War Gears (IC, Episode One)

[The Grey Wolf]

The alleys of the Eternal City were frightening at night. Rats scurried around searching for food, while insects flurried about, and noises could be heard for all directions. This was what the city of Rome had been reduced to. Five years before, the grand Italian dictator had declared that Italy would join the war on the side of their allies the Germans, his people bearing with it like a resigned herd. Now, the capital of the former Empire was reduced from it's past splendor. This was not the place for women.

That did not stop two girls, neither to be mistaken for young or innocent, from walking through the area draped in cloaks, hoods concealing their faces. Most of the men laying around were too drunk after spending their week's pay, or already asleep to try and temporarily escape the mind numbing depression that came from their economic situation, to notice them.

As they walked, the two did not glance at the other or pay much heed to the unpleasantness of their surroundings. They had seen and smelled the blood and guts of the Second World War, this was mild in comparison. In a short time, they reached their destination, their feet moving much faster than an ordinary person. One of the girls held the door open for the other, who swiftly entered. Neither said anything as they rang the bell.

"I'm a coming, I'm a coming!" announced a voice belonging to a grumpy old man who sounded like he had seen much of the world and hated it for that exact reason. Walking into the room, he dropped the box that he was holding. Something fragile must have been inside the box, because there was shattering. "What are you doing here!?"

"What are we doing here, dearest sister?" one of the girls asked, not taking her hood off. The dim light in the room revealed a devilish smirk on her face. "Perhaps we should be asking you that, Battistelli. Where were you back in 1944 when we needed every man we could get?" something slid down the inside of her sleeve, and the old man turned pale. "Someone tells us that he is considering ratting us out..." sweat had already begun to pour down the man's face. "If he hasn't already." the other sister did the same.

"I won't say a word, please..."

"Oh, of course you won't." the temporary relief in the man gave way when the girl continued. "You know why? Because you'll be dead!" her head fell off her head, revealing two gleaming eyes, as machine gun fire lit up the room. The man fell over, gasping for breath, clutching at the wounds as if trying to close them back. The other sister walked up to his body as he breathed his last breath, and pressed the barrel of her rifle against his forehead before pulling the trigger. The blam! quickly ended his life.

"Oh, why did you have to do that, sister dearest? I was rather wanting to drag his suffering out." the girl said, quite peeved. Her gleaming eyes scanned across the room until she found what she was looking for. She grabbed the files from the cabinet and looked them over before walking to the door. "Looks like old Battistelli won't be ratting out any of our secrets. You should see this, sister, he was about to tell them everything..."

---

Riley rose from her bed, yawning and stretching her arms out before hitting the alarm clock to make it shut up. A half empty whiskey bottle lay next to her, it's contents dripping out onto the floor. "Dammit," she groaned. "I was going to drink that." the school faculty probably (heh, probably) wouldn't react well if they learned she had been smuggling alcohol on campus, but Riley couldn't be bothered to give a damn.

After splashing water in her face and changing into something other than an undershirt and shorts, she opened the door to her room and made her way to Classroom C. The school had numerous classrooms, on various floors, but only one was used; with the intention to differentiate the mages by types at a future date. While all the other mages arrived, she looked around for Penny, the Hellcat mage who she (however much she deny it) stuck to like glue. A Russian soldier, patrolling the floor, glared at her for loitering. Ivans, she rolled her eyes. They all needed to loosen up and lose that stick they had up their asses.

Classroom C was a plain, ordinary room, who's desks looked like they dated back to the era of Bismarck.

[USRK]

Deryn was so nervous she hadn't sleep through the night. Despite living through the war, she was still terrified of school for no reason. "Ugh..." she groaned as she got up, going into the bathroom. She pulled on her suit, leaving off the jacket, and put her hair up into twin tails. As she went to head to class, she had to stop by a bathroom to throw up because of her nervousness. "Dammit..." she thought. After ten minutes she finally made it into the classroom and was surprised to find a girl already there. She took a seat away from the other person, trying lower her chances of confrontation.



Zoe woke up and didn't even bother to so much as comb her hair, all she wanted was for the school day to be other so she could go back to playing her swing records and cutting up the clothes she had gotten from her military friend. She then trudged down the halls to the classroom and say in the more comfortable seat reserved by the teacher. She didn't even bother to take a second glance at the other two girls

[Nachfolgia]

Annaliese woke up screaming and covered in sweat. It was another night of endless nightmares for the former SS soldier. As usual, the nightmare involved what she witnessed during the war. This one was about Stalingrad, the worse battle Annaliese ever witnessed. In the nightmare, she witnessed her best friend die over and over again, each death more gruesome than the last. This was obviously a sign that she hasn't gotten over the death of her friends and for good reason. She hated the fact that all her sacrifice in the war was for nothing. She also resented the allies for destroying Germany and its citizens. To Annaliese, the Allies were monsters, especially the Russians.

Annaliese slowly got up from her bed and headed to the shower. Looking in the mirror, she saw how horrible she looked. Her cheeks were sunken and she had bags under her eyes. Her pale complexion added to the effects the war and its aftermath had on her. She quickly got undressed and got in the shower. After washing her hair, Annaliese just stood in the shower and let the water run over her. The more she stood and thought, the more pissed off she got. She really hated the Allies, even her fellow Americans.

After skulking in the the shower, Annaliese got and dried over. As she was drying herself, she glanced at the huge scare on her side caused by shrapnel from a Russian artillery piece. Once dry, Annaliese got dressed. Since she couldn't wear her SS uniform anymore, she put on a dress and thin sweater. Finally dressed, Annaliese left her room and head to classroom C. Walking down the hallway, Annaliese spotted a Russian Soldier patrolling the hall. When the Russian spotted the German-American girl, he gave her a disgusted look.

When they walked by each other, the soldier spat on Annaliese's shoes and kept walking. Annaliese stopped for a moment with a intense scowl on her face. She walked to kill the soldier with every fiber of her being. Unfortunately, if she did, she would most likely be executed, being the final straw in her year long record of in subordination. So Annaliese kept walking to the classroom. Entering the classroom, Annaliese spotted several Allied mages, two of which were American. She gave them a scowl and walked to the back of the classroom and sat down.

[Ulvenes]

Freyja was probably the first one up, if not the then definitely among the first. She always was. It was hard not to, what with being at war for so long she was used to getting up at the crack of dawn. Not that she minded, it was nice to watch the sun rise anyways. However she always stood in front of the flag poles at a firm stance of attention. No matter how much she hated doing it she couldn't help it but, every time she did a tear always rolled down her cheek at the absence of the flag of her glorious Fatherland, what was now nothing but a desolate ruin and people living in fear and poverty. The very reason she believed Großdeutschland went to war in the first place.

She sighed and wiped her wet face on her uniform sleeve before turning and heading in to the 'school'. Even in defeat, she stood tall and proud. Not letting her Soviet enemy see any weakness that she knew they would abuse. She entered the classroom and noticed another German mage, which immediately made her stone face change in to a gentle smile. She approached the girl and gave a firm salute. "Guten morgan Fraulein!" She said with a cheerful tone.

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

Erika slowly awoken, her sharp red eyes darted around the room before she gained the strength to remove herself from her bed. She remembered how comfy her bed was before the war, she always had a maid bring her breakfast. She was pampered her whole life until becoming a war mage. She was a spoiled brat at times, but she became a hardened fighter as a Panther Mage. Erika remembers the sound of bullets whizzing off her armor, the smell of burning vehicles and the corpse trapped inside. The horrifying screams of those fellow soldiers that met their death.

The panther mage wanted to forget it and go back to being a spoiled brat with swordsmanship as her hobby. But now, she's trapped in this school. With the Allied War Mages here, armed and ready to take her down if she dared do something wrong.

