The Third Hunter Team, joined by their fickle captain, sat packed in a full-capacity staff car traveling down busy city streets. Regardless of the candidates’ collective lack of enthusiasm for the impromptu trip, they were in no position to rebel against an order from their superior officer. Before leaving, Magnolia had suggested reporting Scharf to Major Krieger or the commandant himself but was talked down by her peers, who feared that the captain might face severe repercussions if caught intoxicated in the course of his duties. In particular, Sturm felt sympathy for Scharf, as he viewed the troubled veteran’s horrific past as the likely cause for his improper behavior.
With little time to spare, the group dressed and prepared for departure, ultimately meeting their captain just before the academy’s front gate, in the designated automobile pick-up area. After an uncomfortably quiet ten minutes on the road, Max tried to thaw the frigid atmosphere.
“So, uh... this car is pretty big, huh? What is it?”
Glancing back at Max through the rear-view window, Corporal Geiger replied, “It’s a 260 D. They make a smaller model, too. You probably see that one a bit more often.”
Geiger was an unassuming-looking young man, probably around his late twenties. His tone and expressions conveyed a laid-back attitude somewhat out of place among the more stereotypical military types usually tasked with guarding the academy grounds.
“It’s pretty cool,” said Max, staring out the window at a German shepherd dog being walked on the side of the road, “Comfy, too! All of us in here and I don’t feel totally smothered.”
“Speak for yourself...” growled Magnolia, driving an elbow into the boy’s ribs.
Wincing, Max gripped his left side and leaned against the door. “Hey, ow, ow! What the hell is wrong with you, I just got stabbed there!”
“All the staff cars are this nice,” said Geiger, ignoring the squabble. “I do my best to keep them in top shape for you and the officers.”
From the far back of the car, Sturm piped in, “We really appreciate it, thank you.”
The corporal smiled at him and nodded in the mirror before returning his eyes to the road. Clutching his head in the passenger seat beside Geiger, Scharf appeared annoyed with the idle conversation.
“Oh yes,” groaned the captain, rubbing his temple, “Thank you for doing your job, corporal. Now do it faster and get us where we need to go.”
Laughing anxiously, Geiger replied, “Do try to keep in mind that these streets have speed limits, sir.”
“Do try to keep in mind that my patience has limits as well, corporal,” Scharf snapped back.
Hearing this, Max leaned over to Magnolia and began to whisper. “Jeez, the captain is a fuckin jerk when he’s drunk, huh?”
“Please...” said Magnolia, turning her head away from the boy as she held her palm flat in his face, “The problem is that he isn’t drunk enough, anymore.”
Scharf exhaled sharply through his nose, making it quite clear that he had heard the girl. Fully prepared to escalate the confrontation after clashing with him during the readiness examination, Magnolia glared at the captain but found him disinterested in her goading.
“Hey Sturm,” Max said aloud, once more piercing the tension, “I’ve been wondering... Why are you so sure this psycho killer wears a gas mask?”
“I’m not,” answered Sturm, gripping the back of Magnolia’s seat and peering over the top toward Max. “I just thought it would make sense, because...”
Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to further elaborate on his view without disclosing the circumstances of his apparent encounter with Ida Weber, Sturm stopped himself mid-sentence.
“I just... thought it might make sense for a pyromancer to cover their face for protection.”
In truth, Sturm was certain that the murderer was hidden away behind such a mask, though how exactly he knew this was a mystery even to himself. After all, Ida had merely confirmed that she was unable to identify her killer. While a gas mask would provide a possible explanation, so would many alternatives. Her assailant could have struck from a position of ambush, utilizing an as-of-yet-unknown aberrance that allowed them to strike the psychic without warning. The murderer could simply have obscured their identity with some other form of mask or clothing, for that matter. Despite the many alternatives, Sturm could almost see the mask of the killer in his mind.
After several quiet seconds of contemplation, Sturm looked up toward the front of the car and was shocked by what he saw. In the rear-view mirror, he found Scharf’s cold, blue eye drilling into him with a predatory disdain.
“There is no ‘gas-mask pyromancer’,” growled the captain, his brow furrowing. “I’ve already told you they’re two different people. I don’t want to hear any more of this. Stop.”
Taken aback by the forceful nature of Scharf’s assertion, Sturm let go of the seat in front of him and sank back into his own. After a few silent seconds, Scharf’s prying eye shifted back to the road in front of him.
“So how about the rest of those guys, huh? Weird group,” said Max, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head. “Camera guy? What’s his deal? And how about the cute mouse girl?”
“Cute?” scoffed Magnolia, raising an eyebrow. “Disgusting. Her breath probably smells like a damp cellar.”
“Hey, come on! You don’t know that,” challenged Max, surprisingly defensive of the enemy. “Maybe it’s the ears, ya know?”
Gustavo, preoccupied with a book in his lap until now, sat up and entered the conversation. “It was a drawing, Max. She might not even look like that.”
