Mission 6: Clean house
I know many of you are expecting some explanations from me... and you wouldn't be wrong to think that. You see, the biggest challenge with writing reaction fics isn't so much the desire to write, but rather figuring out exactly what to write.
Re:Modern Warfare began as a lighthearted idea, just a joke that I wanted to experiment with. Before I knew it, I was deeply invested in the story, and many others were too. However, with this kind of story, there's a limit to what genuinely warrants a "reaction."
At some point you're past the cast of Re:zero being impressed with tanks, fighter jets, guns, and grenades. The real challenge then becomes keeping the narrative engaging enough for the characters to have a legitimate reason to be interested, while also finding a balance in your writing to avoid being repetitive and to keep things original.
This isn't an issue with Watching Him Die for example because, from the Re:Zero cast's perspective, it's their world. Or even a fanfic set in another reality that's still tied to them. But when dealing with a world that isn't theirs and where none of the characters, aside from Subaru, have any real connection... It's tough to maintain their interest—and, by extension, the reader's interest.
These challenges, coupled with the constant stress of my internships and thesis work, made me lose focus on this fanfiction and led me to occasionally write shorter pieces instead. I hoped that once I cleared my plate, my motivation would return... and it did, somewhat. But ultimately, pushing forward to find moments that truly deserve a "reaction" (and, of course, Evon's constant bullying) is what made me eventually finish it.
In the end, what I want to say is that I do want to write and finish this story, but I can't promise that I will have the same amount of quality at each chapter and this is ultimately the reason why I take my distances, before realizing so much time has passed by already.
Anyway, enough of that. Let's dive into the chapter.
As always, I hope you enjoy the read.
Anastasia Hoshin rose swiftly as soon as the theater lights flickered on, the harsh brightness pulling her from the grip of darkness. She and her entourage were the first to make their way toward the break areas, her steps quick and deliberate. A timer loomed on the immense screen, counting down the minutes like a silent threat. Anastasia's eyes darted around the room, scanning the faces of those trapped in this theater with her, seeking a hint of recognition or concern that mirrored her own. But all she found were blank expressions, indifferent or lost in their own musings, and it grated on her nerves like sandpaper on skin.
The more she studied their oblivious faces, the deeper her irritation sank, coiling tight in her chest. How could they not care? How could they not see?
"My lady…" The soft but steady voice of her knight, Julius, cut through her spiraling thoughts. She glanced up, catching the pained expression on his face—a reflection not just of his loyalty but of the weight he could see pressing down on her. His concern was a balm, but only faintly. Anastasia managed a small, strained smile, a gesture that barely masked the turmoil churning inside her.
"You know," she began, her voice a whisper of exasperation and resignation, "I kept thinking… What could I possibly do to make Natsuki-kun lean toward us when this is all over?" Her eyes lingered on a bottle of liquor nearby, and with a sigh, she poured herself a glass. The amber liquid rippled as if disturbed by her restless thoughts. "But now… The only thing I can think of is what price we'll have to pay for him to let us off the hook."
"Anastasia-sama! You have not done anything wrong to Subaru! As a matter of fact—"
"In this reality, Julius-kun." She cut him off, her smile persisting but now edged with a sharpness that made Julius flinch. "But in the past lives that he remembers very well, I've been awful, haven't I?"
Julius hesitated, his mouth half-open as if searching for the right words. "...Compared to what others have done…" he started, but his voice faltered, leaving the thought unfinished.
Anastasia's gaze hardened, a flicker of defiance glinting in her eyes. "If there's a reckoning, they'll get what's due to them. But it doesn't change the fact that our turn will come." She downed the drink in one swift motion, the burn of the alcohol barely noticeable against the sting of her own thoughts. Leaning on her hand, she traced slow circles around the rim of her glass, her mind turning in similar loops. "So now the question remains. What should we do? Accept it? Try to buy our way out?"
Julius's jaw clenched, and she could see the tension in his posture, the way his fingers gripped the fabric of his coat like he was holding onto the last shred of control. "If I must… I shall face whatever comes to us, my lady," he declared, his voice thick with conviction.