With a sigh, she got dressed, she wore her uniform, and wiped some dust, it was blood stained when Erika waa captured, now it looks brand new.She thought about the sword her family owned, a lovely blade that was finely crafted and still taken good care of, she hoped it got sent back to her family as requested by her when she was captured. The Panther Mage wiped the thought out of her head and went towards classroom C, her eyes couldn't be seen as she walked with her head down, only her well-kept red hair.

Erika slid open the classroom door, she saw three mages were already there. She paid them no mind and quickly took her seat at the back. "I thought I was done with school..Least I fought as proudly as my ancestors did with their blades.." She said leaning back in the chair.

[Zrhajan]

Eugena awoke to a fairly clear and sunny day, and the sound of her alarm beeping. Checking the time, she noticed that she still had a few minutes to spare getting ready. Seeing as this would be the first day here for her, she had decided to set up a prank, and having dressed in her normal clothing, getting ready as she would were she still in the Wehrmacht. Then, in order to prepare her prank, she had gathered some leafy branches from a shrub quite near the school, having sneaked out. Now, in the morning she grabbed the branches and started to assemble them into what looked like a bush, making sure that it would be impossible to see her through it. Thusly attired, she started walking towards Classroom C and bursting through the door, loudly proclaimed "Hello! This is an Am Bush!"
However, her joy over the successful pun was quickly negated when she noticed that amongst the fellow students that she had lay a TD that she knew, feared and loathed all at once. "You!" she shouted, "What the hell are you doing here, you Gottverdammte Katze!"
suddenly she regained her senses and remembered that such a vehicle would easily tear through her armor, and as such suddenly changed tack, saying "ohgodI'msorryforshoutingatyoupleasedon'tkillme"
Meanwhile, as everyone else was starting to gather within classroom C, Valentin was only just starting to wake up,having ignored the alarm clock that she had set in advance in favor of a few more minutes of sleep. Now, checking the clock, she noticed with severe dismay that she was late, having slept over half an hour more than she had expected. grabbing and putting on her clothing as quickly as possible, she dashed out of the bedroom, running as fast as she could, which admittedly was not particularly fast. Stopping at classroom C, Valentin opened the door and looked at all the people who were there, from some sort of German wearing a bush to a hellcat, complete with fluffy ears and tail. Noticing a distinct lack of filled seats, Valentin sat as far away as possible from everyone else.

[Nachfolgia]

Freyja was probably the first one up, if not the then definitely among the first. She always was. It was hard not to, what with being at war for so long she was used to getting up at the crack of dawn. Not that she minded, it was nice to watch the sun rise anyways. However she always stood in front of the flag poles at a firm stance of attention. No matter how much she hated doing it she couldn't help it but, every time she did a tear always rolled down her cheek at the absence of the flag of her glorious Fatherland, what was now nothing but a desolate ruin and people living in fear and poverty. The very reason she believed Großdeutschland went to war in the first place.

She sighed and wiped her wet face on her uniform sleeve before turning and heading in to the 'school'. Even in defeat, she stood tall and proud. Not letting her Soviet enemy see any weakness that she knew they would abuse. She entered the classroom and noticed another German mage, which immediately made her stone face change in to a gentle smile. She approached the girl and gave a firm salute. "Guten morgan Fraulein!" She said with a cheerful tone.

Annaliese looked up from her desk and saw a fellow Tiger Mage standing before her. As a King Tiger, the German girl was taller and had a muscular built. The sight of the fellow German lightened her otherwise pissed off mood. The past year Annaliese shared a strong bond with the other German mages, considering that they are all she has now. Her family and friends were dead and her home is gone. Even her fatherland is divided in two by the Allies. The other Germans were the only thing keeping her from going off the deep end.

" Guten morgen, schwester. Wie geht's?" Annaliese replied with a slight smile.

[Occupied Deutschland]

7 June, 1945
Oruku Peninsula, Okinawa

Chusa Kimiko Kato felt nothing but hunger. Gnawing, panging, weakening, hunger. She told herself she did not feel it. That it was actually quite easy to raise her hand. If she told herself that often enough, eventually her body, if not her mind, believed the lie and moved on to another complaint. There was always the lack of sleep, the infection, and the depression for it to feel, instead. It would return to hunger again. It always did, eventually.

Chui Tanaka stopped and tilted his head slightly at her. Kimiko remained silent, however, as she listened. It was faint, but undoubtedly there. It was the sputtering rumble that accompanied the Americans everywhere. It was two of their blue single-engines, if her guess was correct. They were actually louder than the two-plane-one-pilot machines that showed up less often but were just as dangerous. Two of her dead comrades could be put at the feet of those flying devils. The Chinese had never been able to offer such a threat. That was not the case anymore.

But this was Japan. It was not some territory or child-colony. What the case was did not matter. Excuses did not matter. They would defeat the invaders, or die in penance for being unable to do so. The Emperor deserved no less from them. It was not like they had any other options, anyways. The Americans would torture and mutilate anyone they captured, and war-mages would undoubtedly be treated even worse. Kimiko refused to allow herself to be raped by some disgusting, hairy American.

She finally glanced back. While the soldiers had lowered themselves to the ground the various militia were still mostly just standing about, staring at the unnoticeably more well-fed but almost equally armed soldiers below them. The bayoneted Arisaka was not so different from a bamboo spear, and it wasn’t like there was any ammunition to turn those quasi-spears shaped like rifles into anything more long-range.

But excuses did not matter.

“Air cover. Tell them to get down.” Kimiko spoke softly, as if the planes might hear her. But there was an obvious sneer in her voice. Okinawans were, of course, uncommonly stupid louts. Could not think for themselves. At least these ones were doing their duty. Kimiko had seen many running or even trying to surrender of all things to the Americans.

Tanaka did as he was asked and the spear-wielding conscripts tiredly dropped to the ground. Kimiko could forgive them that. Her own body was constantly trying to betray her and collapse as well, and that was despite being purposefully given more food than the civilians.

“Chusa-sama, what if they spot us?” Tanaka asked, very quietly so no one would hear him questioning the orders of a superior. She kind of liked the man. He was far out of his depth, but he readily admitted it. It was why he’d easily allowed her to assume command over him instead of doing what many others would and insisting on issuing orders himself and relegating her to commanding the ‘support’ unit that consisted solely of herself now.

“Then we have to run a lot further than would be pleasant.” Kimiko answered in the polite but firm voice that invited no more questions. Tanaka seemed pleased with the confidence in the answer, even if he must know how fake it was.

The almost four-hundred man force spent the next hours in uncomfortable near-silence. There was no speaking. No jokes or bets as there had been in China a decade earlier. Kimiko missed that almost as much as the victories. At this point, she would take a victory, though. And failing that, death. She would not let herself live having failed the Emperor so heinously as to allow one of Their islands to be captured by the invaders.

Dusk approached both quicker and more slowly than she thought it would. The drone of aircraft became more distant and finally moved away. In the near-distance there was often gunfire, but it was directed away from her and her unit.

After waking those who’d let themselves fall asleep, Kimiko began forward again at the head of the unit. She kept her pace at that of a slow crawl, and pivoted her head in constant search for the scout or perimeter-watch that would expose them. It did not come. They got entirely closer than they should have. The American-occupied hill towered before them in the quickly fading light of dusk.

