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File: 1357603229981.png-(301 KB, 1400x800, 1315060-95HNHWL.png)
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“REJOICE, COMRADES! WE ARE THE ANGELS! YOUR SALVATION HAS ARRIVED!”

The Russian's words still echo in your mind.

You are Squadron Leader Scarlet Harrison, XO of the 509th Joint Fighter Wing, the “Demon Witches”. You have just been horribly upstaged by a bunch of tank witches. On your first sortie in an actual position of command. Let's recap, shall we?

They just destroyed the biggest god damn martian walker you've ever seen, stealing your thunder in the process. You had that one in the BAG. Sort of.

They have bright red strikers (or at least the one does), just like yours.

And worse yet, they call themselves the Angels. THE ANGELS.

IS THIS A JOKE?!

“IDENTIFY YOURSELVES IMMEDIATELY!” You bark into the radio, fuming with rage.

'Ah! Hello, fellow witch comrade!” The Russian's voice responds, strangely cheerful. You can see it's the same one from earlier, having abandoned her photo-op position. No doubt the press is gonna have a field day with that one. “This is Captain Vasilika Androva, First Expeditionary Armoured Witch Company. But, ehhhh, we are usually going by Stalin's Red Angels. Has ring to it, yes?”

You don't bother responding. The situation on the ground looks to be doing better than expected, all told.
>>
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From your vantage point you can see two little slivers of red darting between the mini-walkers in the town. No doubt more of these so-called “Angels”, though, in much smaller strikers - similar to the Sherman model you saw in the US. Both seem to have the same enormous sword as Vasilika, slicing and dicing the walkers like they were nothing. You can't spot any others at the moment, probably between buildings.

Your girls are busy strafing what ground forces they can, occasionally sending a mini-walker tumbling to the ground. You can see Riley still desperately trying to dislodge her sword from one of the gigantic walker's broken legs. Woody and Johanna are doing fairly well. Looks like they've gotten pretty coordinated in the past week. Ayaka, the last member of your squadron, pulls up beside you.

“Orders, Big Red?” The Japanese witch asks. “Or should I call you Little Red now?”

“Harde-fucking-har.” You grumbled. Let's see...

The two smaller tank witches seem to be doing a fair job with the minis, but the actual tanks appear to be having a bit of trouble. You spot one particular mini jump on one and shred the turret before it even has a chance to fire. The colossus is slowly inching itself back to the water, dragging its enormous bulk with only two functioning legs. You don't know if it can swim, but at the very least it's water proof. It could probably get away if it reaches the shore.

[ ] Destroy the colossus. Ain't no Ivan taking your glory.
[ ] Protect the men on the ground. They're more important.
>>
>>22457659
>[] Protect the men on the ground. They're more important.
Let the Reds take care of the colossus. Much as I hate to say it, they're better equipped for that. Our boys in the tin cans could use some air support.
>>
>>22457659
[x] Protect the men on the ground. They're more important.
Cover those ground pounders
>>
[x] Protect the men on the ground. They're more important.

Better to save allies than to go after glory; that and their gratitude is a sort of glory in itself.
>>
>>22457659
[x] Protect the men on the ground. They're more important.
>>
Protect the men, you need them more than glory.
>>
This needs more Canadian content.

[x] Sing Oh Canada in French while protecting our men on the ground. Wishing for the Avro Arrow to be ready.
>>
File: 1357604710533.jpg-(1.03 MB, 1200x1600, 1355301857233.jpg)
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>>22457960
I don't know who you are, but I love you in a totally non-platonic way.
>>
>>22458047

Then somehow work HMCS Bonaventure into the story. It is one of the Canadian aircraft carriers that should still be in active service at that time.
>>
Damn it.

As much as it pains you, you'll have to let this one go.

“Go after the minis. That thing's as good as dead anyways.” You grumbled.

Ayaka nods, seemingly with the same reluctance that you have, before taking off for the smaller alien vehicles. Sammy's squadron seems to follow suit, the few taking shots at the enormous walker break off and dive after the tiny ones.

You level your Boys AT Rifle on one of the mini-walkers and line up a shot- only to have one of the two smaller tank witches zoom in and jam a sword up through the cockpit. This one seems to have a long, blonde mane with what appear to be two... drills? Pfthaha! That looks ridiculous!

Out of the corner of your eye you spot another getting ready to pounce off a building on to an unsuspecting Sherman. You take the shot just as it jumps, the bullet going clean through the driver's compartment and sending it crashing to the ground next to the tank. You can just barely see the commander waving at you and giving a thumbs up. It's moments like that that make this job worth it.
>>
>>22457659
>[ ] Protect the men on the ground. They're more important.
Glory ain't that important.
>>
Meanwhile, a thunderous slamming of shell into metal sounds from the direction of the colossus. Explosions shake the thing's body and threaten to tip it over; you can that yet another leg has been rendered non-functional, leaving it crawling pathetically with only one while bursts of maser fire stream from the handful of turrets on top.

The witch in the larger tank striker seems to have made her way to the ground directly below you, slowly making her way towards the great walker as she does so. She seems... entranced. Like the rest of the battle doesn't matter. Every now and then she fires as a shell from the enormous cannon that puts another dent somewhere in its armour.

And right there on a building is a mini-walker getting ready to pounce on her...

[ ] Take care of it yourself
[ ] Call out to her
>>
File: 1357604940086.jpg-(25 KB, 1181x788, The best flag.jpg)
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>>22457960
Canada Pride, nation wide

Go canucks go
>Implying Canucks will ever win the cup
>>
>>22458087
It wasn't even launched until 1945 and didn't belong to the RCN until the 50s.
>>
>>22458106
Take care of it ourselves. Then find more targets.
>>
>>22458106
>[ ] Take care of it yourself
"DUCK".
>>
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>>22458106
[x] We got this
>>
>>22458110

We were so close.

>>22458128

I thought this was the 70s? There are two other Canadian carriers you can use for the WWII era. All terrible convoy carriers, but carriers nevertheless.
>>
>>22458106
>[] Call out to her
and then
>[] Take care of it yourself
Because she's clearly in some sort of battle fugue, but we should at least try to let her know what's up before we shoot an anti-tank gun at something that close to her.
>>
[x] Take care of it yourself
>>
[x] Snipe it.
>>
>>22458179
This is in 1943, man.
>>
>>22458179
1943, mate. (Second?) Martian War, replacing WWII.
>>
>>22458199
Naw, this is the only Martian War. WWII ended in December of '41 when the aliens attacked.
>>
>>22458106
Hit that bitch. By which I mean the walker, not the russian.
>>
>>22458236
Right, I've never been able to keep that straight.
>>
>>22458195

My bad, archivefag. In '43 Canada manned the British carriers HMS Nabob and HMS Puncher.
>>
Rolled 1

>>22458240
Roll to attack
>>
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These Russians. They have their big guns and their fancy talk, but they don't even pay attention!

It looks to be biding its time, so you take careful aim.

Three...

It hunkers down, getting ready to pounce.

Two...

The flexible tentacle legs flex, throwing it into the air.

WHAM!

The shot strikes true and it's legs buckle in mid-air, throwing off its trajectory. It seems to be on course for... oh shit. OH SHIT. You yell the first thing that comes to mind.

“FORE!”

The Russian – Vasilika, was it? - looks up just in time to dodge. The enormous striker seems strangely manoeuvrable for something so large. She looks up at you and stares. You can't see her face that well, but you can imagine the look on it.

“T-thank you, comrade.” She stutters out. “But perhaps next time you can give more warning, yes?”

By the time you stop laughing and look around, the colossus has just about reached the shore. It heaves itself into the water with one leg while the three tank witches you can see desperately give chase. Most of the mini-walkers look to be down, a couple of your witches mopping up the stragglers.

With one final sploosh and a whole lot of bubbles, the enormous walker tumbles into the sea. Something tells you that won't be the last of it.

“Hey Red,” Sammy's voice comes alive on your radio, “I think we're just about done here. Time to head back?”

[ ] Get back to base. The quicker you fill out your reports, the quicker you get to fool around.
[ ] Stay back and talk to Russians for a bit.
>>
>>22458497
>[ ] Stay back and talk to Russians for a bit.
They may have stolen our thunder, but that's no reason to not be a little friendly.
>>
>>22458497
[x] Stay back and talk to Russians for a bit.
>>
[x] Stay back and talk to Russians for a bit.
>>
>>22458497
>[ ] Stay back and talk to Russians for a bit.
lets see who our so called saviors are.
>>
[x] Chat up Russians. Offer Maple syrup for Vodka. Who am I kidding? This is Vancouver Island. No one is producing Maple Syrup. Offer Nanaimo Bars.
>>
>>22458497
>[x] Stay back and talk to Russians for a bit.
>>
>>22458497
Touch fluffy tail? No? Then chat up Soviets.
>>
>>22458900
you.
you sir.
I like the way you think.
>>
“You go on ahead, I'll catch up.” You reply. “Gonna find out who these so-called saviours are.”

“Alright, but don't take too long. Reports don't file themselves.”

You nod. Ah, the perks of being in command.

The leader of the tank witches, in all her gaudy, bright-red glory, is staring off into the water, no doubt upset that she failed to destroy it. You fly down, taking up a position behind and slightly above her. There's a certain... melancholy coming from her, all the more enhanced by her long blonde hair blowing in the wind. You can almost feel the disappointment.

“So, uh,” you start, “who'd you say you were again?”

“Capitan Vasilika Androva,” she responds, “Stalin's Red Angels. You are..?”

“Squadron Leader Scarlet Harrison. 509th Joint Fighter Wing. The Demon Witches.”

Vasilika bursts out laughing. It takes a good couple minutes before she manages to speak again. “Oh! Comrade, forgive me! I have not laugh like this for a long time. The Angels and the Demons, you say? I like this. I like this very much! Perhaps is a sign, yes?”
>>
Perhaps. You ask her about the rest of her group. There must be more, after all.

“Ah, yes, yes. Six of us, including myse-”

The approach of another tank witch cuts her off, in a significantly smaller striker, but still a bit bigger than the ones you saw earlier. Her complexion looks a fair bit darker than the other, her hair such a light blonde that it looks nearly white and cut short as though it had been done with a knife. The second witch gives you a quick nod before muttering something in Russian to Vasilika.

“Apologies, but it seems we must finish this talk later.” She turns to you, the gigantic striker's legs stomping as she does. “We must take our leave, and I believe you as well.”

Yeah... you really should get going.
>>
File: 1357608678543.png-(286 KB, 1237x800, Rose.png)
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A half hour later, you find yourself in Rose's office, finishing up the flight reports with Sammy. You recheck the numbers once, twice, before handing them off to Rose.

“Everything went well, I take it?” She asks.

You shrug. “As well as we could have hoped.”

“Good, good.” Rose pulls back from her desk and spends a few moments sifting through a filing cabinet before producing nearly a dozen files. “Listen, I know you know them, but I think you both should look at the files of the witches under you command. Just to make sure you're aware of everything.”

She hands five to you and five to Sammy. Sure enough, your five are all witches in your squadron including yourself. Where to start...

[ ] Veronica Woodward
[ ] Riley Bong
[ ] Ayaka Kuroe
[ ] Johanna Wiese
[ ] Scarlet Harrison.
[ ] Save them for later.
>>
[x] Scarlet Harrison.

reading about yourself should be funny.
>>
>>22459213

I am for this.
>>
>>22459189
>[] Riley Bong
Gotta know more about Bing!
>>
Are the names references to historical figures? Or am I too dense to see it?
>>
>>22459189
[x] Scarlet Harrison.
If this consists of anything other than 'The prettiest' heads will roll.
>>
>>22459273
Ayaka and Johanna are canon witches with the rest being originals. Whatever meaning behind their names is a mystery to me.
>>
>>22459189
>[x] Scarlet Harrison.
>>
>>22459292

Ahh thanks anon.
>>
>>22459273
Ayaka and Johanna are SW canon witches. Ayaka is based on Kuroe Yashiki and Johanna is based on Johannes Wiese.