Anastasia chuckled, the sound soft but tinged with a bitter edge. She covered her mouth with her hand, her laughter contained, yet it echoed in the brief silence that followed. "Julius-kun, your knighthood will always be admirable…" Her gaze shifted from him to the screen, where the timer ticked down relentlessly, each second a reminder of the inevitable.
"But I don't think such bravery would be efficient if all we are to them are dots they can erase from the earth with the push of a button, right up above the clouds…" She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as if she could see beyond the screen, beyond the countdown, to the unseen forces that dictated their fate. The room seemed colder, the air heavier, as her words hung in the space between them, unanswerable and ominous.
"...We still have Reinhard, my lady… Surely, even if we cannot do much, I believe that whatever obstacles lie ahead, he might be able to defeat them…" Julius spoke with a hesitation that lingered in the air, his voice wavering as if weighed down by the very name he uttered. The mention of Reinhard carried a trace of reluctance, perhaps shame—whether it stemmed from relying on another for the safety of the candidate he vowed to protect, or from realizing that the Sword Saint's purpose seemed reduced to pure destruction in this context, it was hard to tell.
Anastasia's gaze softened as she turned back to Julius. "I don't doubt the Sword Saint could be a good counter, Julius-kun," she said, her voice steady but edged with a pragmatic coolness. "But it's not just about fighting back. It's about surviving if conflict arises. How many of us would be lost before Reinhard could even manage to stop them?"
Julius's expression tightened, the conflict within him surfacing for a brief moment. His hand clenched at his side, the tension radiating through his stance. "...Then we will simply have to ensure Subaru forgives us, whatever the cost," he concluded, his tone more resolute now, though the words still carried the weight of uncertainty.
Anastasia's lips curved into a faint smile, a mix of resignation and determination flickering in her eyes. "Whatever the cost…"
A shrill beep from the screen interrupted the moment, drawing their attention as the timer displayed a dwindling three minutes left. The sound was grating, a stark reminder of the impending viewing that loomed over them like a shadow they couldn't escape.
"It seems the viewing is starting again…" Crusch's voice broke the brief silence as she rose to her feet, moving with a deliberate, weary grace toward her seat. Felix and Wilhelm followed closely, their expressions a blend of resolve and fatigue. Crusch herself seemed caught between dread and duty, her eyes betraying a reluctance as though each viewing drained a little more of her spirit. Yet, the inevitability of it all kept her tethered to her place; she, like many others, felt bound to watch despite the toll it took.
The theater was a fractured mirror of emotions—some, like Crusch, shared a sense of grim obligation, while others, inexplicably, seemed to find a twisted sort of intrigue in these viewings, unable or unwilling to look away.
Emilia settled into her seat beside Subaru with a quiet determination, her movement unhurried and deliberate. She paid no mind to whether anyone else had intended to sit there; her focus was singular. Since the last viewing, an uneasy tangle of emotions regarding her knight had taken root, shifting her perception of him in ways she struggled to reconcile. These revelations had left her deeply confused, grappling with the unfamiliarity of her own doubts.
Yet, despite the lingering uncertainty, Emilia reminded herself of the words she had heard repeatedly: not to let these revelations make her wary or afraid of Subaru. She understood, on some level, that these viewings were leading to an answer—one that had yet to fully reveal itself. For now, all she could do was wait, letting the pieces fall into place. Sitting closer to her knight was a tentative first step, a gesture that, in her mind, signaled a willingness to bridge the gap between them, even as questions lingered.
Beatrice hopped onto Subaru's lap, settling herself with an air of possessiveness that spoke volumes without words. Her sharp eyes flicked to her side, noticing Emilia taking her place next to Subaru, but she didn't comment. At least these were people Subaru considered close—family, not just some opportunistic parasites clinging to him for their own gain.
Spotting an opening, Felt slipped into the seat on Subaru's other side and Reinhard took the seat beside her. Since the last viewing, Felt couldn't shake the nagging sense of unease that gnawed at her. Living on the streets had taught her to trust her instincts, and they were screaming that something was off. She didn't know exactly what was coming, but whatever it was, it centered on Subaru, and she needed to be ready to stand by him.
