall. Not me. I was not a womanizer… or rather, I did not know how to be one. Not that I minded…
Well, I knew that I should speak something, maybe, probably. Actually, scratch that, I did not even know if I should say something here. And even if the answer was "yes", then I still had no idea what to say without making them upset. Therefore, I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut, which was quite easy, considering that I really did not enjoy socializing.
The last part might not be good though.
In her own section, the blue-haired girl had already made a not-so-quiet snort before going back to her own work, which occupied precisely half the workshop. Strange. Not the part where she took precisely took half of the workshop though, but rather what she was doing there. If my memory served correctly, she was the Cadet Representative of Japan. Therefore, a third-gen IS suit would be built for her, yet Kanzashi was tumbling with an Uchigane, second-gen. Strange indeed… But then, it was her story. I had learnt better to poke my nose in other's business.
Speaking of business, I turned to watch mine: a full series of aeroplane luggage containers. Twelve, to be precise. They were my, well, my early Christmas gifts. My whole load of IS-graded weaponry was stacked inside. Lots of firepowers, those crates had. Hell, I would not be surprised if I had the heaviest firepower in the whole Academy. The run-of-the-mill students would either use a sword for an Uchigane or a rifle for a Rafael, the Cadet Reps would use their highly specialized weapons for their suits. Me? My weapons were practically ripped out of other combat vehicles and adapted for my use.
My three assault rifles? From a US warship, a Russian plane, and a German SPAAG (Self-propelled Anti-Air Gun). My sniper rifle and my designated marksman rifle? Taken from a UK tank and an Israeli artillery piece respectively. The handgun was practically a modified and sawn-off Russian artillery with auto-loader… My point was that my whole arsenal was adapted from the conventional heavy weaponry. Highly modified with some weapons reached the 35th variant or so, but still sufficiently conventional. Or as conventional as possible with the incorporation of IS tech into usage and production.
Well, talking about my guns later, now, I needed to check on my suit. It was… special, in away. Steeling my mind, I bawled my left hand into a fist. The ring, situated on my left middle finger, activated, releasing the armour from the hyperspace arsenal. A glow of yellow light encased my full body, and barely two seconds later, it solidified into an armor with multiple shades of grey. It was a fully encased armor
In front of my eyes, the HUD quickly rebooted with lines of blue codes running at a rapid pace. Then, a very brief flash of red scanned over my eyes – that would be the iris scanner, confirming my identity. Well, I was who I was, so my suit did not trigger the lockdown feature. Originally, I asked for a self-destruct, but the idea was turned out. An explosion in the middle of the school was not "optimal".
Well, the start-up sequence had finished, so I could safely get out of the suit. My armour could totally run its own diagnostic software while I focused on other problems, such as assembling my weaponry. Things got… interesting after that. For some reasons, Kanzashi had stopped her work and now, she was watching me intensely.
"A third-gen suit?"
"No, a 2.5. A heavily modified one to be honest. Though for all intent and purpose, it is more like a totally new suit than a model of the old one."
"Which was?"
"The original chassis is the Russian suit Ratnik, but it is heavily upgraded with components from the French Rafael, the British Comet and the Chinese Chilong."
"And it has a fully enclosed armour."
"Yep, my own request. I do not enjoy showing my body or my face."
That and real combat experience of my own showed the standard open armour layout was a huge mistake, just begging to be exploited. Nothing illegal, per se, but definitely unconventional. But, well, military conventional would be drastically different from the IS conventional. In addition, there was no mentioning of using CBRN-esque weapons during IS tournaments, and it would only need one smart bitch to end that.
"Does it have a name?"
"… Gundam."
"… I see that the Vietnamese sense of humour is as good as it is claimed."
Yeah… About that… my suit was somehow modified to look like a Gundam with black armour. I was not sure of the model though, I only know that it was a Gundam. Still, knowing the diversity of the franchise, I would not be surprised if my suit was considered as a new variant or a new line of the Gundam, and no one would bat an eye.
Well, and I would not be surprised if the design team actually submit the photos and/or the model of my suit for a Gundam competition.
And more importantly: she knew about Gundam franchise? In recent years, such traditional and classic shows had been shelved in favour of more modern works (with a lot more skin showing and a lot less philosophy/drama). A pity and it made the question even more mysterious. Still, it was not too critical for me to find out the answer.
I glanced to her side of the workshop and notice an Uchigane suit being hooked up. Behind it and stashed in the corner was various boxes and crates. Some of them had the marks of "high explosive". Some others were marked with the sign for power weaponries, ones with high voltage. Interesting… so she was building her own suits? Sure, it was more like modifying, but this would be some serious upgrades and modifications. Not for the faint of hearts or the weak of minds.
Well, she had already opened up first, so I think I could capitalize on that to make small talks. It had been awkward enough already. I moved up next to her, and the girl was still staring at my suit with a very strange intensity in her eyes.
She was shorter than me, a bit, reaching my ear. Something inside me dutifully noted that down.
"So… you are building your own suit?"
"Yes."
Impressive. That would take a Class Four Engineering certificate, minimum. In order to do so, the normal course would be taking an university degree in Engineering. It would take about three to four years, full of hardships and pain. For a high school student to earn it before actually graduating, well, very impressive. Hell, even with a rush and harsh training course during the last year, I could only gain a Class Two. One should also note that I was in the top 10th percentile of my school.
"With all the attachments and weaponry?"
"Yes."
I got even more impressed and let out a small whistle. This princess was definitely packing a mean punch. Sure, she might have her people build the suit for her own, but in that case, an Uchigane would be "beneath" her, and there would be more technicians around here. Maybe a double-check with home would not be too hurtful. Trust, but verify and all that jazz.
"And you are building it practically by your own. I must say, you are a good waifu material."
Shit. I just got to say it, didn't I? To be honest, I was attracted to competent girls. Not necessarily smart and intelligent ones (but that would be definitely a plus), but just "skillful" in general. The Insurrection made me very distrustful of the classical deredere ones, the girls who were so girly and naïve that they could not do a single jackshit. Meanwhile, they one could actually do some shit (either fighting alongside me or simply supporting the evacuation) had earned my respect.
Anyhow, with my sudden exclamation, Kanzashi had already turned toward me completely. Her eyes briefly widened with her mouth opening, planning to say something. However, it was very brief, and it did not take long for her face to settle into the original cold and stony appearance. Ah, she got her emotion under control again. At least she knew how to deal with embarrassment better than me. Or within this kind of situation. She was perfectly still, yet I was scratching the back of my head…
A few seconds passed, I sighed out heavily, grumbling:
"This is awkward."
