Strike Witches 2012 Episode 9: Warkeeping

[Rupudska]

Black Sea
15,000 Feet
9 March 2012
10:30 AM

Ruya was mad. She was mad because the Yeager had to be left behind in the Mediterranean. It was making a mad dash to Split to assist Illyria, since Venezia seemed on the brink of war. The problem was that it meant that Karlsland and Orussia would have to move even faster to defeat Ostmark... no easy task.

All of their things had flown out before them, by way of C-130s launched from a small base in Greece. They had been protected by full-size fighters; even though the C-130s bore the LoN Peacekeeping Corps insignia, they would still be easy prey for Ostmark fighters without them. They were currently escorting the last of the C-130s, which had Nastya on board, as her Striker units were currently in Odessa.

They were near the Dacian coast, about halfway between Greece and Odessa. So far, no Neuroi had popped out from the Hive currently over Georgia. And no Ostmark fighters had popped out from the numerous bases a few hundred miles away. So far, so good. And, better yet, nobody had done something crazy yet. Even Adela was behaving herself.

All in all, it was a good day, but Major Ruya was still angry, because the war they were now in existed.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Bushra rolled her shoulder and flexed her elbow a bit to warm up her arm. She had patched the new hole where the Ottoman flag had been on her uniform with a simple brown piece of fabric that vaguely matched the surrounding parts of her uniform. The problem was she had done a slipshod job and it leaked air like a sieve with bullet holes in it leaked water.

But it was still worth it. She had left the flag patch lying in the corner of the cell she had been in on the Yeager. In the mad rush that had gripped the carrier after news of the outbreak of the war the less than regulation appearance of her uniform had seemingly gone unnoticed.

Maybe I shouldn’t of done that. All it’ll do is make things more difficult for me…Nuray could probably even initiate a court-martial against me for it.

But it felt so good.

Practically the action hadn’t mattered of course. Bushra was still a part of the Ottoman Imperial Air Force, with all the wonderful privileges and responsibilities that entailed, but it mattered to HER.

For a moment Bushra looked down disgustedly at her strikers, for the first time since she had first flown in them. They still bore, quite prominently, the crescent and star of the Empire on them. Maybe she could do something about that if she found a can of paint or something…And if she could somehow keep Nuray from noticing it. It was fairly easy not to notice the missing insignia on her arm, it would be much more noticeable if those on her strikers disappeared.

Well, when I show her for the murderer she is and kill her I won’t have to worry about it.

But how do I do that?

Bushra glanced down at the C-130 the squadron was escorting, grunting in amusement at the irony.

If all it takes is an open rebellion to push the world into war with itself maybe we should’ve started sooner!

Bushra rolled her eyes. Of course, then the Karlslandic nobility wouldn’t have had a directly adjacent enemy to conquer land from in the name of helping the revolution.

Previously, when we left our (other) intrepid Syrian hero...

Ottoman Empire, Vilayet of Syria - Roughly 50 miles south of Damascus

Miad Al-Asaad leaned his head back as his jeep bounced over another pothole. He had been reading whatever intelligence he could get his hands on for most of the last hour as he returned to Damascus from his meeting with the other rebel leaders. Most of it was utterly worthless, and most of the rest concerned the sudden outbreak of war instead of anything he was actually concerned with. The war was certainly big news, but the intrigue inside Ottomania itself concerned him more directly.

There were a handful of radical groups that had stated their goal as killing the current sultan, even one group mainly made up of military generals who were unsatisfied with his treatment of the Armed Forces. But there were none he could find that would benefit somehow from deflecting the blame onto the Free Syrian Army or one of its affiliated groups. So-called ‘terrorism’ was practically accepted as a means of gaining attention. Calling attention to one’s cause by such means was the whole point of the act, and Asaad couldn’t imagine what other purpose it would serve for someone. Why would they do something so important as attempt an assassination of the sultan and then not claim responsibility for it to get their cause more concern from the Ottoman government?

Unless the purpose wasn’t to gain attention but to mislead any--

A scream from the front of his jeep and a bright streak of light that descended from a hill just off the road jerked Asaad out of his thoughts. The streak flew down from the top of the hill and slammed into the truck at the front of his small column, exploding in a brilliant display of red and orange, accompanied by a chest-pounding whump. The fire briefly illuminated the pickup and the desert sand around it, as well as the bodies inside, before the pickup rolled off the road and into the darkness.

“[Son of a donkey!]” The driver of Asaad’s jeep yelled as he slammed on the brakes.

“[Out! Now!”] Asaad screamed. Heeding his own advice he snatched a rifle and leapt out of the jeep before it was stopped, running away from the road almost as soon as his feet hit the ground. He knew what came next; usually the positions were just reversed.

There was another flash in the night and another loud whump that echoed in the still night air of the desert. The overpressure wave from the explosion sent Asaad flying forward.

That was when the smaller cracks and pops of small-arms fire began.

How the hell did the Sultan’s Security Forces find me?

Asaad scrabbled behind a small rock outcropping that held three of his original fifteen men and immediately raised his rifle towards the road. The Jeep he had been in moments before was a blazing wreck flipped completely over on its side. There was no sign of the driver.

Asaad briefly cursed himself for grabbing the rifle instead of the radio, ignoring that doing so would have taken longer and likely gotten him killed. This was bad, that the Sultan’s forces knew where he’d be meant they probably knew about the meeting. A radio would’ve let him warn the others.

“[What was that? WHO was that?]” one of the other men in the ditch wondered aloud. Asaad didn’t answer. They both knew.

Or they both thought they knew at least. They were both wrong.

There was a loud popping sound and then the sky lit up with a faint green light that illuminated the darkness. There was a brief moment of silence and then the small-arms fire that had descended in volume rose again as bullets began to ricochet off the opposite side of the small cluster of rocks that covered Asaad and his remaining men.

“[Shit.]” Asaad said simply. He blindly fired a handful of shots toward the attackers then ducked below the rocks before they could return the favor.

Suddenly the flare Asaad’s attackers had fired flashed a bright green light that momentarily illuminated the whole area in a green-tinted imitation of noontime. The light faded in an instant and the desert was plunged back into pitch darkness.

The cracking sounds of the attackers guns suddenly turned into an odd popping sound that sounded like a smaller version of the explosion that had taken Asaad’s jeep.

Something even darker than the surrounding desert passed overhead briefly, and Asaad felt a gust of wind whip into his face.

A moment later he heard the unmistakeable sounds of someone throwing up.

It was only then he finally realized the gunfire had stopped completely.