Petra, Ram, and Rem noticed the newcomers but chose not to protest. Petra, her lips pressed into a thin line, felt a twinge of disappointment at losing the seat she'd hoped to claim, but the trio had agreed to sit there in the first place to fend off those like Priscilla and Anastasia—people they felt didn't truly belong near Subaru. Ram returned to her seat beside Roswaal, who remained silent as she sat to his right, his expression unreadable. Petra slid back next to Frederica, while Rem quietly took her place beside Emilia, her presence gentle but firm.
"Ah, here we go again…!" Garfiel plopped down in his seat, his eager grin betraying his excitement for the next viewing. He rubbed his hands together, anticipation gleaming in his eyes.
Otto took the seat next to Garfiel, still conflicted about how to feel about these viewings. He couldn't deny the unease they stirred within him, but seeing Subaru's competence and bravery on display gave him a cautious optimism. If Subaru could handle what was shown, maybe their future wasn't as bleak as it sometimes felt.
Anastasia and her camp settled in the second row, right beside Crusch's group. For the most part, they were seasoned fighters and strategists, drawn to the viewings out of a mixture of curiosity and the hope of gleaning useful insights. Yet, Anastasia found her mind wandering more than usual, unable to shake the thoughts that had plagued her since the last viewing. She took her place next to Crusch, directly behind Subaru once more, her gaze flicking restlessly between the screen and the people around her.
"Happier with that spot, duchess?" Anastasia grinned, attempting to lighten the mood with a teasing remark. But Crusch's reaction wasn't what she expected. Instead of a retort, the duchess let out a weary sigh, her gaze fixed on the screen ahead.
"I feel like I should be, but…" Crusch's voice trailed off, heavy with exhaustion. She didn't even glance at Anastasia, her focus unbroken as if trying to brace herself for whatever came next.
Anastasia raised an eyebrow, quickly realizing that Crusch was lost in her thoughts—one of the many affected deeply by these relentless viewings. The warrior in her was resilient, but even Crusch had her limits, and these glimpses into alternate realities were wearing thin on her usually stoic demeanor.
"Once we get outta here, I wonder how things are gonna turn for everyone," Anastasia muttered under her breath, her gaze drifting back to Subaru. She couldn't help but wonder about the fragile threads of alliance and rivalry that bound them all. How would they hold up once the viewings ended?
Her eyes lifted to the screen as the countdown approached its end, the looming sense of another reality about to unfold. "...If we get outta here at all…"
Julius, standing close enough to hear her whispered concerns, tightened his jaw but remained silent. There was nothing he could say that would lighten the weight of her worries.
Ricardo slumped into his chair, his large frame settling with a heavy sigh. "It'd be nice if things didn't go too high on the ladder," he commented, his voice gruff but laced with a hint of weary humor. "People in 'ere need things to go a little more relaxin'."
"Yeah, the last viewing was cool, but my heartbeat was goin' higher than Mimi's ego…" Tivey added, wincing slightly as he sat down, his hand rubbing his side as if trying to soothe a lingering ache.
"HEY! I HEARD THAT!" Mimi's voice piped up, indignant and loud enough to echo across the theater, earning a few amused glances.
"So, what do you think is going to happen now?" Felt asked her knight, her eyes glued to the screen, a mix of anticipation and guardedness in her posture.
"If I remember correctly, Subaru mentioned wanting to find the perpetrators of the attack we saw in the first viewing, my lady," Reinhard responded, his voice calm and thoughtful. "Now that he's honored his part of the agreement with Lady Farah, they should be working toward his objective."
Felt nodded, her arms crossed as she kept her gaze steady on the screen. "That Farah better hold up her end of the deal, then."
"I think she will," Reinhard replied with a faint smile, his confidence in the woman's integrity evident. "She seems to be a woman of her word."
Priscilla's gaze drifted as she settled into her seat beside Aldebaran, her eyes narrowing as they landed on Ram, who had taken her place near Roswaal. A wave of irritation washed over Priscilla, not just from the mere sight of her, but from the ever-present reminder of Roswall's existence every time she glanced to her side. It grated on her, the constant proximity of someone she viewed as beneath her—a thorn in her otherwise imperious demeanor
"Why do I feel like you're pissed, princess?" Aldebaran asked, his voice tinged with surprise. Priscilla's demeanor had shifted so suddenly, and it caught even him off guard—just moments ago, she seemed perfectly content.