"No shit Sherlock."
That one jumped me. Did the cute little princess just swear?
"Hang on, you swear?"
"Like a freaking sailor if I had to, got a problem with that, soldier boy?"
A conservative and polite boy (ie the old me) would have a lot of troubles with that. Sure, I knew how to swear and curse (a few years in the public school system had that undesirable side-effect), but I generally shied away from it. It was just… unprofessional and impolite. But after a full brutal insurrection and the harsh cadet training course, shit like that came naturally to me. So, there was only one route left for me: I grinned.
No one said I was perfectly sane, after all.
"Ain't a problem for me. But are you sure that your older sister is cool with this shit?"
"I'm not a princess if that is what you are implying."
Well, there went my fantasy of calling a girl "princess". Still, I was in a good mood (somewhat), so I instantly scrapped that line of thought. There would be time for flirting later.
"For one, I would rather not to be caught off-guard by your sister. Just in case she blames me for corrupting her sister."
"Huh, she is the one corrupting me in the first place. Accidentally, of course."
"How?"
"Have you ever tried coding?"
Just at the same time, Kanzashi's console made a beeping sound behind us, and she let loose a few more muttering words. Well, this explained everything.
The better a code segment had, well, the less "what the fuck" could be heard per minute.
I just grinned watching her doing her work from behind her back. For some reasons, I felt inspired. Not because she was mousy, or she was cute, or she was mously cute (whatever that meant), but because she represented a challenge.
Someone equal to, if not surpassed, me in talents, skills, and stubbornness.
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Chapter 8
- Location
- Netherlands
Tuesday arrived, and it began reasonably better than Monday, and it was definitely better than Sunday. I got a racist and sexist bitch and got kidnapped, respectively. So a few scanting messages from an overly worried girl were nothing. Heh, a firebrand… Tram was an old comrade of mine, she suffered my quirks, so I guess I would deal with hers with the same level of grace. The part where she was specialized in Close Quarter Combat and could totally take me down with a pinkie was pretty much minor in that.
Anyone said the opposite were liars, and they would have the chance to taste my lead fired from afar.
And to think she used to be a bully, and my bully at that, before the insurrection… Well, the war had ways to bring people together, like it or not. She mellowed out a lot after that, still harsh and aggressive, but she at least learnt my idea of diffusing or just walking away (and we both would just beat
Like now, I had to answer her barrage of questions while munching on breakfast. The girls around me must have felt quizzical at my grunts and sighs. The long-suffering but still with grace type. Yet, we were not romantically involved. Long story. I did not believe myself to be worthy with a brilliant girl like Tram. Besides, she used to be my bully. Trauma and shit like that, too.
Another question beeped, and I answered it after taking a sip from my steaming coffee cup. Using the gap of time available, I lazily watched the canteen of the breakfast rush. These girls were not used to wake up early. Unlike the majority of schools in the western sphere, the IS Academy had their lessons began at 8:30 in the morning. Sounded like torture to many people, until people pointed out that among five countries of the Sino-sphere, all of them had high-school morning classes started from 7:30.
For a Commando like me? I used to have classes from seven o'clock, and that was after the morning drill. Waking up at five for daily cardio, martial art and marksman training was practically the norm. So, yeah, I had only one word to describe the girls of the Academy: weaklings.
Sure, not all of them were pushovers, I spotted Tatenashi during my morning run, she was running through a series of kata (Japanese for "forms", or in this case, a series of moves and attacks in karate). A few others were also sharing the same idea of the morning run. For obvious reasons, they were wearing jogging suits, not military fatigues, and they were definitely not carrying any heavy backpacks. Civilians, they could not understand the military mindset.
Speaking of that, they should have seen me during my training. I remember the infiltration session, when the gun was practically glued to my side, and when I had to taste mud literally. Though I was not precisely sure if mud was the only brown stuff there…
My phone's LED flashed again. A new message had appeared, and it was just another complaint from my old comrade. Though this time it was sent along with an attachment. Apparently, it was a dossier on the British Cadet Rep. Did not have time to read it though, that would have to wait for the night. Now, though? I simply thanked her. Professional courtesy.
Chifuyu showed up after that, wearing a white tracksuit and delivering threat to the still-sleepy girls. Quick breakfast or they would have to run five full laps around the Academy. I was just chuckling at this. The same stuff happened in the barrack too, albeit with a lot more swearing and sweat.
I scanned around the canteen again. Houki was chewing out Ichika while the boy was being surrounded by a few more other girls. Cecilia was sitting in a corner, looking sleepy, but at least no one was doing anything to her. Honne was… sleepwalking? Yeah, that was perhaps the correct word. How she could deftly avoid all people on her way and finish her breakfast without staining her uniform and opening her eyes were beyond me. Well, one mystery at a time… In another direction, the secretly foul-mouth Kanzashi was sipping her own coffee while grumbling something. Her sister was speaking something to her, probably chiding for her language. Then, Tatenashi's eyes caught my gaze and she grinned.
The younger sister was jolted by the elder, and both blue-haired sisters turned toward me. The younger was squeezing her eyes at me, and the elder was grinning like a maniac. A normal hormonal boy would blush and turn away. Me? I was hormonal, yes, but I was blooded. So I simply gave them a small nod and took another sip of coffee.
And Houki was raising her voice from her table.
Fucking hell, it was only seven in the morning…
Grunting, I carried my coffee cup with me and walked to her table, just in time too. It looked like she was about to speak out loud. Again.
"Morning Houki, Ichika. Lovely weather today, yes?"
That stopped her outburst, apparently. Good. Mission accomplished.
"Morning chief."
"Good morning, Class Representative."
Ichika, being a boy and having already seen shit together with me, was a bit more informal than Houki. The girl, on the other hand, was very stiff and formal. Kind of regal, too. And for some reasons, the green and black ribbon on her long brown hair made me give her some points for "housewife" material. A playboy would flirt her, but I would not. One, she was not precisely my type. Two, Ichika would probably call dib on her first.
And I think I should get the conversation flowing. Or things would be… awkward. Or at least, more awkward than it was.
"No need to be formal, we are all classmates here. Besides, my title is not official yet, I still have one month of trial, remember?"
"But there are only less than five people having their titles revoked, so your position is pretty much a shoo-in."
"That is where… our beliefs diverge. You see there are only five losing their titles, I realize that my position can be revoked at any time by any reason. One should not be arrogant. Confident to keep that title? Yes. But arrogant? No."
"You seem to be quite responsible for the new task."
"How can I say? My friends back then joked that I was pretty much like an old man."