Peeking over the rock, Asaad strained to see across the road where the attackers had been. But the dark was too much. Taking a deep breath, he stood and began to make his way towards the sound of puking, expecting for gunfire to start up again at any moment. It did not.

He found the source of the puking moments later.

She was small. So small he almost tripped over her in the dark. Worst of all she was puking and crying like mad.

A few steps away Asaad spotted a pair of rough-looking strikers, the Star of David quite brilliantly painted on them in gold, though much of it seemed to be flaking off and peeling from excessive wear without proper care.

“[Are…]” Asaad began, only to finally connect the dots. “Are you alright?” He asked in English, hoping the girl would understand him. He didn’t know any of the girl’s language beyond ‘Shalom’.

In response the little girl before him just wretched again, though Asaad saw nothing come out.

“I…I killed them.” She muttered, before trying to throw up once more.

Asaad closed his eyes. Simultaneously thankful that he had been saved but wishing he hadn’t been. Every day brought new evidence to him that the world was insane and getting more so. Witches were carefully used and expended like actual soldiers, their childhoods ignored in the name of the greater good. This was just one more in a long line of broken little girls whose innocence was stolen from them because of the magical abilities they possessed. That she was on his side didn’t matter, he was just as guilty of ruining her life and the lives of everyone like her because of his own desire to breathe one more day, to win the war against the Neuroi, to win a feud with other humans. All of humanity used them like another weapon, and then tried to make up for it after they lost most of their power by offering them honorary titles and lauding their accomplishments. Of course, all the titles and honors in the world couldn’t give them back their childhoods.

Not restrained by any religious social rules, Asaad dropped to his knees beside the girl and held her hair back as she continued to puke.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” Asaad muttered as he ran a hand through her hair.

His men approached from behind but Asaad waved them off with his head, jerking it towards the hill their attackers had fired from. Understanding the message, they left to look over the area.

The girl in his hands puked one more time, this time successfully. “The same thing happened to Gantz.” Almost as soon as she finished speaking her body went limp.

“[What? Shit!]” Asaad screamed as he leaned the young girl’s body back and hurriedly checked to be sure she was breathing. Thankfully she was.

What the hell was going on? Gantz had been attacked as well? That wasn’t surprising, but what was this girl doing coming to him?

“[Boss, there’s something you need to see.]”

“[Explain it to me, I’m a bit preoccupied.]”

There was a long silence from behind Asaad that was finally filled by a long sigh from whichever of his men was back there.

“[They weren’t Security Forces.]”

Asaad leaned back at that, still keeping a careful eye on the Jewish witch that had saved his life. [“Why would there be Army personnel here? They’ve been transferred north to guard against the Neuroi…]” And now the Orussians with their declaration of war...

There was a crunching sound of sand from behind Asaad as his man shifted his weight.

[“No. That’s not it sir. They weren’t Army either. We can’t find any ID on them actually.]”

Asaad turned at this, a question rising in his throat. Before he could say it his eyes locked on the body his man held in his arms.

It was another small body, clad in a simple black overcoat and pants. The only thing that disturbed the body’s peaceful image was the upper receiver of an Ottoman-issued machine gun sticking through its forehead--Sticking through HER forehead.

There were two others just like her. Witches with the metal from their own guns stabbed through their heads.

It was Asaad’s turn to puke.

[Wolfenium]

Outside Sohvi's office, USS Charlotte E. Yeager
Silence. A matter that never seems to exist wherever Adela was around. And yet, ever since the mayhem caused by her old squadron, silence seems to be all she was capable of at this moment. Whether it was mealtime, training or recreation, she had never made a single word beyond work-related conversations, and even in those rare moments, her tone sounded awfully cold and robotic. It was like every bit of her fiery personality just dissolved away. Even her eyes did not seem to blaze in any instance.

Standing in front of Sohvi's quarters, the listless witch looked pale and zombified, a virtual drone devoid of any emotion. A paper in her hand, she seem to have a word for her. Her blank eyes shifting back to the note in her hand, she could not help but recall the words of her commander back then.

'Let me handle Stefanija,' Ljiljana's words whispered in her mind, 'I won't let anyone hurt you, especially not her. I don't know if the truth is still too much for you to handle, but I won't force you to recall. However, I suggest you leave this ship before that illusion shatters completely. I see the fragments leaking in as it is. I can't bear to see you torture yourself even more.'

"The truth..." she uttered in a flat voice, "what is truth?... Everybody lies... Everybody..."

Rector's Palace, Dubrovnik, Republic of Illyria

Dubrovnik, on the Adriatic coast. Once the seat of power of Republic of Ragusa, the city now played host to the newly formed Illyria. Devouring much of Ostmark and Venezia's coastal territories in the light of the Neuroi incursion, the Sisters of Illyria now had the backing they needed to legitimize their power. But even after the establishment of a provisional government, few in the new nation was under any illusion over the true master - or mistress - of Illyria. Transforming the old Rector's palace into a makeshift headquarters, Marshall Stefanija Trpimirović, former terrorist mastermind of the Sisters of Illyria, was now the leader in a national struggle for independence against her former colonial masters. Gazing into the calm Adriatic seas, she could not help but relish the effects of her war.

"And just like that, the vultures has arrived to pick at the Hapsburgs' bones," she remarked, holding a glass of cognac as she admired the scenery, "hypocrisy knows no bounds."

"I'm sure if you'd attacked the Yeager as planned, the entire world would arrive to crush us," a voice broke out from the entrance, a figure stepping in at a silent creak, "I didn't think you'd be that desperate. Or rather, you expect me to succeed."

A faint frown flashing on her mouth, Stefanija quickly put back her game face as she turned to back the woman in question. Still dressed in her Carabinieri uniform, Stefanija quietly observed the Orthodox nun questioning her. Playfully tapping at her head, she quipped, "for someone who has first dibs on a person's thoughts, you don't seem very quick to decipher me. Or is it because your powers are waning with age that you aren't able to read as much as you could, Milovanovic?"

Ljiljana made no effort to hide her spite, she knew she had caught on too late to Stefanija's true intentions. Sending a troupe to sink the Yeager, Stefanija deliberately leaked the information for Ljiljana to act, hoping her instincts would play into her hands. True enough, Ljiljana rushed to keep her beloved girl safe, while Stefanija herself presented her vision of the new Illyria to the world. As a result, she was able to fill the new provisional government with a large number of Croatian cronies, most, if not all, at her beck and call. While she could justify the cause that Ostmark still had Serbia under her control, the fact was that she had other plans for Illyria.