"This place keeps reminding me of the world's failure in allowing such disgusting filths to come into existence," Priscilla replied, her tone laced with disdain as she waved a dismissive hand. Her eyes flicked toward Roswaal with thinly veiled contempt, as if his very presence was an affront to her. "Would the next viewing begin already?" she muttered, her impatience seeping through her otherwise composed facade.
"Oh, so you got into it too?" Aldebaran quipped, carefully sidestepping her venomous remark about Roswaal. "I guess bro's adventures are fascinating even for someone like you."
"It is rather the only thing which can take my mind off the torture that is this circus," she scoffed, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "Otherwise, I would have already died of severe boredom."
"Fair enough," Aldebaran agreed, clearing his throat as he leaned back. As long as Priscilla's ire wasn't directed at him, he considered it a small victory. The last thing he needed was to become the target of her infamous temper.
Roswaal, seated with his hands folded neatly in his lap, kept his gaze fixed on the screen, his painted smile unwavering. Ram mirrored his silence, her eyes following the countdown with quiet intensity. The unspoken tension between them felt like a taut string, ready to snap, but neither broke the silence. They waited, as did everyone else, for the next viewing to unfold.
As the timer hit zero, the screen flickered to life once more, drawing the attention of every person in the theater. Anticipation rippled through the room like an electric current; they were eager to witness the aftermath of the battle, Subaru's next steps, and perhaps uncover more secrets of this alternate world.
The camera panned across the wreckage of General Barkov's Forward Operations Base, a haunting landscape of scorched earth and twisted metal, the aftermath of a brutal invasion by rebel forces. Captain Price's voice cut through the scene, a familiar, gruff tone that carried the weight of hard-earned victories and the losses that came with them.
"Echo and Commander Karim's forces have destroyed General Barkov's Forward Operations Base, temporarily limiting Russian air capability in Syria. It was a close call, but the mission was accomplished," Price narrated as the footage shifted to various angles of the battlefield, highlighting the sheer scale of destruction.
The familiar voice caused a stir among the viewers. Felix was the first to speak up, his ears twitching with recognition. "Oh, that's the captain… We didn't see him for a while."
"I was wondering where he was!" Ricardo's grin spread wide, his eyes lighting up at the sight. "Hey, is that…" he began, squinting at the screen.
"Yeah, that's a view from the place where big boss bro was, from the sky…" Tivey mused thoughtfully, his ears perking up. "Oh, maybe the big flying ship we saw earlier took those pictures?"
"Well, it's the only explanation that makes sense right now," Julius replied, his eyes glued to the screen. The sheer magnitude of the base's devastation held him spellbound. "We can see the amount of destruction even from there… This battle was truly frightening."
"It seems they are having a review of their battle," Wilhelm theorized, his gaze thoughtful as he stroked his chin. He nodded slowly, as if affirming his own observation. "I was expecting it. No competent army would ignore such an important part of their battles."
"So he's saying that Subaru's objective was accomplished. Echo was one of the names they used for him, I believe," Crusch said, crossing her arms under her chest as she scrutinized the screen, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "Along with 'Sage'…" The name lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.
Emilia flinched slightly at the mention of "Sage," her mind swirling with unease. Beatrice, too, shifted uncomfortably on Subaru's lap, her usual confidence momentarily shaken. Both knew the weight that title carried in their own world, and it was unsettling to hear it associated with Subaru in this foreign context. They exchanged a brief, uneasy glance—what else might Subaru be hiding? Was there a deeper connection between these titles and Subaru's role in this world?
The screen transitioned, sliding over the bustling cityscape of London, the footage capturing the aftermath of the Piccadilly attacks. Scenes of chaos played out in stark detail, while the names and faces of those responsible flashed across the screen like a rogues' gallery of terror.