The girl just scoffed but she still remained silent, then I scanned over Ichika, noting his new pristine white uniform. Just like mine, it was very basic in shape, a white shirt, a white pant, a black tie, and a white blazer with a black collar worn over everything. Though his blazer was a bit longer than mine, it came with a belt of its own. Meanwhile, my suit was practically the same as a normal suit outside. I preferred something "standardize" to be honest.
"So, as an old man saying, would you mind keeping your voice down a bit?"
"… You are not that old."
"Correct, but the lady in white tracksuit behind me probably is."
"I HEAR THAT!"
I hid my own smirk. My teacher or not, Chifuyu was an accomplished IS pilot, and military forces around the world had a lot of beef with IS units. Not proper soldiers, playing around with fire, nothing but breasts and butts… things like that. Sure, I was taught to be professional, but a dig or two was always welcomed, as long as it aimed at the IS force.
Houki eyed me with awe and surprise:
"You are a dunderhead, aren't you? Just like this boy."
"There's a reason for that. You girls are just too complicated, no means yes and no, yes means no and yes. Too troublesome… Seriously, if you want, just say it out, use simple words if possible. We men really enjoy simplicity and honesty."
"Even if that is a romance question?"
"Especially if that is a question on romance."
I had already watched School Days anime, and I learnt that communication was pretty important. That and one man should be faithful. Makoto was just a dick, and he had terrible luck.
Oh, and for related works on School Days as well as its associated products? I would neither confirm or deny anything.
At least, Houki's face seemed to soften a bit, as if she had reached an understanding.
"I will keep that in mind, thanks for your advice… Speaking of advice, I think you should run."
"Let me guess: our dearest homeroom teacher?"
"Yep."
Conventional wisdom told me that I should heed her word. Unconventional training and the rush of coffee gave me another idea.
"Please, Ichika, hold my coffee."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how I deflected one chop from Chifuyu while still looking calm like a tree.
===================
Tatenashi, as usual, loved to throw a wrench into everyone's plan.
Or rather, I had learnt why Vietnamese officials were always trying their best to stay calm. The excrement would hit the electrical rotational device, or shit would hit the fan in a crass way. As it turned out, the stunt I pulled yesterday was just too effective. The punch was much harder than anyone had expected. The UK had to swallow the bitter pill and stepped down a bit, and by extension, Cecilia had to suffer some humiliation.
First, it was a public apology to the whole school. That was what Tatenashi was for, she pulled an assembly out of her proverbial backside. Cecilia gave a full and public apology to the whole school. Quite heartfelt, I must add. If I was a sentiment heart, I would have dropped a tear or two. She really had a way to use her words, accepting the blame upfront, thanking others for their patience (of not killing her – not for the lack of trying), and the promising to make up for her mistakes.
I had to admit, she would be a terrifying politician in the future, given the chance. A quick speech, barely 5 minutes in total, yet it was able to cover all points and topics with sufficient depth. Wish the old men back home could learn a thing or two from them. I swore, their shortest speech could be half an hour long. Their delivering style left much for delivery, and their tones were the best lullaby I had ever found on the internet.
There was a reason why I used intelligence briefing for Vietnamese politicians' speeches and never listened by myself. Their talks were just too dull!
While I was grumbling in the backstage, reminiscing about bad times of my past, Chifuyu had already walked past me and stepped into the stage. She brushed through my shoulder… And if anyone was thinking I felt embarrassed or aroused, they were wrong. I just felt dread and fear.
We just physically clashed once – she was planning to chop me with her hands, presumably because I implied she to be old. Sure, I was able to deflect it. But that was the problem, my original plan was to block. However, the weight and strength of the strike were too great, forcing my right shoulder to give out. Hell, it was sore for a few minutes after that. Such strength should not be possible… Or rather, it should not be possible for someone without lethal training.
Chifuyu knew how to kill people – even if it was just a theoretical stage.
Sure, one might call me paranoid, but it was not paranoid when there were people out there actively tried to harm me. Hell, just two days ago, there were a bunch of chicks trying to kidnap me, they were presumably IS supremacists… and I was not boarding within the IS Academy. No, it was not paranoid, it was simply being careful. Besides, it could be said that I was a martial art practitioner, and one strike was enough for a martial artist recognizing another.
Chifuyu was dangerous, and not because she was among the top IS pilots on Earth. I should pay more attention to the file made on her. It was written that she was skilled in martial arts, but there was nothing in there suggesting that she was powerful. Tsk, this was… troublesome.
Not as troublesome as the punishment Chifuyu gave Cecilia though. The work was relatively simple, summarized as "after school, helping out the Academy staff in menial work for the whole semester". It sounded simple, yes, until one actually sat down and listed out the work: cooking (which included all the related works, minus buying the ingredients), cleaning (which in fact comprised of every room, minus the private rooms – and yes, men's toilets must be also cleaned), cloth washing and drying, helping the teachers in moving the marked homework and papers… a lot, really. Oh, and here was the catcher: Cecilia had to wear a maid outfit while doing so.
French maid outfit, in plain English term… which meant it was not precisely a standard maid outfit, but rather one that had passed certain modification for certain activities. I still had troubled with the glint in Chifuyu's eyes when she said so… OK, I might be imagining the glint, but I was pretty sure that she was looking at me yesterday in class. And now, in the school-wide assembly, she repeated that, albeit this time, there was a lag of five seconds between finishing her talk and glancing to the side. But this time, I definitely knew she was pulling my legs with that half-hidden smirk and raised eyebrows.
Fucking dammit. I had no idea if she was able to hack into my personal phone and uncover my personal folder. The one that I named "Homework". Or the one I hid under a long path with a high inconspicuous name "A".
Yes. I had a maid fetish. Happy now?
And now, it was my turn to speak, being the responsible Class Rep and such. Sure, I was just spouting bullshit, something like adhering to the school rules and shit like that. Cecilia was under punishment, so there was no need for further harassment. The students of the Academy were asked to remember and follow that, or I would have to follow the code and actually protect Cecilia. I was also hoping for no more case of discrimination in the Academy. For me, origins and upbringings were not important, what mattered was deeds.
The girls did not clap, nor I expect them to. They were just murmuring over there… And to be honest, I was just wanting to get off the stage and run away from the devious smirk of Chifuyu. Tatenashi as well, she was having a very strange curl of her lips while talking to her sister in a corner and looking at me at the same time.
One should know that I faced a choice once, either join the force and enrol in the IS Academy, or become a lab rat. For obvious reasons, I chose the former. Now, with less than 48 hours here, I just believed that I had made a fatal mistake.
