Happily Married?

Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.

Chapter 6: Date in the City of Lights Part 1.

Minna Dietlinde-Wilcke was in a heap of trouble and for the fifth time in as many seconds she wished that she could cuss out her captors or lament the fact that she was currently seated rather uncomfortably on a bare wooden bench.

It was not the being seated on a bench that really got her upset though. The cause of her displeasure was more because of having a ball gag stuffed into her mouth and her hands being tied behind her back with a piece of silk which was doing just fine resisting her efforts to break out of it. She didn't really think that something so soft can actually be so hard to break.

The redhead shivered as she felt a cold breeze brush against her bare back. Minna tried hard not to think about the fact that she was currently helpless and was dressed only in bra and panties along with a pair of what she felt was stockings. At least she was sure they were indeed stockings as the redhead felt the soft material on her legs and thighs. She would prefer a closer look at the stockings if only to make sure they were tasteful but the blindfold currently covering her eyes, also courtesy of her captor, prevented her from doing so.

If only I had chosen to wear a more conservative set of skivvies, the red lacy ensemble I'm wearing surely sends out the wrong signals, thought the redhead as she tried to imagine what was going through the mind of her captor as her choice of undergarments was revealed as she was stripped of her equipment.

Minna did not have to wait long as she heard the clicking of high heels approaching from behind her. If she could, she would have grit her teeth to steel herself for whatever depraved tortures her captor surely had planned for her.

"Since your mouth is otherwise occupied, why don't I just say your lines for you, hmm?" A throaty female voice whispered directly into her right ear causing Minna to tremble slightly. The redhead began blinking as she suddenly felt the blindfold removed and as her eyes started adjusting to the morning light, Minna began to blush furiously as she noticed her captor was dressed in a black corset with matching panties, fishnet stockings, knee length boots and nothing else leaving her breasts hanging freely. A mane of raven hair flowed down freely to her hips unhindered and a white eye patch with blue stripes covered her right eye.

Of course, most people would disagree that a collection of black dental floss in fashioned together in the shape of a pair of shorts actually count, but the shape held so Minna decided to let it slide and call it a pair of panties.

The redhead drew back as she noticed her barely dressed captor's face suddenly intrude her personal space, her solitary eye inches away and staring directly into Minna's own. "O Dread Pirate of the Fuso Sea and the Enemy of Women, you will never, EVER prevail against me! I, Minna Dietlinde-Wilcke, Holy Knight of Imperial Karsland, will surely bring you to justice for your crimes against the fair womenfolk of Britannia, Gallia, Orussia, Fuso and innumerable other places, countries and possibly planets that I cannot remember off the top of my head!"

Minna had to admit the pirate mimicked her righteous, bringing the hammer of justice down on villains voice very well. It was more impressive that her captor had done so in a single breath as the redhead usually has to pause for air when she rehearsed the line. Except for the last part about the myriad womenfolk she supposedly had ravaged. The Karslander however could not resist rolling her eyes at the sheer ego of the statement made by the raven haired pirate.

The dismissive action by Minna did not go unnoticed as the pirate gave a dangerous looking grin as she cupped Minna's face in her hands. "What's this? You do not believe I committed crimes of an obscene, steamy nature not suitable for children against the womenfolk of the world and left them gasping for more?"

Obscene I can believe. Leaving them gasping for more? Please, you need someone to let some hot air out your head. Minna would have said if she was currently gagged. The redhead settled for another bout of eye rolling instead.

The redhead did not like the glint in the grey eyes of the pirate as she spoke and attempted to protest. As she was currently gagged however, all she managed was, "Mmmpphh! Mmmpphh!"

Cocking her head to the side, the pirate asked her captive, "What's that you said? Please ravish me until the earth and seas give up their dead to prove that you are really the Enemy of Women?"

Despite the redhead's vigorous shaking of her head, the pirate gave a lecherous grin and moved behind her victim, "I aim to please, milady." The raven haired pirate then blew into Minna's ear while resting her ample breasts against her victim's bare back, sending a tingling sensation coursing through her body and prompting another round of shivering from the redhead.

Must...resist, Minna told herself even as she felt her body give in to the skilful ministrations of the pirate's hands. Closing her eyes in a futile bid to shut out her captor's advanced, the redhead tried to suppress a moan as she felt gentle nibbling on her ears which soon moved down slowly to her neck, her breathing and heartbeat getting faster as the sensation of teeth upon skin moved downwards towards her shoulders. Shuddering, the redhead squeezed her legs together tightly as she felt smooth fingers slide into her bra and begin to gently run the tip of their fingernails against her nipples. A muffled whimper escaped her throat as she felt the tingling sensation of her captor's fingernails start circling her chest before she felt the hand cupping her left breast move down towards her legs.

Snap. With a single motion, Minna felt her bra swiftly removed and the touch of soft lips on her breasts even as her legs were being gently but firmly pried apart. The Karslander began panting as the sensation of a warm tongue wrapping itself around her left nipple had her suppressing another impassioned moan while attempting not to wriggle and shiver as she struggled futilely against her captor's tender mercies. The redhead released a muffled gasp as the sensation of a finger nail tracing up and down her spine had Minna shivering in delight throughout her vulnerable body. Making matters worse, there was a flash of glowing blue light and a pair of brown canine ears and a white tipped bushy tail popped out. Her furry ears twitched in excitement while her tail swished in anticipation.

To her horror, dismay and utter embarrassment, Minna felt a damp spot forming between her legs and in her mind; she just knew that said patch was currently getting wetter and spreading all over her very expensive pair of knickers. If she manages to retrieve her freedom and preserve her chastity, the task of replacing them will be onerous indeed.

"Oh look here! It looks like someone needs a towel because it's getting really wet down there." The husky voice of her captor teased mercilessly. The Karsland Witch mentally struck out the possibility of her chastity remaining intact at the end of this encounter.

"The more you resist, my little spitfire, the harder the reaction will be when you finally give in to the sensation building up inside you. Look, "The pirate flicked her erect left nipple for emphasis, prompting a muffled yelp from the gagged Karslander and her tail to stiffen. Her captor then grabbed her tail firmly and began stroking it, causing Minna to bite her lips to while her body shivered in delight. "Your body is far more honest than you are."