Riley and Woody are original. Riley is Dick Bong, United States top ace of WWII. Woody is Vernon Woodward, number two Canadian ace in WWII.

Scarlet isn't based on anyone in particular.
>>
>>22459291
second
>>
>>22459313

Thanks Archivefag! I will be back after reading about WWII fighter aces.
>>
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You decide to start with THE BEST WITCH.

Yourself.

The first page is all fairly basic stuff. Squadron Leader Scarlet Emilia Harrison. Royal Canadian Air Force. Eighteen years old (almost nineteen!). Blah blah, super shields, blah blah, Newfoundland dog, blah blah. Let's just skip to the good stuff.

Next comes your history. Born in Toronto, Ontario, went to the Minnie Bishop Academy. Got top grades in application, did miserably in theory and academic work. Did extremely well in training, but got bumped below Rose due to aforementioned lack of book-learnin'. Cause reading is for chumps. Started service in January 1942 when you joined the 407th Demon Squadron. There you helped push the martians out of the Great Lakes area and further inland to the Missouri Pocket, where they remain to this day. You, along with two other members of the 407th, were transferred to BC some time in January. And then the squids showed up here and life shat all over you.
>>
The last page seems to be reserved for the CO's own notes but, Rose's notes are... sparse, but touching. All it says is, in big bold letters: “Best friend forever.” D'aww. Guess she wouldn't really need anything else. You've known each other since you were at least ten years old, when you first arrived at the academy. You've been joined at the hip ever since. Somehow the combination of Rose's straight-lace attitude and your... you... has made you two even better friends. You've laughed together, you've cried together and truth be told, you'd be scared shitless if she wasn't around.

You quickly snatch a pen off Rose's desk and scribble “The prettiest.” at the end.

Next up...

[ ] Veronica Woodward
[ ] Riley Bong
[ ] Ayaka Kuroe
[ ] Johanna Wiese
>>
>>22459432
GOTTA BE BONG.
>>
>>22459432
[x] Veronica Woodward
>>
[x] Johanna Wiese

I'm honestly curious how much we'd get from this.

I'm suspecting the two canon witches would have quite some differences compared to the SW Wiki entries.
>>
>>22459432
[x] Riley Bong

Bing Bong tiem
>>
>>22459432
>[ ] Riley Bong
Et's bong o'clock, et es
>>
File: 1357610329682.png-(325 KB, 1237x800, Riley.png)
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Alright, file number two.

Pilot Officer Riley Irene Bong. Fifteen years old. United States Army Air Corps. Special talent: Super Strength. Your ground crew has taken a liking to thinking up bigger and stranger weapons for her because of it. Currently she's in possession of the Autoharp, a horrid contraption made of duct-tape and rocket rails, as well as some sort of punching-sword capable of piercing tank armour. Familiar: Swedish Elkhound. You have no idea what that is, but it sounds like a pretty cool dog. From what you've seen the ears and tail kind of look like a husky's.

Originally from Wisconsin, Riley went to one of the private academies in the US and trained in California. She was SUPPOSED to go with her squadron to Europe last year, but after pulling some kind of stunt she was grounded and held back during their deployment. She stuck around there for a month or two before being sent here on the same day Woody arrived.

Rose's notes are mostly what you'd expect. Enthusiastic, a monster in combat, a bit on the dull side. Seems to be best friends with Woody and went to the same academy as Reggie. Right... the Little Girl Squad as you've come to call them. All three the same age and rarely apart. She seems to have been practising alongside Ayaka in swordsmanship as of late. Weird.

Three more to go...

[ ] Veronica Woodward
[ ] Ayaka Kuroe
[ ] Johanna Wiese
>>
>>22459615
[x] Veronica Woodward
>>
>>22459615
>[ ] Veronica Woodward
trouble comes double, so lets check out woody
>>
[x] Veronica Woodward

Resistance is futile,etc. Though I wonder what squadron she was originally a part of or the stunt that got her grounded (inb4 "read demons")
>>
>>22459615
>[x] Veronica Woodward
>>
File: 1357611248120.png-(223 KB, 1237x800, Woody.png)
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Number three!

Pilot Officer Veronica Christine Woodward, or Woody as you call her. Totally doesn't look like a Veronica. Fifteen years old. Royal Canadian Air Force. Special talent: Enhanced Regeneration. Her body can recover from damn near anything so long as she has a good rest. You have a slight morbid curiosity as to the limits of that. Her familiar is... a wolverine? That's... a little weird. Usually it's a dog, a cat or a bird. You've heard of the rare case of something else but... Hah. Woody a wolverine. That's great.

Her history is a little above average. Originally from Victoria, BC, she received top marks at the Minnie Bishop Academy, same one as you went to. Did well in training and was placed in your unit in mid-February, just over a month ago. Initially was the only non-ace to join the wing, but that changed real quick. Fifteen kills so far. Not bad, Woody. Not bad at all.

Shy, lacks confidence in combat abilities, a born leader on the ground. Hrm. Well, she HAS given you a couple stern talkings-to in the past. Loves her teddy bear, Commander Cuddles. Okay, that's... kind of a weird thing to put in this kind of document. Maybe you'll need to meet with this so called “Commander” Cuddles.

Moving on. Only two left.

[ ] Ayaka Kuroe
[ ] Johanna Wiese
>>
>>22459615
Does she have a revolving stake, because Crimson seems the.. super robot story.
>>
>>22459824
>Ayaka Kuroe
Japan route Japan Route!
>>
[x] Johanna Wiese

Forgot to say that Woody's pretty cute.

>>22459828
Who to say the ground crew wouldn't? It's been said they were fond of bizarre ideas for her.
>>
>>22459824
[x] Ayaka Kuroe
>>
Awww dat Wolverine.
>>
>>22459824
Lets check Johanna Wiese. She oughta be rather experienced.
>>
>>22459851
>revolving stake
>absurdly overpowered weapons
Oh great, they are going to give her a exploding ball launcher next, or if we go more topical, a vulcan launcher
>>
File: 1357611975947.jpg-(46 KB, 286x650, Ayaka-Fumikane.jpg)
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Two left...

Flight Lieutenant Ayaka Kuroe, also known as Crowy to you. Twenty-two years old. Imperial Japanese Army. Special talent: Quality Detection. You really have no idea what that means. She can figure out the special qualities of stuff? Maybe? Who knows. You should ask her about it some time. It also lists something called the “Unyou”, the ability she uses to make things explode when she stabs them. That one, on the other hand, has come in handy many, many times. Her familiar is a Satsuma dog, another breed you've never heard of. Her ears are fuzzy, her tail is fluffy and that's all you know.

Her history is surprisingly long compared to the previous two. She's served as a test pilot for new striker designs practically since her powers first developed. Her inclination for mechanical things drew her to them and her special ability (the one that's not the cool stabby-splody thing) enhanced her capabilities in that field greatly. She was among the first of Dr. Miyafuji's test subjects and has spent the past decade of her life travelling the world testing new designs. This also helped her become fluent in English. Prior to joining the 509th, she was an instructor at an academy in Japan. She also seemed to have gained the nickname “Kuroe the Demon” some time ago... Well that's certainly redundant now.
>>
She's... an odd ball, that's for sure. At first glance you'd think her whimsical and eccentric, but that just seems to be her way of letting off steam. Excellent in combat, adept leader, excellent management skills. She'd be the whole package if only she used a gun instead of trying to stab everything in the face. Written in the margin is the note “Loves to fish.”

You put move the file to the end of the stack and look at the last one. Looks like another long one.
>>
>>22460005
dat outfit.
>>
>>22459979
>>22459851
>>22459828
>late-war Bong

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjwQkvbwRAw
>>
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And finally you're at the last one.

Flight Lieutenant Johanna Wiese. Seventeen years old. Luftwaffe. Special talent is Unnoticeability. Ah. Yeah. She's scared the bejesus out of you with that one before. Essentially, when she uses it you can't see her unless you already know she's there. This led to her nickname “The Lioness of Lorraine” as she often used the tactics of one. Her familiar is a Pug. Hey something you know! Those things are adorable!

Her history is... giant smudge of ink. Nearly the entire thing, what little of it there is, is censored. All that's listed is that she joined on March 1st, a few weeks ago. However, you DO know at least some of it. She was captured some time in 1941, before the martians came. She, as well as many other witch PoWs, was allowed to stay at the Minnie Bishop Academy. For reasons you aren't clear on, she was held back when all the others were sent home. Maybe that will warrant some investigation later.
>>
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>>22460005
>>22460046
enjoy your NOARTS
>>
>>22460005
>things explode and quality detection
oh god its Shiki, wrap it up Marsailures
>>
Kind, soft-spoken, motherly. One word that seems to stick out is “lonely”. Come to think of it, you've never really seen her hang out with anyone. She's always reading or doing something by herself. That last real talk you had with her descended into her taking herself on a guilt trip about the things she did before the squids showed up. Maybe you should try talking with her some time. Last, but not least, Scarlet has a crus- OH THAT BITCH. She even wrote it in pen... You manage to scribble it out just as Sammy tries to peek over. God damn Rose... you get excited talking to someone ONCE and suddenly “Ooooh Scarlet has a crush!” Psh. Just because you've never gotten together with a guy doesn't mean you like girls. Probably.

You glare at Rose.

She takes a look at the file and smirks. “Something wrong, Scarlet?”

“Nothing. At. All.” You're practically grinding your teeth. Stupid Rose and her stupid face. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes. Dismissed.” She waves you off. “Oh, but before you go, I'd like to stop by where those new witches are staying to introduce ourselves. It's just off base. Say, in an hour?”

“Fine, fine.” You respond.

Now. Where to go...

[ ] Kitchen. Need witch fuel.
[ ] Find some people. Ask opinions on Angels.
[ ] Hang out in the common room. Relax for a bit.
>>
>>22460033
Prototype outfit though japanese/fuso outfits seem more fetish than other countries.

>>22460037
Not a bad comparison.

>>22460046
Not surprised, perhaps this will be the quest's big mystery: Why her history was censored and why she was releasd into the Demons.

[x] Kitchen. Need witch fuel.
>>
>>22460128
>[x] Kitchen. Need witch fuel.

Food is always the answer.
>>
>>22460128
[x] Kitchen. Need witch fuel.
>>
>>22460128
>[ ] Kitchen. Need witch fuel.
Food is always the best choice.
>>
Kitchen. Chat up the young ones. Pick out your favorite to prey upon. Or maybe prey upon the quiet motherly one.
>>
>>22460128
>[x] Kitchen. Need witch fuel.
>>
Your stomach growls as you step out the door.

Scarlet HUNGERS.

The kitchen is only a short jaunt from the office, and thankfully unoccupied. Sorting through the drawers, you manage to find a nicely-sized pot to put on the stove. You take a look through the cupboards and... there!

Kraft Dinner. Canadian witch fuel.

Just as you finish putting the water on and take a seat, Riley and Woody stumble in, giggling about something or other.

“Oh!” Woody yelps, suddenly noticing you. “Squadron Leader!”

You nod. “Woody.”

“You're never gonna use my first name, are you?”

“Wasn't planning on it.” You reply. “Whatcha makin'?'

“Woody was gonna make omelettes!” Riley squeals excitedly. “And I was gonna help!”