"I did not fight to replace one absolutist with another, Marshall," the nun remarked coldly, "I did not fight to free my people only to have the words 'Croatia' plastered over the lands of Belgorod. This nation belongs equally to the children of the Balkans, not to a daughter of Trpimir. You best know your place, woman. Or you won't have this nation intact."

Smirking, Stefanija cautioned, "you believe you can fight on your own, nun? If you haven't noticed, the world itself is now jostling to become Illyria's new masters. If you wish to become a puppet for Liberion or Orussia, be my guest. I'll see how their 'liberation' breaks your people like it broke the Afghans. I do not intend to have Illyria follow that same path. I assure you, as long as you behave, you will not have to bow your head to any foreign yoke ever again. Foreigners, anyway..."

Her fists tightening at her words, the nun had half the mind to knock the Croat's smile off her face and gouge her eyes out. However, doing so would risk having Illyria overrun by Ostmark and her allies, or forcing the country to become one of the many satellites in the other powers' great game. She understood that she herself lacked the charisma to become a true leader, but to have Stefanija step up her own plans was heresy for her. In the end, Ljiljana could only relent that fighting her now would be futile. She would have to think of another way, and fast.

"Fine," she conceded, forcing her feet to tear away towards the door, "have it your way."

The Croatian revelled as the nun backed out in a begrudged expression. She understood the nun's weaknesses fully well. A woman who operated from the shadows, Ljiljana was not adept at politics. Out of all the Sisters in the group, only Stefanija had the legitimacy and skills to rally the Sisters and Illyria to open resistance. As the girl began to depart, however, the Croatian decided to make one last gloat.

"By the way, nun," she arrogantly told Ljiljana, "the Ostmark military is recalling all their witches from all fronts. They've been angered by the world's betrayal, and they'll rather have the Neuroi raze humanity to the ground without their aid. How do you think this would affect your doll?"

Ljiljana paled in horror at her words. She had realized now the implications of their actions. While Adela's loyalties were far from conflicted, her father's position left her with some dismal options. With orders from Vienna to withdraw all support in humanity's resistance against the Neuroi, Adela would have to choose between desertion or death by Illyrian hands. Given the girl's state of mind at this point, the nun was uncertain at what the Dacian would do now. Hiding her dismayed look, Ljiljana heaved a sigh. Her voice struggled to hold together, she merely responded in a curt voice.

"She's made of stronger things than this," she stated, "I didn't pick her for nothing..."

And with that, Ljiljana was gone, her disposition clearly more frail than before. She understood that doing nothing would allow Stefanija to consolidate her power, the heiress of the dynasty determined to reclaim the crown they lost to the Hungarians. But removing her too early would threaten Illyria's independence in the future, forcing her to become yet another vassal for Liberion or Orussia. All in all, the rebellion was timed to suit Stefanija's needs, not so much the nation as a whole. For her to prevent Illyria from becoming a Croatian hegemony, she would have to think of something, and act carefully...

[Minroz]

Flying her F-16 striker pack, armed with her Barett XM500, Nuray is focusing on her escort mission, rather than be concerned on the recent events. It infuriated her to no end; it always reminds her of dark past in which she’s forced to endure. Indeed, she’s troubled by the declaration of war of her beloved homeland against Orussia, not only that, a possible prospects of World War. Although, she kind of expected it, given the ambitions of the Orussian leaders, not to mention sending their spies to disrupt the Ottoman reformation process on several occasions and help stir up rebellions in the Empire’s territories, thus leading to this.

“So it comes to this, huh? Damn Northern Bastards! Damn traitors!” she seethes about the corrupt officials. “I will show you all to the way of paradise, promised by Allah. Inshallah.”

In other words, she’s going to kill the corrupt Ottoman officials by herself and make her foolish sultan beg for mercy, regardless of the consequences.

Nuray was wondering if going to Odessa, an Orussian territory will be the end of her. Even as a member of the International 501st, it does not give her much comfort, protecting herself from the wrath of the locals. Her reputation as an ace witch is quite well-known in the Orussian military, ever since her involvement in Georgia campaign, wrecking havoc on Federation troops especially killing many of their commanders and veteran witches stationed there, armed only with her sniper rifle without a scope, she earned the nickname ‘Grey Death’ by Orussian troops as of result.

Her reputation is notorious enough that the Orussian Army are so scared of her that they sent in large detachments of Special Forces, artillery bombardment and bomber airstrikes in an attempt to flush her out and kill her. Luckily, they didn’t knew her real identity but Nuray fears she’ll be found out soon, risking her life and others in the 501st, she’ll not let it happen.

She hopes the squadron leader Major Ruya knows what she’s doing when they’re arriving in Odessa. Worst, how the other think of her when they found out what Nuray’s been through in Black Ops.

“Well then, either it will be the end of me or it’s a blessings.” She thought.

Decided to recite her prayer in Arabic, the prayers help sooth her when she’s feeling down, “[In the name of Allah, the most gracious, the most merciful. All praise and thanks are Allah’s, the Lord of the Alamin (mankind, jinn and all that exists). The most gracious, the most merciful. The only owner of the day of recompose. You Alone we worship, and you alone we ask for help. Guide us to the straight way. The way of those on whom You have bestowed Your Grace, not of those who earned your anger, nor of those went astray. Amiin.]”

She kept on flying, wondering how the future will plays out.

---

Odessa Air Base, Orussia

Inside the office of the base commander, Oksana wearing her officer uniform is sitting on the comfortable sofa and holding in her right hand are her lighted cigar. She has returned from Illyria for further debriefing on the war, which she’s looking forward to. Facing her is the commander of the Odessa base, her beloved big brother Colonel Boris Ularov, like her he’s a highly-intelligent, sadistic and ruthless commander, sharing her love for torture. As if he’s a male version of Oksana.

“So…you’re sure the Grey Death (Nuray) is coming here?” he asks in Russian, sitting in his leather chair. “I thought she’ll chicken out, no.”

“No, big brother…” the young woman chuckles. “She’s too proud for that. In fact, she’s coming along with the 501st squadron, making a pit-stop here. You know why they’re here?”

“Hmph,” Boris snorts. “A Neuroi hive over Georgia that is, if these rats (501st) are not under diplomatic immunity, I will gladly order the base to shoot them down.”

“Same here brother,” Oksana sighs gracefully. “Pity, none of them ever appreciate our art of tortures and our love for the motherland. I’ve looked up into their files.”

“How’s things goes in Illyria?” the Orussian commander inquire, earning another sigh from her sister.