At least, the lab alcohol was ethanol, which was the same shit they put in spirits and drinks. I could drink that while being a lab rat, but not here in school
===================
The remainder of the week progressed relatively normal. Relatively. The girls were always watching me walking by (and I swore, some of them were licking their lips). Cecilia was cleaning around the school at night wearing a modified maid outfit. Honne's sister was an avid photographer, she once climbed on a tree to take better photos of Ichika. She learnt better, something about Houki's bokken and shinai being used as impromptu spears.
Bro was able to deal with the last part though, something about a kendo spar. I asked them about the rumours floating around the school, and as it turned out, the two of them was practising kendo together. For an outsider, it seemed like nothing, but I remembered a news piece: Houki was the ranking Japanese youth champion of kendo. The best among the best… One could even say that she was practically taking Ichika as her disciple. Or her personal punching bag. The bumps, bruises and limps were hard to ignore, but my bro just waved it off, chalking that to highly intensive training.
He was adamant about that, so it was not my place to poke my nose in. I should pay the dojo a visit or two though when I had free time. Just to be sure Houki was not too harsh. The two of them were not part of any national defence program, so they could not (and should not) take it full brunt.
Speaking of the full brunt, well, I was on its business end. First, my kidnappers had finally talked. Of course, how the Japanese made them talked (with full silence from the media and social network) was quite concerning. But in the end, they talked. And boy, they talked a lot.
Amazon Brigade. That was the one responsible for my kidnapping. It was… politically complicated. They were a semi-official union of the IS pilot worldwide. They were practically untouchable, thanks to the current female supremacy. Hell, even in the old world, it was still hard to do anything against them because we had too little proof.
My kidnappers did not act under the authority of the Brigade, but rather lashed out by their own. So, the Brigade would suffer some damage in prestige only, nothing concrete enough to make them taste the bitter pill. Worse, the organization of this union specifically prevented any centralization, so the act of a lone member would not be able to reflect on the whole unit.
Cheeky bitches. But the intelligence briefs did not stop there. The Japanese gooks were able to dig out some more. As it turned out, the Brigade was formed around a core: the Valkyrie Battalion. No one knew about their existence, until now. Those girls were the cream of the crop, accounting for a third of the top 50 IS pilots around the world. Ichika's and my kidnapping was ordered by at least three members of this Battalion. The bitches just directly kidnapped me? They were grunts, promised for "promotion" from standard Brigade member to an honourable member of the Battalion.
So, the whole plot seemed like it was just some over-zealous bitches being sacrificed in a lost gamble… Nothing much could be done to punish the supposedly true culprit. Disappointing, but I was used to it. However, there was more, the intelligence brief ended with a note, a note that sent chills down on my spine: Something else was still being hidden. The most likely outcome was a still-unknown organization, presumably an international terrorist group.
It was a whole heap of trouble. One that should be solved with a series of investigation, infiltration and solved with the liberal deployment of SpecOp and law enforcement units. But that would take time and effort, and specialized training, items that I did not have.
Home shared the same sentiment. So for the time being, I just had an order: hunker down, but prepare to haul ass. And they gave me a new order, one that I found quite… strange. News about the duel against Cecilia got out fast, and a few countries decided to use it as an opportunity to improve the relationship with my country. And/or to get a few more trade deals, and/or to improve their military power. Sure, it was at the expense of the UK (thanks again, Cecilia), but it was just geo-politik in the end.
Besides, I had free weaponry, so turning down the offer (and disobeying the order) was… not really recommendable. The Russian and American asked me to field test two new cannons, originally slated for tank's use, and the Chinese were hoping that I would test out their new artillery ammunition. Respectively, I got a plasma rifle, on railgun, and a whole crate of grenade – all at IS's size, of course.
Oh, and a lot more cash in my account. Money was always good. Especially tax-free money.
Still, there was a drawback in that, which was the maintenance issue. All those three weapons were completely new, so I had to get used to them. This led to that, and that was why I was spending my Saturday night in the workshop. Sure, I could delay the work on Monday, but this was weaponry, one must not take it lightly.
Besides, I had no idea what to do for fun, other than drinking, reading or playing video games. As I said, I was neither good in socializing or flirting, so I focused on what I was good at: combat and academy.
"I think you have better things to do on a Saturday night?"
That was Kanzashi. Yeah. Her. Again. After nearly a week spent together after school, I had kind of grown to accept her presence. Sure, I occasionally heard the maniac laughter of an older blue-haired girl, but I had to admit, Kanzashi was nice. She was curious, but not nosy, she knew her limit, keeping herself out of my personal business. Besides, it was funny watching her getting flustered with a fail segment of code and swearing like a sailor.
She was a bookworm, presumable. I caught her reading something on her phone a few times already. Lots of text, and not enough diagram or chart, so it must be some kind of story. Wonder if she enjoyed isekai stories, too…
But back to her question, was she not the second-in-line for heirship? So it should be me asking that, yes?
"No, I don't."
"Don't you like clubs?"
"For a drink? Yes. But for dancing and mingling? No, the music is too loud, besides, I don't like crowd much."
"Hmmm… Interesting…"
"How about you? No fancy meeting at a luxurious restaurant for the weekend?"
"I throw my sister at that. I don't know how to read people's mind, so I don't know how to… er…"
"Say the perfect line?"
"Yep! That's the one!"
The two of us kept trading small talks while working. It quickly turned into a debate over what kind of weapon one should use for IS combat. Luckily, we were both using modified/upgraded Mass Production model of the second generation, so we had the same common ground. Kanzashi was still enamoured with blades though, something about Japanese martial arts… and something about her sister. Younger siblings always tried to one-up their elders, and more often than not, failed miserably. The elder just had the edge in experience and familiarity to win over, and over, and over again.
Meanwhile, I was a military brat, and I firmly believed that I should not give any advantage to the opponent. Sure, my CQB skill was competent, but it depended on critical strikes and sure-kill techniques, which were not really applicable to IS suits. Therefore, I had to rely on my other set of combat skills: marksman/demolition. Utilising a mixed set of guns and other ranged platforms to deliver death from afar, I preferred this over melee fight. Besides, it meshed well with my non-IS fight too.
"So that is why I enjoyed using guns. I'm used to them, and they can help me open up a lot of new avenues of tactics."
"I'm still a blade user… But just curious, what kind of gun do you like?"
"For IS scale?"
"Yep."
"M242 Bushmaster, practically ripped out of a USN warship."
It was a mistake saying so. Though I would say that I failed successfully. Kanzashi was a nerd, a weapon nerd. Hell, she knew more about guns than I did – and one should remember, I was a Junior Officer Cadet.