Kimiko motioned to Tanaka, and he efficiently formed the men up directly behind her. A pair of them found a place to lean on her armor and took the chance. It would be better if they had actually had ammunition, but shikata ga nai. With a restrained breath, she started forward without a sound. The climb was brief. She did not allow herself any thoughts as she climbed. Over the crest of the hill she went…

There was an instant of stunned silence from the Marines on top. Silence akin to that the Chinese would make years before when they knew they were beaten, or that the British had replicated only a few years later in Singapore. Kimiko grinned as she pivoted her machine-gun as threateningly as she could. The motion invited a few she directed it towards to lower themselves in their foxholes. The grin got larger.

“Japs! Fuckin’ Japs on the far slope!” A dozen different voices screamed with minor variation. The Marines began firing. But they didn’t have enough time, there were too many Japanese soldiers, and too many of them focused on shooting Kimiko in panic rather than the actual threat behind her. War-mage support in enemy hands could still inspire ill-considered action even in battle-hardened veterans.

The mass of humanity behind Kimiko stabbed its way forward with a wordless cry that had been building for the entire climb up the hill. Those who had taken up a spot on her armor bounded off to join their comrades. The ones in the lead were swiftly cut-down by the Marine’s fire. The ones behind them were as well, but at a closer range than their friends. Before even the semi-automatic rifles of the American’s could be fired a third time the fighting went from ranged to up-close. At such distances, bamboo spears and bayonets were almost as useful as loaded guns. The Marines began to suffer their first casualties. Those numbers were quickly bolstered as those following behind the front of her attack discarded their ammo-less Arisakas or simple spears for American rifles and handguns with a slight amount of ammunition immediately available.

The hill descended into an utter chaos of small explosions, rifle reports, and death. The screams were the only source of information reliable enough to base any assessment of what was happening off of. Most of them consisted of wordless yells of pain or triumph. But there seemed to be more American screams than Japanese ones, and she was still moving forward to keep up with the forward elements of the attack.

Kimiko’s grin had long-since disappeared as she moved forward once again. It was risky. Her frontal armor was the only section that would consistently stop everything the typical infantryman would throw at her. But there were inevitably those who shot at her in the hopes of a lucky strike, and the distraction was too valuable in a battle like this for her to ignore it. Besides, soon enough the Americans would have artillery and aerial support. They always did. Nothing to be done about that but counter it with superior spirit.

An intense pain in her left side erupted as a lucky rifleman nearby who’d escaped the attention of the infantry slipped a shot through the seam of the armor on her side. He died a moment later, victim of an Arisaka bayonet. But Kimiko could not help but think he’d gotten the better of the exchange as she felt a warm wetness spread down her arm. There would either be time for it later…Or there wouldn’t be.

There was more blood, more fighting, more screaming. The Americans began to leapfrog back, and even went so far as to abandon the top of the hill itself to their attacker. Soon enough they quit putting up any resistance at all and devoted themselves to fleeing in terror. Kimiko allowed herself a moment of slight triumph. This was what battling them on even terms brought them. They lacked a warrior’s spirit and relied upon their technology and arms to make up for it. The trouble was they were usually correct in doing so.

As if descending upon her happiness itself, mortar-fire began to pour onto the hill behind the Americans, covering their retreat. She would have thought of them as cowards if it helped and if it weren’t the exact thing she would have done in their position had she support of any kind to rely upon. But American counterbattery fire in the first month after their landing had made any such requests doomed to fail even when there’d been a radio to ask for them with.

Running to try and get clear, Kimiko wasn’t quite fast enough. A mortar-round exploded almost directly beside her right leg. Her head bounced around and slammed hard into the armor around her as her leg ceased moving. Something was lodged in a joint of the armor…Or perhaps she’d simply lost all the strength in her leg, she couldn’t tell which.

Kimiko tried to move, and succeeded in dragging herself a short distance forward. She would make an easy target if she could not move. Movement was life itself for her in this kind of situation. Knowing it was useless, she clicked the trigger to her main gun at the Americans a final time as she kept slowly moving forward. If she had just one round…

But she did not, and now she was nearly immobile. Without her distracting some of the Americans from inside the armor what little hope the attack had for accomplishing anything further disappeared. Now it was merely a matter of killing as many as they could before being cleared out. America might conquer Okinawa, but they would not do so cheaply. Their people lacked a warrior ethos. She could take solace in the fact that they would inevitably negotiate a peace before dai Nippon Teikoku surrendered because of what she and those with her on the island had done.

Fumbling as quickly as she could with the latches and seals of her armor, Kimiko crawled from it with renewed purpose. A trio of mortar shells landed close enough to her to pelt rocks and dirt onto her from above, but she otherwise remained unscathed from them. Her arm hurt, though. As did her leg. She pushed the pain in the extremities away as she grabbed the scabbard inside the armor and brought it out with her. She ignored the Nambu pistol. Besides having no ammo for it, the replacement firing pin inside it was just as broken as the original.

Holding the scabbard in her injured left hand and physically remembering a lifetime of iaido, Kimiko yanked the katana free with her right and pushed away the scabbard with her left. She swallowed the scream of pain that followed as best she could, and felt herself try to puke. There was nothing for her to puke. All the better, as there were still things to be done. The dry heaves, however, set off a wave of vision-darkening pain. Stumbling forward, Kimiko’s vision danced before her. Her head dropped for a moment and her eyes closed. She raised it a moment later, excusing the brief lapse as checking herself for injuries. As it turned out, the leg was bleeding pretty heavily.

She allowed herself one grunting squeal of painful breathing before forcing the scabbard into her belt and limping forward.

Tanaka died, the victim of a mortar shell that landed almost directly on top of him. He had been firing an American rifle at the retreating Marines. A good man, indeed. He would need no replacement. One only replaced officers if there were going to be soldiers to be led by them. None of them were going to survive the attack, despite her efforts.

As if to emphasize that fact, Kimiko heard a machine-gun begin to fire from somewhere nearby on her right flank. A moment later it was joined by a sister emplacement on the left. The Americans who had been ‘fleeing’ were quickly rallied and turned around by officers to begin firing back up the throats of what she had thought was an advance.

The Americans had planned this. They had planned for the attack to falter as it was doing all around her as men took cover from the searching streams of bullets coming towards them. Some of the Okinawans even turned and ran, braving the mortar fire again to escape the automatic death being dealt by the Americans from all three sides. Cowards, the both of them. The real soldiers around her needed only one last act of leadership, now. They needed a chance to apologize as best they were able for their failure. As did she. There was only one way to do so that was appropriate. Tanaka had done so. It was now her turn and the turn of all those left alive to do so.

She would not let herself be captured and raped.

“Tenno heika banzai!” Kimiko screeched. She forced the sword above her head into the best rendition of jodan-no-kamae her injured arm was able. A one-handed jodan lost much of its strength, after all. Proper form attained, she began to run forwards.

Similar screams erupted around her and she felt more than saw the remainders of her unit follow her forwards towards the Americans who had been feigning retreat moments before. It might be fast enough for some of them to close with the gaijin and take a few with them.

Kimiko wished she’d had a radio to better plan the assault. Coordinate it with the main body of the force. Perhaps serve as a distraction or feint at least from some other action taking place. Shiketa ga nai. She forced herself to stagger even quicker forwards. She was so tired, so hungry, so hurt. She was angry. Angry at her body, the Americans, the Okinawans, her armor…

She dismissed all of it as she charged forward, emptying her mind of all such thoughts as she would when practicing a kata. Kimiko screamed as she would during a strike as the muzzles of the American Marines grew ever closer. If she was to die, it would be with her mind at ease with the prospect. Her ancestors would be proud, her relatives would remember…

As if it was occurring to someone else, Kimiko took note of a bullet hitting the lower-right portion of her abdomen and another catching her left shoulder a moment later. As she expected, the lower shot made it very hard to run. She put more of her weight on the left leg to compensate. She tried to keep both arms where they were, but despite her best efforts her left fell from its place on the hilt of her katana and hung limply at her side. It actually helped relieve some of the tension on the wound in her chest, not having to support the second arm.