“Messy…I best describe. More like Croatia under the name of Illyria per say.” She explains as if it’s trivial. “I’ve received reports about the rising discontents in Sisters of Illyria ranks, coming from those hailing from ethnic minorities in the region. It seems the sisters are not safe from being racist to one another. What a funny world we live in.”

They then burst into a raucous laugh, one of sadistic killers. “These Illyrians should know only Mother Orussia can bring them together under our rule, unlike the Western devils, we will dealt with them like we did with the Chechens.” Boris stated amusingly.

“Indeed Boris, I’d like to see how the Illyrians do next. Oh, how I remember I killed the Chechens in the good days.” Oksana said as she took a puff of her cigar, fondly remembers her time in Chechnya where she massacres local villagers who dared stood in her way, mostly to quench her bloodlust.

“Awww, you’re so lucky over there where I do boring paperwork…until Georgia.” The man pouts, crossing his arms.

“Meh, at least we did good together, fighting Georgian scum who dared stand against the motherland.” She retorts playfully, they burst into laughter together at their fun memories killing their enemies, innocent or not. But both of their expression turns serious.

“Until she came…” Oksana hisses, referring to Nuray. “HOW DARE SHE RUIN OUR FUN!” Her older brother nodded his head in agreement, clenching his fists, boiled with rage. The Orussian witch officer presses her cigar hard on the nearby ashtray.

“Yes, it’s bad enough she shot me in the stomach back in Tbilisi,” Boris utters “But I won’t forgive her for hurting you, my dear little sister.” Feeling touched by her brother’s love, Oksana leapt and hug her brother tight.

“I love you brother. I cannot bear losing you and Papa, not since mama died.” She cries into his shirt.

“I love you too sister, I will not forgive myself if you died.” The Orussian commander assures, hugging his sister back.

“Worry not; together we will bring Nuray and her loved ones to Justice, in the name of the Motherland and for God.” Oskana promised.

“In the name of the Motherland and for god, we will sister, we will.” Boris utters. “Let’s give Nuray and the 501st warm welcome in Odessa.” The psycho siblings let go and gave a knowing smile to each other.

“Indeed, brother. I’ll be leaving your office, we have work to do.” Oksana said as she smirks evilly. Her brother returned his evil smile.

[Firstaria]

The world is falling to his knees as we speak. We see the humanity wish to fall. We saw how this ended and how we failed to change things. We need to change things.

History is in the hands of few people. In one move, Maria changed the 501th. Even if that move was death. We need to substitute or eliminate those who will change things. We need to change things our way.

Or everything else will be useless to us.

15,000 Feet
9 March 2012
11:00 AM

If the squadron would have take any time to know Sarah better, they would have noticed her behavior. She seemed serious and distracted at the same time, focused but cold as she never was as long as she went in the 501th.

She was still in control, but she felt that the voice was right on anything she said. She was not an Invader, how mind control would seem to come from the inside? It would not make sense right, if it's the thoughts of someone else why she felt like it was...her thoughts. She felt the cold wind of letting things go the way they were suppose to go. She didn't like it at all, she felt she would have to change it as soon as possible. First of all, save the 501th from itself, as it was clear that the formation was gonna split at any second with the nations fighting each other.

War, wish to use our skills to destroy instead of protect and serve. The true sin of humanity. But war can be a blessing. It brings chaos. Chaos bring changes. Changes is what we need.

"Changes..." She repeated, feeling the wind and the sky darkening. She prepared her weapon, as she prepared herself for the right moment.

[Nachfolgia]

Karlsland/Ostmark Border

Even since war broke out a couple of weeks, Friederike and the rest of the JG 54 had been busy. She had to learn new formations and tactics that she missed when she was assigned to the 501st. Friederike didn't have a hard time learning new stuff, the problem was what that new stuff was used for. All across Karlsland and the world, militaries were being mobilized for the war, not a human-neuroi war, but a human against human war with people that had emotions and families just like Friederike. Friederike had no remorse killing a faceless Neuroi, but she wasn't too thrilled about killing a fellow human, especially a witch that was the same age as her or even younger. Despite her feelings, Friederike knew what she had to do, she had to protect her country and the nobility, even if it means killing a lot of young witches or even worse, death.

Friederike was flying in formation during a patrol of the Karlsland/Ostmark border. Being a sergeant now, Friederike was element leader of one of the three V formation that made up the whole flight formation. Anka, also a sergeant, was the other element leader of the V formation on the other side. These two V formations flew just behind the lead V commanded by Captain Veronika Aachen, Captain of the JG 54. As they flew, Friederike caught sight of a girl flying two down from Captain Veronika. This girl, Kamilla Fuerst, was the new Grünhertz 13 and despite knowing of the curse, she still wanted to be part of the unit. Friederike admired her courage and determination, but she knew that Kamilla will not see the end of the war. Friederike was thinking about the 501st and where they were or what they were doing, but was cut short by Captain Veronika calling her over the radio.

" Picked up anything yet, Sergeant?"

" Nothing yet, Captain. No sounds of Striker engines or the usual jet engines."

" well, keep an ear out. I don't want any suprises on these patrols."

" With all due respect, Captain, but I'm getting tired of these patrols." one girl called out from the back of the formation.

" You won't think these patrols are so bad when some Ostmark bitch tries to riddle you with bullets." Anka retorted.

" Quit, you two! Stay focused on the mission at hand." Captain Veronika yelled over the radio.

" ja, Captain." Anka and the other girl replied.

Friederike gave a slight smile as the captain yelled at the two. she was truely glad that she was back with her unit and the witches that she wouldn't trade a thousand 501st's or 135ths for.

[Agritum]

Black Sea
15,000 Feet
9 March 2012
11:05 AM

Jetting alongside Ruya and Sohvi, Matilde quietly scanned the skies in front of her with the barrel of her weapon, before resting her head on it and sighing, her expression a toughtful one. In Odessa, plenty of things expected her. Her new Marshall uniform (a rank roughly equal to that of Warrant Officer/Sgt.Major usedy by the LoN), her personal objects, her warrant, her new handgun. They had all been shipped to their new base in Odessa.

However, while still carring her old sergeant chevrons, Matilde already had the spirit of an higher grade soldier. Or specifically, officer. While that of Warrant Officer was quite a transition status between NCO and CO, it really mattered for her. Getting the warrant was like a reward for her services and experience in the field, and made up for her failed opportunity to enroll in officer academy. Mostly due to her father refusing to pay the tuition fees of that school. Oh, good old Papà.