There was a shifting of weight and Minna felt the unbound breasts of her captor line up with her own, their nipples touching as the pirate set down on her lap facing her. The short gasps of breath from the pirate bore down in short, warm bursts onto her shoulder as soft lips followed a gentle ticklish nibbling that paced steadily up towards her face. A tearing sound accompanied the sensation of blood flowing back into her hands and it was swiftly followed by the ball gag being removed, allowing her to speak audibly again and prevent drool from flowing freely from her mouth. The redhead opened her mouth to protest but instead felt a tongue take full advantage of the opening and intrude rather forcefully, the foreign organ making an attempt to acquaint itself with every last corner of the insides of her mouth. To her burning shame, her own tongue embraced the intruder and made no effort to force it out.

Minna's eyes snapped open and her own brownish red eyes met the metallic gray of her captor's own uncovered eye. A pair of dark grey dog ears had materialised on her captor's head and appeared to twitch in excitement. The sole visible eye of the pirate practically overflowed with sheer unbridled lust and the redhead was positive if she looked into a mirror, her own eyes would be showing the same signs.

I really should be pushing her away and making my escape, thought the redhead. Instead her treacherous hands started moving to hold her tormentor in a tight embrace before moving southwards towards the pirate's buttocks, grabbing the shapely behind with her right hand while her left began to gently scratch the tail, causing it to twitch and prompting moans of approval from her tormentor. Minna wanted to swear that the deep throaty moans coming from her throat were not her own.

Liar, Liar, pants on fire, mocked Minna's own inner voice. Well, I suppose the current pair of pants you're wearing can't really be set alight by anything short of a flamethrower. They're so thoroughly soaked with your own juices I've seen drier used teabags!

Hush you! You're supposed to be on my side, Minna shot back at her own dissident internal voice.

"Let me guess what's going on," chuckled the pirate as she broke the deep kiss, "You are currently having an intense debate with your inner voice and you don't know what to do."

Any questions as to whether the pirate was a mind reader was cut off as the redhead trembled as she felt finger nails idly tracing her inner thighs, her back arching every time the digits teased the ever increasing wet spot between her legs. The smorgasbord of sensation increased as she felt the now familiar feeling of warm lips touching her skin make their way down towards her thighs before it ended abruptly, causing Minna to issue a whine in protest.

"Let me settle the question of what you should do for you, "smirked the eye patched girl before her mouth resumed the journey southwards and the fingers restarted their dance across her sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Minna hoped she won't be screaming too loudly when the time comes.

"Sakamoto-san, time for breakfast!" Yoshika's clear voice rang out in Fusoan as the door leading to shared bunk of Wing Commander Dietlinde-Wilcke and Major Sakamoto Mio burst open. The younger Fusoan took one look at the scene currently playing out before her eyes, slammed the door shut before opening it again to verify that she was not seeing things. The young Witch was closely followed by Erica Hartmann, whose impish grin that is forever fixed onto her face grew wider at the sight before her.

"I was hoping to call you for breakfast, Sakamoto-san."Her face flushing a deep crimson, Yoshika bowed deeply, "So sorry to intrude! Please continue whatever it was you were doing!" The younger Witch then beat a hasty retreat towards the mess hall, not bothering to close the door.

Erica for her part showed no signs of embarrassment, though delight was very obviously written across her expression. "Well, looks like the major will be uhhh, eating in today." Rubbing her hands in glee, the blonde ace took off and had the presence of mind to close the door. Shouting into the room, Erica managed to breathe out in between fits of giggling, "Maybe we can try informing you two later at lunch time? Hang a sign or something if you're eating in as well for lunch!"

As the footsteps got more distant, Mio looked blankly at the now closed door before remarking, "Well that certainly wasn't in the scenario of "Dread Pirate ravishes Dashing Knight in Captivity". But who could have guessed that General Galland had so many novellas that come with their own instruction manuals on re-enactment."

Turning back to look at her partner, Mio saw the redhead's expression go in rapid succession from pale terror, a deep purple blush of shame before settling into a mask of grim determination.

"Major Sakamoto Mio!" The voice of the wing commander of the 501st was now clear and brooks no challenge to her authority.

"Orders, Commander?" Mio replied instinctively as ingrained reflexes took over.

"I take you up on your offer. Ravish me till the earth and sea give up their dead and you prove yourself to be the Enemy of Women! I've come too far to stop now. Ruined reputation and the psychological damage caused to Miyafuji from witnessing the scene are damned!" The reddish brown eyes of the Karsland Witch burned with fiery determination.

Mio blinked for a moment as she processed the order before returning a confident smirk, the initial embarrassment of being caught in flagrante delicito completely gone from her mind.

"Now where was I? The Dread Pirate was going to ravish you and..." The eye patched Witch found her attempt to get back into character interrupted by a raised index finger from her commander.

"To hell with the role playing, lover. Just make with the wild animal sex already," said the redhead determinedly.

"Sure you not interested in an audience, Minna because I can totally call them back? I still remember you have this fantasy involving Hartmann, Barkhorn, Shirley, myself and a toolbox..."

"Bed. Ravish. Now. "The redhead cut off her partner with a glare.

Mio was only too happy to comply with the order to eat in and carried her lover bridal style towards the bed.


"Oui, Oui, je sais que vous ne faites pas de réserves. Corriger, une table pour deux dans un coin tranquille est en réparation et ne sera disponible à huit heures du soir. Merci beaucoup, Paul." (Yes, Yes, I know you don't do reservations. Correct, a table for two in a quiet corner is being repaired and will only be available at eight in the evening. Thank you very much, Paul.)

Perrine tapped her fingers against the desk impatiently as she listened to the owner of the restaurant she was trying to get a reservation at try to weasel his way out of keeping his side of a bargain made to her family. Tried being the operative word as the blonde held her irritation in check despite the pleading from the other side of the phone.