Kimiko stopped and swung her sword down as she finally came within swinging distance of the closest American. He was perhaps a few years younger than her, and appropriately goggle-eyed in near-panic. He stopped the katana barely in time with the underside of his rifle, but had to fall over backwards in order to accomplish the block. With no time to finish his defeat, Kimiko turned to the next Marine. She feinted a crosswise stroke but turned the blade at the last moment to turn it into an uppercut. Taking the better option of the few he was left, the Marine allowed the sword to cut into the fat of his upper arm and took the opportunity to close the distance.

Kimiko punched him in the face and began to step back to begin another slash. The man shrugged off her punch however and responded with one of his own before she could finish turning her blade completely. His was not as weak as Kimiko’s had been.

Staggering backwards from the punch, Kimiko’s planned decapitating slash instead slammed into the side of the man’s head with the flat of the sword. He crumpled to the side, anyways. Once again, Kimiko was left with no chance to finish him as three more appeared to take his place.

Kimiko threw the katana into another downward stroke at the first assailant, only to have to change her foot position and block another’s attempt to stab her with his bayonet. She slid the blade down the length of the rifle, forcing the American to toss it away or face getting his hands chopped off. He stumbled backwards. Kimiko could not revel in the minor victory, however, as the new position she had moved into required a strong stance based on her right leg. Kimiko collapsed as what little strength she could muster in the abused limb proved unworthy to the task.

The air rushing past her ears as she fell was quite pretty. When she hit the ground, it was surprisingly comfortable. When she didn’t move she could almost pretend she was uninjured. She could still get a Marine or two though.

Kimiko screamed as she threw an eccentric sideways stroke with all her remaining strength at the nearest American’s legs from her position on her side. It was excruciatingly painful. The man slammed a boot on top of the slowly moving blade and crushed it to the ground with his weight. She just couldn’t put enough power into the swing any longer.

Uselessly pushing against the ground with her left arm, the wounded Japanese war-mage reached her right out towards the grenades on the belt of the Marine standing on her sword. If she could stretch just a little further, she would get three—perhaps four. Before she could finish the motion a descending shadow slammed into her unprotected head.

Darkness.

---

“—not fucking killing some teenage girl while she’s fucking unconscious just because she was nutty enough to run at us with a fucking sword like some kind of idiot.”

The voice was unfamiliar to Kimiko. Worse than that, it was not speaking Japanese, and it was very close to her in physical distance. For some reason he seemed to sound like he was speaking from the bottom of a river, though. She forced her eyes open, despite the cruel comfort their being closed was. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, to rest. But she had to know what he was doing to her. With all the energy she could muster, she could only open one eye a crack.

An American was leaning over her, frowning and tipping some kind of bag into the hole in her lower chest. It was an odd form of torture, however. She did not feel anything from it. She could recognize an odd tingling, but no straightforward pain. Perhaps he was merely being taught how to torture?

Kimiko wished, for the first time ever, she could understand English.

“Yeah? Well that ‘idiot’ just-bout sawed off my shoulder with that damned meat-cleaver. Nip bitch. We ought to just kill her and save ourselves the trouble. The only thing they ever do when you capture ‘em is try to kill you or themselves, and she came close enough last time I don’t want to risk it.” The second voice spat as he finished speaking. Perhaps he was expressing his disdain for the first one’s torture techniques?

“Look, Sarge, just look at her shoulder-boards. She’s a Chusa—their equivalent of a Major or Colonel or something high up there in officer country—and Command gets few enough prisoners of any rank from the bastards. Like as not they’ll give you a damned medal for capturing her alive.”

“Wonderful. It’ll go great with the Purple Heart I get because she tried to chop my head off.” The second voice grumbled. There was a long pause. “Fine, then riddle me this: How the hell is someone her age a Major, mister know-it-all?”

“She’s a war-mage, of course. She was probably piloting that dinky set of armor that led the charge in here. She might be as old as you, no matter how she looks. Probably served longer at the least.”

Kimiko was able to catch from the tones of the voices that some kind of decision had been made. What it was, however, she had no idea. She suspected it though, and she did not like the result her mind knew awaited now that they had settled whatever argument they’d had.

Kimiko tried to open her eyes further, but was instead consumed by darkness again. She hadn’t been killed. It was much worse. She was a prisoner. Honorless. A coward just as much as the Okinawans who had run during the battle. She could only presume the torture would become worse.

When she fully came to her senses hours later, she was first forced to wash. Shameful, but a burden she could bear, mere embarrassment would not break her. But then things became strange as she was offered food and water by a man who spoke her language.

---

---

---

Kimiko's eyes had opened before the sun had risen, and she'd gotten up almost without a sound. She mechanically showered, brushed her hair, and dressed, sparing a thought for the abundance of hot water the modified building now was capable of putting out because of the foreign occupiers adapting it to their purposes. She couldn't bring herself to hate them for that. The God-Emperor himself had decreed they accept the Allies, that they suffer the insufferable, so she could not.

She supposed there was always the method of honorable suicide, but the Emperor had seemingly once again expected that. His words had demanded she work for the future of Japan. Unlike those who had attempted rebellion against Him to continue the war, she was a loyal subject.

Kimiko glanced towards the pair of swords in a far-corner of the room which had accompanied her throughout her military service. They had almost been taken as prizes by the Americans who had captured her, but a firm insistence upon her personal ownership of them and the intercession of one of their officers had spared them such a fate, thankfully. Bad enough she had been captured to begin with, losing the ancestral blade and its newer companion would have been too grand a dishonor for even the Emperor's commands to prevent her from seppuku.

Kimiko sat on her knees and quietly opened one of the books she had been given upon entering the academy. She studied, with occasional glances at a nearby clock. Eventually it approached the appropriate time for her exit and she stepped out of the room after gingerly placing the books into a small knapsack she had for just that purpose.

There was a Soviet in the hallways. Kimiko returned, at least physically, the almost reaction-less stare he fixed upon her. There was something distinctly insulting about them claiming victory over her nation. The carrion-feeders had not even had the decency to truly face them until they had been embroiled in a losing war against the Americans for four years. Kimiko very carefully did not bother remembering when she had faced the man's countrymen during the Nomonhan Incident.

Kimiko entered 'classroom C' and took a seat near the window just in-front of the German mages that were present. She folded her hands on her lap and waited.

[Lunas Legion]

Helena groaned quietly to herself as she awoke, arm instinctively jerking out in search of her flask of schnapps. Another night of blessedly dreamless sleep, but she needed the schnapps to wake her up some more. After a few moments of failing, she sighed in defeat. The allies had even taken her schnapps.

Bastards. They'd pay for taking her schnapps.

She sat up, vision spinning. Well, back to school. Heh. She'd gone into war straight from school, and was going straight back in after it finished. If she had much of a sense of humour left, she might have found something funny in that. But she didn't.

She pulled on her 'uniform' such as it was; the Volksturm had never really gotten a proper uniform, they'd fought in a haphazard mix of civilian clothes and military surplus. She'd been... No, was, a mage, and so she'd got first pick of uniform. A pale blue skirt that might've once been Luftwaffe mage issue, a brown blouse from the vast stockpiles of SA uniforms, stockings, and her pride and joy, a Luftwaffe mage's jacket. It was a strange mix, but it was warm and comfortable, and that was all that mattered.