Still, the fact that she had reached the rank of Warrant Officer through hardwork and tangible military experience made her feel quite well. And maybe, she could have enrolled in academy after the conflict had ended. In the meantime, she could have enjoyed all the benefits the rank of Mar...Sergeant Major gave.

"ETA to Odessa, Major?" she asked to Ruya.

[Rupudska]

Ruya shrugged. "Fifty minutes, give or take about ten minutes. We're near Constanta as it is. Hopefully no other Witches show up begging us to help them out, like we had on the flight over Illyria."

She shook her head, trying to get those images out of her mind. Especially in the regions nearest Ostmark, it was already quite ugly in Illyria. She saw several cities burning from artillery fire, and the entire 501st was under direct orders not to intervene unless given an order from the LoN.

It sucked royally, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

[Imota]

Black Sea
15,000 Feet
9 March 2012
11:10 AM

The past week had been mostly a blur to Beatrice. After the disgusting discovery in the brig and Liberion's declaration of war against Ostmark, the breakneck pace of preparing of war had left Beatrice with little time to dwell on her personal issues. She was glad to finally be on a long distance flight again, even if it was a escort mission.

I hope everyone back at 29 Stumps is alright, she thought as she adjusted her altitude. The idea of fighting humans sickened her; the idea of fighting fellow Witches even more so. She rolled lazily to her left and rose about a hundred feet. As far as she could see, there were no enemies in the area.

She thought of Yuri. She hadn't really spoken to him since her outburst aboard the Yeager a week ago, except for things relating to deployment preparations. She felt her chest tighten.

I can't change the fact that I still like him, but I need to shape and tell him that I'm grateful for what he's done, and that I'm sorry for what I did. He was right, and I was wrong. I know that....

So why can't I work up the guts to say it? Am I afraid of losing him? Am I afraid that acknowledging that we're not meant to be will kill my chances at a relationship with him? Even when I only talk to him about work stuff, I feel like my chest is gonna explode. I...I know I can't go on like this. I need to face up to the truth and accept it. We aren't meant to be. My chances of a romantic relationship with a man literally twice my age are less than nil. She gritted her teeth.

As soon as we land at Odessa, I'm gonna tell him three things. First, that I'm sorry I flew off the handle and basically tried to rape him. Second, that I'm grateful for what he said, and that he didn't take me up on my damn fool offer. Third, that I hope that we can continue to work together in a professional capacity. She exhaled.

I really hope this ends quickly...

[Finorskia]

Black Sea
15,000 Feet
9 March 2012
11:10 AM

Natalies first few days in the squadron had been...odd to say the least. Shed been surrounded by crazy people, accused of terrorism, and killed a crazy terrorist, (which wasn't really all that bad a thing, but it was still something to add to the list), and now she was flying along in her prop AWACS striker with food stores attached to her strikers so that she could keep her energy up on the long flight.
Damn. She thought to herself as she pulled out a granola bar and began munching on it. These prop strikers really weren't made to go this far. She finished eating, sighed and rolled on to her back. It's nice to be back in the cold. Something suddenly tingled Natalie's senses. She closed her eyes. She could see four F-15E Strike Eagles approaching at high speed with a full armament.
"Captain this is Natalie. We have a flight of four F-15E Strike Eagles inbound." Natalie reported.

"Hey Capt'n did you hear that. I think that girl just called us eagles." Came a mans voice over the comm. The man had a southern accent and was laughing.
"Kaw kaw" came a second voice, this one with a Boston accent.
"Well than Masher I think we have a problem." Came a third voice with a NYC accent.
"Whats that Woodstock." Came the first voice again.
"Well Masher. We're not Eagles. We're Beagles." The third voice said as the four planes flew past the squadron of witches and cargo planes.
"Alright boys settle down." Came a calming female voice. "See you girls back at base." She said addressing the squadron of witches.

"What just happened?" Natalei said after the F-15s had disappeared from view.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Ruya shrugged. "Fifty minutes, give or take about ten minutes. We're near Constanta as it is. Hopefully no other Witches show up begging us to help them out, like we had on the flight over Illyria."

She shook her head, trying to get those images out of her mind. Especially in the regions nearest Ostmark, it was already quite ugly in Illyria. She saw several cities burning from artillery fire, and the entire 501st was under direct orders not to intervene unless given an order from the LoN.

It sucked royally, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

“Capt—er, I mean—Major, if you don’t mind me asking, why exactly aren’t we helping? Isn’t the point of this whole deployment to be on the lookout for war crimes?” Bushra asked, trying, but failing, to keep her own frustration at the inaction from entering into her voice. “I mean, back there it looked to me like someone was focusing their artillery on the cities…” She continued, leaving the unmistakable suggestion that she knew exactly who that ‘someone’ was and that she had a very specific, and lethal, idea for how to stop them.

Rationally Bushra already knew the answer to the question, the 501st was a League squadron and the League wasn’t picking a side yet. After a careful analysis, in six to sixty months time, maybe they’d officially denounce Ostmark, possibly even send a strongly worded letter to the Hapsburgs about how they were big meanies that couldn’t play well with others. Until then though…nothing. They sent the 501st into the region and hoped their mere presence would somehow ease people’s suffering.

I’m sure the people’s whose homes were being shelled felt real eased by our presence.

What is the point of the League if it can’t protect people? We should be enforcing a no-fly zone or something, shouldn’t we? The League is supposed to have humanities interests at heart isn’t it? Isn’t self-determination in the interest of humanity?

Bushra sighed at the thoughts. It was a sad day when Karlsland’s imperial ambitions on Hapsburg lands was, perhaps, more in line with what was right than the League of Nations response to the war.

For not the first time Bushra wondered again just who the good guys were in this war. Karlsland had its own territorial ambitions for supporting the war, however much their nobility might deny it, the same thing went for Orussia. The only real wild card was Liberion, what reason did they have for jumping into the war against Ostmark?

[Rupudska]

Ruya sighed, listening to Bushra. "I understand what you're saying. If it were up to me, we'd be over there now, actually preventing war crimes instead of being parked in Odessa, like the mere presence of the 501st on the same continent as the Hapsburgs would scare them into playing nice. Which, as has been shown time and time again, in situations such as Vietnam, Afghanistan and Persia, does absolutely nothing."

She rolled over once, pulling out her own meal and taking a bite out of a roast beef sandwich.

"And honestly, if they're blasting cities, then Congress, the Liberion Congress, being the white knights they are, will side with the Illyrians. And if they put their full weight into this, Ostmark is history."