You nod again and take up the morning paper as you wait for the water to boil. 'bout time someone put that powdered egg trash to use. Riley nearly falls over trying to pull them from the top shelf, put manages to catch herself just in time. Meanwhile, Woody busies herself chopping up a slice of ham and bits of parsley.

“So, um, Squadron Leader,” Woody starts, “those witches from before. What did you think about them? You talked to one of them, right?

Wat say?
>>
>>22460760
They seem decent enough. The more help, the better, I guess.
>>
[x] They may be quirky but not bad people. No idea if we'll see them again.
>>
>>22460760
Pissed me off them taking such a big kill off of our plate, but their showing up sure cleaned things up quick. Damn squids are going to have a hell of a time with the both of our units around.
>>
>>22460760
They're very Russian. That's about all I know.
>>
>>22460760
"Tried too hard to impress us. Shoulda let their guns do the talking, like I did.
Though I must admit that big gun really helped."
Wonder if Riley managed to get her sword back. She doesn't seem horrible depressed so I think she might have.
>>
The leader seemed pleasant enough, a little odd though. Other than that just thankful to have more big guns around, god knows we need em. Though how the help the Soviets managed to spare witches is beyond me.
>>
>>22460760

They're pretty cool, fight aliums and isn't afraid of anything. But they need to learn SITUATIONAL AWARENESS. Might as well give them credit for the big thing, our guns couldn't deal with it and that had turned into their kind of battle anyway. We did our job and they did theirs. However much that might piss us off, let's be fair.
>>
You shrug. “Eh. Pissed me off that they took our big moment, but the leader seems alright.”

You can see Woody's little head nod from behind. “You seemed really angry before.”

“You noticed?” You ask.

Riley snorts in a rather unlady-like fashion as she helps chop up the ham. “Everyone from here to... whatchamacallit... Victoria! That's the one! Everyone from here to there could tell you were a-ragin'.”

Great... A sudden thought comes to you.

“Hey Bing, you got your sword back, right?”

“Oh yeah!” She shouts. “I got it out, but it was really stuck in there good. Gonna have to watch out for that when I'm STABBIN' WALKERS IN THE FACE!” She punctuates the statement by jabbing her knife into the meat.

“R-Riley, be careful!” Woody fusses, taking the knife to do it herself.

“Why do let you around sharp objects again, Bing?” You mumble.

She shrugs. “'cause 'm cute?”

“That is a terrible reason.”

By the time your water boils, the two are already munching away on their omelettes. Looks pretty good, actually...

A calm silence fills the room. Maybe having one of their commanding officers hovering over them is making them a bit nervous. Might as well talk to them.

Ask something?
Say something?
>>
>>22461251
Ask Bing if she knows what the mechanics are gonna give her an even bigger gun.
>>
[x] What are your opinions of them?
>>
>>22461251
Offer coffee.
>>
>>22461332
seconding this. Lets see what they think of the ruskies
>>
>>22461363
Riley doesn't seem the type to give coffee too.
>>
>>22461363
>give Riley coffee

Oh god. OH GOD. YOU MEDDLE WITH POWERS YOU DO NOT FULLY UNDERSTAND.
>>
>>22461422
TOO BAD. JAVA TIME.
>>
>>22461437
YOU AM PLAY GODS
>>
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>Making kraft dinner while writing about kraft dinner. This is an odd feel.

“So how about you two?” You ask. “What did you think of them?”

They pause and think for a moment, looking at each other before back at you.

“They seemed... arrogant.” Woody replies. “That 'We are your salvation' thing. Really showy.”

“I thought it was cool!” Riley chimes in. “A-and that one on the hill had a really big gun!”

“Let me guess,” you roll your eyes, “you want one too?”

“Yeah!” Oh good lord, this girl...

“Put it on your Christmas list and maybe Pat's crew will get you one.” Somehow, you're not entirely sure that they wouldn't.

You finish making your Kraft Dinner, and after a few minutes of idle small-talk, Riley and Woody are on their way to bother someone else.

Eating alone sure is boring. So you won't. You pick up the bowl and head to...

[ ] The common room
[ ] Outside
[ ] Rose's office
>>
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>>22461422
REJOICE! For Riley shall finally meet that which is coffee!

>I FUCKING LOVE THE ART!
>>
>>22461717

[x] Outside
>>
>>22461717
Common room ho!
>>
>>22461717
[X]Find the Kraut. She's got issues we need to deal with.
>>
[X]Find Johanna. She's got issues we need to deal with.
>>
>>22461717
Common room. Our Crus....I mean Johanna might be there.
>>
>>22461717
[X]Find Johanna.
>>
>>22459313
>Dick Bong
I feel childish for laughing at this so hard
>>
[x] Johanna route/german time
>>
>>22461717
look for the german
>>
Flirt with the crippled witch!
>>
>>22461717
[x] Flirt with Johanna
>>
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>give non-specific choices
>everyone demands Johanna

The common room would be nice. There's bound to be people there.

You and your delicious KD make your way there as you devour a few more forkfuls. It truly is God's gift to mankind.

Once there, the room seems mostly empty save for... Johanna. How convenient! You wanted to talk to her anyways. She gives you a cautious wave when she spots you and puts down the book she was working on.

“Hey Jo. Or Hanna.” You scrunch up your eyebrows, trying to figure out how to shorten her name. “Can't really think of a good nickname. Mind if I join you?”

“O-oh! Of course!” She moves over on the sofa, giving you space to sit. “Please do.”

You oblige, taking the seat and setting your down in your lap. You aren't really sure if you should be offering her some.

“So, uh,” you start, “how you been? Getting along with everyone?”

“Oh yes,” a very slight hint of a German accent decorates her words, “everyone is very kind, no one's given me any trouble despite being... a German.”

Good, good. Though, you're not really sure what you should be asking her...

[ ] So I was reading your file...
[ ] You're sure? I don't really see you with anyone very often...
[ ] So what do you think of them Russians?
>>
>>22462461
[x] You're sure? I don't really see you with anyone very often...
>>
>>22462493
>[ ] You're sure? I don't really see you with anyone very often...
>>
>fuck up a choice
>takes forever to delete post
>captcha hates me

I don't think the 4chan god likes Johanna.
>>
>>22462493

[x] What you think of the Russians?
>>
>>22462493
You're sure?

>Everyone demands Johanna
Duh archival, her wiki specifically states she has a seductive aura.
>>
>>22462493
[x] You're sure? I don't really see you with anyone very often...
>>
[x] You're sure? I don't really see you with anyone very often...

>>22462610
I voted to try to find out more about her and hopefully whatever's censored.
>>
>>22462493
>[] You're sure? I don't really see you with anyone very often...
>>
[X ] You're sure? I don't really see you with anyone very often...

AND

[x] This Craft's Dinner is amazing. Here, try some. Say Ahhh.
>>
>>22462665
Well, me too. But its more fun to mess with the op than give a logical reason :p
>>
>>22462714
Trully, That is a great sacrifice, But a worthy one. Have a +1.
>>
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>>22462714
Make it so.
>>
>>22462714
I vote this as well, If only to see her reaction.
>>
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>>22462714
It's Kraft Dinner. Kraft.
>>
>>22462493
[x] This Craft's Dinner is amazing. Here, try some. Say Ahhh.
>>
>>22462910

Kraft Dinner is uniquely Canadian?

Really?

Americans don't even have the fortune to have any?

But... I thought it was considered crap food...
>>
>>22462910
doesn't seem different than their Mac and Cheese. Last I heard they don't have Dinty Moore (poor bastards)
>>
>>22463000
Wait, who doesn't have Dinty Moore?
>>
>>22463000
Kraft uses a different recipe depending on the region.

Crafty buggers. Canadians get the best version.
>>
>>22463014
Canadians
>>
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> KDxJohanna OTP

“You're sure?” You ask. “I mean, yeah everyone's nice, but...”

“But?”

“Well, it's just, y'know,” you wave your hand, making vague gestures in the hopes that she'll understand, “I never see you hang out with anyone. You're always reading or doing something out of the way.”

“Ah.” She gives you a smile that seems... distant. Not quite sad, but filled with longing. “I suppose this is true. Things are... were very different in my country. Everyone was so professional. It was all by the book. The Germany way. My best friend, her name was Gertrude Barkhorn. Do you know of her?”

You shake your head. Never heard of her.

Johanna's smile grows, giving off a nostalgic feel. “As straight lace as you could find. Yet, two of our good friends were so wild and free. I always had to calm her down after they did something. Poor thing would have had a heart attack from all the stress.”

You're not entirely sure where she's going with this. “So...”

“What I mean to say is, everyone around here is so laid back, but in such moderation. No one is so serious, but they aren't so care-free, either.” She lets out a soft, quiet sigh. “I suppose once I get used to it, I'll be the odd one out back home.”

You can only give her a nod. You don't know any names, but you've heard of German aces. They always seem to be on one end of the scale or the other. Didn't you hear a rumour about one accidentally stealing Hitler's hat?

You stare down into your bowl of Kraft Dinner. Germans like mac and cheese, right? Isn't that a big thing there?

[ ] Offer her some.
[ ] No, that's weird.
>>
[x] Offer her some.

>>22463034
Really? That doesn't make much sense.
>>
>>22463115
[x] Offer her some.

Hey Johanna, you look hungry. Open wide~
>>
>>22463115
Do it. offer her the Kraft.
>>22463144
Different regions, different tastes.
>>
>>22463115
Let's find out how she feels about it! Just force it on in there. Her mouth might lie but her eyes won't.
>>
>>22462955
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kraft_Dinner#Canadian_culture

Learn something new every day
>>
>>22463115
OFFER THE CHEESE. BECOME THE GERMAN WHISPERER.
>>
>>22463115
Must offer delicious goodness.
>>
>>22463115
[x] Offer her some.
Why is this even a vote.
>>
>>22463000
>>22463014
What's Dinty Moore? Am I missing out on something?
>>
>>22463115
>[x] Offer her some.
>>
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>>22463115
Give her the dinner
>>
[x] Offer cheese, receive love.

>Canadian Content
Promise to take German missy out for Timbit next time to help her adjust to Canadian living.

>>22463173

It is shameful to say, but as a Canadian I learned something new today.
>>
>>22463244
Brand of Beef Stew (which has since expanded into things like chicken and dumplings); it's a rather well known staple of american dinners growing up.
>>
>>22463274
But Timmy's wasnt' around until the 60's D:

The amount of times I wish I could have referenced Tim Horton's, I swear to god. But there IS a table hockey game lying around the base somewhere.
>>
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>>22463277
Y'know another thing we don't have here that I really liked? These things. These are great. Cheezy, salty, crunchy, bite-sized...
>>
>>22463332
Cheez-its are God's gift to the world. Fact.
>>
>>22463330

KD were around back in the 30s? Darn. That is successful.

Alright, go full Canadian and promise her Maple Taffy. Or Beavertail.
>>
>>22463332
My parents buy the extra large box so they can keep up with me eating them. Most of the time.
>>
>>22463383

Remember the stringy cheese stick snack we used to have? The one where you can peel off strings of cheese?
>>
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>>22463330
It's called artistic liscence. Perhaps you've heard of it. Seems Tim Horton was born about fifty years earlier...


Unfortunately, as a resident of Vancouver, we have almost no Tims anywhere. There's three downtown within walking distance of each other, maybe two(?) in richmond, a couple in North Van, one of which is literally a shed, and maybe a couple in Burnaby.