When she entered classroom C, she almost immediately sought out her fellow Germans. As a Jagdtiger mage, she was one of the tallest and most muscular in the room, if not the most. Having to use that lumbering beast of a tank for any length of time with those shells made for great exercise. She glanced over the room, looking for those only slightly smaller than her. Normal Tiger mages.

After a few seconds of scanning, she found two, plus a slightly smaller mage. Panther or Pz IV perhaps? She silently moved over towards them, taking a seat nearby in silence.

[Raktio]

An explosion rocked the air as Rosalinda saw a RPG slammed into the Panzer II ahead of her, causing her to metaphorically jump in shock. Several more RPGs flew through the air striking the column's tanks and vehicles as the infantry scattered for cover. Aiming at where the enemies were, she fired a round in retribution. The firefighting continued for another half minute; the Allies were well dug in and heavily armed, and her battalion was well out in the open with it's firepower greatly diminished.

Machine gun bullets bounced off of her armor as she worked her way away from the enemy. She noticed a puff of smoke,and reversed her right tracks at full power, turning as fast and hard as possible. The rocket glanced off her armor barely and detonated a short distance away on the ground.

The Americans now had tanks as they pursued the remains of her battalion. They were still firing every chance they had, but by this point she was down to only eight rounds left, and none of them were HEAT rounds.

The Americans finally stopped pursuing, a brief respite before all hell broke loose. Artillery pounded their position, shrapnel and debris flew everywhere, but they were to high of an elevation for her to be able to fire back. One of the infantry who'd hitched a ride on her fell off bleading in the chest, yet they could not even attempt to save the wounded. A hit to the magazine destroyed the tank behind the half-track behind her.

All around her it was a hell hole, artillery was ripping through vehicles, and infantry were being ripped to shreds by shrapnel. Another War Mage died screaming as her tank caught on fire. A artillery round struck the ground right next to her.

Rosalinda woke up with a start, feeling cold sweat all over her face, just a nightmare, just a nightmare. Calming herself down she looked at her clock, noting that she needed to be in classroom C shortly. Grabbing a apple and putting on clothes she headed for the room. Upon arriving she decided to grab one of the forward seats and see what things were like. She hoped it wouldn't be something that kicked in those memories again.

[Monfrox]

Days came and days went. Though, with recent events, these days were more welcome than those of the past. A head of black hair poked out from under a bedspread. Two cat ears flicked up lazily and twitched as the ringing bell of an alarm clock suddenly resounded throughout a room nestled among others in the campus. A hand swiftly reached out and batted the alarm clock away. It smacked onto the ground and promptly ceased its incessant ringing. At which point, the bedspread suddenly flew up as a girl literally rolled out of bed and onto the floor to start doing push-ups and sit-ups. As per usual, her American spirit and esprit was not failing her on this day. She couldn't afford to let it after the things she'd been through.

"Another day I'm glad I'm not waking up in Bastogne..." The girl said to herself as she brushed her teeth.

From losing three of her comrade's tanks at Arracourt to almost freezing to death in the Ardennes, it was a wonder she was still alive. "Lucky". Probably. That name was painted across her light plate with an Ace of Spades to compliment it. She remembered those hard days before the war was over. She also remembered giving just as much to the Germans as they threw at her. Lightly armored didn't factor into it when you couldn't get a shot on her. She was always quick on her feet. And as a testament to that, she bolted out of her room after getting dressed in her US Army M1943 uniform, her 3rd Army and 705th TD Battalion patches still sewn on along with her Sergeant chevrons. The patches would never come off, no matter what she was told.

She went without the field jacket today, as it was still pretty warm out. As she ran she passed by one of the other guards on base, and feeling confident, stopped by to chat with him a bit.

"Hey, Sergeant Griffin. First day of school?" The American MP asked.

"Yup! How's life, Johnson?" The girl replied.

"Same ol', same ol'. You better get going before the bell rings."

"I know, I know. I don't get why I gotta go through this, though."

"Well, didn't you not go through school back in the states?"

"Oh gee, look at the time, gotta run!"

The MP tipped his helmet up as he watched a dustcloud trail it's way onto the campus. Soon enough, the girl passed the Russian guard. The man was not as friendly to her as the MP was, uncharacteristically as the latter had been. He yelled out in Russian as she almost ran into him and was about to chase her down before he realized she was already gone. He readjusted his pilotka and sighed. Soon enough, the girl was outside Classroom C. She stopped, readjusted her own uniform, and casually walked in to her seat. The presence of the other War Mage made her anxious and nervous. Yesterday's enemy was now today's government-mandated friend. The Germans piqued her interest. Tall, well built, and towering over her small frame was the usual traits. Hell, if all the German mages were this ripped, then how the hell did they even win the war.

They were stacked too, and that made her just a bit jealous. Her lean figure had about as much as it was gonna get, but she couldn't help but feel like the core was preventing puberty from kicking in. Or at least, slowing it down. Maybe one day she'd have something. Maybe. She sighed and let her tail swish back and forth as she waited to see who all else would show up.

[West Suburbia]

Alva instantly knew she had woken up past the time she needed to wake up at. As she groggily opened her eyes and turned her head towards the clock, she could hear the boots of Sergeant Akerman thudding on the wooden floor of the barracks. She could feel him standing over her bed, she could feel his breath on her arms. She could hear his breathing. Then, his shrill voice rang in her ears.

"Menig Blomgren!!! Get out of bed NOW!"

As that little snippet of a memory subsided, Alva sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes. Joining the military wasn't all fun and games as she found out very quickly. Waking up very early (everyday), having to eat an odd looking bowl of porridge for breakfast, then going off to exercises, guard duties, or whatever the COs had in mind for that day. War Gears Academy, although located in Japan, was very much the same, as Alva likewise found out very quickly, after a day or two. Kicking out her feet, she hurriedly got out of bed, gulped down a quick breakfast, and got changed into her military uniform very fast. She was annoyed at herself for waking up late. She always wanted to get things done of time, but being forced to wake up very early in the morning was not her strong point. Alva wanted to fix that, but she had yet to find a good enough alarm clock.

Flying out of the room, remembering to lock it, Alva walked very fast to Classroom C, not wanting to be any more late, but at the same time, class never really never started right on time. The teacher had to arrive, or there had to be waiting, etc. She passed by a few patrolling guards, but she paid no attention to them. Since she was the only Swedish mage in the entire school, it unnerved Alva that she would looked upon as odd or a curiosity. Sweden in the war had allowed the Germans to move troops and equipment through Swedish territory, provided iron ore to the Nazis, took in Danish Jews fleeing from the Nazis, and towards the end of the war, provided airfields for the Allied Powers. All of this but they were "neutral". Alva herself despised the Nazis for their horrific treatment of prisoners and the Jews, and she was glad all of the Axis mages were here to be guarded and watched upon.

Opening the door to Classroom C, Alva noticed there were already a substantial number of mages present. Finding a seat closest to the door, she slid in and waited for class to get started.

[North Arkana]

Staff Sergeant Jackie Marcos, Company C, 2nd Battalion, 33rd Armored Regiment, 3rd Armored Division, was not in a good mood. She hadn't gotten anywhere near as much sleep as she'd wanted the night before, and alarm clock's ringing knifed through her head. She resisted the urge to just smash the infernal thing,and just turned it off like a normal person, well, as normal as she could be.
Today was the day she'd have to start actually interacting with people in a way beyond the usual military courtesies. Her assignment to the Academy wasn't anything she had wanted, there were better things for her to be doing, but orders were orders, so she didn't have much of a choice.

Jackie got dressed, putting on her usual outfit of fatigues and a tanker's jacket. The jacket had some unauthorized patches sewn on, namely two patches with the silhouettes of stylized cats with an "X" over each one, one larger than the other. They were marks of pride. She had been a hunter of the big German cats during the war. A tiger and panther didn't seem like much, but in terms of what most of the other Pershing mages actually did it was quite a bit, and it was near fantasy for many of the Sherman mages.