"NonMonsieurdeSaurs, nousne sommes même pas. Votre entreprise doit à la famille Clostermann plus d'une réservation pour dîner. Ne me faites pas de recueillir."Warned the blonde Witch icily as she felt her already short fuse igniting. ( No Mr de Saurs, we are not even. Your business owes the Clostermann family than just one little dinner reservation. Do not make me collect.)

"Heureux que nous ayonsunecompréhension. Au revoir." Slamming the phone down in frustration, Perrine turned her attention to more important and less irritating matters. ( Glad we have an understanding. Goodbye.)

Blowing at a stray strand of hair that flowed down her face in frustration, Perrine muttered a string of Gallian swear words under her breath as she ticked off yet another item on the check list she had prepared for Major Sakamoto's date with WC Minna. Holding onto a fountain pen and seated at her desk, the blonde started recounting the events she had arranged for tonight's celebration as she crossed out yet another item on the checklist.

The plan was a romantic stroll through the boulevards leading to the Eiffel Tower undergoing reconstruction after touching down in Paris followed by a visit to Versailles Palace, specifically the Hall of Mirrors which was relatively unscathed despite the Neuroi occupation. The evening will be followed by dinner at "L'Entrecôte Porte-Maillot before a romantic movie handpicked by herself at Le Champo theatre in the Latin Quarter. If everything goes to plan, the pair will not be coming back to Romagna until the next morning, too busy sating their mutual lust for one another in the Gallian capitol.

Perrine tried very hard not to think about the fact that the itinerary planned out had initially been for her now never to be realised romantic rendezvous with Major Sakamoto. While most people took more than a few days to get over a broken heart after getting ditched, other people were not Perrine Henriette Clostermann on a mission or had several very close comrades like Lynne, Eila and even that racoon dog Miyafuji worried sick for her. In hindsight, the major accepting Wing Commander Minna's proposal finally snuffed out for good that little shred of vain hope she had that the Fusoan Witch would ever reciprocate her feelings.

Rather than nursing the forlorn hope which the major's attempt to let her down gently by acting denser than a gigantic Neuroi Hive covered in a black hole had inadvertently did, Minna's direct approach and cementing her claim to Major Sakamoto drove in the final nail to her delusions and in the process had freed her. Said process broke her heart to be sure, but if she managed to come out from the death of her entire family during the Neuroi invasion, she can survive a bout of being a jilted lover, or in this case, non lover or two.

The young aristocrat was now free to continue with her own life and move on from what she now admitted was puppy love, rather than allow it to be tied down to the notion that she could ever have her crush return her feelings. To finish the process however, Perrine needed to prove to herself as much as everyone else she could now assist and approach Sakamoto Mio as a colleague and friend, rather than a blatantly obvious secret admirer.

To that end, the blonde Witch resolved to display the right amount of savoir faire and will keep her promise to her sub commander to make her night out in Paris an electrifying one, in a way only a Gallian can do.

Lost in a daydream of just how Major Sakamoto was going to show her gratitude for her services rendered in a manner that involved a bouquet of roses and candlelight while steadfastly squashing vehemently said daydream was in anyway romantic, the Ace of Alsace failed to notice a rabbit eared ginger redhead dressed in a blue tunic over a white dress shirt with tie sneaking up on her, her stocking covered legs wearing a pair of black shoes that made no sound as the new arrival stalked her prey.

"Sous Lieutenant Perrine! je vous manqué!"( Lieutenant Perrine! I missed you!) A girlish voice wailed out in Gallian, prompting the blonde to look up from her table at the voice shouting at her in her native tongue. "Eek!" Perrine's cry of surprise was cut short as she was rewarded with the sight and sensation of a hundred pounds of Witch hurtling into her, knocking her onto the ground and sending her ink pot and pen flying.

"Amelie? Pourquoi êtes vous ici?" ( Amelie? Why are you here?) Suddenly remembering where she is, Perrine ordered the redhead to switch to Britannian. "It's Lieutenant now, by the way."

"Oui, I mean yes, Lieutenant." The younger Gallian complied happily. Sniffling, the redhead got to her feet and helped her object of admiration onto hers. Perrine sighed as she looked her countrywomen who was wiping her tear streaked eyes and cheeks, courtesy of yet another typical bout of over dramatic emotion. Ginger red hair flowed in wavy curves down to collar length and rounded cheeks complemented green eyes that are perpetually glistening and pleading.

Amelie here would turn on the waterworks over a bowl of onion soup, thought the blonde as she resisted the urge to hug the younger Witch tightly and coo that all is right with the world. Frowning, the blonde tried to make sense of the younger Gallian's presence her in Romagna.

"You know, it just happens so I was going over the entire guest list, Amelie," The redhead started to freeze at the fake saccharine tone adopted by her senior as well as her narrowing gaze burrowing into her, "And I don't remember you being on it."

Tapping her foot to demonstrate her displeasure, Perrine glared at the redhead while still maintaining a wholesome smile, causing Amelie to wince at the blonde's accusing stare, "Explain you, Sergeant Amelie Planchard."

"I wasn't AWOL if that's what you're asking!" The redhead sergeant blabbed out nervously as Perrine narrowed her eyes at Amelie's answer.

"I never said you were, Amelie."The blonde Witch finally growled out. Amelie for her part felt utter torn. Her senior's growls were just so darn cute! But the younger Gallian knew first hand just how terrifying Perrine can be when she put her mind to it and the blonde was most definitely doing her best to be scary . Lacking better options, the redhead decided to appeal to her old superior's protective instincts and turned on her puppy dog stare which caused the blonde Witch to groan at the blatant attempt at emotional blackmail.

Sighing, Perrine picked up her pen from the floor and frowned at the sight of the overturned ink pot. She will need to get a refill though fortunately, the pot itself was not broken. "Desertion is a very serious offence, Sergeant. Fortunately, The Free Gallian Air Force isn't in the habit of punishing Witches too severely, even with Gallia liberated. I will write a letter of clemency and don't you start denying it. I already have too many things on my plate as it is." The blonde Witch raised her hand to cut off any protestations of innocence from the younger Gallian. Amelie bit her lips as her eyes began to water again, unsure of how to voice her objections.

