"Captain, they're here," Lamia said.
I peered through Lemon's custom visor into the darkness. As expected, a group of men stood by two Type-81 PT Carriers, each hauling five containers—unchanged from ten minutes ago. A new addition was a sleek black luxury car, radiating opulence. Given its occupant, it was likely armored to the teeth.
A month had passed since Shadow-Mirror resolved to rebel. Today's mission: lead the newly rolled-out Lamia to raid an El Eins black-market deal, seize the mechs, and grab the cash as a bonus. Lemon had asked me to bring Lamia to build her experience and develop her sense of self, just like Echidna.
My motivation was high. The targets were Albert Gray's men. How a third-rate politician like Gray got his hands on cutting-edge El Eins units was a mystery, but the tip came from DC remnants through Barison, who'd joined Shadow-Mirror. Why Barison, once a DC remnant hunter in Africa, was trusted by them raised questions, but I wasn't one to pry—not with my own secrets.
"W17, are the W-Units ready?" I asked.
"Ready anytime," Lamia replied.
The mass-produced W-Units waited in their mechs, poised for my assault order.
"Good. We move when the buyer steps out and shows the cash."
"Understood," Lamia said.
I couldn't help but smirk at Lamia's outfit. Like Echidna, her revealing attire screamed Lemon's taste. What's with her and skimpy W-Number uniforms? Pure hobby? I wore a black bodysuit designed to blend into the night, paired with Lemon's multifunctional visor.
"Gun ready?" I asked.
"Yes, ready to act," Lamia said, holding a Shadow-Mirror standard-issue firearm. Developed by Lemon's Tech Team, these guns were leagues above average, rumored to incorporate EOT or Tesla Labs tech. I hadn't dared ask for the truth.
"…Go!" I ordered as the cash exchange began.
The W-Units sprang into action, firing M950 Machine Guns. Not standard for Gespenst Mk-IIs, these weapons were chosen for their lower power—perfect for suppression compared to Mega Beam Rifles or Split Missiles. In the original timeline, they were cheap, versatile, and ammo-rich, with all-A terrain adaptability.
"Argh!" Screams erupted. Even as suppressive fire, the M950s were meant for PTs, not humans, so the panic was no surprise.
"W17, I'll take one Type-81 PT Carrier. You grab the cash, then the other carrier," I said.
"Yes, sir!" Lamia replied.
Amid the dust kicked up by the M950s, I approached a carrier, extending slime tendrils from my spatial storage to scan inside.
"One driver, disoriented. Perfect," I muttered.
I moved to the door, using the slime to slice it off.
"What the—?!" The driver, slow to react, poked his head out. I shot a bullet into his forehead, sending him to eternal sleep. I avoided using the slime to keep the cockpit clean—blood's a hassle when I'm driving.
Tossing the body out, I slid into the driver's seat. A glance showed Lamia swiftly snatching the cash bag and heading for the second carrier.
"Got it!" I said, starting the engine and flooring the accelerator.
The Type-81 PT Carrier roared to life, ignoring the chaos and crushing the luxury car—the only vehicle capable of pursuit. Built to haul PTs, it flattened the armored car without effort.
"W17, how's your side?" I asked, radioing through my bodysuit's comms.
"Captain, no issues," Lamia replied. "Heading to the rendezvous point. W3's recon unit will handle pursuit detection."
"Good. Let's get home," I said.
"It's the Gyanland, not home," she corrected.
"Figure of speech," I shot back.
We bantered while driving for an hour, with no pursuers in sight. Both carriers reached the coastal rendezvous point.
"Krall, you there?" I radioed. "Mission accomplished. We're here. Drop the Stealth Shade and open the hangar."
The Gyanland's Stealth Shade deactivated, revealing the flat, trilobite-shaped mothership. From above, it likely resembled its namesake.
"Nice work, Captain," came Krall's voice—formerly Kirono.
The Blackbird Squadron, persuaded by Vindel, had joined Shadow-Mirror under new identities. They insisted on staying under Krall's command, forming a single unit rather than splitting like my W-Units. Their main role was intel gathering—unfeasible for the mechanically augmented W-Units—but they also pitched in for missions like this when manpower was short. In short, they handled the grunt work.
Oh, and for suppressing the Blackbird rebellion, Lemon and I were promoted to captain, Vindel to colonel. Pointless, since we'd rebel soon, but the pay bump was nice. I planned to burn through my savings before the world transfer.
As I parked the carrier in the Gyanland's hangar, Lamia's carrier pulled in simultaneously. I glanced at a nearby Tech Team mechanic.
Neither my Special Ops nor Lemon's Tech Team had any defectors. Vindel's transparency about the Blackbird rebellion and our past cleanup of corrupt messes ensured loyalty.
"Captain, good job," a mechanic said, approaching. "Mind if we check the cargo?"
Our rapport had always been decent, but since word spread about me dating Lemon, it felt more like reverence than camaraderie. Is this respect for dating her? Should I be mad, happy, or sad? It was a weird mix.
"Yeah, go ahead," I said. "Check thoroughly for trackers. We can't afford to get exposed."
"Got it," the mechanic said, nodding and opening a container. As expected, it held an El Eins—one per container, likely.
The mechanic's checks confirmed it: ten containers, ten El Eins, as the other containers opened.
"Huh?" a mechanic exclaimed, inspecting Lamia's carrier.
"What's up?" I asked.
"I thought we'd get ten El Eins, but it's eight. The other two containers have spare parts and consumables."
"Makes sense," I said. "They'd need those for repairs and maintenance."
I was surprised Albert Gray's group had planned that far ahead. Or was it a subordinate's idea?
"Captain, mission complete," Lamia said, stepping out of her carrier. Her flawless features were striking, but her expressionless face felt mechanical. Lemon clearly adored her, crafting a custom mech—likely the Angelg from the original timeline. I chuckled, imagining middle-aged Federation pilots reacting to its design if it was pitched as Isurugi's next mainline unit.
"Captain?" Lamia said, eyeing me curiously.
Whoops, got lost in thought. "Nothing," I said. "No tasks left, so rest until we reach base."
"Understood," she said, saluting and leaving.
Three Gespenst Mk-IIs returned, likely having scouted for pursuers. I started to leave the hangar for a nap but glanced back at the carriers.
"Albert Gray," I muttered. "This time, it's just your PTs. Next time, it's your life."
Extra Episode 001 (0051.5): The Politician's Plight
In Geneva, Switzerland, Albert Gray, a member of the EOT Special Council, was livid.
"Why does this always happen to me?" he roared.
"Congressman Gray, anger won't bring back the stolen El Eins," his secretary said calmly. "Why not ask Chairman Carl Schtrezeman for help tracking the attackers?"
"Don't make me laugh," Gray snapped. "That'd just prove I'm incompetent to the Chairman!"
The secretary suppressed a sigh, masking his true thoughts as he soothed Gray. "But this deal was arranged through the Chairman. If he'll find out eventually, reporting it now shows sincerity."
"Shut up!" Gray barked. "Do you know who I am? I won't grovel like that! What about the attackers? Any leads?"
"They used mass-produced Gespenst Mk-IIs," the secretary said.
"Then find out who's using those!" Gray demanded.
The secretary sighed. "Congressman, the Gespenst Mk-II is the Federation's standard mass-produced unit. Identifying the user is impossible."
"You incompetent fool!" Gray shouted. "This is why we get outsmarted by nobodies! You're responsible for fixing this, understand? That's an order!"
At that moment, the secretary seriously considered drafting his resignation.