Compared to say, Toronto, where there's a Tims on every corner? It's horrid. I want my timbits, and I don't want to have to drive fifteen minutes and pass five starbucks for them dammit!
>>
>>22463415
BUT MUH INTEGRITY
>>
>>22463396
>Maple Taffy
>Beavertail
>Not Poutine

anon pls

What's poutine? You take french fries, and you put cheese curds and gravy on them. Eat with fork.Quebecois Fries
>>
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>>22463441
You're writing about this. Your integrity is nonexistent.
>>
>>22463115
(x) Opinion on those intervening Russians?
>>
>>22463332
Fact: Cheez-its were around during 1940's

>>22463408
used to? you mean you don't have it there? There's still string cheese here in the US.
>>
>>22463415

Do you even UBC.
>>
>>22463415
You trade ease of timbits for clean air.

I'd say it's reasonable. Travelling out west always reminds me about how terrible the air quality is in the GTA.
>>
>>22463115

[ ] touch fluffy tail
>>
>>22463444

Fine. Poutine is as Canadian as it gets.
>>
>>22463408
I love string cheese. I still buy it to this day.
>>
>>22463495

There still is in Canada, but it is much harder to find as an adult now. I bet a kid will find it in no time, though.
>>
>>22463396

Interesting fact. Bevertails are also in Saudi.
>>
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>give her the (kraft) dinner

You know what Johanna needs?

Comfort food.

You know you happen to have?

FUCKING COMFORT FOOD. HELL YES.

You jab the fork into it and awkwardly hold out the handle.

“Want some? I heard mac and cheese is a big thing in Germany.”

She looks down at the orangey-yellow friendship offering and shakes her head, giggling.

“I'm sorry, but I could not accept.”

Crashed. Burned. Exploded.

Seeing the disappointed look on your face, she giggles even more. “But Scarlet, that would be a... what is the word... indirect kiss, no? Such things are improper for fellow witches.”

Well. Yeah. Okay. That's a point.

GRGLE GRGLE GRGLE.

You look at her. She looks at her stomach. She starts laughing even harder.

“Alright! I give!” She manages to get out between giggle fits. “I will try this... what was it called?”

“Kraft Dinner.”

“I will try this Kraft Dinner.”

You hold out the handle to her once more, but... she opens her mouth and closes her eyes. Oh. Oh hell no.

“J-Johanna, um...” You stutter. “I, uh...”

She says nothing.

Okay Scarlet, you can do this. Just breathe and suck up your pride. It's just... feeding another witch. Yeah. You're both girls, so it's not weird.

You stick the fork in her mouth and wince. Geez. You don't even want to think about how red your face is right now.

And just as she closes her mouth around it, Rose opens the door.

>HER FUCKING FACE WHEN

WAT DO? WAT SAY?
>>
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>>22463504
Nope - SFU Master Race reporting. Enjoy your hour long overcrowded bus ride both ways every day, I'll be taking the skytrain until the last 10 minutes.
>>
>>22463611
"Want another bite, Johanna?"
>>
>>22463611

"Rose, please. I love her."
>>
>"I'm showing her a part of Canadian culture!"
>>
>>22463611
Stare directly at Rose while shoveling another forkful into Johanna's mouth.
>>
>>22463611
Give no fucks. Not a one.
We are assisting with unit integration. That's all.
For now.
>>
>>22463611
Offer Rose a forkful. "C'mon, Rose! It's the cheesiest!"
>>
>>22463611
"Want another bite, Johanna?"
play it cool
>>
>>22463611
Say nothing, awkward silence is best silence.
>>
>>22463611
Look her in the eyes. STARE HER IN THE EYES. Then, resume feeding our crush.

This is exactly what it looks like
>>
Rose! It is not what it looks like! We are just sharing an indirect kis.... I mean culture sharing!

>>22463619

Enjoy your Caprica.

Yes, it is a beautiful university. The 99 into UBC is always crowded and less than optimal.
>>
>>22463611
[x] Touch fluffy tail.
>>
>>22463752
Changing my vote to this.
>>
>>22463790

But I liked the Cheesy comment.
>>
>>22463799
Fair enough. IT'S THE CHEESIEST STANDS.
>>
>>22463611
Retract fork.
"Did you like it?"
Do not be flustered in voice or actions, even though we are redder than a cherry tomato.
>>
>>22463664
>>22463659
>>22463644
These!!
>>
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That stupid, shit-eating grin. Oh how you will destroy her. A clear course of action forms in your head, startlingly clear really. You'll surely regret it in as little as an hour, but for now, you know what must be done. Scarlet Harrison has never given up an opportunity to fuck with Rose. NEVER.

You stare. Your gaze bores a hole straight through her as slowly – very, VERY slowly – pull the fork from Johanna's mouth. Somewhere between fork being removed and fork reacquiring more delicious mac and cheese, her grin died. Withered away. Now she simply stares in shock.

“Would you like some more?” You ask Johanna.

“I- I suppose. I didn't really expect you to do that.” She blinks. “A-Are you okay? Your voice sounds strange.”

“Fine. Just. Fine.”

You hold the fork up to her mouth, keeping your unblinking gaze on Rose. Johanna meekly opens her mouth, accepting it.

“How do you like it?” You ask, removing the fork again.

“It's... very cheesy. But good.” Johanna responds.

“The cheesiest. Maybe I could show you some more Canadian food some time? You might like poutine.”
>>
Rose motions for you to follow her before quietly backing out and closing the door. You could swear you saw her using magic. Probably using her silencing powers.

“That might be nice.” Johanna swallows. “What is poutine?”

“Fries, gravy and cheese curds. The really crappy places try and use regular cheese, but it tastes like crap.”

“Then we shall go to a good place!” She says rather matter-of-factly. Oh man, what have you gotten yourself into, Scarlet?

“That'd... that'd be nice. But,” you stand up, leaving the bowl on the couch, “I gotta run, Rose wanted to see me. You can have this.”

“O-okay.” She mumbles, a hint of longing to her voice. “But we must do that some time!”

You step out the door that Rose tried to use, only to find her standing in the hallway waiting.

“So...” she starts, another dumb smirk on her face, “what was that all about?”

[ ] Tell the truth.
[ ] Bullshit.
>>
>>22463996
>[x] Bullshit.
"This is exactly what it looks like. I'm feeding my crush."
OR
>[x] Tell the truth.
"This is exactly what it looks like. I'm feeding my crush."
>>
[x] Tell the truth.

Better not take the joke too far, though we might have to come clean to Johanna about being an unwitting pawn.
>>
>>22463996
[x] Bullshit.
Neither of us can handle the truth.
>>
>>22464016
This.
>>
>>22463996
>[ ] Tell the truth.
No sense in getting the shy German caught up in our sillyness.
>>
>>22463996
>[x] Tell the truth.
>>
[x] Tell the truth, then invite Rose to dine out with us to make up for our infidelity.
>>
>>22463996
>>22464016
Pretty much this. Don't drag Johanna into something she wouldn't want to be involved in.

We've apparently got plenty of things to drag her to that she WOULD want to be involved in.
>>
So who is eligible so far?

Johanna
Rose?
Cripple witch?
Our three bakas?
>>
>>22464221
>little girl squad
>the bunch of 15 year olds

why.jpg
>>
>>22464232

The three bakas are just there for jokes.
>>
>>22464221
We've got:
Johanna - Lonely Foreigner
Rose - Childhood Friend
Kate - Katawa Shoujo

All aboard the waifu train, no brakes, etc

you're waifu a shit
>>
>>22464221
>>22464338
You forgot Crowy, the Crazy Jap.
>>
>>22464232
/tg/ considers anything under the legal age little girls Yet if you upped their ages to 18 while maintaining a similar look, they'll be all over them.

Heidi aka "Miss tall pale and shapely" has her canon age as 15
>>
>>22464338
Dunno about you guys, but childhood friend is always the right choice.
>>
>>22464370
I am not entirely unbiased.

Polite sage - double post

Hey /tg/ - I'm shitting up your board with anime waifufaggings, are you upset?
>>
>>22464404

Sometimes I cannot tell if anons are trolling or deliberately shit posting anymore.
>>
>>22464404
>Childhood friend
>win

is funny joke, comrade
tell me another
>>
>>22463996
>[x] Bullshit.
>>
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>>22464375
forever 15
>>
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>>22464445
Yes.
Polite sage because samefagging all over the place
>>
>>22464452
Poland!
HA HA HA!
>>
>>22464452
Depends on the anime, her chances are higher if she's a tsundere.

the biggest loser in animes is whoever is the most pure dere.
>>
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>>22464514
Surely you jest
>>
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“Okay, okay.” You hold up your hands in surrender. “I read in her file that you thought she was lonely and I thought I'd talk to her. I just happened to be having lunch, so I offered her some and... things got weird.”

“And that's when I walked in?” She asks.

“Your timing was impeccably horrific.”

She smirks. “You talked to her because you read she was lonely, eh? So it worked.”

What.

“I'm not saying she's not, but,” Rose waves a finger around innocently, “I may have sort of pressed the pen a little harder so you'd notice.”

“I hate you so much.” You grumble.

“Didn't exactly expect you to start feeding her, though...”

“We're both girls!” You shout. “It's not weird!”

“Scarlet, that excuse only works for things like changing together.”

“You've fed me before, haven't you?” You ask. You totally remember that.

“You were sick. Doesn't count.”

“Hmph.” You hmph. “I was gonna take her to try some other Canadian staples some time. Care to join?”

“Oh, I wouldn't want to be a third-wheel on your date.” Rose teases.

You let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “So when are we going to meet those Russians?”

“I'm done my work, so if you find Sammy we could go right now. Or you could just leave that to me and go do something else. Maybe feed your girlfriend some more~”

Bitch.

[ ] Find Sammy (again) and visit RUSSIANS.
[ ] Other.
>>
[x] Feed the Russians
>>
>>22464597
[x] Other.
"Well what do you say the two of us go somewhere nice sometime?"
>>
>>22464597
>[ ] Find Sammy (again) and visit RUSSIANS.
Let's get this over with. Be nice to get some more goddamn international cooperation going on.
>>
>>22464573
one anime doesn't subvert the massive trend (anime or quest)

[x] Apologize if needed to Johanna
[x] Find Sammy (again) and visit RUSSIANS.

it shouldn't take long to clear things up with her, that and she might be able to help us find Sammy.
>>
>>22464597
>>22464632
YES
MAXIMUM CANADA
>>
But we can see the Russians from our window! Wait, sorry, wrong country.
>>
>>22464714

Alaskan governor?
>>
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>>22464682
Johanna doesn't really think anything was amiss. Weird maybe, but not anything you'd have to go out of your way to apologize for. Unless you want to be MAXIMUM CANADA.
>>
>>22464597

[x] Apologize if needed to Johanna
[x] Find Sammy (again) and visit RUSSIANS.
>>
>>22464763
Oh okay then nix the first part then >>22464766 , you might want to take note of that.
>>
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“Fine, fine. Where Sammy at?”

“I think I saw her going into the kitchen.” Rose steps aside. “I'll be waiting outside.”

“Got it. And-” Wait. To get outside you need to go through the common room. You narrow your eyes. “Not a WORD to Johanna. I'm trying to be all responsible and look after my squadmates.”

“I know, I know.” She reaches out and ruffles your hair. “Such a good girl.”

You groan. “Good BYE.”

Sure enough, Sammy's still in the kitchen. She looks to have just finished off some kind of beef stew, the can rolling around on the table.

“Hey.” You greet her. “Ready to go?”

“I thought we weren't leaving for,” Sammy glances at the clock on the wall, “another half hour. What gives?”

You shrug. “Rose wants to leave early.”

“Sure, whatever.” Sammy heaves herself up and sighs. “Nothing better to do, I guess.”