The greeting by the American MP was met with a grunt, and the Soviet's glare was met with one of her own. Still, things would hopefully be better once she was actually with the other mages, if only because there'd be other people to complain about things with. Classroom C was where she had been told the day before to report to, and she opened the door, walked in,and let it slam shut behind her.It looked like most of the mages were German, with a couple other Americans present, a single Japanese mage, and one mage she couldn't really figure out. Everyone had pretty much divided themselves up by nationality, so Jackie made her way towards the other Americans.

[USRK]

(It's been barely one day and the British and Australian are already forgotten ;-;)
Zoe continued to twirl around in the teachers chair as the other students slowly filled up the classroom. She had already taken a small bit of liking to the Swedish girl since she knew how it felt, although she guessed it wasn't competely the same since the Swedish girl was probably at least known in her tank form. This also made her jealous because that meant she probably saw action. Zoe bit the side of her mouth till she could taste iron. "Don't worry, your day will come, and when it does you'll be remembered forever." Her closest friend had told her this the same day he was sent off to fight the Japanese. He died after his boat was hit by a Japanese torpedo. All she got back was his famous SOH amulet and the leather jacket he had always worn, even if it was nearly hot enough to cook eggs on the rocks in their town.

[United Kingdom of Poland]

The alarm clock woke up Emile Sinclair. Getting out of bed she, well she couldn't figure out what she felt. It wasn't fear. Fear had been reserved for places like the Bismarck Sea, flying at less then 200 feet above the wave tops against Japanese ships throwing up everything including the kitchen sink at her. No this felt like she was anxious. It made sense, so many new friends to make...along with new rivals to compete with. With the end of the war she felt the need for a new challenge and this was the best chance she had. After a quick shower she dressed up in her USAAF uniform and flight jacket and walked out of her room.

In a way the school kind of reminded her of flight school. Granted there was a lot less anxiety here, given that no one was fighting over the chance to fly the new Mustang units. She chuckled remembering how depressed she was when she was told she would by in a B-25 unit, exiled from flying fighters. of course how many pilots had kill markers painted on their birds, let alone ones designating destroyers. Walking into classroom C she could see the room was full of girls. The majority it seemed were either German or American, with a few other nationalities thrown in. "Morning" she said taking a seat.

[Stormwrath]

"WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!"

Jackie Bell was having a great time circling around the school at top speed. She was yelling out of the top of her lungs in sheer excitement as she did a couple of barrel rolls. First day of school and she got up and went for War Gears Academy like lightning. While everyone else below seemed to be heading for the main building on foot, she preferred to fly in her aerial armor, based off the P-51D Mustang. As she pulled off a barrel roll, she began to lose altitude, but she quickly regained it while flying over two mages. From the way they reacted, they had no idea that she flew over their heads.

Striking a pose after landing in front of the entrance, she went inside the building and headed for the locker room. Arriving at her locker, she placed her armor and her bag inside, and pulled out a couple of books. After that she took off her army air force jacket, revealing a white tank top underneath — and wrapped the jacket around her waist. Looking at the mirror, she adjusted her flowing red hair and pulled out a toothpick. She placed it in her mouth and began to head for the classroom with a cheerful demeanor on her face.

On the way there she bumped into a particular student with white hair and a bandaid across her nose. The American was running up the stairs when suddenly she accidentally "crashed" into a Russian mage. Noticing this she quickly bent one knee to help her pick up her things. "Sorry," she apologized to her — to which the Russian muttered, "It's alright, you didn't mean it." When she talked, there was some semblance of a Russian accent in her voice, but her English was passible nonetheless. "So," the American began, "what's your name?"

The Soviet averted her eyes. "Regina. Regina Zharkova." The sentiments between the democratic and capitalist Americans and the communist and totalitarian Soviets had been building ever since the war in Europe had come to a close. Yet, despite the prevailing hostilities in the United States against the Reds — and the less hostile sentiments against the Japs and the Germans — it didn't seem to be affecting Jackie in any way.

Jackie extended her hand with a cheerful smile. "I'm Jackie, Jackie Bell. Nice to meet you." Regina seemed to be hesitant — after all, Americans hated the Soviets and vice versa — but eventually she extended her hand to shake Jackie's. "So Regina, which classroom are you heading to?"

"Classroom C," she muttered. This was good news for Jackie, as she could have the opportunity to make a friend. "That's cool!" the American replied, "I'm going to classroom C too."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. This is going to be great with you around."

Regina nodded in response. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked her companion as they both walked across the hallway. "Am I not a Soviet, and you an American?"

"So?" she smiled again. "Why not? Friends are all over the place, no matter how fascist or commie they are." This made Regina smile a little.

Arriving at Classroom C, which is where their first class is to be held, Jackie took a few breaths and burst into the room like thunder, like the boisterous American that she was. "GOOOOOOOD MORNIIIIING!" she greeted everyone else. From the looks of it, there were a lot of Americans and Germans in this classroom, with a few Russians and a couple of Japs. Regina followed with a much quieter "Good morning" out of her mouth. Jackie headed over to where the Americans were, while Regina went for the seat next to her — which was in turn next to the seats occupied by Soviet mages. Noticing that the other Jackie — Staff Sergeant Jackie Marcos was right next to her, the Mustang girl got her attention by touching her arm with her elbow. "Hey Marcos!" she greeted, "long time no see since France and Belgium."

[New Strausberg]

Ada

A young Maus slowly woke from her bed in a rather ok mood compared to most. She had gone to sleep early and was still adjusting well. Out of everyone she has probably seen the least combat out of anyone. She has finished her training and gotten fitted shortly before the war ended. She could hear the sounds of planes overhead and then what sounded like a crash. "Today is going to be interesting..." she thought as she got up and quickly dressed herself.

She got dressed quickly trying hard not to be late she hurried towards classroom C, she tried to ignore the Russians they scared her usually. Before the war ended she had been captured by then and had many threats to gut her open and take everything she had. It terrified her more then she would let most people know. She hurriedly went inside the classroom hoping she wasn't late and kept quiet so no one would notice her come in. "Please say I made it I don't want to go out into the halls." She said to herself bitting her lip just a bit.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mizuki Kenzo

Mizuki was already sitting in classroom C, she was usually always the first and on time. She hated sleeping...sleep just brought back horrible memories. She could feel the wind against her, the ultimate feeling of freedom in the world the ability to fly, yet she hated it now. It reminded her of the horror she has committed, she helped hundreds of her sisters to death as an ohka carrier.

Ohka carriers where the designated name for those like her, they carried suicide rocket planes in to destroy enemy ships. It was a desperate move by the Imperial military to take out the American navy. In the end it just caused more death and while slowing the enemy navy ultimately they where defeated. She couldn't bring herself to suicide she felt like it would the most dishonorable thing to do after the countless she had sent to death.

She was forced to carry this heavy burden and because of that she had to stay strong. She didn't talk to many people, however she is a very hard worker doing anything and everything she can the moment it is given to her. It is this kind of determination that had given her such high kill rates before she became an ohka , and ultimately the reason why she became an ohka. She got results a thing the Japanese empire needed because of that they used her as there sword cutting a bloody swath in the Pacific, they didn't care about the side effects just that it worked. Now she had to live with herself...it was simply torture.

[North Arkana]

"WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!"