"We need to move fast. Thanks to the SO-15 intel, we've traced the Al-Qatala cell responsible for the Piccadilly attack to a townhouse in North London," the voiceover continued, outlining the plan.
"Yeah, now I remember," Felt chimed in, her sharp eyes tracking the information on the screen. "Big bro was supposed to search for something in another country while this guy decided to hunt down those responsible for the attack in the city."
"That's right," Otto nodded thoughtfully, piecing together the narrative. "So now that we've seen Natsuki-san's side of this operation… I guess we're going to see how the captain fares on his side?"
"Boring," Garfiel grumbled, folding his arms over his chest with a huff. "I ain't interested in seein' some other guy fight. I wanna see more of cap'n."
"There's a story here, Garfiel," Frederica interjected gently, placing a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Everyone alongside Subaru-sama is fighting the same war. We ought to give them as much respect as we do him."
Garfiel shrugged off her hand with a dismissive snort. "I just think it'll be less interestin', sis. We don't know this guy."
Frederica sighed, her patience tested but not yet worn thin. "It's not just about the action, Garfiel. It's about understanding the bigger picture."
"I kinda agree with Garfiel though," Petra added quietly, her small voice cutting through the conversation. She glanced nervously around, as if expecting disapproval. "It's just… we care more about Subaru-san."
"Petra-chan…" Frederica began, her expression softening. She understood the sentiment but felt the importance of seeing the whole picture.
Reinhard's eyes fixed on the image of the townhouse. "So this is the place they'll attack? This house?" His brows furrowed slightly. "It doesn't look like an enemy stronghold… More like a civilian habitation."
"That's because it is," Crusch answered, her voice tinged with disgust. "This is the first thing we were taught about this enemy. They hide within the population; they are not regular soldiers."
"That's how they do their terror attacks, after all," Aldebaran commented, his tone casual yet carrying an edge of disdain. "If they were to show themselves officially, they'd be put down too fast."
"That's a coward's way of fighting, nya…" Felix added, his ears flattening in displeasure.
Wilhelm, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "I don't think being a coward or not is on their mind, Felix. They simply seek to cause harm and destruction. The methods matter little when their goal is chaos."
As the screen displayed a schematic of the townhouse, blueprints revealing the insertion points of each team, the theater grew quieter, more focused. The detailed diagrams were filled with arrows and markings, showing the strategic entry points and objectives.
"Three SAS teams will get inside and connect the dots," Price's voice narrated, as the screen highlighted the planned assault paths. "If the Wolf is in possession of the stolen Russian gas in Syria, we need to find him…"
"They are planning their own assault… Interesting," Crusch murmured, leaning forward slightly as she took in the blueprints. "Are these the plans of the building they are going to attack?"
"It seems so, Crusch-sama," Wilhelm confirmed, his eyes tracing the lines on the blueprint. "From what I understand, their strategy involves launching an assault from multiple directions. It's a classic pincer movement… effective, if executed well."
"Looks simple enough," Garfiel muttered, though the tension in his posture suggested he was more engaged than he let on. Fact was, he had no idea if it was simple or not. He just felt like he could probably do it on his own…Probably.
As the camera continued to pan over the tactical plans, the characters' varied reactions painted a complex picture of curiosity, unease, and determination. The theater was filled with a heavy anticipation, each person processing the unfolding events through the lens of their own experiences and fears.
"They're not at war," Julius continued, his tone sharp with a hint of exasperation. "Something simple seems good enough for their approach."
"That's a raid, alright," Ricardo snorted, crossing his arms. "They'll storm in from every door they can find as an entire battalion."
"I don't think a battalion's going to fit in there…" Tivey pointed out, his ears twitching as he eyed the small structure on the screen.
"It was a figure of speech! How stuck-up you are!" Mimi sighed, placing a hand on her head, exasperated by her brother's literal interpretation. She shot him a look of disbelief before turning her attention back to the screen.
"That picture… It's the Wolf," Emilia said, her gaze hardening as she stared at the screen, her eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and unease. "That man…"
"I suppose everyone despises him at this point, but is there…" Rem's voice trailed off as she looked at Emilia, a glint of concern and curiosity in her eyes. "Is there another reason why you seem so…upset, Emilia-sama?"