“Great.”

You're about to step out the door when you notice something. The cupboard door to the Kraft Dinner stash is open. Your untidiness aside, it gives you an idea...

[ ] Bring a few boxes for Russians.
[ ] Bring half.
[ ] Bring as much as you can carry.
[ ] No, that's dumb.
>>
>>22465002
[x] Bring a few boxes for Russians.
We don't even know if they like mac and cheese.
But it'd still be a nice gesture.
>>
>>22465002
[x] No, that's dumb.

Knowing the ungrateful bints, they'd probably just throw them at us.
>>
[x] Bring as many as you can.

MAXIMUM Canadian Santa!

And then Demon witches had +10 diplomacy modifiers. Just tell the Russians that it goes well with Vodka.
>>
>>22465002

[X] Bring a few boxes for Russians.
I assume this won't be the last time we'll be seeing them, so we can always bring more later.
>>
>>22465002
>[ ] Bring a few boxes for Russians.
Probably go over well, give them a nice break from borscht and vodka.
>>
>>22465002
[x] Bring a few boxes for Russians.
LET ME FEED YOU THE FOOD OF MY PEOPLE.
>>
>>22465002
[x] Bring half

We need the rest for Johanna!
>>
Rolled 13

>>22457647
>russian strike witches
wait what?
sounds like time for glorious soviet comrade.
>>
>>22465200
We're busy being Canadian right now, but Russians soon, tovarisch.
>>
[x] Bring a few boxes for Russians.
>>
>>22465002
Bring a few boxes, enough for a bowl for each of them. If they like it, we can get more next time.
>>
>we KD quest now

You stare at the boxes. Maybe... maybe you got off on the wrong foot. Maybe the Russians aren't so bad. A peace offering might be nice.

“Hey Sammy,” you call her over, “c'mere.”

She cocks and eyebrow at you, looking rather skeptical. “Yeah, Red?”

“They're new around here, right?” You shift your weight around, still transfixed on the mac and cheese. “A housewarming gift would only be right.”

“Okay.” Sammy nods and blinks a few times, trying to figure out what you're staring at. “So, what then?”

You thrust out a finger, pointing at the soon-to-be gift. “Kraft Dinner. We shall use it to win the hearts of these foreigners!”

“You're gonna give them,” she reaches up and pulls down a box, looking over the label a few times, “regular macaroni and cheese?”

“It's a delicacy around these parts.” You shuffle over and start pulling down boxes. Sammy doesn't understand. American barbarians. “Help me carry a few.”

Reluctantly, Sammy pulls down a few until she's got a good half dozen. “This good?”

You give her a quick nod, taking another six yourself. “We good.”
>>
The pair of you stride out of the kitchen, proudly brandishing your Kraft Dinner. As you walk through the base, you notice Johanna still working on your bowl from earlier. She gives a little wave as you pass by, which you return with a smile and nod.

You find Rose waiting for the two of you right where she said. There's a certain look in her eye as you walk up with the mac and cheese boxes. She opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, simply giving you a puzzled look.

“Diplomacy.” You respond. “And stuff.”

“Is this just your response to everything now?”

“It's worked so far.” You shrug. As embarrassing and weird as it was feeding Johanna, you seem to have really gotten closer to her through it. PROGRESS.

“Fair enough. Come on then.” Rose sighs and starts walking. Sammy and you keep pace a little behind. “I did a bit of reading and made a few phone calls. I think I've gotten as much information on these Russians as I can. I'll fill you in as you walk. Anything in particular you'd like to know? Or should I just give you everything at once?”

Wat ask?
>>
Everything at once.

But make sure to tell us about their past records.
>>
>>22465621
What's Androva's three sizes?
>>
Everything at once starting with Why they are here.
>>
>>22465621
"We'll start at 'everything' and work from there I guess."
>>
I bet the Eastern Canada folks all went to bed already.
>>
Rolled 16

>>22465621
What can you tell me about their CO?
>>
>Stalin's Angels

Please tell me i'm not the only one who had a Charlie's Angel's flashback with soviet stars and accents layered all over it.
>>
>>22465742

That is awesome and you should feel awesome.
>>
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Warning in advance: This update's gonna be a long'un. So sit tight and... I dunno. Talk about stuff.

Here's a really old (done in October, I think) picture of Scarlet to compensate.
>>
>>22465742
Did the little Intercom speaker have a Stalin Mustache?
>>
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>or don't talk about anything, whatever

“Everything, I guess.” You shrug. No use picking out specifics. “Let's start with the why. Why are they here? I mean, you've got us and we've got a fair amount of ground support.”

“That's,” Rose shakes her head and cringes, “a bit of a complicated question. The Russians are moving in to retake Alaska. Seems like they finally noticed the invasion was enough of a threat to warrant their involvement. Why these girls are here and not there, I'm not so sure. Best reason I could find was to keep all the witches in one place.”

You cross the side of the base, a few odd jeeps and tanks cheer at you as they pass by. Seems you made some friends during that battle earlier. The base is bustling

“So, who are they?” Sammy asks.

“Stalin's Red Angels. Formed some time last year, specifics are scarce.” Rose replies. The amount of missing details is already starting to worry you. “Six of them in total. They all paint their strikers bright red to show their pride in the Motherland. Brazen, fearless, the type that really likes to make an entrance.”

So you noticed.
>>
“Their commanding officer is a one Vasilika Androva, I believe you two have met, Miss Popular.” Rose looks over her shoulder at you and smirks. God. Damn it. “Her and her second are the only members who were around before the martians invaded. I'd suggest not leaving either of them alone with Johanna. I doubt they have much love for the Germans.”

“Alright.” You give her a nod as the information processes. There's a disconcerting amount of blanks, but you suppose that'll become clear in a few minutes. Only one question remains in your mind. “So. Big question here: Can we trust them?”

“Depends on your idea of trust, I suppose.” Rose sounds more than slightly suspicious herself. “With your life, I suppose. They don't seem all that intent on screwing us up. But I wouldn't let my guard down if I were you. Something's not right here, and until we know what that is, don't get too buddy-buddy.”

You look down at your boxes of Kraft Dinner. Yeah. Sure. Who does she think you are? You are the FOREIGNER WHISPERER.
>>
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Several minutes later, you find yourself at the door to the house the Angels are staying. It's nothing to fancy, a bit bigger than usual, but not much. Rose gives the door a few quick knocks. A few moments pass before you hear the thudding of feet come running from the other side. The door swings open, revealing a girl about your age with long, sweeping blonde hair. Vasilika.

“Hello?” She asks, taking in the sight of the three of you.

“Good afternoon, Captain Androva,” Rose starts, “we thought we'd stop b-”

“Ah! Witch comrades!” Vasilika shouts, clearly excited. “Come in, come in!”

The Russian witch ushers you in, shepherding you into what appears to be the living room of the house. She doesn't quite settle down until everyone else is seated. At some point you realize that the pale-haired girl from the beach has also joined you.
>>
“Welcome, welcome!” Vasilika greets you excitedly. “Make yourselves at home, we have much to discuss!”

You and Sammy look at each other and share a shrug before setting down your housewarming gifts on the little coffee table. A dozen boxes of macaroni and cheese. A king's bounty.

Vasilika squints. “What is this?” She asks, picking up a box and examining it in the light.

“Kraft Dinner. Macaroni and cheese.” You explain. “You don't have this in Russia?”

Vasilika shakes her head. “I have never heard of these macaronis and cheeses. But, eh, what kind of host would I be if I did not accept?”

You and Sammy stare, wide-eyed as she pries open the box and pours some of it straight into her mouth. The sickening crunch of the pasta being defiled raw disturbs and confuses you. Why would anyone do such a thing?

A strong gulp later, Vasilika nods her head back and forth. "Is...okay, I guess, for snack. I tasted no cheeses and I think it was a little bit too crunchy, but nothing you can't wash down with Vodka. HEY! TWINS! Come, the Canadian has brought us snacktimes!"
>>
It makes me wonder how they can come from the same country as Sanya.
>>
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The thudding of feet on the wood floor sounds again, descending the stairs and finally revealing two more Russians. Their faces look nearly identical. Both are tall, blonde haired, blue eyed. The only difference you can see are in the hair. First's is cut short, very short. Similar to Riley, really. The other's is long and tied into a braid that ends somewhere down her back.

Vasilika gestures to them. “These two are Yuliya and Oksana. Twins. Yuliya is the one with short hair. Trusting her might not be good idea. The other is Oksana. Good soldier, better cook. She is nice. We have two more, Anastasia and Ekaterina, but Anastasia wanted something in town and dragged poor Ekaterina with her. You two, come sit. We have guests.”

“A pleasure.” Rose dips her head a bit in greeting. “I am Wing Commander Rose McNair, commanding officer of the 509th. This my executive officer, Squadron Leader Scarlet Harrison as well as Major Samantha Mackintosh.”

“Excuse me,” the one with nearly-white hair pipes up. It occurs to you that you still haven't caught her name, “could I perhaps speak with Miss Harrison in private?”

[ ] Of course.
[ ] But I don't even know your name...
>>
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OH GOD THAT WAS A LONG ONE. Damn deculture and his dares to hit 300 posts.

I need to grab some food...
>>
>>22466491
[x] Of course. The kitchen, perhaps?
And let's grab one of the KD's and boil some water and show these girls how to make Kraft Mac and Cheese.
>>
>>22466491
>[ ] Of course.

Let's be accomodating.

But let's make sure they know you're supposed to cook the mac 'n cheese. Because goddamn.
>>
[x] But I don't even know your name...
>>
>>22466521

This.

What could possibly go wrong?
>>
>>22466491
>[ ] Of course.
>[ ] But I don't even know your name...

>>22466517
You can do it, I believe in you.
>>
>>22466491
[x] Of course.
>>
>>22466490
Russia, is a very big mother. Has many different kinds of daughters.
>>
>>22466491
>>22466524
[x] Of course.
>But let's make sure they know you're supposed to cook the mac 'n cheese. Because goddamn.
voting this
>>
>>22466491
Yeah this. >>22466524
>>
>think I'm gonna end it after the next update
>people post ideas that I like

Maaaaan...

Also: Chili cheese dogs acquired.
>>
>>22466521
This. We can talk while the water boils.
>>
>>22466671
Look at it this way, it'll help you break 300!
>>
>>22466742
True enough.

Also: Can not write while eating chili cheese dogs. But they were delicious so s'all good. STRIKE WITCHES CRIMSON: A FONT OF BAD WRITING DECISIONS.
>>
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>>22466415

Your Fantasy is my entertainment.
>>
>>22466776
Man, you just gotta try harder.
>>
>>22466894
but then I'll get chili all over my keyboard and that's bad
>>
>>22466901
You only get chili all over your keyboard if you don't succeed at doing it right!
>>
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>>22466807
>>22465742

And Because I had the time, some more fun:
>>
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“Sure, why not?” You get up almost in unison with the other witch. “Rose, Sammy. I'll catch up later.”

The pair of them nod before turning back to Vasilika. They're better at the whole diplomatic friend-making thing anyway. The other witch already seems to be waiting in the hallway for you. You snatch up one of the boxes of Kraft Dinner and follow after her.

“Mind if we do this in the kitchen?” You ask, waggling the box.

“I.. suppose.” She mumbles, gesturing toward another door. “Come, I will show you.”

The kitchen is fairly sparse, at least less equipped than your own. But it has pots and a sink, and that's what matters. You fill the pot and set it to boil, then turn back to the girl.

“So... you are?”

Her already dark complexion darkens even more as she blushes, suddenly realizing that you don't know her name. “I-I'm sorry. I assumed Vasilika had... Vladislava. Senior Lieutenant Vladislava Sokolov.”