Jackie Bell was having a great time circling around the school at top speed. She was yelling out of the top of her lungs in sheer excitement as she did a couple of barrel rolls. First day of school and she got up and went for War Gears Academy like lightning. While everyone else below seemed to be heading for the main building on foot, she preferred to fly in her aerial armor, based off the P-51D Mustang. As she pulled off a barrel roll, she began to lose altitude, but she quickly regained it while flying over two mages. From the way they reacted, they had no idea that she flew over their heads.

Striking a pose after landing in front of the entrance, she went inside the building and headed for the locker room. Arriving at her locker, she placed her armor and her bag inside, and pulled out a couple of books. After that she took off her army air force jacket, revealing a white tank top underneath — and wrapped the jacket around her waist. Looking at the mirror, she adjusted her flowing red hair and pulled out a toothpick. She placed it in her mouth and began to head for the classroom with a cheerful demeanor on her face.

On the way there she bumped into a particular student with white hair and a bandaid across her nose. The American was running up the stairs when suddenly she accidentally "crashed" into a Russian mage. Noticing this she quickly bent one knee to help her pick up her things. "Sorry," she apologized to her — to which the Russian muttered, "It's alright, you didn't mean it." When she talked, there was some semblance of a Russian accent in her voice, but her English was passible nonetheless. "So," the American began, "what's your name?"

The Soviet averted her eyes. "Regina. Regina Zharkova." The sentiments between the democratic and capitalist Americans and the communist and totalitarian Soviets had been building ever since the war in Europe had come to a close. Yet, despite the prevailing hostilities in the United States against the Reds — and the less hostile sentiments against the Japs and the Germans — it didn't seem to be affecting Jackie in any way.

Jackie extended her hand with a cheerful smile. "I'm Jackie, Jackie Bell. Nice to meet you." Regina seemed to be hesitant — after all, Americans hated the Soviets and vice versa — but eventually she extended her hand to shake Jackie's. "So Regina, which classroom are you heading to?"

"Classroom C," she muttered. This was good news for Jackie, as she could have the opportunity to make a friend. "That's cool!" the American replied, "I'm going to classroom C too."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. This is going to be great with you around."

Regina nodded in response. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked her companion as they both walked across the hallway. "Am I not a Soviet, and you an American?"

"So?" she smiled again. "Why not? Friends are all over the place, no matter how fascist or commie they are." This made Regina smile a little.

Arriving at Classroom C, which is where their first class is to be held, Jackie took a few breaths and burst into the room like thunder, like the boisterous American that she was. "GOOOOOOOD MORNIIIIING!" she greeted everyone else. From the looks of it, there were a lot of Americans and Germans in this classroom, with a few Russians and a couple of Japs. Regina followed with a much quieter "Good morning" out of her mouth. Jackie headed over to where the Americans were, while Regina went for the seat next to her — which was in turn next to the seats occupied by Soviet mages. Noticing that the other Jackie — Staff Sergeant Jackie Marcos was right next to her, the Mustang girl got her attention by touching her arm with her elbow. "Hey Marcos!" she greeted, "long time no see since France and Belgium."

Jackie looked at the other American mage with a tired glance. She must have mistaken her for someone else. She and the other Pershing mages hadn't been shipped out for Europe until '45, and only saw action in Germany. Belgium and France had just been stopping points on the train ride to the front.

She didn't see any point in humoring the energetic girl.

"I'm sorry, but I actually don't think we've ever met. I only saw combat in Germany, mostly around Cologne. Barely saw Belgium and France from the train."

Cologne, and the surrounding towns and villages had been where Jackie had earned her pay. It had also been where she had lost one of her sisters in arms, and took the hit which put her out of action for the rest of the war.

"For the love of god... why don't these Krauts just accept that they're beaten already?"
"They aren't 'Krauts', Jackie. They're soldiers and mages defending their homeland. Would you know when to give up?"
"Damn it, Maria, why do you always have to be such a smart-ass?"
Maria makes a face at Jackie, closing one eye and sticking out her tongue. "It's not my fault you make it so easy to correct you."
"Cut it out you two, this is still enemy territory. We have to secure Niehl so the forces in Cologne have one less thing to worry about."
"Right, sorry, Sarge."
As they pass through the village, Jackie can't help but notice that it's relatively intact compared to the cities.
"It's a village, the bombers wouldn't waste their time on it," Maria says.
"Wait, what? Whoa, hey! How did you know that was what I was thinking?"
"Because you're so predictable, that's why."
'Didn't i just tell the two of you to pay attention?"
"Sorry, Sar-"
Jackie feels something slam into the armor on her thigh, it makes a deep gouge in the armor before glancing off. The power behind the blow is immense, and she screams as she feels the bone underneath shatter. A split second after the impact, the report of an 88mm gun echos through the street.
"Fuck! Agh! I can't move my leg!"
"Tank destroyer, two-hundred-fifty yards! Maria, take it out!"
Maria raises her gun, but pauses momentarily. "Wait, Sarge, what about Jackie? She's out in the open!"
As Jackie lays on the ground, she sprayed by dirt and fragments of stone from a near miss by the German Mage.
"Sarge, I'm going to get her out of there!"
"Damn it, Maria! Stay where you are!"
Maria ignores the Sergeant, and dashes out into the open. She grabs Jackie beneath her arms and begins dragging her back towards cover.
"What the fuck are you doing, Maria?" Jackie screams, wincing in pain. "Get back behind cover damn it!"
"Stop being such a hard-ass! Do you seriously think I would just leave you there? We're friends, you hear me? Frien-"
The enemy mage fires again, and Jackie feels something warm splash across her face.
"Maria? Ah, fuck! What the hell are you doing?" Jackie shouts as Maria drops on top of her. "Don't dive for cover on top of me! You're heavier than y-"
Jackie stops mid-sentence. Where Maria's head should be, there's just nothing. Nothing connected to a mangled stump of a neck.
"Ma-Maria? Th-This isn't funny damn it! Come on, this is just cruel you smart-ass!"
Someone grabs Jackie by her arm, and begins dragging her away, into cover and away from Maria.
'Wa-Wait, Sarge! We've gotta go back for Maria! S-Sarge? Wait, we can't just leave her there! Ah, uh, Sarge, Sarge, get the medic! We'll go back for her with the medic, right? I'll get her myself! Sarge, let go of me! I've gotta get Maria!"

It was really only a moment remembering the day, but it felt like years. Jackie shook her head slightly.

"Though I do have to ask how you seem to know my name."

[Rupudska]

Avrova was not actually drunk or hung over as she stumbled through the halls. Which was a rare sight indeed here. Normally when she wasn't on time to class, it was because she was either cripplingly hung over or blackout drunk, occasionally both. That night, however, the nightmares had simply been too much for her. That night, she had dreamed of Kursk. Such dreams had robbed her of what little sleep she usually got.

She shook her head roughly as she approached the door to Classroom C. It did not do well to dwell on dreams, let alone nightmares. And her fellow Soviets expected her to be her usual chipper (if alcoholic) self. She couldn't let them down. And she wouldn't show signs of weakness to the Americans or Germans... in front of Soviet soldiers and Party officials. That would be worse than the nightmares.

She burst through the door shortly after Jackie with a smile on her face, then sat down with her back straight and proud. She steepled her hands and looked around the room, mostly at the German panzer mages. Perhaps she recognized them? It was hard to say, she didn't pay much attention to faces in combat, just voices.

[Nachfolgia]

"WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!"

Jackie Bell was having a great time circling around the school at top speed. She was yelling out of the top of her lungs in sheer excitement as she did a couple of barrel rolls. First day of school and she got up and went for War Gears Academy like lightning. While everyone else below seemed to be heading for the main building on foot, she preferred to fly in her aerial armor, based off the P-51D Mustang. As she pulled off a barrel roll, she began to lose altitude, but she quickly regained it while flying over two mages. From the way they reacted, they had no idea that she flew over their heads.

