From Whence Cometh Iron? Part 1

From Whence Cometh Iron? Part 1


“Tell me, my dear, what's the most important thing for a Magical Girl?”

“Is it...is it strength? Strength of the body?”

A smile, a shake of the head. “Not quite.”

“Is it will? The will to succeed no matter the obstacle?”

The smile grew wider. “Closer.”

Pause. “Then...faith. Faith and trust in your comrades.”

Another shake of the head. “No. It's iron.” A pair of hands, warm like a mother's, reached over to my head and began brushing my hair. “Inner iron. It's the ability to bear whatever blows life hurls at you, without flinching, without giving in, without letting go.” She planted a light kiss on my forehead.

“Everything else comes from that.”
-

Hunting rogue Magical Girls is hard work. Harder when you're the first response squad sent in to contain and eliminate the traitor, with minimal intel and shoddy planning. Hardest of all when your target is a dear friend who everyone used to love and look up to.

But someone has to do this thankless duty.

“Squad Leader, I've...I've located Redeyes.”

“Status?”

“Deceased.”

“Soul Gem?”

Wordlessly, she stuck out a gloved hand towards me, palm outstretched. Sitting there was a small pile of glittering gold and green shards.

“...I see.”

We were Squad Ferrum, proud Eversors all: once five, now four. We'd been out on patrol when we got word that the traitor had butchered an entire coffee shop filled with innocent people. Our job was to find and contain the traitor as soon as possible—she was one of our best, and if she got away there would be many more civilian casualties to come.

The rest of my squad brought forth Redeyes, or what was left of her. I knelt down to survey the damage.

The traitor had sawn her in half, from right shoulder to left hip, but not before a rifle wound to the right knee had taken off her leg...poor girl. Given the ragged meat and rough-hewn bones, she wasn't cut quickly, either, though the screams she broadcast through the vox had already attested to that. Lying there on the concrete rooftop on some who-the-fuck-knows building in the city's heart, her blood reflecting the light of the full moon, Redeyes wasn't the pigtailed, ruthless, yet somehow hapless killer I'd commanded for three months. Now, she was just a piece of meat bleeding out onto the floor. I bit back a sigh.

I saw a glint light: moisture around the eye sockets: Redeyes had been crying when she died. As I reached out to close the brown eyes that stared into nothing, I recalled the time she'd promised to never cry again. She wanted to grow out of the mocking callsign we'd given her—Redeyes, because she was such a crybaby.

That was Squad Ferrum for you. We put aside our real names and took up callsigns in their stead: new names reflecting our weaknesses, to remind ourselves of the flaws that we had to overcome. Mine was Ironskull, supposedly because I was stubborn to a fault and never smiled.

A voice to my right hissed, “That bitch. That cunt, that shitsucker, that motherless fucking bitch, she'll bleed and scream for this I fucking swear it on the motherfucking Lady...”

That was Blacktongue. You can see why we call her that.

I glanced at Blacktongue. The tall girl's mattock, a pick-like weapon wrought with flowery designs etched in ebony and blue, twitched in her shaking fist. Her whole body trembled with barely-contained rage.

“We'll find the traitor, Blacktongue.” I rose and clapped my hand on her shoulder. “I promise you that. Now focus.” A stiff nod was my reply.

I scanned the three remaining squadmates under my command:

Doghair, because of her obsession with her hair and her vanity. Leadfoot, because she ran like a fat man lugging a hundred-pound rucksack.  Blacktongue I already explained. They stood there, some of them trembling with hatred, others stiff with shock.

“Squad Ferrum,” I said, my voice an emotionless monotone, “we move.” I nodded at a splash of blood on the concrete—not Redeyes', for once, but our target's. The fruit of Redeyes' sacrifice. She could have run away when she'd stumbled upon the traitor during our sweep of the area—we told her as much—but she chose to engage, to keep the traitor from slipping away. She didn't have a chance, we told her. She'd need backup.

“There isn't enough time!” she'd squeaked. “She'll get away by the time you get here! I'll engage the traitor and try at least draw some blood. I can do that at least, right?” We told her that she probably couldn't even do that.

“I can,” she'd said. “Trust me.”

We'd never heard such conviction from Redeyes before. Such will, such determination. So we put our faith in the youngest of us and the least of us. And in the last moments of her life, even as the traitor she'd once loved carved her like butcher's meat, she did not fail us. With the splatter of blood, and Blacktongue's magic, we could track the traitor.

As Squad Ferrum moved out, I glanced back at the corpse.

Her name was Alice Lim, callsign Redeyes. She liked movies, cola, and MM x MM fanfiction, and had a tendency to cry at the drop of a hat. She told me once that I was the best squad leader she'd ever had—not that she'd had very many—and I'd sworn to her to one day make her the greatest Magical Girl in the Officio.