It was… amusing to say the least when I saw her getting into a debate over the superiority of Russian guns. Yeah, it escaped my mind, she was half-Russian, so she would be somewhat defensive when it came to things like this. AK-320 and AK-630 were put up as the counter to the Bushmaster, the first was a tri-barreled autocannon using 20mm rounds, and the second was a six-barreled rotary cannon of 30mm cartridge. Both saw widespread usage within the Russian fleet.
And to be honest, I learnt more about the two Russian guns in half an hour more than the full month I spent with my instructors. Then, the talk just kind of… flew from there? We did not even stop talking over dinner – and yeah, we kept ourselves to a strictly professional discussion over how to sneak in the office of the Student Council and proceed to vandalise the whole room. How we got there from discussing the best rifle for IS usage, I had no idea.
But I definitely did not complain. It was fun.
"Acid sulfuric? Nah, it cannot cut through the metal quick enough, even at high concentration."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Thermite. If you are using acid sulfuric, you will destroy the doorknob, same thing achieved with thermite."
"Do you know how to make that?"
"Yes, from off the shelf parts. Though I have to admit, having access to a full lab or a workshop would make the efficiency way higher."
"How do you actually know about that?"
"I'm a Junior Officer Cadet, and I'm in for Special Force. What do you think?"
I admitted I may sound a bit smug at that. But then, figuring out ten different ways to break in the office without resorting to specialized tools of the military was no small feat. I deserved to stroke my ego a bit.
Kanzashi just grunted and grumbled with that, mumbling in Russian. Thanks to being coached in a few foreign tongues, I was able to recognize the word "gorilla". Fair enough then, some Special Force operatives could be deployed as the tip of the spear, clearing the way for the regular forces. Aggressiveness and brash attitude was the norm for that. Being called "gorilla" could be deliberately understood as a compliment then.
I watched her, enjoying the view. Being the weekend, the rules of the Academy was quite lax on the matter. Uniform was not enforced, so the students were free to wear what they wanted. Sure, it also meant that they had to wear decently, so my wish of girls wearing skimpy and risqué outfits were not realized today.
Blame that on my hormones. Girls here were hot, and all boys loved eye candies. But by the end of the day though, what hit me the strongest was not the seductress, but a simple, down-to-earth girl. Kanzashi, who was sipping tea in front of me, was an example of that. A quick look at her and no one would think she was the second-in-line to take over one of the largest incorporations in Japan.
A pair of long jeans were worn along with a short-sleeved white blouse. Some frilly cloth was attached to the collar, making her more feminine. The frameless glasses did wonder to her round face, subtly showing her intelligence. Some might call her a "nerd", which suited me fine, nerd (and geek, for that matter) made good waifu. The two black and gold hairpins were still atop her head, completing the shoulder-length and inward-curled blue hair.
And the brownish-red eyes, well, I must say that it was strange… Like amber, shining under the lights. Unwavering, steel under a cloth. Still, like the water of a lake. She was soft speaking, not because she was meek or weak, but because she found no need to raise her voice. It was either she was a defeatist in her core, or she was simply too brilliant.
"Finish ogling me?"
The calm voice of Kanzashi woke me from my… gazing? Watching? Star observing? Yeah, shit like that. I was not sure if she was feeling irritated or surprise. Her voice was still even and calm, so either she felt nothing, or she was just hiding her own emotion. I was leaning the latter theory. I would do the same in her shoes – if not deliberately misinform her by showing my amusement. But in this case, maybe honesty would be the way to go.
"Not ogling, but enjoying the view."
"What is the difference?"
"Well, ogling would lead to, er, what is Japan famous for? One that begins with the letter "H"."
"… Fuck you."
I did not mind that, really. Though it would be more like a fling, a one-night stand. Good in the short term, shit in the long term. Enjoyable, but not really recommendable.
"Yeah… Meanwhile, I just enjoy the view, wanting to keep you as who you are. No need to change, no need to lewd. You are just… you, I guess?"
Kanzashi just raised her eyebrows at that, looking quizzical at my answer. Umh… was that the correct line to say?
"Well, an acceptable response. Thanks for the sentiment, I think."
Not good, not bad, but I would take that over a pissed off girl. She was still sharing the same workshop as I did, so keeping her happy was quite high on my list.
"So, would you cheer for me on Monday?"
"Maybe, maybe not."
The blue-haired girl said so, while wearing a faint smile on her lips.
Anyone said the opposite were liars, and they would have the chance to taste my lead fired from afar.
And to think she used to be a bully, and my bully at that, before the insurrection… Well, the war had ways to bring people together, like it or not. She mellowed out a lot after that, still harsh and aggressive, but she at least learnt my idea of diffusing or just walking away (and we both would just beat
Like now, I had to answer her barrage of questions while munching on breakfast. The girls around me must have felt quizzical at my grunts and sighs. The long-suffering but still with grace type. Yet, we were not romantically involved. Long story. I did not believe myself to be worthy with a brilliant girl like Tram. Besides, she used to be my bully. Trauma and shit like that, too.
Another question beeped, and I answered it after taking a sip from my steaming coffee cup. Using the gap of time available, I lazily watched the canteen of the breakfast rush. These girls were not used to wake up early. Unlike the majority of schools in the western sphere, the IS Academy had their lessons began at 8:30 in the morning. Sounded like torture to many people, until people pointed out that among five countries of the Sino-sphere, all of them had high-school morning classes started from 7:30.
For a Commando like me? I used to have classes from seven o'clock, and that was after the morning drill. Waking up at five for daily cardio, martial art and marksman training was practically the norm. So, yeah, I had only one word to describe the girls of the Academy: weaklings.
Sure, not all of them were pushovers, I spotted Tatenashi during my morning run, she was running through a series of kata (Japanese for "forms", or in this case, a series of moves and attacks in karate). A few others were also sharing the same idea of the morning run. For obvious reasons, they were wearing jogging suits, not military fatigues, and they were definitely not carrying any heavy backpacks. Civilians, they could not understand the military mindset.
Speaking of that, they should have seen me during my training. I remember the infiltration session, when the gun was practically glued to my side, and when I had to taste mud literally. Though I was not precisely sure if mud was the only brown stuff there…
My phone's LED flashed again. A new message had appeared, and it was just another complaint from my old comrade. Though this time it was sent along with an attachment. Apparently, it was a dossier on the British Cadet Rep. Did not have time to read it though, that would have to wait for the night. Now, though? I simply thanked her. Professional courtesy.
Chifuyu showed up after that, wearing a white tracksuit and delivering threat to the still-sleepy girls. Quick breakfast or they would have to run five full laps around the Academy. I was just chuckling at this. The same stuff happened in the barrack too, albeit with a lot more swearing and sweat.