Emilia slowly nodded, her expression darkening. "That man… He's directly responsible for Subaru's presence here. If it wasn't for him, Subaru wouldn't have been dragged into these battlefields."
Felt leaned forward, her eyes flicking between Emilia and Rem. "We know he knows big bro personally," she said, a note of determination in her voice. "But I think this…'gas' is the main reason Subaru's involved. Still, I wouldn't rule out the Wolf being a loose end Subaru needs to take care of."
"We've already established that he and Subaru-kun knew each other," Rem agreed, nodding to Felt's words. "We'll soon see them interact, I'm sure…"
"I remember Subaru seemed especially adamant about going after this man's group," Reinhard mused, recalling the early viewings with a thoughtful expression. "It felt personal—without any doubt."
"Subaru will stop this man, that I know… But," Emilia's eyes softened as she glanced at the boy beside her, still deep in enchanted slumber. "I don't think it will be as easy as it sounds…"
"You speak of things we have yet to see, I suppose," Beatrice chimed in, her voice carrying a faint curiosity as she observed Emilia's concern. She crossed her arms, a slight frown tugging at her lips.
Emilia shook her head, her intuition weighing heavily on her mind. "I can just feel it, Beatrice."
As the screen shifted to display photos of a woman pushing a stroller, accompanied by children, a hush fell over the room. The images identified her as being part of the building the terrorists were hiding in.
"Be advised, there may be non-combatants on target. Check your shots," Price's voice warned, carrying a tone of grave urgency. "Come on, boys. Let's kick this off."
"...I have a bad feeling about this…" Hetaro grimaced, his eyes fixed on the image of the woman with her child. The unsettling thought of innocent lives at risk weighed on him, and he fidgeted nervously in his seat.
"Ugh, that's not good," Al grunted, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced with unease as he watched the screen.
Priscilla began fanning herself, her eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare at the sight of the innocents caught in the crossfire. The elegance of her movements sharply contrasted the fury simmering beneath her composed exterior.
"...Princess?" Aldebaran ventured, casting a sideways glance at her. He had his suspicions about the source of her sudden anger but couldn't help but voice his concern.
Priscilla ignored him, her focus unyielding as she stared at the screen. Whether it was a deliberate dismissal or simply being too absorbed in her thoughts to notice Aldebaran's question, it was hard to tell. The intensity of her gaze remained fixed, as if silently condemning the unfolding scenario.
Roswaal, who had been silent up to this point, allowed his gaze to flicker briefly over the screen before returning to his usual aloof posture. His eyes, however, betrayed a fleeting moment of contemplation, as though weighing the tactical decisions being made and their moral implications—a rare crack in his enigmatic facade.
"You think they're hiding among civilians…?" Otto wondered aloud, glancing at the screen with a mix of disbelief and discomfort. Beside him, Garfiel spat on the ground in disgust, his face twisted in anger.
"Feels like it, fuckn' bastards…"
"Garfiel, at least watch your language…" Frederica scolded gently, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation. While she didn't disagree with his sentiment, she still felt a responsibility as his older sister to curb his coarse language, especially in such a setting.
"This was to be expected," Crusch sighed, her expression tightening with a blend of annoyance and simmering anger. "These people…"
"I agree, it's not surprising considering what we've seen of them so far," Anastasia added, her gaze fixed on the screen with a detached calmness. She remained expressionless, though the flicker of disdain in her eyes was unmistakable.
The scene shifted abruptly, showing a black truck screeching to a halt in front of an alleyway. The back doors flew open, and several SAS operators jumped out, their movements swift and precise as they took aim and advanced toward the gate entrance. The camera zoomed in on Price's face, then switched to his point of view, offering a direct look through his eyes.
"Oh, so we're seeing through the captain's eyes now, nya?" Felix's ears twitched with curiosity, his tail swishing slightly as he leaned forward.
"That's… Surprising, but not unwelcome," Wilhelm commented, nodding with keen interest as he watched the unfolding action. "We've seen how Subaru-dono fights already. I'm curious to see how someone else in the same category fares against their common enemy."