“Scarlet Harrison, a pleasure.” You repeat. How many times have you introduced yourself today? “So what did you need me for?”

“You are in the same position as I, yes?” She asks. “The second in command? But you are commanding witches in combat?”

You nod. “Basically.”

“I believed I should just say something,” she nods quietly to herself a few times before continuing, “Vasilika is very... what is a good word... bombastic? I believe? She is the type that is either hated or adored. Do you understand?”

“So you're saying be gentle?” You reply.

She tilts her head from side to side, weighing the validity of the statement. “Essentially. She is... not scared... nervous, maybe. None of us have ever been away from home. She's afraid of making enemies right now, but she'll lose her caution soon enough. She can be trying, at times.”
>>
Fair enough. The water comes to a boil soon enough, and you pour the pasta in as well as set a nearby egg-timer.

“You know how to make this?” You ask her. Might as well start teaching them.

She shakes her head quietly. You can't quite tell if she's too shy to say anything or if she just doesn't feel like it.

“Boil water, put the noodles in for seven minutes. Seven.” You specify. “The package says nine, but that makes them too mushy. Then you drain the water, add a tablespoon of butter, a little milk and the cheese.” You wave the little packet of powdered cheese.

She watches silently as you go through the instructions. She seems interested enough, though.

“Then you mix it all up and you're done.” You throw your hands up in the air, an exaggerated gesture to show that you're finished. You aren't entirely sure how good her English is.

The egg-timer rings a couple minutes later and you carefully drain the water out of the pot with a wooden spoon. An idea hits you as you're doing this.

[ ] Let her take it from here.
[ ] Finish it yourself.

>Also, just broke 270 posts. LET'S DO THIS.
>>
[x] Let her take it from here.

I think she can handle it... her assessment of Vasilika makes her sound like some bombastic moe character.
>>
>>22467113
>[x] Let her take it from here
Offering guidance if she needs it.

>Also, just broke 270 posts. LET'S DO THIS.
YES WE CAN
>>
>>22467113
[x] Feed the Russian.
>>
>>22467113
>[ ] Let her take it from here.

>>22467153
+1
>>
>>22467166
This. this this this this
>>
>>22467113

[ ] Let her take it from here..
[ ] Feed Russian
[ ] Create harem
[ ] Taunt Rose with harem
>>
>>22467179
And lo, through God's gift to mankind, Kraft Dinner, Scarlet Harrison built her harem.

I have no idea how I'd feel about that.
>>
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>>22467102
Sokolov? Are you on a virtuous mission?

Shagohod Strikers
>>
>>22467113
[x] Let her take it from here, providing guidance if needed.
>>
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>>22467113
A metal gear huh?
>>22467153
This guy
>>
>baka trio
>cripple witch
But there are two 15 year old witches in our squad, and no crippled ones.
Are they in Sammy's squad?
>>
>>22467153
Easily, let's go! To autosage and beyond!

Also agreeing with Udz
>>
>>22467287
Yup. Reggie is the other 15 year old, Kate is the one with the pegleg.
>>
>>22467153
This
>>
[x] add vodka

cant believe i havent posted here
>>
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>in which archival teaches /tg/ how to Kraft Dinner

“Hey,” you motion her over, “think you can do it from here? At least one of you should know how to make it if we're giving you so much.”

“I-I suppose.” She mutters, taking up a position beside you at the counter. “Was... butter?”

“Mhm.” You take a seat at the kitchen table and watch from behind. “Take a bit about half as wide as your finger from the stick.”

The light-haired witch carefully cuts a slice of butter to your exact specifications and throws it in the pot. “Now, milk?”

“No, no. Stir the noodles until the butter melts.” You correct. You're actually starting to enjoy teaching her. Kraft Dinner: the ultimate diplomatic tool. Vladislava stirs and stirs until finally letting out a satisfied “hmph”. She turns to you once more. “Now milk?”

“Cheese first, milk right after.” You instruct. “Just tear open the package and dump it in.”

She does so, pouring in the pale orange powder. A quick splash of milk later and she's stirring again. In a few moments she sets two bowls full on the table, as well as a bottle and two glasses.

“Is this...” You pick up the bottle, examining the strange Russian script. The liquid inside seems to be clear.

“Vodka. Something from your country, something from mine.”

Alright. Vodka. You don't think you've ever had it before, but whatever. First time for everything.
>>
“Oh, hey.” You speak up, suddenly remembering something. “Some people like ketchup in their mac and cheese. Maybe you'd like to try it.”

She scrunches up her eyebrows, thinking very hard about this life-changing decision. “Yes. I think I will try this.”

Vladislava gets up and grabs a bottle from the cupboard, then unceremoniously squirts a heart amount on her helping. After a few experimental bites she nods vigorously.

“I like this! Thank you, comrade Scarlet.”

“No problem. Stop by if you ever need more.” You pour yourself a glass of the clear liquid and take and take a sip. Tastes like... alcohol, burning and not a whole lot else. “You guys drink this much?”

She giggles slightly, pouring herself some. “All the time! You drink for the effects, not the taste.”

“'s dumb.” You mumbled, taking a sip. Though, you have to admit, it's kind of growing on you.

A few minutes into your strange feast, Rose and Vasilika step in. Rose cocks a suspicious eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

Wat say?
>>
"We were having a cultural exchange!" hiccup optional
>>
>>22467421

[x]Diplomatics, combining the best of two worlds
>>
>>22467435

+1
>>
>>22467421
"Hey, someone had to be sure they knew how to prepare it. The box's instructions are wrong!" Offer the bowl to Vasilika, teasingly say, "This is how you're supposed to eat it. Cooked, not straight out of the box." Take another swig of the water.
>>
>>22467421
Offer her vodka.
>>
>>22467421
"Diplomancy!"
>>
Offer Rose the bottle of vodka.
>>
>>22467449
That would be funny if not for the whole thing about being told to be gentle around her.
>>
>>22467497
It's just some light teasing, can we not even do that?
>>
>>22467421
I'm making new friends, learning about the fiery water Russians drink to stop freezing in the winter and teaching them about the best meal you can cook in less than 10 minutes.
>>
>>22467257
It was Granin who held the plans for the first 'Metal Gear' and Otacons father who built it; Metal Gear 'Zeke'.
>>
also we passed 300
>>
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You smile. No, not even smile. That's not quite enough. You put on the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever had. “Diplomacy!”

“Is this just gonna be a thing from now on?” Rose asks, shaking her head. “Winning the hearts and minds of people with Kraft Dinner?”

“Cultural exchanges are important, Rosie.” You explain, your words slurring only ever-so-slightly. God bless your Scottish heritage. “I'm making friends and teaching them to cook the best meal you can make in under ten minutes. I'm also learning how to stay warm in the winter with the power of alcohol. What have YOU been doing?”

Rose doesn't do much other than hold her hand up to her face. “I-I'm sorry about her. She's like this.”

Vasilika looks at you. Then at the now quarter-full bottle of Vodka. Then at the the glasses. Then back at you.

“Vlad, how much have you two drunk?”

“We are not drunk.” You chime in. “Yet.”

Vladislava tilts her head one way, then the other. “The bottle only had a little bit drank when we started. I think we've had about the same amount each.”

Vasilika blinks and nods. “Impressive.”

“See,” you poke your fork at the mac and cheese, “this is how you eat it. You need to cook it first. Vladislava can show you how now. Right?”

Vladislava nods slowly, taking a sip of vodka.

“Alright!” Vasilika shouts. “TWINS! And comrade Sammy! Come, we celebrate!”
>>
>>22467726
>TWINS!
WHAT WHERE
>>
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By the time you're stumbling back to base, it's well into the evening. The sun has long gone down, you and Sammy are carrying a passed out Rose on your shoulders. Today has been an interesting day.

You fought a giant walker, met some Russians, fed Johanna Kraft Dinner, fed Russians Kraft Dinner, and learned a little bit about yourself and the people you work with. Isn't that heart-warming?

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

NEXT TIME ON STRIKE WITCHES CRIMSON: THE BLACK BEAU

I think we'll stick with Mondays at 1900 EST from now on. If anyone would like, I have a twitter for the quest you can find here: https://twitter.com/archivalfag

Now, we've got a couple more things coming up that I'll be posting. First up, a prologue/prequel about the Angels from deculture that he can't post due to work. After that, the second part of Lil' Toot since arty went to bed long ago.
>>
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"The Red Angels, Stalin's Daughters, each one a Hero of The Soviet Union, armed with the finest of Soviet technology made to protect the Motherland from the invaders - sent to reinforce a bunch of mouth-breathing laborers in the most insignificant theatre of war there is. This...this is bad comedy, Captain."

"Your opinion is noted, Anastasia." Came the weary reply; but not a weariness that spoke of fatigue, more of an irksome repitition. "For the twentieth time. And like the previous nineteen times, it is summarily dismissed. Orders are orders. Now shut up and remain in formation."

A murmured oath. And then-- "Compliance, Captain. I hear and obey."

Vasilika Grigoryevich Androva, Captain and Leader of the Red Angels, was not a soul given to cynicism or biting sarcasm - but even she was finding it difficult to remain civil. The air of discontent was thick enough, one could cut it in a knife and serve it with goulash. A bitter, acrid disappointment that soured the tongue and stung the throat and tightened the heart.

Bad comedy. As much as she despised Anastasia's penchant for dramatic flair, she was right.

Bad comedy. Ordered to march in reinforcement for a unit that they've only heard about a few days before - in a theatre of war that they never even dreamed that they'd be fighting in.
>>
Instead of the harsh, unforgiving, ice-bladed tundras that they'd been trained in, they were now trudging through swamp-mucked forestland made hideously humid by temperate weather.

Instead of leaving shattered husks of walkers and crimson snow in their wake, all they left wer tracks in the loamy, muddy earth. Each step they took staining the proud, crimson paint of their strikers of more filth.

Instead of fighting for the Motherland to protect their sons and daughters and brothers and sisters, they were fighting for a country that probably didn't even know or care that they existed.

As bad comedies ran, this was the worst. And Vasilika, who often found something about anything funny, felt any hope of laughter die in her parched throat.

Silence reigned as they passed by the smoldering wreckage of a tank. Its markings declaring it one of the natives' weapons. One of a shattered battalion that decorated the field they were traversing.

"More of this," Anastasia began again; this time heralding a series of sighs and groans from the more vocal of the Angels. This made her bristle, as many things always do. "Do not huff at me! This is the third time we have seen evidence of our so-called allies' incompetence in protecting themselves from the alien threat! Do not tell me it does not concern you; this is true testament that we are being sent to protect mongrels and children! Come on, Ekaterina, tell these laborers that you agree with me! Surely you see wisdom still; not yet infected with the boorish idiocy that permeates the rest of this squad!"

A quiet, stuttering voice, barely audible with the whining servos of their strikers marching in concert, is her only reply.

"...and speak up, for Heaven's sake! I can barely hear you!"
>>
"Leave the child alone, high-born." Yuliya, one of the twins, said from the rear of the formation. The smile evident in her voice, even if Vasilika couldn't see them from her position."The Captain told you to shut up, and Ekaterina needs to focus for her scrying. Find something else to occupy your time with, like unwedging that high-born stick from your ass."

A moment's pause. "...I'll try to forget I heard that, laborer. For your information, I was not talking to you, so know your place; and I like where the stick is, thank you very much."

Yuliya replied with chuckle, and then a loud, rude smacking sound made from puckering lips. It was immediately returned.