I scanned around the canteen again. Houki was chewing out Ichika while the boy was being surrounded by a few more other girls. Cecilia was sitting in a corner, looking sleepy, but at least no one was doing anything to her. Honne was… sleepwalking? Yeah, that was perhaps the correct word. How she could deftly avoid all people on her way and finish her breakfast without staining her uniform and opening her eyes were beyond me. Well, one mystery at a time… In another direction, the secretly foul-mouth Kanzashi was sipping her own coffee while grumbling something. Her sister was speaking something to her, probably chiding for her language. Then, Tatenashi's eyes caught my gaze and she grinned.
The younger sister was jolted by the elder, and both blue-haired sisters turned toward me. The younger was squeezing her eyes at me, and the elder was grinning like a maniac. A normal hormonal boy would blush and turn away. Me? I was hormonal, yes, but I was blooded. So I simply gave them a small nod and took another sip of coffee.
And Houki was raising her voice from her table.
Fucking hell, it was only seven in the morning…
Grunting, I carried my coffee cup with me and walked to her table, just in time too. It looked like she was about to speak out loud. Again.
"Morning Houki, Ichika. Lovely weather today, yes?"
That stopped her outburst, apparently. Good. Mission accomplished.
"Morning chief."
"Good morning, Class Representative."
Ichika, being a boy and having already seen shit together with me, was a bit more informal than Houki. The girl, on the other hand, was very stiff and formal. Kind of regal, too. And for some reasons, the green and black ribbon on her long brown hair made me give her some points for "housewife" material. A playboy would flirt her, but I would not. One, she was not precisely my type. Two, Ichika would probably call dib on her first.
And I think I should get the conversation flowing. Or things would be… awkward. Or at least, more awkward than it was.
"No need to be formal, we are all classmates here. Besides, my title is not official yet, I still have one month of trial, remember?"
"But there are only less than five people having their titles revoked, so your position is pretty much a shoo-in."
"That is where… our beliefs diverge. You see there are only five losing their titles, I realize that my position can be revoked at any time by any reason. One should not be arrogant. Confident to keep that title? Yes. But arrogant? No."
"You seem to be quite responsible for the new task."
"How can I say? My friends back then joked that I was pretty much like an old man."
The girl just scoffed but she still remained silent, then I scanned over Ichika, noting his new pristine white uniform. Just like mine, it was very basic in shape, a white shirt, a white pant, a black tie, and a white blazer with a black collar worn over everything. Though his blazer was a bit longer than mine, it came with a belt of its own. Meanwhile, my suit was practically the same as a normal suit outside. I preferred something "standardize" to be honest.
"So, as an old man saying, would you mind keeping your voice down a bit?"
"… You are not that old."
"Correct, but the lady in white tracksuit behind me probably is."
"I HEAR THAT!"
I hid my own smirk. My teacher or not, Chifuyu was an accomplished IS pilot, and military forces around the world had a lot of beef with IS units. Not proper soldiers, playing around with fire, nothing but breasts and butts… things like that. Sure, I was taught to be professional, but a dig or two was always welcomed, as long as it aimed at the IS force.
Houki eyed me with awe and surprise:
"You are a dunderhead, aren't you? Just like this boy."
"There's a reason for that. You girls are just too complicated, no means yes and no, yes means no and yes. Too troublesome… Seriously, if you want, just say it out, use simple words if possible. We men really enjoy simplicity and honesty."
"Even if that is a romance question?"
"Especially if that is a question on romance."
I had already watched School Days anime, and I learnt that communication was pretty important. That and one man should be faithful. Makoto was just a dick, and he had terrible luck.
Oh, and for related works on School Days as well as its associated products? I would neither confirm or deny anything.
At least, Houki's face seemed to soften a bit, as if she had reached an understanding.
"I will keep that in mind, thanks for your advice… Speaking of advice, I think you should run."
"Let me guess: our dearest homeroom teacher?"
"Yep."
Conventional wisdom told me that I should heed her word. Unconventional training and the rush of coffee gave me another idea.
"Please, Ichika, hold my coffee."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how I deflected one chop from Chifuyu while still looking calm like a tree.
===================
Tatenashi, as usual, loved to throw a wrench into everyone's plan.
Or rather, I had learnt why Vietnamese officials were always trying their best to stay calm. The excrement would hit the electrical rotational device, or shit would hit the fan in a crass way. As it turned out, the stunt I pulled yesterday was just too effective. The punch was much harder than anyone had expected. The UK had to swallow the bitter pill and stepped down a bit, and by extension, Cecilia had to suffer some humiliation.
First, it was a public apology to the whole school. That was what Tatenashi was for, she pulled an assembly out of her proverbial backside. Cecilia gave a full and public apology to the whole school. Quite heartfelt, I must add. If I was a sentiment heart, I would have dropped a tear or two. She really had a way to use her words, accepting the blame upfront, thanking others for their patience (of not killing her – not for the lack of trying), and the promising to make up for her mistakes.
I had to admit, she would be a terrifying politician in the future, given the chance. A quick speech, barely 5 minutes in total, yet it was able to cover all points and topics with sufficient depth. Wish the old men back home could learn a thing or two from them. I swore, their shortest speech could be half an hour long. Their delivering style left much for delivery, and their tones were the best lullaby I had ever found on the internet.
There was a reason why I used intelligence briefing for Vietnamese politicians' speeches and never listened by myself. Their talks were just too dull!
While I was grumbling in the backstage, reminiscing about bad times of my past, Chifuyu had already walked past me and stepped into the stage. She brushed through my shoulder… And if anyone was thinking I felt embarrassed or aroused, they were wrong. I just felt dread and fear.
We just physically clashed once – she was planning to chop me with her hands, presumably because I implied she to be old. Sure, I was able to deflect it. But that was the problem, my original plan was to block. However, the weight and strength of the strike were too great, forcing my right shoulder to give out. Hell, it was sore for a few minutes after that. Such strength should not be possible… Or rather, it should not be possible for someone without lethal training.
Chifuyu knew how to kill people – even if it was just a theoretical stage.
Sure, one might call me paranoid, but it was not paranoid when there were people out there actively tried to harm me. Hell, just two days ago, there were a bunch of chicks trying to kidnap me, they were presumably IS supremacists… and I was not boarding within the IS Academy. No, it was not paranoid, it was simply being careful. Besides, it could be said that I was a martial art practitioner, and one strike was enough for a martial artist recognizing another.
Chifuyu was dangerous, and not because she was among the top IS pilots on Earth. I should pay more attention to the file made on her. It was written that she was skilled in martial arts, but there was nothing in there suggesting that she was powerful. Tsk, this was… troublesome.