"It also kinda gives our hearts a break," Otto admitted, taking off his hat to fan himself. A nervous chuckle escaped him as he added, "Unless everyone fights as recklessly as Natsuki-san…"
"Nah!" Garfiel laughed, nudging Otto with his elbow in a friendly manner. "Cap'n's a whole different beast! I don't think anyone's even close to what he does!"
"I doubt that's a good thing if it's true, Garfiel-sama," Petra remarked, her tone deadpan as she shot Garfiel a skeptical look. She couldn't quite see the upside to such reckless valor.
"Why do they have those weird horns on their helmets?" Mimi asked, her eyes squinting in confusion at the operators on the screen. "They didn't have that before, did they?"
"It seems like they're attached to their helmets," Tivey mused, studying the strange accessory. "Maybe it's meant for intimidation? Or could it be some sort of weapon?"
"It doesn't look very scary, and seems impractical for close combat…" Hetaro commented thoughtfully. "But then again, we aren't familiar with this world's tactics, so who knows?"
The screen followed Price as he halted at the gate, where another operator took position on the opposite side, pulling bolt cutters from his back. The teeth clamped down on the chain lock, and with a swift snap, the gate swung open, allowing the team to proceed. Price took point as another team approached from the opposite side of the alleyway, converging at the main door. When everyone had regrouped, Price gave the command.
"Bravo six, moving on to the rear garden," Price's voice crackled over the radio. The operators moved with synchronized precision, opening the door by reaching through to unlock it from the other side, then slipping quietly into the house's grounds.
"Damn! They appeared out of nowhere!" Ricardo exclaimed, a broad grin spreading across his face. "These guys know what they're doing!"
"They seem to be in a very… urban area," Hetaro observed, his eyes scanning the surroundings on the screen. "All these buildings, lights, and noises…"
"It's scary to think these people could just appear like that in the middle of the night," Tivey added, his voice tinged with unease. "You wouldn't even expect it, with all that going on around you."
"That's what makes it so good!" Mimi cheered, pumping her fist in the air. "They strike when you least expect it and make sure they hurt!"
Beatrice, who had been quietly observing from Subaru's lap, glanced at the screen with a thoughtful expression. "Such tactics… Somehow, they mirror yours well, I suppose," she murmured, her small fingers tightening slightly on the edge of Subaru's cloak, as if pondering the differences in combat strategy.
Roswaal's gaze flickered with a hint of intrigue, "Such coordination," he mused softly, almost to himself. "Quite the contrast to the chaotic dance of magic and might that we're accustomed to, don't you agree, Ram~?"
Ram nodded subtly, her eyes still fixed on the screen, but she offered no further comment.
"Attacking when the enemy least expects." Crusch had a faint smile as she observed the scene, "good. Perhaps that way it will be easier to discern civilians from the enemy."
"Bravo six, this is Alpha two. Entering the west alley," a voice crackled through the radio, steady and confident.
"Copy," Price replied, observing another team converging through a separate passage ahead. He approached the door at the back of the house, making a quick hand signal for another operator to join him.
"Bravo two, on me. Bravo three, take the ladder and get an eye on the window," he ordered, his voice low but firm. The operators moved with precision, executing his commands without a moment's hesitation.
Price glanced to his left as he moved, briefly spotting the operator scaling the ladder. With a swift nod, he pushed the door open and entered, another SAS member right on his heels.
"Bravo six, moving interior," Price reported calmly. He quickly swept the room with his eyes, his movements methodical as he made his way toward the stairs on his right.
Crusch, Wilhelm, and Felix watched intently, their eyes glued to the screen. The smooth coordination and seamless execution of the SAS team's actions left them quietly impressed. So far, everything seemed to proceed flawlessly, each operator moving like a well-oiled cog in a larger machine.
"They have impressive cohesion," Reinhard remarked, his voice filled with admiration. "There isn't a hint of hesitation as they carry out his orders."
"Indeed, they're very well trained," Julius agreed, nodding along as he made similar observations. "Almost on par with our royal guards, I would say."
"Don't flatter yourself," Otto interjected, waving his hand dismissively with a smirk. "This is the real deal here, Julius-san. Not some knightly choreography."