"Actually, Lieutenant Clostermann. I was the one who requested Sergeant Planchard's presence here."

Lifting her head from the letter she was drafting asking for leniency at the unfamiliar yet authoritative voice, Perrine snapped to attention once she identified the new presence in her room, " General-major Galland, Ma'am. Permission to continue."

"Continue, Lieutenant and at ease. You're not some fresh meat in boot camp."The general waved dismissively at what she considered to be the blonde's excessive display of deference to a superior officer. Perrine settled back into her chair and cleared her throat before seeking clarification. "General, you ordered Amelie to come over to Romagna?"

"Requested, Lieutenant." The Karsland general corrected as she sat on the bed, prompting a frown from Perrine but no further protest. "I cannot order the deployment of a Witch under foreign command even if we are all technically on the same side. Though, if you will pardon my language, the idiots who are running your bureaucracy seems less obstructive then usual when I requested for Sergeant Planchard to assist you."

Probably eager to have poor Amelie out of their hair. Her over enthusiasm could be her undoing someday and they'd be happy to have a Karslander to blame if anything happens to her, thought the Gallian ace glumly. "Assistance? For myself?" The blonde was by now thoroughly confused and a tad annoyed at Adolfine's knowing smirk.

"A wing Witch for your planned observation mission of the outing to Paris by Wing Commander Minna and Major Sakamoto of course. Did you really think I did not know you'd be planning to stal...I mean watch them from the shadows?" It was a rhetorical question that the blonde aristocrat chooses not to answer. "Figured a fellow Gallian you're familiar with would be of great help to your task."

As a millstone perhaps, thought Perrine at the transparent attempt to discourage her from interfering. Amelie had improved greatly as an air combat Witch, but shadowing and trailing was not the forte of the overly excitable Witch.

"News of their impending wedding has already been spread all over the world, Lieutenant. Stalkers, fans, disgruntled individuals who loathe their own governments and run of the mill terrorists would love a chance to kidnap or worse to a pair as famous as your two commanders." Adolfine pointed out to the Gallian Witch who in turn saw the situation rapidly spiralling out of her control. "Especially after Major Sakamoto got attacked by six land Striker equipped assailants in London, I would want a discreet but considerable security detail..."

"The major was attacked? When? How! Striker Units? But that'd mean Witches? Who?" Perrine screeched out at the top of her lungs and pounded her desks with her fists upon hearing her former crush was assaulted. Adolfine winced at the sudden outburst but managed to hold out both hands to placate the now harried Gallian while Amelie jumped upon hearing the screaming and shifted to a corner of the room, trembling.

"Calm down, Lieutenant. You already saw Sakamoto last night and know she was unharmed. Also, I did not say she was assaulted by Witches though the actual facts are no less...disturbing." Noting that the blonde's hands uncurled from the fists they had formed, the general took it as a sign Perrine had calmed down and continued. "Though the actual details as to how Strikers were involved is beyond your pay grade, I can let slip that Neuroi miasma was involved."

Perrine's hands clenched into fists once again as the blight left behind by the alien enemy was mentioned. Miasma corruption was insidious and the cleaning up of their effects on the land was at times more deadly than their attacks when considering the long term. Land completely covered by Neuroi miasma was as good as salted earth with nothing growing while the soil became so soft rebuilding was more difficult than it was when said towns were first built. Leave the land under their influence long enough and the entire landmass would even disappear to be replaced by a barren, stormy sea as had happened in parts of South Liberion, Australia and the Jin Empire.

"The date will have to be cancelled then." The blonde decided finally. "If the major had been attacked by an unknown adversary with the ability to deploy Strikers..."

"Au contraire, Lieutenant." The blonde stared wide eyed at Adolfine's overruling of her decision. "The expedition and indeed the wedding will go on as planned. We cannot let this attack derail the event."

"It's exposing Commander Minna and the major to unneeded risks, General!" The Gallian protested hotly at the apparent callousness of her superior.

"We do not know of the enemy's capabilities at this point, Lieutenant, so changing plans now especially when the public is following it so closely would invite rumours to spread. The London attacks were covered up as a gas explosion despite the fact that there was no piped gas to that area of London where the assault happened. Whispers of an insidious conspiracy deadly enough to have the mighty Witches shrink in their approach will damage morale at a critical stage." Adolfine met the heated glare sent by the Gallian Witch squarely who was livid at the Karsland general's reasoning.

"So you'd put both of them at risk for propaganda purposes?"The blonde stated curtly while glaring daggers.

"Wars are only won if the people fighting them believe them to be winnable, Lieutenant. Letting the terrorists think they have won would not serve that purpose" Adolfine shrugged at the accusatory glare of the blonde. "Minna and Sakamoto are not exactly helpless damsels in distress and they have both agreed that going to Paris will show we are not shaken by the attack. Furthermore, I believe that an entire Joint Fighter Wing on standby should be sufficient to provide any security if called for."

Time for the coup de grâce, thought the Karsland general. "Besides, it's Sakamoto's idea." The mention of the idea originating from the eye patched Witch dealt the final blow to Perrine's objections.

Perrine blinked as she connected the dots while pondering over the resources which will be at her disposal, "A Joint Fighter wing in Paris? But the only one operational there is..."

"The 506th, also known as the Noble Witches." Adolfine finished for the blonde. " They are responsible for the defence of Paris and nearby theatres of operations. A pity you have declined command of them once before to serve here, Lieutenant. But this mission will be a good chance for you to get to know them better." Perrine drew a sharp breath as she felt the increased responsibility on her shoulders. A second chance at command of an entire Wing! Still, if an entire Wing was going to provide security along with whatever reinforcements General Galland can scrounge up.

"If you say so, general."The blonde conceded. Smiling, Adolfine prepared to further brief Perrine on the security detail she had in mind when she heard a sharp knocking on the bunk door. Turning around in unison, all three Witches focused their attention on the unusual sight of Olivia Skorzeny carrying a bound and gagged Lynette Bishop dressed in her pink nightgown over her shoulder. Ignoring the constant struggling, the scarred Witch casually dropped her package on the bed right next to Adolfine who stared impassively at the bound Britannian.