Not as troublesome as the punishment Chifuyu gave Cecilia though. The work was relatively simple, summarized as "after school, helping out the Academy staff in menial work for the whole semester". It sounded simple, yes, until one actually sat down and listed out the work: cooking (which included all the related works, minus buying the ingredients), cleaning (which in fact comprised of every room, minus the private rooms – and yes, men's toilets must be also cleaned), cloth washing and drying, helping the teachers in moving the marked homework and papers… a lot, really. Oh, and here was the catcher: Cecilia had to wear a maid outfit while doing so.
French maid outfit, in plain English term… which meant it was not precisely a standard maid outfit, but rather one that had passed certain modification for certain activities. I still had troubled with the glint in Chifuyu's eyes when she said so… OK, I might be imagining the glint, but I was pretty sure that she was looking at me yesterday in class. And now, in the school-wide assembly, she repeated that, albeit this time, there was a lag of five seconds between finishing her talk and glancing to the side. But this time, I definitely knew she was pulling my legs with that half-hidden smirk and raised eyebrows.
Fucking dammit. I had no idea if she was able to hack into my personal phone and uncover my personal folder. The one that I named "Homework". Or the one I hid under a long path with a high inconspicuous name "A".
Yes. I had a maid fetish. Happy now?
And now, it was my turn to speak, being the responsible Class Rep and such. Sure, I was just spouting bullshit, something like adhering to the school rules and shit like that. Cecilia was under punishment, so there was no need for further harassment. The students of the Academy were asked to remember and follow that, or I would have to follow the code and actually protect Cecilia. I was also hoping for no more case of discrimination in the Academy. For me, origins and upbringings were not important, what mattered was deeds.
The girls did not clap, nor I expect them to. They were just murmuring over there… And to be honest, I was just wanting to get off the stage and run away from the devious smirk of Chifuyu. Tatenashi as well, she was having a very strange curl of her lips while talking to her sister in a corner and looking at me at the same time.
One should know that I faced a choice once, either join the force and enrol in the IS Academy, or become a lab rat. For obvious reasons, I chose the former. Now, with less than 48 hours here, I just believed that I had made a fatal mistake.
At least, the lab alcohol was ethanol, which was the same shit they put in spirits and drinks. I could drink that while being a lab rat, but not here in school
===================
The remainder of the week progressed relatively normal. Relatively. The girls were always watching me walking by (and I swore, some of them were licking their lips). Cecilia was cleaning around the school at night wearing a modified maid outfit. Honne's sister was an avid photographer, she once climbed on a tree to take better photos of Ichika. She learnt better, something about Houki's bokken and shinai being used as impromptu spears.
Bro was able to deal with the last part though, something about a kendo spar. I asked them about the rumours floating around the school, and as it turned out, the two of them was practising kendo together. For an outsider, it seemed like nothing, but I remembered a news piece: Houki was the ranking Japanese youth champion of kendo. The best among the best… One could even say that she was practically taking Ichika as her disciple. Or her personal punching bag. The bumps, bruises and limps were hard to ignore, but my bro just waved it off, chalking that to highly intensive training.
He was adamant about that, so it was not my place to poke my nose in. I should pay the dojo a visit or two though when I had free time. Just to be sure Houki was not too harsh. The two of them were not part of any national defence program, so they could not (and should not) take it full brunt.
Speaking of the full brunt, well, I was on its business end. First, my kidnappers had finally talked. Of course, how the Japanese made them talked (with full silence from the media and social network) was quite concerning. But in the end, they talked. And boy, they talked a lot.
Amazon Brigade. That was the one responsible for my kidnapping. It was… politically complicated. They were a semi-official union of the IS pilot worldwide. They were practically untouchable, thanks to the current female supremacy. Hell, even in the old world, it was still hard to do anything against them because we had too little proof.
My kidnappers did not act under the authority of the Brigade, but rather lashed out by their own. So, the Brigade would suffer some damage in prestige only, nothing concrete enough to make them taste the bitter pill. Worse, the organization of this union specifically prevented any centralization, so the act of a lone member would not be able to reflect on the whole unit.
Cheeky bitches. But the intelligence briefs did not stop there. The Japanese gooks were able to dig out some more. As it turned out, the Brigade was formed around a core: the Valkyrie Battalion. No one knew about their existence, until now. Those girls were the cream of the crop, accounting for a third of the top 50 IS pilots around the world. Ichika's and my kidnapping was ordered by at least three members of this Battalion. The bitches just directly kidnapped me? They were grunts, promised for "promotion" from standard Brigade member to an honourable member of the Battalion.
So, the whole plot seemed like it was just some over-zealous bitches being sacrificed in a lost gamble… Nothing much could be done to punish the supposedly true culprit. Disappointing, but I was used to it. However, there was more, the intelligence brief ended with a note, a note that sent chills down on my spine: Something else was still being hidden. The most likely outcome was a still-unknown organization, presumably an international terrorist group.
It was a whole heap of trouble. One that should be solved with a series of investigation, infiltration and solved with the liberal deployment of SpecOp and law enforcement units. But that would take time and effort, and specialized training, items that I did not have.
Home shared the same sentiment. So for the time being, I just had an order: hunker down, but prepare to haul ass. And they gave me a new order, one that I found quite… strange. News about the duel against Cecilia got out fast, and a few countries decided to use it as an opportunity to improve the relationship with my country. And/or to get a few more trade deals, and/or to improve their military power. Sure, it was at the expense of the UK (thanks again, Cecilia), but it was just geo-politik in the end.
Besides, I had free weaponry, so turning down the offer (and disobeying the order) was… not really recommendable. The Russian and American asked me to field test two new cannons, originally slated for tank's use, and the Chinese were hoping that I would test out their new artillery ammunition. Respectively, I got a plasma rifle, on railgun, and a whole crate of grenade – all at IS's size, of course.
Oh, and a lot more cash in my account. Money was always good. Especially tax-free money.
Still, there was a drawback in that, which was the maintenance issue. All those three weapons were completely new, so I had to get used to them. This led to that, and that was why I was spending my Saturday night in the workshop. Sure, I could delay the work on Monday, but this was weaponry, one must not take it lightly.
Besides, I had no idea what to do for fun, other than drinking, reading or playing video games. As I said, I was neither good in socializing or flirting, so I focused on what I was good at: combat and academy.
"I think you have better things to do on a Saturday night?"