[Finorskia]

"But wait. If Liberion is on the side of the Illyrians why did they attack our carrier?" Yuki asked. Ever since shed herd the news of war shed begun to shake, her stomach felt wonky, and it hadn't stopped.

"I don't know, probably because at the time they thought the carrier would help, and since Liberion hadn't entered the war yet they decided to just take it." Natalie said. The poor AWACS witch was flying behind the rest of the witches. "Hey Major, when we get to base can I take a nap. All this flying is wearing me out?"

[Wolfenium]

Adela was not the only person muted over the state of affairs. Looking down at a letter of her own, Svetlana felt a bit disturbed by the news. Looking down at her letter, she felt queasy over the contents.

"Master Sergeant..." she uttered, reading the Cyrillic absentmindedly. She could tell why her superiors in Moscow would promote her. She just did not think she deserved it. Pocketing the letter, she decided not to think more of it. At least, that was her plan...

"Oh," she responded in bewilderment, looking over at the sudden presence before her, "sorry, I didn't see you there..." Hiding the letter behind her back, she tried hard not to look suspicious. Of course, deception was not her strong point, and her blush illuminated like a lie detector lightbulb.

[Al-Harbiyyah]

In a Kawasaki C-2 Somewhere Above Indian Airspace,
25,000ft
9th March 2012
09:59 PM

Above the sky over the Indian Airspace, a large Kawasaki C-2 Transport Plane with several F-15J's from the Fuso Imperial Air Force are currently en-route to Orussia to deliver a special cargo intended to the 501st JFW which are now stationed on the Black Sea via the Liberion Aircraft Carrier USS Charlotte E. Yeager to observe the possible conflict between two dominant power on that region which is the Orussia Federation and the Ottoman Empire under the observation of the League of Nations.

Inside the Kawasaki C-2, it was packed with small contingent of Fuso troops and humanitarian aide intended to be a part of the League of Nation Peacekeeping Force for the conflict ahead, other than the Fuso troops, there are one particular Witch among the Fuso contingent force, her name is Captain Yukine Ishizawa, an experienced Witch served with the Fuso Imperial Air Force.

She visited the cockpit of the C-2 to meet the pilot and asking them on the estimated time they will arrive to Orussia for transit to the fleet that stationed the 501st, "Hey pilot, how's you're holding up?" Yukine asks.

The two pilots turns to see the smile face of Yukine and they return their own smile, "Fine as it is Captain Ishizawa. It's a long trip but we will manage."

Yukine couldn't help but to laugh as she continues to talk with the pilots, she knew that the long flight from Fuso to Orussia is tough as they have to transit from Manchuria and all the way to India before entering Orussian Airspace, only by her presence as a Witch which are truly appreciated by the people of the Fuso Air Force as they are the ones that stands in the way of a total annihilation from the Neuroi.

"So when do we arrive to Orussia?" She asks

One of the pilot then pulls out a map and scrutinize it before he put it down and said, "Well for now, ETA would be 10 Hours if we land at Odessa and probably a couple of hours for you to be sent to the Yeager."

Yukine sighed at the information she received but she thanked the pilots and heads back to her seat, "Thanks and good work out there."

"You're welcome Captain." The head pilot replies and then turns to his co-pilot, "Send the word to the Odessa Tower on our arrival"

Yukine left as the pilots busy contacting the Odessa Air Traffic Control, she rests on her seat on the back of the transport plane as she began to remember her transfer to the 501st.

*Flashback*
Few days before,
Hyakuri Air Base, Fuso
7th March 2012
10:53 AM

The base of the Fuso Imperial Air Force is bustling with activity ever since the new Neuroi hive is detected on Fiji which resulted in several small incursions of the Neuroi into Fuso but thankfully repulsed by the Air Force.

Yukine at that time are still a part of the Fuso Imperial Air Force 7th Air Wing of the Central Air District Force. Her unit has seen actions especially a sudden Neuroi attack force on Britannian South-East Asian Expeditionary Fleet near Ceylon which by far, one of the tense battle she ever fought. But she never knew that she will be dragged into another whole new conflict which her own nation will soon (indirectly) participating.

That morning, Yukine and her fellow partner just finished her Combat Air Patrol routine when she is called by one of the base personnel, "Captain Ishizawa, good timing. Colonel Sato and Major Ueda wants to see you."

Yukine confused as of why she is called by the base commander and her own squadron commander but she decides to think of that later as she walks to the base commander's office. Inside she's greeted by two familiar faces which is the base commander Colonel Keiichi Sato and her own squadron commander Major Kana Ueda.

"Colonel Sato? Major Ueda? I believe that you two wanted to see me?" Yukine asks as she enters the office.

Her squadron commander Major Ueda chuckles, "Yes Captain Ishizawa, both of us want to bring some news for you."

Yukine immediately walks to the Major and asks, "W-What news!? Is Kazuki coming back?! Is he wounded in action?!" The person she mentioned is her boyfriend who served in the Fuso Imperial Army 1st Airborne Brigade by the name of Sergeant Kazuki who are currently served in conjunction with Liberion Marines in Wake Island.

It's the Colonel's turn to laugh much to Yukine's dismay but the Colonel quickly ended his laugh even though he still smiles at her, "Sorry Captain, I couldn't help it." He the cough up a bit a continued, "Well back onto business, you have heard the declaration of war between Ostmark and the Ottomans against the Allied nations have you not?"

Yukine confused but all she can do is nod. She had heard the recent conflict between the Allies against Ostmark and the Ottomans. She couldn't understand what drives those two to declare war on their fellow allies even though with the Neuroi threat still exists? It still baffles her to this day.

"Good to see that you know about that. So far our government 'in their wise words' have agreeing to send a contingent of our troops to the conflict area on the Black Sea under the League of Nations Peacekeeping Force. You especially has been recommended by the Air Defense Command to be transferred to the 501st Joint Fighter Wing which are now stationed on the Black Sea." The Colonel informed the still confused Fusoan Witch as he gives her the letter stating her transfer.

Without a word, she takes the letter and read until she finally shout, "Eh? EH!?"

Major Ueda pats her back as she complimented her, "Congrats Ishizawa! I'm proud of you!"

Captain Yukine just stare at the two as she at a loss of words for her to speak.
*flashback ended*

Yukine sighs as she remember that day and now she's wondered what will become of her in the near future as she's going to serve with the 501st but for now, she need a shut eye until the transport plane arrived at Odessa.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Ruya sighed, listening to Bushra. "I understand what you're saying. If it were up to me, we'd be over there now, actually preventing war crimes instead of being parked in Odessa, like the mere presence of the 501st on the same continent as the Hapsburgs would scare them into playing nice. Which, as has been shown time and time again, in situations such as Vietnam, Afghanistan and Persia, does absolutely nothing."