"I've invited Flight Sergeant Bishop as per your orders, general." reported Olivia, pointedly ignoring the shocked looks of the two Gallians in the room while staring impassively at her commander. Adolfine cocked her head sideways to look at the squirming Britannian lying next to her before turning her gaze onto her adjutant.

"I said invite, not kidnap, Olivia. " stated Adolfine. Shrugging, the scarred Witch replied breezily," I wasn't informed she was given the choice of rejection, Ma'am. The invitation was delivered verbally to Flight Sergeant Bishop at her bunk at exactly 0815 hours. As she was reluctant to comply, saying quote, I don't want to be the plaything of a depraved pervert who has a body pillow of myself, unquote I simply chose the most efficient way to fulfil my mission parameters using a handkerchief as a gag and her bed sheets as rope."

Grinning, Olivia continued, "A well trained adjutant knows when to be discreet. If there's nothing else..." Not waiting for the Karsland general to react, the scarred Witch beat a hasty retreat and slinked out of the room silently. Perrine watched silently as the scene played out, and decided that discretion is the better part of valour. Besides, poor Amelie was trembling in the corner and whimpering at the sight. Sharing a glance with the redhead, Perrine guessed that the other Gallian in the room had come to same conclusion.

"I just remembered I have to...worm my cat. That's right, cat. Amelie, a little help please?" Walking briskly to the door and gestured for Amelie to follow, Perrine tried very hard to ignore the pleading looks from the gagged Lynne as she quickly ran to the mess hall after slamming the door shut. She needed help and hopefully, she will get it before the bed sheets were irrevocably stained and the Britannian Witch utterly traumatised. Well, more traumatised then she already is anyway.

Glancing at the now closed door, Adolfine sighed and turned her attention to the Britannian currently tied up and lying on her bed. Deciding to make the best of the situation, the general reached over and removed the handkerchief from the bound Witch's mouth. Before Adolfine could speak, Lynne let out a piercing scream which cut through the air and forced the elder Witch to cover her ringing ears. Thinking quickly, Adolfine slapped her right hand over the bound Witch's mouth and intoned, "Look, I'm not going to do anything to you, but if you don't stop screaming, I'm putting that hankie back in."

Satisfied at Lynne's slow nodding, the general slowly removed her hand from the younger Witch's mouth. Adolfine felt herself wincing at the pleading look in Lynne's eyes which are watering in fear.

"Please don't rape me?"The younger Witch pleaded.

The general found herself stiffening her jaw and counting to ten internally before replying flatly. "What?"

"Umm, rough prison sex? Aggravated sexual assault? Non consensual same sex intercourse?" Lynne found herself going through the known terms to describe an act she hoped would not be happening to her.

"I know what rape is, thank you."Adolfine snapped in a harsher tone than she would have liked, prompting the Britannian sniper to shrink into herself. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she gently spoke to the bound Britannian. "Why do you think I was going to well, do that to you?"

"You had your goon break into my room at the crack of dawn to kidnap me while I was half awake and had delivered me to a bed you were seating on bound and gagged," pointed out younger Witch. Struggling against her bonds, she added "Also, I am still tied up." Lacking a comeback to the admittedly well reasoned presumptions, the general muttered under her breath as she moved towards Lynne. "Apologies." Adolfine muttered before summoning her magic and using the enhanced strength to snap the sheets tying up Lynne.

Rubbing her wrists to get the blood flowing again, the Britannian Witch turned to look at her commanding general, "If you did not abduct...I mean invite me here to have your way with me. What exactly did you invite me here for?" Lynne almost gasped in amazement as she saw the Karslander blush deeply and reply softly, "It's about spitfires."

"Spitfires? Are you by chance referring to women of a fiery temperament given to violent outbursts? Because I'm quite sure I don't count." Lynne queried, now more confused than afraid at the strange turn of events. Adolfine frowned at the younger Witch's answer and shook her head. "No, I was referring to the model of the Striker Units you've been using."

Adolfine's sighed happily as she stared into the open window, as if visualising the sight of Witches using Spitfires doing aerial acrobatics across the azure sky. Voice filled with nostalgia, the Karslander continued, "I fell in love with those wonderful machines back during Dynamo, when we were hauling our collective asses out of the fire in Karsland. Their mobility, the way they can dive in and out of enemy formations like the chargers of old! That distinctive contour and the lovely sound their magic engines make when their pistons start pumping and the propellers starts rolling! It's like sweet, sweet love making between Witch and machine." The general gushed as she began hyperventilating and shivering in delight at the description of the iconic Britannian Strikers.

Lynne shuffled further away nervously at the seemingly unhinged Karslander, asking nervously, "Aren't there other Britannians you know who can talk about the Spitfires?"

"Well, there's Liz Beurling, but she's a real jackass and she smokes like a chimney on top of it. "Adolfine pondered out loud while rubbing her chin. Shuddering while recollecting said Witch's last encounter with herself. "Have you smelled someone after they've been through three packs of ration cigarettes? Plus, she drinks like a fish and it's not good booze she hankers over at that. Damn the Britannians and their warm beer."

The younger Witch was about to protest that most of her older sisters happen to enjoy a pint of the much maligned warm beer when the door burst open which was followed swiftly by the sight of Yoshika Miyafuji landing a jump kick smack in the middle of Adolfine's face. Sending the Karsland general flying into the side of the room, Yoshika pointed her finger at the now prone general and trembled in rage and indignation.

"How dare you have your minion kidnap Lynne-chan so you can have your sick, perverted ways with her! I won't let you fulfil your hot sweaty fantasies of rubbing Lynne's boobies while burying your face between them all night long and other unmentionable stuff which I will not spell out." The young Fusoan thundered out at the perceived abductor of her friend who responded with a single groan of pain.