Anastasia Rokossovsky, Ekaterina Valnikov, and Yuliya Komarov. Approximately one-half of the Angels, and the half that is usually the most vocal, the other given to an easy silence. They were also the half of the team that liked war in various degrees, while the other team treated it as more of an occupation, rather than a game.
>>
Anastasia earned the nickname High-born becase she acted like so, and for good reason; being the daughter of one of Stalin's most trusted men, the Marshals of the Soviet Union, she was allowed some measure of imperiousness. Even in the muck, even in the trenches, even while wading in the wreckage of her enemies, the young woman never stopped in acting according to her station, speaking with an overelaborate language and vocabulary that sometimes irked her squad mates rather than elucidated them. Her hair, curled and teased into luxurious drills, fell around her shoulders like a golden shawl, framing a youthful face unscarred and free of blemish. She was the Princess of Angels, and looked the part.

She was not simply a pretty face, however. While she was completely abysmal with her rifle, only managing to barely pass the ballistics exam with a sidearm, her art with the double-handed Zweihander was unrivaled in its graceful lethality. It was, in all respects, a killing form wrought in elegance, unfaltering in its sophistication even when the user was injured or caught up in bloodlust. Very much like the way she spoke, time with the Angels have made it a touch rougher.
>>
Ekaterina Valnikov was the youngest of the Angels, and the freshest, rawest recruit. The girl was a meek, quiet thing; not introverted, but more self-conscious with a crippling shyness. She was also the only one of them with black hair and crimson eyes, as opposed to the rest's blonde hair and blue eyes. The shortest and slightest in stature, Ekaterina looked even more dimunitive when in her Striker, instead of the intended effect of making her more imposing, more lethal.

But that was where the differences stop. Once in her Striker, and once Vasilika gave the command; the girl turned from a shy, quiet mouse into an enraged lion. Not as good with marksmanship as the twins were, nor as artful with the sword as Anastasia; she was at least proficient in both, and whatever shortcomings she had was immediately made up with an explosive, depthless anger that made short work of anything that lay in her path. Ekaterina would dive into the enemy and tear it to shreds, ignoring the threat of injury or even death to be quicker, faster, and more dangerous than her opponent. She fought as if she had nothing to lose, every single time, and every single time saw her standing in the middle of a massacre. She was, in effect, the Angels' berserker. Their pet 'warhound', to use the squad's former moniker.
>>
Yuliya Komarov was one half of the twins, and arguably the sun to her sister's moon. Brash, unsophisticated and perenially grinning, the older daughter of a Siberian farmer exemplified the working class of the People by dint of being the hardiest of them all. She fought hard and complained little; her mannerisms rough but warm; her warmaking brutal but only up to a necessary point. She liked combat, but never relished murder, never took pleasure in taking lives. Conversely, she was no stranger to the opposite; Pain to her was a friend that urged her on rather than a burden to weigh her down.

Like her sister, she was a crack shot with a rifle, and deadly accurate with a Tank Striker's cannon; this saw them both promoted to the Angels and entrusted with the Heavy-Class Strikers. And as twins, they had the uncanny knack of being able to work in complete and total concert with the barest of communication; Vasilika had suspected that like all twins, they had a subconscious way of talking to each other, an invisible cord between the both of them. This showed all the more in their barrages; one of them would fire first, and in the exact moment that they would reload, the other would then loose their shot, just in time for the next loaded shell to be spat into the air. This created a constant, devastating, pounding salvo that pulverized a target to oblivion; giving the enemy absolutely no room and no chance to retaliate before they were reduced to smoking ruins.
>>
And like twins, they shared each other's faces like a mirror would its owner. This led to a bit of confusion during their early days, but was soon cleared up when Vasilika noticed the stark difference between the both of them. Yuliya was rough, where her sister was smooth; the former had the air of a teasing older brother, the other the coddling warmth of a doting mother.

A mother. Soon to be, if Vasilika was any judge. Not that Oksana Komarov was expecting, of course; but in the entire Angels, she was the only one with her heart already belonging to someone else.

Oksana Komarov, the younger twin, although the decidedly more mature. The ice to Yuliya's fire, she was always calm and collected, but never detached or emotionless. In fact, Vasilika could say that Oksana was much too emphatic to this line of work; the sight of death made her sick, injury and blood made her woozy. The atrocity of war for this farmer's daughter was simply something too dreadful to behold and too shocking to revel in.

But despite this, Oksana was disciplined, professional and would obey a command with the same speed and efficiency as her sister. She was brutality made form with a cannon, and a beast with the Zweihander. It was simply a shame, then, that the warmer of the twins seemed to be born for motherhood rather than a soldier.
>>
Oksana knew how to take care of children, for one. She could make any colicky baby cease their crying and sink into the slumber of sleep. She was also skilled in housework: she knew how to mend clothes with only a needle and thread, she knew how to wash clothes just so that they would ready for wear without needing to iron them. Oksana also knew how to cook a tasty meal with the most meagre of ingredients, and could create a feast out of frozen rations. This made her, to Vasilika's opinion, the single most important member of the Angels.

It would be a great loss to the unit, then, if she were to leave for whatever reason. One of the more likelier reasons being her...ongoing romance with what seems to be an American, their love playing out in letters sent from whatever postal service they would be able to come upon at the time. No matter where the Angels would end up, the first thing Oksana would look for upon landfall was a nearby post office. Upon finding it, she would write her letter on the spot, and have it sent express. And she would always take the entire night to do so; her letter taking up more than three pages, back-to-back. It would only be when the office itself is minutes to closing that she would hand her letter in.

When asked about the identity of her American sweetheart, Oksana would merely blush, smile, and keep silent. But she had promised that she was not revealing anything to her lover that was deemed classified; the secrets she told were only of her own, not of the Angels'. The young man, whose name was eventually revealed to be George, only knew her as a young woman from Siberia, working in a farm. Conversely, George was simply a clerk in a printing business, somewhere in America.
>>
"Although," Yuliya had began, after a brief moment, the pause in the conversation having lasted mere seconds. "I will not say that I do not see where you are coming from, Ana." The truncated name of the high-born meant that the rougher twin was making an effort to be understanding. An effort that shrivelled up in her next sentence, uttered in a tone mimicking that of the Marshal's daughter. "I feel that it is...counter-productive...for such a unit to be assigned to such an endeavor." She spits to the side. "This assignment reeks of political posturing. But if our Father wishes for us to fight in this thrice-damned shithole instead of at home, then we will." Yuliya sighs. "I can only hope that we have a country to get back to when this is all over."

Vasilika was not a soul borne of quiet disloyalty; she did her best to always trust her orders, no matter how bitter it tasted on the tongue. She agreed with Yuliya, just as she agreed with Anastasia - although she would never deign to give it credence by saying it out loud. A Captain would never deign to doubt their orders given, not unless things had truly gone to hell.

Instead, she coughed, a dry sound lost to the roar of her striker's motors, each of the many servos in the joints and metal-forged musculature contributing to the nearly-deafening noise of the Red Angels' march. It surprised her, then, when Vladislava Zaitsev, the squad Medic, came up beside her a moment later. The girl holding up her own personal canteen, with the arm that bore the red cross armband that marked her out as much as a target as it did to signify her profession.

"Rehydrate, Captain." She said in a voice barely above a whisper, yet clearly audible. "It is important in this climate."
>>
Vasilika thanked her just as she took the canteen. The water, warm and brackish, managed to sooth a throat that was itching with the beginnings of a cold. Draining the canteen, she handed it back to the medic, who took the empty canister back without a word. She fell back to the rear of the formation, between the twins.

Vladislava Sokolov. The only one in the unit, besides Vasilika, to have been chosen for the Angels by none other than Stalin herself. Anastasia, the twins, Ekaterina - they were recruited after the Angels were officially established, hand-picked by the Captain. The distinction ment that Vladislava was responsible for the unit's existence as much as Vasilika was. She was half of the reason that so much funding and so much work went into the Strikers, instead of more traditional forms of armor.

Nearly as slight in frame and stature as Ekaterina, yet years older, Vladislava looked unassuming. Her short, rough-cut hair was platinum-blonde to the point of being a stark white. Her skin was also the darkest among the Angels; a mocha tan that seemed to run in her family of bear hunters. Perhaps it was their trade that gave them such a skin color, hunting at daylight for the ursine monsters; the sun's rays baking their skin as it is reflected from the unforgiving snow. Maybe. But one thing Vasilika knew Vladislava got from that hard life was her strength. Even when unamplified by magic, Vladislava was strong, stronger than Vladislava, stronger than Yuliya, stronger than the rest of the Angels combined. Sheer physical strength that enabled her to bend iron bars as thick as her torso with her bare hands, and carry crates of ammunition that would have required a truck to do so.
>>
It doesn't need to be said, then, just how dangerous this strength made her; in her hands, the tempered steel of the Angel Zweihander could split an entire tank in two with one blow. Vasilika had seen her do this. She'd ordered her to do as much. But Vasilika didn't need to exert this ability of hers to be deadly with the blade - surpassing even Anastasia's skill, the hunter's daughter was war made form with a sword in her hands. Anastasia had made it her life goal to defeat Vladislava in a sparring match, and after two hundred desperate rounds, she has yet to succeed.

It is a wonder, then, that as soon as the Angels were established as a true unit that she volunteered to be the Medic, the one who would be responsible for the well-being not only of the Angels themselves. Her strength, after all, made her a viable candidate to be Vasilika's second at the frontline. Vladislava, then, despite her quiet nature, spoke earnestly and heatedly for what might be the first and only last time in her life.

"I want to heal people," she had said. The stoic, hardened warrior who could kill a bear ten times her size with her bare hands, wishing nothing more than to tend to the wounded. To the dying. Vasilika stopped arguing, as did the others. And she became the Angels' medic - and armorer. Some things never changed, but then again, she was perfect for the job. Vladislava had helped in the Strikers' design, and it was only natural that she looked after the machines that helped them unleash war on the alien threat.

An alien threat that seemed to be pretty proficient, all told, at reaving the battlefield of enemy heartbeats.
>>
Another wreck greeted them. Just like the rest, it was broken, beyond any hope of repair or salvage. She waited for Anastasia to start up again, but it looked as if the high-born was no longer interested in whining. Even a vulture gets tired of circling the dead, it seems.

Vasilika felt the need to spit as she saw that it had been reaved apart by a thousand blades; Martian handiwork. Its fresh barrel, clean of any carbon scoring, was a stark confession of shame; it didn't even have the chance to fire before it was taken by the enemy.

A derisive kick from her gigantic Tank Striker's left leg sent the abandoned shell of a ruined machine tumbling, before coming to rest in a loud crash against the still-smoking corpses of its brethren. A massive, almost saurian tri-clawed footprint stamped into the tank's hull where Vasilika had vented her undeserved frustration on it. A single treasonous thought worming its way into her mind.

I want to go home.
>>
File: 1357643449669.jpg-(124 KB, 636x460, communist party.jpg)
124 KB
And that's all of deculture's stuff. Expect a quest starring Vasilika from him in the near-ish future.

I THINK arty just woke up in time to post Lil Toot. I'll see if I can grab him to do it.
>>
>>22467891
>Stalin herself
wat
>>
Hello again, and good morning! Looks like I woke up just in time to post!


Lil Toot and the Colossus

March 23, 1943. Fort Alberni


The sun was still down when Steve got out of bed. He hated the morning latrine rush, so he always tried to be one of the first ones to get cleaned up. Grabbing his kit, he made his way to the latrine, while carefully trying not to wake his comrades. As he exited the barracks, the cold morning breeze whipped around him. Steve shivered as he pulled his jacket closer around him. He remembered complaining about the heat in Texas, as the 776th trained on their new M10's. Walking into the latrine, he chuckled inwardly at his own bitching.