She was the first to fall.
-

Next to die was Blacktongue. She was our best tracker, which the traitor knew, so logically she was taken out first.

We were on the street, moving from cover to cover, heading towards the abandoned building we knew the traitor was hiding in. She was technically an Eversor, but she wielded firearms like a Vindicare and set traps like a Callidus; that meant we couldn't take things easy, even at a distance.

In hindsight, taking the alleyways would have been safer, but we were on a time crunch—we couldn't let the traitor get away, and the alleyways were slower than the main roads. If we take too long, we thought, the traitor would simply snipe us and then slip away. Better to storm her quickly.

The sniper round came without warning, and took out Blacktongue's left leg at the knee cap, sending the severed limb spinning through the air. The traitor always did have a thing for kneecaps.

The air filled with the sound of Blacktongue's stream of curses as we each dove headfirst into cover. I tried to grab Blacktongue and drag her to safety, but a second shot grazed the tip of my fingers, making me flinch.

I swallowed hard. I knew the traitor, and I knew that second shot wasn't a miss. It was a warning. The traitor could have shot out the Soul Gem on my right wrist, ended it right there. But she didn't—she was toying with me. With a heavy heart, I scurried back into cover. Blacktongue was now the bait, I told myself, and going for her was playing right into the traitor's hands.

I repeated those words over and over as Blacktongue's cursing turned into wails, each sniper's round taking off a new limb.

“Squad Leader!” screamed Doghair. “For fuck's sake, we have to help her!”

“Squad Ferrum, stay in cover.”

“Squad Leader!”

“Stay. In. Cover.”

“But she's—”

“I gave you an order,” I said, fighting to keep my own voice steady.

“You bitch!” Doghair made to leap at me. Leadfoot held her tight, whispering words of comfort and keeping Doghair still with her massive bulk. “You fucking bitch! She's your friend! Go and help her, goddamn it!”

I was about to reprimand her when a voice came in on the vox.

“S-shut the fuck up, Doghair, you colossal pussy.”

It was Blacktongue. I don't know how she did it, but she through sheer force of will she was conscious and speaking. Barely.

“Eversor p-pain-management tricks,” she managed to pant out, sweat plastering her long red hair to her face. “Didn't you listen in c-c-class, you cockmongler?” So you say, but you're barely holding on as it is. “Shut the fuck up and listen. T-take out your sidearm, and shoot the s...smoke grenade on my left hip.”

I hesitated. “The bullet will overpenetrate and hit you.”

“Fuck me,” said Blacktongue, “now we've got a s-second colossal pussy. Look you bitch-ass idiot, I'm fucking dead already, so hurry the fuck up and—AAAARGH!” Blacktongue cried out as yet another sniper bullet slammed into her, this time her shoulder.

“FUCKING DO IT!” screamed Blacktongue, spitting bile to clear her throat. “She'll go for my Soul Gem next, then you! Now shoot the fucking the smoke grenade, you cunt!”

I drew my sidearm. Doghair was still begging me to get Blacktongue to cover. Blacktongue dissolved into another stream of barely-understandable oaths and screams and wails.

I added my own curse into the deluge. Fuck this mission. Fuck our duty. Fuck the fact the traitor just had to have Vindicare training and was a wicked shot with an old Dragunov. I knew the traitor could handle a gun, but not like this.

I took aim at the smoke grenade at Blacktongue's hip. Her twitching and convulsions meant it was hard to get a bead; my own shaking arm didn't help, either.

-“Hey, let's grab a beer after we punch out! On me, of course.”-

Blacktongue's favorite words, always said with that cocksure, shit-eating grin. It was times like those when she became the raucous party girl she really was. I'd reluctantly take her up on that offer, then follow her around, make sure she wouldn't get absolutely shit-faced. I never really liked drinking myself, but someone had to look out for her. And I made absolutely certain she never found out I had fun too.

Why was I remembering this now?

I steadied my aim and pulled the trigger. With a *BANG*, the grenade spewed pink smoke that instantly engulfed the area, obscuring the traitor from us, and us from the traitor. We took the opportunity to scatter and try to reach the traitor's hideout through back alleys, keeping in vox contact to coordinate our movements.

There was an image burned into my mind as I sped through the alleyways. It was a bullet, a round fired from a Dragunov, slamming into the gold-and-red Soul Gem that Blacktongue always wore on her left earring. It had struck home the same instant I detonated the smoke grenade.

Her name was Eirwen Banes, callsign Blacktongue. She liked good booze, hanging out with friends, and sports of all kinds, and she swore like a sailor. When off-duty, I considered her one of my closest friends.

She was the second to fall.
-

“As iron without, so iron within.”

-Michiko “Chaplain” Hanayome