"Yoshika! General Galland is a tad...strange but she really only wants to talk about the Spitfires. You know, the planes and Strikers?" Lynne went up to her friend's side. Yoshika blinked in surprise at the Britannian's defence of her alleged kidnapper and remarked, "Talking about Spitfires? Well, I've never heard it called THAT before."

"Yoshika-chan, she really didn't mean any harm."Sighed Lynne before she narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Speaking of which, what's that I heard of rubbing my boo...boo...breasts and burying your face in them?" The Fusoan bulged out her eyes in fear as she realised her slip. "Eh heh heh."

"Nervous laughter is not getting you out of this one, Yoshika." The Britannian Witch stated firmly as she folded her arms. Before she could continue her interrogation further, Perrine and Amelie choose this time to pop their heads into the room and the blonde asked out loud, "Is it over yet? Has that racoon dog Miyafuji murdered a superior general in a sordid tale of lust and passion? Do I need to get my torn and blood soaked sheets changed?"

"Stop being a drama queen, Perrine." Yoshika said, grateful for the distraction. A groan emitting from the corner of the room caused the Fusoan eyes to widen in realization and her face to pale. "General Galland! Oh no!"

The semi conscious general simply groaned in reply.

The Prince Myshkin is your typical cargo bearing vessel that carried all sorts of cargo in and out of the Docklands in London. The vessel itself was unassuming, rusting on the sides with peeling paint and looking much like the several hundred other ships of dubious ownership and legality leaving the ports of Britannia in the cool air of a late summer evening. The foghorn of the Prince Myshkin blared out in a steady rhythm as the mists descended upon the waters, making even simple navigation a grave undertaking as visibility plunged and many a sailor onboard grumbled that it was clearer to look into the pea soup like waters of the Thames. The evening breeze carried both the thick smell of the river and other far less pleasant odours. Denizens plying their trade near the waters learnt quickly not to take too deep a breath.

On nights like this, when the clouds were looming and grey turning the sky a uniform inky black, it wasn't uncommon for passengers, crews and stowaways to suddenly disappear from the ship's logs. With the fog settling in with the passing of summer, no one aboard saw anything or heard anything, what with the din of the sailors going about their duties, the loud roar of the ship's engines and the dammed horn sounding off.

Of course, even if it was dead still in the middle of the night where you could hear a pin drop, no one on board ships like this heard or saw anything. Suicide rates among those who see or hear too much is astronomical and coroners classify any death linked to hearing or seeing too much as suicide.

Some cargo onboard the Prince Myshkin would be due for reputable ports around the world with all papers in place and accounted for. Other less savoury shipments onboard was due for a trip down to Davey Jones locker either by design or because the cargo was leaking like a badly wrapped butcher's package. It would come as no surprise however to some of the predators that created the bloody leaking mess initially to hear them being described as butchers though. Some of them do ply a legitimate trade in the art of cutting up pieces of animal carcass and were rather proud of their handy work though they stretch the definition of animal to anything that bleeds when a knife is put to it.

Alexander Mykonos was one such individual. Hailing from Crete, Mykonos was a butcher turned sailor after the supply of meat dried up and his business went bust. Not that he had a very profitable business as his attention usually more focused on causing trouble and being a general menace in his village. When the Neuroi arrived and started tearing everything up, he joined the village militia but had to flee to prevent his supposed comrades in arms from shooting him in his sleep, most of them having grudges real or imagined though Mykonos conceded it probably was his fault one way or another.

The rogue sailor was of a heavy built, standing around 185 centimetres and weighing around a hundred and twenty kilos, most of it muscle covered in a layer of fat. Thick callused hands, thick greasy mop of black hair and a fake gold chain across his unshaven neck matched with a misshapen nose due to a bar fight. He had protruding teeth and bloodshot eyes made him look very intimidating to most upstanding citizens who never had a violent confrontation in their lives.

The rogue sailor tended to use his intimidating appearance to shakedown most of his marks when on shore leave and sometimes engage in outright robbery. If said target was female, Mykonos would then get some...other bonuses out of that encounter before finding not so gainful employment among the more disreputable ships that called at every port in the world.

Mykonos was after close to three decades of preying on the innocent an established and savvy criminal and picked his targets well. Yet for all his experience in choosing the correct victim (ones that aren't a credible threat or would invite instant and painful retribution) put together, the rogue sailor simply couldn't comprehend how this latest encounter was rapidly turning out to be possibly his last.

The target he had chosen was a petite girl of less than 160 centimetres and probably one third of his weight. She was dressed in a fashionable coffee brown mink coat with a white furry collar, wearing pearl earrings and a pair of matching grey mittens. The mark had shoulder length silvery blue hair combed into a simple braid and was wearing a pair of knee length dark brown boots with two inch heels. Mykonos noticed high cheek bones when he observed her face from the side and long eyelashes and emerald green eyes, sharp elfin nose with thin pale lips. Her skin was fair almost to the point of being translucent and Mykonos swore he could almost see the blood veins near her almond shape eyes because of said fair skin.

All in all, a typical portrait of a upper class princess who was probably on the run, looking more at home in some fine luxury cruiser rather than a seedy dumping ground for society's dregs like the Prince Myshkin. Mykonos had licked his lips in anticipation of the screaming he was sure to hear from her when he ravaged her and took everything of worth from her.

Her innocence, her money she had undoubtedly lifted from daddy's drawers and the fancy kit she had on could fetch a handsome price with the right pawnshops while the girl herself if not too broken can fetch quite a bundle too. The rogue sailor could barely contain himself or believe his good fortune. In a corner of his mind, there was a long forgotten voice screaming faintly at Mykonos to RUN! RUN AND NEVER LOOK BACK!

Alexander Mykonos ignored it. The voice reminded him of his conscience, something he had long ago snuffed out. It was something just as annoying but far more useful particularly when it comes to keeping him alive. It was Prudence speaking to him, but Greed and Lust tonight was far louder.

The thug swaggered up to his intended victim with a leer on his face when a bright sphere of light flashed across his eyes and he felt pain like a thousand nails ripping out from under his skin at once as the light washed over him.