She rolled over once, pulling out her own meal and taking a bite out of a roast beef sandwich.

"And honestly, if they're blasting cities, then Congress, the Liberion Congress, being the white knights they are, will side with the Illyrians. And if they put their full weight into this, Ostmark is history."

Bushra grunted quietly in reply to the Major’s words, she had little faith in the Liberion Congress. Teacher had told her enough about them.

Bushra briefly glanced towards Nuray, He has told me enough about you as well, Turk. I will bring you to justice…somehow. Bushra had no idea just how she would do that, however. It would be easy to kill the Turkish witch, Bushra certainly had ample opportunities to do that, but that wasn’t what needed to be done. Bushra needed to expose her, to somehow show the rest of the 501st, and thus the world, the kind of murderer she was, the kind that called themselves soldiers and filled the ranks of the sultan’s army. But how?

Sighing, Bushra tried to distract herself from the thoughts by enjoying the land that was visible thousands of feet below. Trying to overshadow her own concerns with her elation at finally having solid land below her instead of the ever-shifting waves of the ocean. But the mere absence of the water that caused her such fits was not enough to ease her troubled mind.

How do I expose you for the monster you are?

[Agritum]

Adela was not the only person muted over the state of affairs. Looking down at a letter of her own, Svetlana felt a bit disturbed by the news. Looking down at her letter, she felt queasy over the contents.

"Master Sergeant..." she uttered, reading the Cyrillic absentmindedly. She could tell why her superiors in Moscow would promote her. She just did not think she deserved it. Pocketing the letter, she decided not to think more of it. At least, that was her plan...

"Oh," she responded in bewilderment, looking over at the sudden presence before her, "sorry, I didn't see you there..." Hiding the letter behind her back, she tried hard not to look suspicious. Of course, deception was not her strong point, and her blush illuminated like a lie detector lightbulb.

Matilde slowed down the jet of her Striker unit, decellerating to the point of allineating herself with Svetlana's position, where she started to keep the engine fixated on a particular, steady pace.

"Are you alright, Svetlana?" she asked with a slight tone of concern in her speak. "I hope that you managed to relax a little, before taking such a journey. Flying with already so much accumulatd stress would have been quite dangerous for you." Matilde started to say, in a manner resembling that of a polite and gentle lecture.

[Wolfenium]

Adela was not the only person muted over the state of affairs. Looking down at a letter of her own, Svetlana felt a bit disturbed by the news. Looking down at her letter, she felt queasy over the contents.

"Master Sergeant..." she uttered, reading the Cyrillic absentmindedly. She could tell why her superiors in Moscow would promote her. She just did not think she deserved it. Pocketing the letter, she decided not to think more of it. At least, that was her plan...

"Oh," she responded in bewilderment, looking over at the sudden presence before her, "sorry, I didn't see you there..." Hiding the letter behind her back, she tried hard not to look suspicious. Of course, deception was not her strong point, and her blush illuminated like a lie detector lightbulb.

Matilde slowed down the jet of her Striker unit, decellerating to the point of allineating herself with Svetlana's position, where she started to keep the engine fixated on a particular, steady pace.

"Are you alright, Svetlana?" she asked with a slight tone of concern in her speak. "I hope that you managed to relax a little, before taking such a journey. Flying with already so much accumulatd stress would have been quite dangerous for you." Matilde started to say, in a manner resembling that of a polite and gentle lecture.

"Ah? Ah..." Sveta whispered in uncertainty, " I'm fine, thank you. I've never been to Odessa frankly. I hope nobody gets hurt... I still don't understand how this could have happened... Why are we fighting amongst ourselves? And Tepes... I can't even tell what she's thinking at all. Vienna's already withdrawn most of her witches. I'm pretty sure they'll try to force her to return as well."

[Hetland 2]

Black Sea
15,000 Feet
9 March 2012
11:10 AM

Lysta smiled sweetly as her Nosferatu thrummed with magical power. She smiled inwardly, if anything she'd been a little more peppy since the mass declaration of war. She'd finally gotten the rest of her armoury shipped to her, and she looked a little ridiculous, with over 12 guns strapped over her body and a massive bolt action rifle slung over her back. She was carrying over 100lbs of guns and ammo in total. Despite all this and the long flight, she didn't seem to even have started breaking a sweat. Her large, intricately detailed Vickers machine gun gripped in her hands, the mechanisms finally fixed from the explosion caused by Yuri a few weeks earlier.
Lysta called back to Natalie, "Come on, ye shouldn't be tired for this wee hop, skip and a jump!"

[Finorskia]

Black Sea
15,000 Feet
9 March 2012
11:10 AM

Lysta smiled sweetly as her Nosferatu thrummed with magical power. She smiled inwardly, if anything she'd been a little more peppy since the mass declaration of war. She'd finally gotten the rest of her armoury shipped to her, and she looked a little ridiculous, with over 12 guns strapped over her body and a massive bolt action rifle slung over her back. She was carrying over 100lbs of guns and ammo in total. Despite all this and the long flight, she didn't seem to even have started breaking a sweat. Her large, intricately detailed Vickers machine gun gripped in her hands, the mechanisms finally fixed from the explosion caused by Yuri a few weeks earlier.
Lysta called back to Natalie, "Come on, ye shouldn't be tired for this wee hop, skip and a jump!"

"What was that?" Natalie said slightly agitated. She noticed her 15lb communications pack/magic amplifier was starting to become loose and she readjusted the packs straps. She then quickly checked her 83.78lb M2 Browning (for like the hundredth time during the flight), making sure that the 71lbs of ammo was going to feed properly in the event of an emergency.
"It must be nice to these flights in a nice nimble jet striker?" Natalie scoffed. "I'd like to see you do this in a prop striker. Oh, and on top of that I'm actively using my ability."
Well my ability is passive so it doesn't actually drain me all that much, but she doesn't have to know that. She thought to herself with a wicked smile. Sudenly Natalies stomach growled.
"oow. I could use a full meal right about now." Natalie wined.