“Yeah, well, I trust the captain’s artistic abilities, alright?” Max replied, scratching his head awkwardly. “Plus, she doesn’t need to look exactly like that to still be pretty, so long as it’s kinda close.”
“The only thing you need to concern yourself with is how you’re going to kill her,” the captain interjected from the front seat, annoyed by Max’s carefree ramblings.
Visibly distraught, the boy dropped his arms to his sides and looked back out the window. While he was quick to embrace the prospect of hunting down and eliminating powerful adversaries to boost his score, the idea of killing a young woman didn’t sit well with Max in the slightest. Indicative of this, his thoughts immediately turned to a baseless fantasy of conquering this particular enemy with words alone.
“My, that sounds like a lovely game...” said Magnolia with a coy grin as she turned to the back seat. “How might we kill her, you boys? Perhaps poison would be an effective method of extermination,” she continued, shifting her focus toward Gustavo.
“Not unless she eats cheese off the floor,” he replied dismissively.
Dropping back into her seat, Magnolia burst into a wicked giggle. “Oh yes, that’s priceless! Imagine the rodent teeth she has under her lips! Better to nibble cheese off the ground with!”
Though Max had tried to block out the conversation, the girl’s shrill laughter bored its way into his ears, invading his heroic daydream. After listening to Magnolia’s cruel rant, the boy finally had enough.
“Alright, enough already!” he hollered. “Ya don’t need to keep beating us over the head with it.”
“Oh come now,” Magnolia sneered, “Are you offended that we would speak ill of the enemy? She’s a Communist. You’re going to watch her die one way or another, so you’d best warm up to the idea.”
“What do you mean ‘one way or another’?” Max argued back. “What am I supposed to do, stab her?”
Looking uncomfortable, Corporal Geiger flicked his eyes to the mirror and back.
“Yes, you’re supposed to stab her,” answered Magnolia. “You are supposed to be a soldier. What in the world is wrong with you?”
Hoping to help his friend see reason in a less aggressive manner, Sturm tapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget that these are the people responsible for killing Ida and the other women. Even if we only have evidence one or two of them are directly responsible, this ‘Johanna’ keeps close to them without winding up dead. She must be an enabler, at least.”
“That’s a good point,” said Gustavo, crossing his arms. “She fits everything we know about their desired victim. If she is in such proximity to them, then she should have been murdered, herself. Aside from that, the report indicated that the targets have been linked to a terror-bombing campaign against regional government offices that even included a university.”
Just like that, Max was thrust back into the ethereal world of his daydreams, this time rescuing Johanna Ratzinger from the clutches of her own comrades. Despite all likelihood to the contrary, the boy clung to the slim hope that this enemy was being forced to participate in these evil acts, or otherwise unaware of them.
“Well, I for one relish the opportunity to make those giant, unsightly ears bleed with a mind-melting tune,” Magnolia chimed back in. “Perhaps, if I’m lucky, I will have the added pleasure of drawing my violin bow across her throat, myself.”
“Do you... hate other women or something?” Gustavo inquired, shooting the girl a confused look. “We’ve already established that we have to kill them, but you sound like you’re enjoying the thought of this a little much.”
These words brought Sturm back to a recent memory. Only a while earlier, Magnolia had insulted Emmy of the Recovery Team during their private talk. While Emmy was a reserved and somewhat nervous individual, she had fought valiantly alongside the Third Hunter Team during the events of the readiness examination. Such an insult was hardly accurate and gave some credibility to Gustavo’s suggestion.
Magnolia, however, adamantly denied the proposition. “Hate other women? Such nonsense...” she replied, turning her nose into the air. “I simply dislike pathetic girls who wind up pressured into joining rebel elements or burnt to a crisp at the hands of some perverted monster.”
“Or maybe you just can’t stand someone complimenting a woman other than you in your presence,” proposed Gustavo, looking away from the girl.
Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, but Magnolia closed her eyes and cracked a smile as she pinched her arm in a bid to maintain composure. “You have quite the outlandish imagination. Might I suggest you stick to psychoanalyzing frogs?”
Before an argument could further ensue, the car came to a sudden stop.
“Okay, we’re here!” announced Geiger, who then poked his head out the window to verify that he was parked appropriately.
The group directed their attention out the leftward windows to see the intricately carved stonemasonry of a restaurant’s front entrance. On either side of the stained-glass door were two great, imposing marble statues that towered over the nearby porters, who were themselves dressed in the finest luxury suits that exuded an air of ‘high society’. Taking in this sight, Max’s jaw dropped as Magnolia’s eyes sparkled with delight.
“Amazing...” Gustavo marveled, looking over the front of Sturm. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Does the captain seriously intend to treat us to a meal at a place like this? Sturm thought to himself. I don’t want to ask, but there’s no way I can afford to eat here.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