The rogue sailor felt himself thrown into the air before crashing onto the deck with a loud thud. As pain wracked his body, the same invisible force grabbed him and threw him back midair before he was smacked down again in the very same spot he was thrown into initially. Guessing his not so helpless victim was the source of his torments, he turned to view the girl with bloodied eyes and noticed her eyes were now orbs of glowing white flame and her limbs crackled with silver white bolts of crackling lighting. The ground around her glowed with magical circles and Alexander Mykonos realised he should have listened to Prudence.

Magic. Fucking figures the dressed up little princess on MY ship turns out to be a magical bundle of hot fiery death throwing me around like a rag doll, thought Mykonos helplessly while his body was slammed repeatedly onto the deck and into the cabin walls.

The sailor lost count of how many times his body made contact forcefully with the floor before he realised whatever force was grabbing him had let go and he was remaining stationary. While he was unable to feel or move himself, at the very least the invisible hand had ceased trying to reshape his body through liberal use of throwing to the floor like a baker kneads and throws a stubborn lump of dough onto the table to get the desired shape.

The thug was about to thank his lucky stars that he may actually make it through this ordeal before he noticed a heeled boot coming straight towards his face.

The slim figure making her way to the observation deck of the Prince Myshkin caught the attention of almost all the other passengers on board. Dressed in a royal purple silk shirt with embroidered phoenixes soaring out of a burning cloud, the stranger wore her hair in a single chest length braid tied with gold string and a pair of simple black pants that failed to conceal a pair of slim thighs and legs that showed only a hint of muscle. A newsboy cap shielded her eyes from prying eyes but her visible facial features showed prominent cheek bones, thin cherry lips and delicate chin. Her cheeks carried a faint shade of pink that contrasted with almost snow white skin on her neck and rest of the face. Standing at 170 centimetres, she was tall for her gender and race but the way she carried herself endowed her with an aura of delicate fragility like a brittle glass sculpture.

A pair of gold and emerald coloured broadswords hanging from her waist seemed to lend an aura of menace to the stranger, but the tassels hanging out from the pommel at the end of the handle and the intricate designs on said handles seemed to signify that the blades were more of a decorative accessory. The owner of said weapons was walking softly towards her destination when the familiar crunching sound of footwear meeting flesh reached her ears. Muttering under her breath, the figure increased her pace to the source of the noise. It was subtle when her stance changed, but the effects were anything but as her purposeful strides and confident posture banished any hints of vulnerability and replaced them with the confident gait of a tigress on the prowl. Hungry eyes which had previously been sizing her up as prey averted their gaze immediately as their senses informed that this was not prey.

She would lose all sense of self and knowledge where she is after she gets into a killing mood. Best to let her get it out of her system so I can debrief her properly and without undue delay, thought the purple clad figure resignedly as she moved to observation deck where the sound of violence was coming from.

As she finished climbing the stairs, her eyes were finally able to make out the silhouette of a younger female in a mink coat repeatedly arching her right leg back before unleashing a swift kick into a man several times her size. Upon closer inspection, the purple clad newcomer noticed that the victim's face was quite literally a bloody mess and she could barely make out where the mouth and other facial features used to be.

The swordswoman suppressed a yawn as she stretched her arms while waiting for the younger looking female to get bored with her new punching bag.

She must be getting soft if I can still tell where his eyeballs were supposed to be. Usually, she won't leave the shape of the skull intact, mused the purple clad swordswoman.

The steady drumbeat of boot meeting skull started to slow down before grinding to a halt as the silver haired girl noticed her guest who was politely waiting for her to finish up. A slight sheen of sweat was visible on her forehead as she turned towards the swordswoman, her eye sockets glowing with white flame.

"Ah, Portia! You've made it. Quickly, we must get to Damascus before the mob catches us! They seem pretty upset over the pigs that went leaping off the cliffs." The silver haired girl then removed her foot from her victim's face and tore out a relatively clean portion of his shirt as a rag to wipe away the blood and stray bits of bone. She had spoken with a clear and lively voice more suited to the quiet conversation between schoolgirls at a prestigious boarding school rather than one who unleashed stark brutality that she had indulged in moments ago.

The purple clad swordswoman blinked at the seemingly non-sequitur greeting before replying in a long suffering tone. It was apparent it was not the first time the silver haired girl had spaced out completely, "It is now the 28th July and the year is 1945. I am Wan Rong, your servant from the Jin Empire."

As if someone had turned off the gas main, the fires in the eyes snuffed out, replacing it with lush green irises. The silver haired girl smacked her fist against and open palm and smiled triumphantly, "So, that's what I forgot. It was the date!" Blinking, she placed a finger on her lips in a look as she hummed before continuing. "What about the pigs though? I know we aren't supposed to eat them but it seemed like such a waste to let the sea have them even if they leapt off a cliff."

Among other things you've forgotten, O illustrious leader of mine, thought the swordswoman as she chooses to ignore the question posed by her leader. Times like this make Wan Rong question the wisdom in pledging fealty to the seemingly scattered brain girl she was addressing, which can and does completely goes off into a world of her own.

The swordswoman cleared her throat to get the attention of the silver haired girl who was already beginning to show signs of having her train of thought being derailed. "The Covered Eye, my Prophetess." Upon seeing that she finally had the silver haired girl's full attention, Wan Rong continued her report. "We've made contact with the Covered Eye, and she has awoken due to contact with the Crystals and was successfully brought into the Other Side. We did not however..."

"Secure the Covered Eye as I had expected you would fail to, I know. Then again, I already did know before you set off. It would explain why you enter my presence empty handed, Warmistress. "Ignoring the wince at her apparent subordinate's mention of her title and expected failure, the prophetess continued."Still, you had performed your expected duties admirably, Rong-er. I now have another task for you. It promises to be more... pleasant."

Rong-Er- my child Rong. The thought of the younger looking prophetess using the term of endearment her people reserved for younger loved ones should have chafed at her. Had the swordswoman not been serving the silver haired girl for a decade and a half and not witness the girl...no woman in front of her age a single day, looking as youthful as the day she met her when she herself was only on the cusp of puberty, she most likely would have been grievously insulted.