Striking a pose after landing in front of the entrance, she went inside the building and headed for the locker room. Arriving at her locker, she placed her armor and her bag inside, and pulled out a couple of books. After that she took off her army air force jacket, revealing a white tank top underneath — and wrapped the jacket around her waist. Looking at the mirror, she adjusted her flowing red hair and pulled out a toothpick. She placed it in her mouth and began to head for the classroom with a cheerful demeanor on her face.

On the way there she bumped into a particular student with white hair and a bandaid across her nose. The American was running up the stairs when suddenly she accidentally "crashed" into a Russian mage. Noticing this she quickly bent one knee to help her pick up her things. "Sorry," she apologized to her — to which the Russian muttered, "It's alright, you didn't mean it." When she talked, there was some semblance of a Russian accent in her voice, but her English was passible nonetheless. "So," the American began, "what's your name?"

The Soviet averted her eyes. "Regina. Regina Zharkova." The sentiments between the democratic and capitalist Americans and the communist and totalitarian Soviets had been building ever since the war in Europe had come to a close. Yet, despite the prevailing hostilities in the United States against the Reds — and the less hostile sentiments against the Japs and the Germans — it didn't seem to be affecting Jackie in any way.

Jackie extended her hand with a cheerful smile. "I'm Jackie, Jackie Bell. Nice to meet you." Regina seemed to be hesitant — after all, Americans hated the Soviets and vice versa — but eventually she extended her hand to shake Jackie's. "So Regina, which classroom are you heading to?"

"Classroom C," she muttered. This was good news for Jackie, as she could have the opportunity to make a friend. "That's cool!" the American replied, "I'm going to classroom C too."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. This is going to be great with you around."

Regina nodded in response. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked her companion as they both walked across the hallway. "Am I not a Soviet, and you an American?"

"So?" she smiled again. "Why not? Friends are all over the place, no matter how fascist or commie they are." This made Regina smile a little.

Arriving at Classroom C, which is where their first class is to be held, Jackie took a few breaths and burst into the room like thunder, like the boisterous American that she was. "GOOOOOOOD MORNIIIIING!" she greeted everyone else. From the looks of it, there were a lot of Americans and Germans in this classroom, with a few Russians and a couple of Japs. Regina followed with a much quieter "Good morning" out of her mouth. Jackie headed over to where the Americans were, while Regina went for the seat next to her — which was in turn next to the seats occupied by Soviet mages. Noticing that the other Jackie — Staff Sergeant Jackie Marcos was right next to her, the Mustang girl got her attention by touching her arm with her elbow. "Hey Marcos!" she greeted, "long time no see since France and Belgium."

Annaliese glanced angrily at the American who had yelled when she entered the classroom. She absolutely hated the Americans who were always so rowdy and cheerful. To Annaliese, they were just as bad as the Russians, at least they kept quiet. Their quiet facade added to the sheer ruthlessness. Regardless of their overall demeanor, Annaliese still hated them with every fiber of her being. " Must you Americans be so loud?" Annaliese said in perfect American English, shocking most in the room. " We get it, you happy about winning, but you don't need to rub it in our faces. I've known people like you all my life, who care nothing about other's thoughts and feelings. All you Americans are greedy and selfish." Annaliese said, her anger getting worse.

[Monfrox]

"Ooo, catty. Hey. Franziska. Shut up, face the front, and quit tryin' to start shit. No one likes a sore loser." Penny shot back to the Tiger mage.

Honestly, it had been a whole year almost since the end of the war, and the Nazis had done some really fucked up shit. Penny believed that they really had no room to talk. After all, war was hell for everyone. Penny had more than her fair share of scars on her body, only the noticeable ones was diagonal across her nose that went from her forehead to below her left eye, and a nick on her forehead along the other side. She would never forget that day. When she lost all of her platoon to a company-sized element of Panther tanks at Arracourt. Granted, the second platoon from the 704th showed up on their flanks and started knocking them out to the point that they were pushed back, she still lost friends.

Right now, it was like the pot calling the kettle black, and she hated it.

[North Arkana]

"Upper Midwestern accent..." Jackie mutters to herself. "Slight trace of German..." She scowls in the direction of the Tiger mage. "But not enough to have been born in Germany... Traitor."

Loyalty was something Jackie held in high regard. She knew about the German families who had turned their back on the US to fight for the Third Reich, and she didn't think we'll of them. Maria's family had been divided by that turn of events. Part of her family had returned to Germany, while part of it stayed in America. She had only learned about her friend's family troubles when they arrived in Germany. They were in the middle of clearing her father's hometown when Maria had broached the subject.

Jackie shook her head slightly again. Memories of that time weren't healthy for her. Too much emotion was attached to them.

[Occupied Deutschland]

"This did not take long." Kimiko said softly, glancing between Penny and Annaliese. She was careful as she spoke to properly enunciate every word, paying particular attention to the ones with unfamiliar sounds. Americans were prone to mocking and laughing at the difficulty she had speaking their language.

"You two could just get the fight over with instead of speaking your hatred at each other?" Kimiko grinned slightly as she looked to Penny and mentally compared her to the German war-mage, "Although there still might be a 'sore loser' after that, so maybe it would not settle the matter."

Kimiko didn't laugh, but mentally giggled at the prospect of a fistfight between the two and her own joke. The small American girl was barely any bigger than herself. She would expect an easy victory by Annaliese in such a contest. Of course, the consequences of such probably wouldn't be very good for the ex-SS mage. But that didn't stop the thought from being amusing. A good number of the Americans were far too loud and self-assured for their own good. It would do them good to be brought down a peg to more realistic levels.

Kimiko began to speak that very sentiment, a potential jibe about Pearl Harbor entering her mind, but stopped herself at the last moment. That would not be a very respectful thing to say and, much as it might grate on her, she would maintain at least a level of respect to the occupiers. For the good of her country, if not herself.

[USRK]

Deryn scowled at both the Americans and the Germans. She thought them petty for constantly bickering after the war, while she had taken a more relaxed attitude. The Germans were enemies, but they were good mages on both land and air so she respected them. She also respected the Japanese for their loyalty and honor. However, she wasn't as happy with the Americans and Russians, who were constantly rubbing it in and constantly starting a ruckus. "Humph. Children." She muttered, pulling out her text book.

[Nachfolgia]

"Ooo, catty. Hey. Franziska. Shut up, face the front, and quit tryin' to start shit. No one likes a sore loser." Penny shot back to the Tiger mage.

Honestly, it had been a whole year almost since the end of the war, and the Nazis had done some really fucked up shit. Penny believed that they really had no room to talk. After all, war was hell for everyone. Penny had more than her fair share of scars on her body, only the noticeable ones was diagonal across her nose that went from her forehead to below her left eye, and a nick on her forehead along the other side. She would never forget that day. When she lost all of her platoon to a company-sized element of Panther tanks at Arracourt. Granted, the second platoon from the 704th showed up on their flanks and started knocking them out to the point that they were pushed back, she still lost friends.

Right now, it was like the pot calling the kettle black, and she hated it.

" My name is Annaliese, you American swine!" Annaliese yelled as she stood up and slammed her hands on the desk. She then turned and glanced at the small Japanese mage. Even though they were allies, Annaliese didn't think too highly of them. They were even more fanatical and crazy as the SS, but they lacked strategic know how. The Japanese threw as many men at the enemy as possible. Despite this, the Japanese did their job of keeping half the American military might busy. " I agree. I've been waiting awhile to spill more Allied blood." Annaliese said as she gave a scowl to the Allied Mages.