It didn't take long to finish shaving and washing up, and soon Steve was headed towards the exit. He turned the light back off and was about to head out when a red, muted glow caught his attention.

“What th' sam hill? Who's gotta flashlight in there?”

As soon as the words left his mouth the light disappeared.

“Aw hell! I know I ain't see'n things.” Steve strode to the stall he saw the light come from and banged on the door.“Hey! Who's in here messin' around in th' dark?”

When no answer came, Steve swung the door open. Inside, a very pale and startled George sat, holding a magazine.

“Oh sheit, George!” Steve nearly shouted as he slammed the door shut and backed away, before erupting in laughter. “AH HAH HAH!” Oh lordy! I'm sorry George! Didn't mean to interrupt yer business. Jus' clean up after yerself.” he nearly doubled over from laughter. “and how's about sharin' th' material when yer down.” he hooted.

“I-it's not what you think! I s-swear it's nothing!” George stammered as he swung the door back open and tripped over himself trying to get out of the stall.
>>
George's little performance caused Steve to erupt anew.

“BWAHAHAHA! Sure didn't look like nothin'!” Steve managed to choke out while wiping a tear from his eyes. “Ehehehe. I'll let ya get back to yer business, Private.”

“I-I was just writing a letter, Corporal! That's all! I swear!” George choked out as Steve helped him up. “I didn't want to disturb anyone else, that's all.”

“Woo wee! Kid, I haven't been that tickled in a long, long time.” Steve wheezed, trying to regain his composure. “Writin' a letter,huh? Then was what's with the readin' material?”

“It's a cooking magazine. I was copying some of the recipes from it.” George answered honestly.

“Th' hell kinda letter you writin', boy? Cookin' recipes?” Steve asked giving George a sideways look.

“It's for my my, um, girlfriend. She likes to cook and to try new recipes.”

“Aw hell son! Ya shoulda just said so! You never said nothin' 'bout a sweetheart back home. Yer gonna hafta get her to sent us something!” Steve said, jovially smack George on the back. “Heh. I doubt it's gonna be as good as Mary's cookin' though, but hell I'm partial to her, anyway.” he added, chuckling.

“Well, uh, I've never actually had her cooking before...” George mumble.

“Haha! What? She ain't never cooked for ya? Damn son, my Mary was cookin fer me not even a week after we met.”

“Well, we've never actually met” George replied, looking at his shoes.

Steve snapped his head around to stare at George. “Whut?”

“S-she's from Russia.” George explained. “ She loves to cook for her family, so I send her recipes.
>>
Steve continued to stare, dumbfounded, causing George to shuffle uneasily on his feet.

“Alright, so, now tell me if I'm wrong here, but what I'm hear'n, is you got yerself a girlfriend?”

“Yes.” George nodded

“Who ya've never met?”

“Correct”

“Do ya even have a picture of her?”

“Well, her family is rather poor, so-”

“And you just send each other recipes?” Steve interrupted.

“Wha-No, Corporal! We write about other things to. Like our families and homes and stuff like that.”

“eheheh. Alright kid. Whatever ya say. But go ahead and get cleaned up. Reveille is soon, and we don't want anymore misunderstandin's with the other fella's, do we?” Steve snickered.

“heh, um, no Corporal” George grinned sheepishly.

“Alrighty then. I'll see ya in formation, Private Blades. Ya can finish writing to yer Russian, Cossack lover later”

“Sure thing, Corporal.” George sighed as he picked up his magazine and writing utensils.

The rest of the morning went by uneventfully as the 776th went about uneventfully. Wake-up was followed by morning formation and role-call, then chow, and finally preparing for another venture into the Canadian wilderness to fight the Martian invaders. Lil Toot's crew surrounded her the motor pool, as they went over maintenance checks and ensuring her basic issue items were still in order.

“Looks like they got the radio in working order.” Sam called from inside the M10's hull. “Sargent Stacks sure does work fast”

“Hah! You can bet your ass he does.” Joe replied from the turret. He and George ran a function check and the gun's breech mechanism. “He's been working as a mechanic for so long, he fix near about anything just by staring at it hard enough.”

“Ain't that the truth, Willie said as he walked around Lil Toot, checking her tracks and wheels. “I remember back in North Dakota, me and Joe saw him start up an old International Harvester with a hammer and some swift kicks.”
>>
“You guy's have known each other that long?” Sam asked.

“Me and Willie have been thick as thieves since middle school” Joe replied. “Stacks was the town mechanic”

“He's always been an ornery sum'bitch, though” Willie grumbled.

“Yeah, well you earned that. You crash almost everything you get behind the wheel of! It's a miracle you got certified to drive us!” Joe quipped. “and tipping over Stacks favorite halftrack didn't help.”

“They're ALL his favorite, dammit. Besides, I can't help if the road's shoulder decides to collapse from under us.” Willie complained. “This is a war, doggone, and damage oughta be expected!”

“We weren't in combat, ya oaf.” Steve said as he walked up. “Yer just a shitty driver. Now y'all hush up and get finished. We need to go draw ammo and fuel up. We head outta here at 9. That's in a hour.”

The crew answered in the affirmative, and they quickly finished their duties. Thirty minutes later, Lil Toot was armed, fueled, and ready to go. By 0800, Lil Toot had joined the rest of her company, Bravo Company, in line. By 0900, the convoy was on it's way out of Fort Alberni and heading back to the front.

“Yer damned right there ain't” Steve said with a smug grin. “No one as pretty neither!”

“Speaking of pretty girls, it's shame we never got to get a gander at those witches. I hear from some guys in Charlie Company that there are some real lookers among 'em.” Joe smirked.

“Wha'd I tell you about them witches. Keep yer grubby mitts off!” Steve snapped. “I ain't getting in no shit from you guys not keeping it in yer pants.”

The convey continued on for a few miles more at a steady pace. Lil' Toot bounced and jostled as they rolled across the rough roads. Suddenly the sound of air sirens broke the monotonous drone of the engines.

“What the hell?” Steve looked back in the direction of town.”Anything on the radio, Sam?”
>>
“Give me just a sec, Corporal.” Sam focused on his headset. Suddenly his eyes grew wide and fearful. “There's a huge formation of Martian craft heading towards the city!”

“What the fuck? Anything about a change of plans?” Steve asked.

“Nothing yet. I guess they are hoping those witches can take care of it”

“I hope they're right...” George murmured as he watched the black cloud of alien craft head over the Alberni Inlet.

“Well wouldja lookit that. Guess yer gonna get to see some witches after all, Joe” Steve pointed to ten black dots rising from the small airstrip on base.

“har har har. Joe said flatly. “Why do you gotta patronize me like that? 'Cause now your just being an ass.”

“Cause yer fun to fuck with, that's why”Steve laughed. “Look, th' girls already got them tentacled bastards on th' ropes.”

Sure enough, Martian craft were starting to fall out of the sky. Every smoking trail and explosion brought cheers from the soldiers. Soon, one of the witch dots flew behind the giant dreadnaught. Four white streaks slammed into the rear appearing to detonate the crafts “engines”, sending it crashing into the lake below.

“Ha ha! Look at that! Those bastards are turning tail!” Joe cheered. “I think I owe those witches a drink!”

“The hell you do!” Steve laughed “but damn, those girls gave 'em a thrashin'. Shit, we may as well pack up and go home. They don't need us.”

“If only that were true.” Willie chuckled

“Anything on the horn, Sam?” Steve called down.
>>
“Nothing much Corporal. It just sounds like the Martian forces are withdrawing from the area. Wait.” Sam paused. “Um there is still some movement coming from the lake”

“What? What're they sayin'.” Steve demanded.

“I'm not sure yet Corporal” I don't think that Dreadnaught is through.”

Movement from the lake stole their attention. From beneath the waves, a giant shape lifted itself up, supported by four monstrous legs. Slowly, it began to slide towards the beach. Steve couldn't tell if the loud thumping he was hearing was his heart, or the steps from the Martian Colossus. The witches reacted almost immediately and they could see shots ping off as they probed for weak spots.

“Jesus H. Christ...” Joe muttered under his breath.

“Corporal! Head Quarters wants everyone to head back to the city! They want everyone nearby to come assist!' Sam called up.

“GodDAMMIT! Willie get this thing turned around!”Steve swore.

The convoy slowly turned around and headed back to Alberni. By the time they reached the city, the Colossus was already reaping havoc. Smaller Mini walkers dropped from the larger frame, and fell to the city below. Smoke billowed from the fires that were already starting.

“HOLY MOTHER'A PEARL!” Steve jumped up to man the M2. “JOE GET THAT THING SIGHTED IN AND GET SOME GODDAMN AP LOADED UP”


Both of them complied immediately.

“Fire!” Steve bellowed.
>>
Lil Toot's 3in cannon thundered as Joe thumbed the trigger. But the round just pinged of the machines armor.

“Oh godDAMMIT! We gotta keep that thing from reaching the city! Willie, back us up to cover!”Steve ordered.

Willie drove them down an alley as Martian fire began to rain on the city. Other crews fruitlessly opened fire on the walker as well, and many payed dearly for it. The number of burning Sherman and M10 husks began to grow.

“How the fuck do we hurt it?” Joe asked

“Dunno, but I saw it dropping some smaller fucks from its hull. We can at least nail those bastards while them girls take care'a the big'n.” Steve said from back behind the M2.

“Roger that, boss. Gimme another AP, George.” Joe said calmly as he settled back behind the sights.

“Good to go!” George said closed the breech and patted Joe's shoulder.

Steve took a deep breath “Alright Willie, Take us back out. Lets take as many of these bastards out as we can.”

Lil Toot lurched forward as Willie hit the gas. Coming out of the alley, Steve say a Mini Walker coming down the street.

“Looks like we got one already, Joe! LIGHT'EM UP”

Joe thumbed the trigger and Lil Toot lurched back. The round punched into the Martian walker causing it to flare up and explode. Toot's crew moved like clockwork, and she was ready to shoot again. More of the Martian Mini Walkers began to move down the street, Their claws shredding cars as they clambered by.
>>
“Holy shit that’s a lot of em!' Steve began to pepper them with machine gun fire, hoping to hit something vital.

Lil Toot's barrel belched fury again, and another walker went up in flame.

“HAHAHA! TEAR'EM TA SHREDS GAWDDAMMIT!” Steve cried as he continued to pepper them with heavy machine gun fire. A couple of walker dropped limp as some of the rounds punched through and hit something soft. “Alright Willie, it's getting' to hot here. Take us away.”

Willie backed Lil Toot down the alley, and onto another road as they tried to find another spot to shoot from.

“Hey boss, I don't know how much longer we can keep at this. Even those witches seem to be having some problems” Joe watched as the witches flew around the Colossus’s legs. A couple seems to be hacking away at them.

Suddenly a bright streak flew from a nearby hill, striking the giant. The fore of the blow causing it to real.

“Whadda fuck?” Steve asked looking around. We don't have any artillery around here, what was that?”

Look at that Corporal!” George pointed to a figure on the hill. A tiny witch in a huge striker posed triumphantly.

“Well, I don't know who they are, or where they came from, but I think everyone here owes that kid a drink.” Joe quipped

“Worry about that later, dammit! We still ain't done here yet.” Steve pointed to Martian walkers that continued to head their way. “We gotta long-ass day ahead of us, boys.”
>>
Update from artyfag:

STALIN NOT FEMALE.

END MESSAGE DUE TO RAMPANT AUTOBAN
>>
And that the end of chapter two! Thanks again, archival. I hope you guys like it, but I must be off. See y'all next time!



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