Chapter Text
Chapter 1- "Meat" and greet.
June 16-1943 Kent, Great Britain.
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I shifted my leg again for what felt like the thousandth time, never liked cars, or desks, or anything that involved sitting for a long while for that matter. I either fall asleep or start jittering uncontrollably as evidenced by my right foot thumping softly against the floor of the taxi. it wasn’t like I was a sports freak or anything, I just fidget like life decided to take all the actual energy I had when I was little but left the impatient skittishness.
The ocean splashed softly over the music and I decided to take the ear speakers out, I placed the device on my lap carefully, about a foot long by 10 inches and made of some patchwork metal, dad had joked about giving it a name but like always he never did, I still couldn’t think of a proper name for it. Music box? No, that already exists. Radiograph? No, the graph doesn’t mean anything. I resigned with a sigh and laid back, listening to the ocean.
Britain is very...green. I concluded tracing the rolling hills. It was strange that it could be so earthy when people had lived there for thousands of years while Chicago was a forest of metal and concrete and yet had only been around for 100. The paradox drifted away as a building, no, a castle reached up above the trees yet still somehow blended into the scenery.
“Wow.” I noted, the first thing I’d said for a good 4 hours or so.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” the driver asked with a wheezy chuckle, a bright smile on his face.
“We don’t have anything this..scenic in Wisconsin.” I replied.
“Oh, I’ve never been there before, what is it like?”
“Cold and forested.” I summarized. “It’s more tame here.”
“You’ll like it here, nice and quiet.” he assured me.
Before I could fill in the silence a streak of fluffy white clouds shot a crossed the sky, the contrail of an airplane I assumed.
“A plane? Are the strike witches pilots?” I asked mainly to myself.
“Oh, you’re one of the 501st?” the cabbie asked curiously.
“Maybe soon I guess.” I replied noncommittally.
“Oh, then let me thank you in advance for defending our country.” he smiled and chuckled again.
“Umm, thank you?” I decided was the best reply, luckily he didn’t push it further.
I put the suitcase down by the gate and lifted my arms into a deep stretch resisting the urge to go into a full routine after the long cab ride. Now that I had to walk the anxiety was back in full force, I was a recon pilot for heaven’s sake the only time I’d ever been in battle was a Neuroi ambush in northern Canada. Memories threatened to suck me down, so I held on to the anxiety, lesser of two evils I figured.
I hoped my state of dress would be appropriate, I didn’t really have a change of clothes aside from my standard fatigues. Standard woodland camo that a hung a bit more loosely than I’d like, they couldn’t really pretend to give an ass about corporals but it did its job I suppose. The boots I liked much more, black leather that seemed hellbent on keeping my feet dry, seeing as northern North America had two seasons cold and wet this was much appreciated. I folded the sound-box under my arm and took the first step towards the gate.
The first thing you notice is the eye popping green, whoever designed this base didn’t skimp on the aesthetics, several medium sized trees peppered the grassy carpet some bushes dotted the walls but early February wouldn’t let those garnish flowers out until it had its pound of flesh. Cobblestone lined the pathways, very British but with a subtle filing that left it flat on the top and easier to walk on, efficient too I added. Greenery was nice but it was sure to attract- I swiped my hand up and smacked myself in the left cheek, the offending insect took a leisurely route by my ear just to rub it in. “Why you-” I started before failing to come up with a scathing parting line.
I was further interrupted by a loud laugh and something heavy falling on my shoulders driving me to my knees. I would note that if it didn’t sound so young I’d call it a cackle, but I was too busy trying to not get kneecapped. My unknown assaulter didn’t give me much time for contemplation however as the small hands immediately grabbed my breasts. All I could get out through a stunned diaphragm was a strangled “Yeeckk!” before swinging my left arm trying to dislodge my tiny assailant.
Instead it just provoked more laughter, she finally bounced off where I could see her clearly. Fairly short but stuck in that grey zone between child and adult I chose 11, darker green hair pulled into two sidetails, black eyes but there might’ve been a bit of green in them. Skin was a healthy olive, Italian maybe? She was wearing what was either a long shirt or short dress and was clearly struggling to do its job, not helped by her apparent decision to forego pants.
“Hm not as big as Shirley…” she sounded disappointed.
“Well, sorry to disappoint you.” I tried to growl but dissolved into another coughing fit. I guess she could’ve been someone’s daughter, after all if the strike witches were all female it wouldn’t be surprising.
“I’m new here, could you please take me to the commander?” I asked sweetly ignoring my urge to grapple her back. For some reason the question made her laugh even harder.
“Sure nice lady.” she responded voice dripping with sarcasm, I revised my guess to 12. She waved me over behind her and marched for the castle singing something softly.