"I hear and I obey, Prophetess Eva." The purple clad swordswoman knelt down as she awaited her orders. Wan Rong suspected that the name given by the prophetess was likely to be a pseudonym, but Wan Rong was not one to probe into the personal matters of others needlessly. Not for lack of effort of her part to find out more of course, but every attempt turned up a dead end and her cat's paws dead. It was as if the silver haired woman had appeared out of tin air fifteen years ago when she first appeared in Nanjing, warning of death from the skies.

At least it was less obvious than the Fusoan scientist who calls himself Professor Hakase. Even with her rusty knowledge of Fusoan, anyone calling themselves Professor Professor was making both a transparent disguise AND horrible pun. Their most recent addition to their conspiracy had his face burnt beyond recognition but his dietary habits and speech patterns identified himself as a member of that hated island nation of midgets.

The eyes of Eva were replaced by gouts of white flame once more as eldritch lighting danced across her fingertips. As she spoke, it was not the clear voice of a teenage girl but reverberating otherworldly tones that was pitch perfect, cold, imperious and ancient. "The Seeing Eye has noticed and will soon send her minions to sniff us out. It is too early and yet the Covered Eye has not awakened fully. Beware of interlopers, my vision is not clear enough but it tells me enough that they WILL be there."

Cocking her head in the direction of her now lifeless victim, Wan Rong recognised the signs that her leader may be losing interest soon. Her intervention however was not needed as the prophetess continued, "Go to Paris and there, bring the Covered Eye over to the other side once again. I have seen her awaken- fully- this time and you will have Witches to assist you, rather than the puppets you were provided with last time." The silver haired prophetess then picked up the limp body of Mykonos in a fireman's carry, frowned at the way the blood of her victim was staining her jacket before dropping the corpse to the floor, opting to drag it to the side of the ship and casually tossing it overboard.

As the loud splash which was not heard by anyone at all echoed through the night, Eva remarked disinterestedly as her eyes were once again emerald green, "I just can't stand litterbugs."

Deciding it was not prudent to point out dumping a corpse into the Thames does count as littering, the swordswoman decided to satisfy her curiosity. "Other than being an all round eye sore, what did that man do?"

"He approached me from behind menacingly, likely having a weapon on his person and probably counting on the fact a young prepubescent girl all by her lonesome was easy prey."

Nodding in understanding, Wan Rong asked, "And that's when you decided to end his miserable existence and kicked him to death?"

Shaking her head, the prophetess replied, "I did not kill him by kicking him to death, as satisfying as it would have been."

Pointing her index finger at the pea soup below, "The impact when he was thrown into the water will give him a concussion and likely cause him to drown." Smiling brightly like a child showing off her art homework to a proud parent, Eva continued, "It is the water that will kill him."

Nodding idly, Wan Rong started playing with her braids before freezing halfway. The silver haired prophetess was staring intently at the bridge of the ship and was sporting a wide eyed grin. It was a grin that the swordswoman was very familiar with when her leader's childlike aspect took over and her inhibitions are thrown to the wind. If no action is taken soon, Wan Rong will be swimming to Europe.

"Prophetess Eva," stated the older looking woman curtly.

Pouting, the childlike prophetess stared at Wan Rong, recognising the tone that signalled she was going to be denied something, "But it'd be fine! I've seen you swim further lengths then one miserable channel before."

"No." The swordswoman retorted clearly. Deciding that a quick distraction was needed, she pointed out, "There are plenty of low lives like the one you just tossed into the water on this ship. Why not find some more? It'd be like hide and seek and you're it. You can even experiment to see if some of them will last longer."

"On the other hand, if I sink it there won't be any more of them to hunt down and play with."Turning to the swordswoman with a smile, you're so smart! I knew there's a reason you're my bestest friend, Rong-Rong!" Beaming, she nodded happily as she imagined the many ways to inflict pain on her new...companions. Humming a merry tune, the prophetess began skipping deeper into the ship.

When the Prince Myshkin called at Amsterdam several hours later, a harried phone call was made to the police before it was quarantined off and a police guard was posted around it. Rumours of a ship that was crewed with nothing but corpses led to many a suspicious sailor to trade tales of a ghost ship manned by a crew of the dead.

Author's notes.

I was planning to make the chapter to extend onto the date in Paris itself, but before I realised it, it was reaching close to nine thousand over words, and decided breaking it up into two parts will make for easier reading. Plus, I feel more regular updates will make writing it a less of a chore and those of you following the story easier rather than waiting months on end.

A note on the usage of ranks and it's something I should have addressed earlier. Shirley, Barkhorn and the Fuso Witches are addressed by Captain and ranks as Squadron Leader and Flight anything is reserved for RAF and several Commonwealth countries. Shirley is Liberion Army Air Corps and the Luftwaffe and the Free French or Free Gallian use army ranks so you may notice only Britannian RAF Lynne gets addressed with RAF ranks. Fuso Navy doesn't seem to have exclusive ranks at all and literal translations of their ranks in kanji have little difference from Army counterparts other than adding navy at the beginning. Terms like Admiral and Captain in the naval sense will be used mostly to address English speaking conventions.

L'Entrecôte Porte-Maillot is one of the more iconic restaurants in Paris famous for their steak and fries though the real life version did not open till the mid fifties. Le Champo is one of their older and iconic theatres and is dated back to the pre-war (as in World War 2) period.

Brownie points if you can guess Eva's likely origin. Hint, Damascus refers to the current Syrian capital and I doubt there are too many tales of pigs hurtling themselves off cliffs like lemmings.

Hate it? Love it? Please R and R especially on my OCs and if they are interfering with the plot of the story too much. Neuroi as antagonists seemed a tad faceless, the X-9 Neuroi witches notwithstanding.

The Jin Empire incidentally is the expy of the Qing Dynasty, the last Chinese dynasty. Going by their history, most of the old empires did not crumble at the end of the First Neuroi War. The Jin or Later Jin is the old name for the later Manchu Qing Dynasty.

Until next time then.

Chapter 7: Date in the City of Lights Part 2