25 Years Later...
A Very Student Council Christmas
Sharks and Minnows
Katawa Shoujo: The Musical!
So She Dances
Hokkaido: a Turning Point
Where Are They Now?
Freaks and Friends Super Happy Funtime Christmas Special
Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow
Two Halves Make a Hole
The Death and Return of Niji
War Diary 31-10-2007 (You Are Here)
A Little Treat for the Season
War Diary 31-10-2007
How did it end up this way? Everything was going so well. The op was progressing smoothly.
And then all hell broke loose.
It was a weekly reconnaissance run - infiltrate the replenishment hive, gather Intel, and get the hell out of Dodge. Routine stuff. I could practically do it in my sleep. I probably have a few times.
But not this time.
It started off normally. I began at twilight, when their lookouts are disabled as they transition between night vision and day vision. The hive antechamber had a few mindless drones milling about - easily avoided. And I managed to snag a crucial bit of intel - excited chatter about an “event.”
If only I had known. If only.
Taking no heed of the warning signs, I penetrated deeper. The corridors seemed unusually poorly maintained, as if the hive had been abandoned, leaving only the spiders - their natural allies.
I should have turned back. I should have run.
Like a fool, I ignored my gut. My gut, who had been such a loyal ally through thick and thin - and I betrayed it. I had gotten overconfident. In spite of the dilapidated state of the corridors, the hive was unusually active, soldiers darting between chambers, communicating in their rapid, high-pitched manner.
And then it happened.
Concurrent with the setting sun, the hellish voice of the Hive's leadership echoed throughout.
“Attention, ladies! It's showtime~!”
A single click, and everything went dark. A second click, and the hive was transformed into a nightmarish hellscape. The cobwebs began to glow, as if a luminescent fungus. To my horror, I realised my own clothing had been contaminated, as it, too, gave off an eerie glow. Needless to say, survival required that I relieve myself of the offending articles.
And then they appeared.
I was used to seeing them in their routine shadow interactions. I had theories as to which they each concealed. Little did I expect that this “event” was an opportunity to discard all pretense.
Some of the revelations were unsurprising - such as the pale one who avoided sunlight appearing garbed in the full regalia of Romanian nobility. Others were more perplexing - like the dark-skinned runner revealed to be a convenience store clerk specialising in sporting goods and power tools. But one and all, my darkest suspicions were confirmed.
And so here I am, surrounded by a horde of monsters in their home territory, now seeing no need to hide their nature. And me clad only with my wits.
It's almost unfair. For them.
Nevertheless, I should remain cautious. To break into open conflict this early may be a great victory on the small scale, but could ultimately cost us the war. The Intel I've collected today will be explosive in the long run, but only if they don't know I know.
“Excuse me, are you all right? You seem to be breathing heavily.”
Crap. It's the Mafia princess. But she has gossamer wings and wields an aetherial wand. A fairy?
Of course! The Mafia isn't run by godfathers, but godmothers
. It's so obvious!
No time to exult in my brilliant deduction, though. This one knows me. Capitalising on the poor lighting, I take a deep breath, and release the manliest ululation I can muster, then make a break for the rear exit. I've learned that they foolishly leave that route of egress unguarded.
With a quick sprint, I throw my weight against the door and am greeted with the welcome chill air of success.
Today, a great blow has been struck against the Feminist forces, yet they remain none the wiser. This calls for a celebration. Unfortunately, I only have large bills on hand.
I should see if my hallmate can spot me the cost of a pizza.