[Hetland 2]

"What was that?" Natalie said slightly agitated. She noticed her 15lb communications pack/magic amplifier was starting to become loose and she readjusted the packs straps. She then quickly checked her 83.78lb M2 Browning (for like the hundredth time during the flight), making sure that the 71lbs of ammo was going to feed properly in the event of an emergency.
"It must be nice to these flights in a nice nimble jet striker?" Natalie scoffed. "I'd like to see you do this in a prop striker. Oh, and on top of that I'm actively using my ability."
Well my ability is passive so it doesn't actually drain me all that much, but she doesn't have to know that. She thought to herself with a wicked smile. Sudenly Natalies stomach growled.
"oow. I could use a full meal right about now." Natalie wined.

Lysta tutted at Natalie's response and flew down under her, belly up to face Natalie. She casually let go of her machine gun, letting her telekinesis pick it up from her hands and wagged her finger at her. "Your gun sure is in rough shape. Big ol' fatty too. Ye want me ta take a look at 'er when we touch down? Or ye one of them touchy witches who refuses to share anythin' with 'er squadron. I could also hook you up with specialty rounds for a discounted price." She paused as she smiled sweetly in response to the prop striker and ability comment, the sort of smile that said, 'I've seen right through you.' however she just kept smiling before addressing the striker comment alone. "Sure, You want to trade? Just to warn you that the Nostferatu MK.1 tends to give legs some nasty burns considering how poor the coolant system is." She looked away for a second, "Right, the more you complain about being hungry, the hungrier you make yourself feel so I'd recommend stoping that. Ok? Just lookin' out fer ya, Lassie."

[Finorskia]

Lysta tutted at Natalie's response and flew down under her, belly up to face Natalie. She casually let go of her machine gun, letting her telekinesis pick it up from her hands and wagged her finger at her. "Your gun sure is in rough shape. Big ol' fatty too. Ye want me ta take a look at 'er when we touch down? Or ye one of them touchy witches who refuses to share anythin' with 'er squadron. I could also hook you up with specialty rounds for a discounted price." She paused as she smiled sweetly in response to the prop striker and ability comment, the sort of smile that said, 'I've seen right through you.' however she just kept smiling before addressing the striker comment alone. "Sure, You want to trade? Just to warn you that the Nostferatu MK.1 tends to give legs some nasty burns considering how poor the coolant system is." She looked away for a second, "Right, the more you complain about being hungry, the hungrier you make yourself feel so I'd recommend stoping that. Ok? Just lookin' out fer ya, Lassie."

"Hey. Don't call Britta fat." Natalie called. She pulled her gun close in a sort of defensive hug. "She isn't in rough shape. I clean and maintain her after every flight." Natalie patted that scratched and chipped latch cover. "She's been through a lot and she may not look that pretty, but she hasn't failed me once." Natalie said lowering her gun into a more comfortable position. "I'm no gun maker nor an extreme expert, so I'm not about to doubt the word of one if they say there might be something wrong with Britta." She commented. "Oh. That thing about the strikers was rhetorical." Natalie finished.

[Hetland 2]

"Hey. Don't call Britta fat." Natalie called. She pulled her gun close in a sort of defensive hug. "She isn't in rough shape. I clean and maintain her after every flight." Natalie patted that scratched and chipped latch cover. "She's been through a lot and she may not look that pretty, but she hasn't failed me once." Natalie said lowering her gun into a more comfortable position. "I'm no gun maker nor an extreme expert, so I'm not about to doubt the word of one if they say there might be something wrong with Britta." She commented. "Oh. That thing about the strikers was rhetorical." Natalie finished.

Lysta looked back at her. "At 38 kilos unloaded, I think this... "Britta" you speak of is fatty." She stuck her tongue out in a playful manner, examining the gun with a careful gaze. "Sure is ugly... but I'll give 'er a looksie and double check if you're doing the maintenance right. Believe it or not most people aren't doing their maintenance correctly, but not fer lack of trying. I'll assume yer not takin' 'er apart to do the maintenance, correct?"

[Finorskia]

"Hey. Don't call Britta fat." Natalie called. She pulled her gun close in a sort of defensive hug. "She isn't in rough shape. I clean and maintain her after every flight." Natalie patted that scratched and chipped latch cover. "She's been through a lot and she may not look that pretty, but she hasn't failed me once." Natalie said lowering her gun into a more comfortable position. "I'm no gun maker nor an extreme expert, so I'm not about to doubt the word of one if they say there might be something wrong with Britta." She commented. "Oh. That thing about the strikers was rhetorical." Natalie finished.

Lysta looked back at her. "At 38 kilos unloaded, I think this... "Britta" you speak of is fatty." She stuck her tongue out in a playful manner, examining the gun with a careful gaze. "Sure is ugly... but I'll give 'er a looksie and double check if you're doing the maintenance right. Believe it or not most people aren't doing their maintenance correctly, but not fer lack of trying. I'll assume yer not takin' 'er apart to do the maintenance, correct?"

"Where do you get off calling my gun a fatty when, from what I understand, your 'master piece' weighed nearly as this thing does with a full box of ammo included." Natalie said returning the gesture of sticking out her tong. Natalie looked at Lysta for a moment then at her gun. "I do a standard field strip. I usually get Eeva to help me since it takes to people to do so. Then I wallow away for a few hours cleaning everything, then I get Eeva to help me put it back together." Natalie said calmly.
"I may not be an expert, but I'm not ignorant."

[Hetland 2]

"Where do you get off calling my gun a fatty when, from what I understand, your 'master piece' weighed nearly as this thing does with a full box of ammo included." Natalie said returning the gesture of sticking out her tong. Natalie looked at Lysta for a moment then at her gun. "I do a standard field strip. I usually get Eeva to help me since it takes to people to do so. Then I wallow away for a few hours cleaning everything, then I get Eeva to help me put it back together." Natalie said calmly.
"I may not be an expert, but I'm not ignorant."

Lysta chuckled. "Don't compare my masterpiece to a mass-produced gun. Psycho outclassed your Britta." She chuckled again, "If you were carrying psycho unloaded you'd be six miled below the surface right now. You're gun weighs nothing compared to that 300+ Kilo monster. Plus, I never said that heavier is bad. Please don't put words in my mouth. Heavier guns tend to be able to take a lot more abuse than lighter ones and are much more survivable."
She frowned at Natalie's last bit, "But where do you get off saying that I'm calling you ignorant." She seemed generally concerned by this comment. "I wasn't asking about a field-strip. I was asking about a full on maintenance job. As in, taking the entire gun apart and cleaning everywhere. There are a lot of places you can't normally get to if you don't do it right. Trust me, this is how I make a living. Or should I say I make a killing off of it." She chuckled sedately at her bad joke.