That was Kanzashi. Yeah. Her. Again. After nearly a week spent together after school, I had kind of grown to accept her presence. Sure, I occasionally heard the maniac laughter of an older blue-haired girl, but I had to admit, Kanzashi was nice. She was curious, but not nosy, she knew her limit, keeping herself out of my personal business. Besides, it was funny watching her getting flustered with a fail segment of code and swearing like a sailor.
She was a bookworm, presumable. I caught her reading something on her phone a few times already. Lots of text, and not enough diagram or chart, so it must be some kind of story. Wonder if she enjoyed isekai stories, too…
But back to her question, was she not the second-in-line for heirship? So it should be me asking that, yes?
"No, I don't."
"Don't you like clubs?"
"For a drink? Yes. But for dancing and mingling? No, the music is too loud, besides, I don't like crowd much."
"Hmmm… Interesting…"
"How about you? No fancy meeting at a luxurious restaurant for the weekend?"
"I throw my sister at that. I don't know how to read people's mind, so I don't know how to… er…"
"Say the perfect line?"
"Yep! That's the one!"
The two of us kept trading small talks while working. It quickly turned into a debate over what kind of weapon one should use for IS combat. Luckily, we were both using modified/upgraded Mass Production model of the second generation, so we had the same common ground. Kanzashi was still enamoured with blades though, something about Japanese martial arts… and something about her sister. Younger siblings always tried to one-up their elders, and more often than not, failed miserably. The elder just had the edge in experience and familiarity to win over, and over, and over again.
Meanwhile, I was a military brat, and I firmly believed that I should not give any advantage to the opponent. Sure, my CQB skill was competent, but it depended on critical strikes and sure-kill techniques, which were not really applicable to IS suits. Therefore, I had to rely on my other set of combat skills: marksman/demolition. Utilising a mixed set of guns and other ranged platforms to deliver death from afar, I preferred this over melee fight. Besides, it meshed well with my non-IS fight too.
"So that is why I enjoyed using guns. I'm used to them, and they can help me open up a lot of new avenues of tactics."
"I'm still a blade user… But just curious, what kind of gun do you like?"
"For IS scale?"
"Yep."
"M242 Bushmaster, practically ripped out of a USN warship."
It was a mistake saying so. Though I would say that I failed successfully. Kanzashi was a nerd, a weapon nerd. Hell, she knew more about guns than I did – and one should remember, I was a Junior Officer Cadet.
It was… amusing to say the least when I saw her getting into a debate over the superiority of Russian guns. Yeah, it escaped my mind, she was half-Russian, so she would be somewhat defensive when it came to things like this. AK-320 and AK-630 were put up as the counter to the Bushmaster, the first was a tri-barreled autocannon using 20mm rounds, and the second was a six-barreled rotary cannon of 30mm cartridge. Both saw widespread usage within the Russian fleet.
And to be honest, I learnt more about the two Russian guns in half an hour more than the full month I spent with my instructors. Then, the talk just kind of… flew from there? We did not even stop talking over dinner – and yeah, we kept ourselves to a strictly professional discussion over how to sneak in the office of the Student Council and proceed to vandalise the whole room. How we got there from discussing the best rifle for IS usage, I had no idea.
But I definitely did not complain. It was fun.
"Acid sulfuric? Nah, it cannot cut through the metal quick enough, even at high concentration."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Thermite. If you are using acid sulfuric, you will destroy the doorknob, same thing achieved with thermite."
"Do you know how to make that?"
"Yes, from off the shelf parts. Though I have to admit, having access to a full lab or a workshop would make the efficiency way higher."
"How do you actually know about that?"
"I'm a Junior Officer Cadet, and I'm in for Special Force. What do you think?"
I admitted I may sound a bit smug at that. But then, figuring out ten different ways to break in the office without resorting to specialized tools of the military was no small feat. I deserved to stroke my ego a bit.
Kanzashi just grunted and grumbled with that, mumbling in Russian. Thanks to being coached in a few foreign tongues, I was able to recognize the word "gorilla". Fair enough then, some Special Force operatives could be deployed as the tip of the spear, clearing the way for the regular forces. Aggressiveness and brash attitude was the norm for that. Being called "gorilla" could be deliberately understood as a compliment then.
I watched her, enjoying the view. Being the weekend, the rules of the Academy was quite lax on the matter. Uniform was not enforced, so the students were free to wear what they wanted. Sure, it also meant that they had to wear decently, so my wish of girls wearing skimpy and risqué outfits were not realized today.
Blame that on my hormones. Girls here were hot, and all boys loved eye candies. But by the end of the day though, what hit me the strongest was not the seductress, but a simple, down-to-earth girl. Kanzashi, who was sipping tea in front of me, was an example of that. A quick look at her and no one would think she was the second-in-line to take over one of the largest incorporations in Japan.
A pair of long jeans were worn along with a short-sleeved white blouse. Some frilly cloth was attached to the collar, making her more feminine. The frameless glasses did wonder to her round face, subtly showing her intelligence. Some might call her a "nerd", which suited me fine, nerd (and geek, for that matter) made good waifu. The two black and gold hairpins were still atop her head, completing the shoulder-length and inward-curled blue hair.
And the brownish-red eyes, well, I must say that it was strange… Like amber, shining under the lights. Unwavering, steel under a cloth. Still, like the water of a lake. She was soft speaking, not because she was meek or weak, but because she found no need to raise her voice. It was either she was a defeatist in her core, or she was simply too brilliant.
"Finish ogling me?"
The calm voice of Kanzashi woke me from my… gazing? Watching? Star observing? Yeah, shit like that. I was not sure if she was feeling irritated or surprise. Her voice was still even and calm, so either she felt nothing, or she was just hiding her own emotion. I was leaning the latter theory. I would do the same in her shoes – if not deliberately misinform her by showing my amusement. But in this case, maybe honesty would be the way to go.
"Not ogling, but enjoying the view."
"What is the difference?"
"Well, ogling would lead to, er, what is Japan famous for? One that begins with the letter "H"."
"… Fuck you."
I did not mind that, really. Though it would be more like a fling, a one-night stand. Good in the short term, shit in the long term. Enjoyable, but not really recommendable.
"Yeah… Meanwhile, I just enjoy the view, wanting to keep you as who you are. No need to change, no need to lewd. You are just… you, I guess?"
Kanzashi just raised her eyebrows at that, looking quizzical at my answer. Umh… was that the correct line to say?
"Well, an acceptable response. Thanks for the sentiment, I think."
Not good, not bad, but I would take that over a pissed off girl. She was still sharing the same workshop as I did, so keeping her happy was quite high on my list.
"So, would you cheer for me on Monday?"
"Maybe, maybe not."
The blue-haired girl said so, while wearing a faint smile on her lips.