"AHAHAHA!" Garfiel erupted in laughter, slapping Otto's hand in a high five, clearly amused by the jab.
Julius's expression tightened, though he maintained his composure despite the growing irritation flickering in his eyes. "You seem awfully familiar with the royal knights' behavior in combat, Otto-san. Care to enlighten me further with your profound knowledge?"
"Yeah, sorry. Fighting the Bowel Hunter in the slu—Ah wait, there was only Reinhard-sama there," Otto began counting on his fingers, deliberately dragging out each example. "The thieves in front of the cas—Ah, nope, you missed that one too. The battle of the White Wha—Oh no, you guys were out of that as well. Or the Witch Cu—"
"Otto-kun." Emilia's voice cut through, dry and firm as she cast a disapproving glance at him.
Otto raised his hands in surrender, retreating with a sheepish grin. "Right, right," he mumbled, turning back to his seat. Julius continued to glare at him for a moment before refocusing on the screen, his expression simmering with restrained annoyance.
Emilia sighed and turned to Julius, her voice softening. "I hope you can overlook the behavior of my camp members, Julius-kun." Though he remained silent, Julius gave a curt nod, indicating that he wouldn't hold it against them, at least not openly.
"That was a good comeback, Brotto," Garfiel whispered, nudging Otto with a proud grin. They exchanged a quick, conspiratorial smile, clearly pleased with their lighthearted ribbing.
Petra, sitting nearby, watched the interaction with wide eyes before glancing up at Frederica. "It seems like they're eager to get back at Julius, Frederica-nee."
Frederica patted Petra's head gently, offering a calm smile. "...Is that so? Well, I cannot blame them… But it would be better if they didn't become hindrances for Emilia and Subaru-sama." Her gaze shifted momentarily to Julius, her expression unreadable but tinged with quiet concern.
"That was a nice one!" Felt chimed in, her grin broad as she enjoyed the banter from across the theater.
"Felt-sama…" Reinhard began, his voice carrying a note of gentle reprimand, but he quickly reconsidered, realizing it wouldn't change her outlook. He sighed, a faint smile of resignation tugging at his lips as he refocused on the unfolding mission.
Price reached the first floor, his gaze scanning the layout swiftly. He caught sight of another operator aiming from the window with his pistol, who nodded to Price, signaling that the room was clear. Price moved into the kitchen, his footsteps silent on the tiled floor as he maneuvered around the table toward the next door. Just as he reached for the handle, voices drifted through from the other side.
"Prepare us some tea," a male voice said, the tone casual yet commanding.
"Isn't it a bit late for tea?" a woman replied, her voice tinged with fatigue.
"I don't think we'll be done talking any time soon," the man responded, his voice firm, laced with a hint of impatience.
Roswaal's eyes narrowed slightly as he listened, his interest piqued by the mundane yet tense exchange. "The semblance of normalcy persists even among fanatics, hm~?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone in particular. His painted smile flickered with something akin to amusement, "this world is not so different."
Everyone in the theater perked up as the voices echoed through the speakers. The tension in the room thickened—contact was imminent, and the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation.
"Here they are…" Crusch murmured, narrowing her eyes as she focused intently on the screen. She was poised, ready to see how the situation would unfold.
Priscilla watched with rapt attention, her usual disinterest replaced by a rare flicker of engagement. The action was one of the few aspects of these viewings that genuinely captured her interest, and she leaned forward slightly, her fan stilling in her hand.
Emilia, sitting beside the slumbering Subaru, gently held his hand, seeking comfort in the quiet contact as she braced herself for whatever was about to happen. Though he couldn't respond, his presence was a small anchor in the sea of uncertainty that these viewings often brought.
"I'll get the kettle on," the woman's voice concluded, her footsteps drawing nearer to the door. Price, vigilant and steady, glanced to his right, where the door was about to open. He saw Bravo two readying himself, the operator slinging his rifle behind his back and positioning himself to act.
As soon as the door creaked open, revealing the unsuspecting civilian, Bravo two moved with swift precision. He lunged forward, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle any sound. "Quiet," he whispered urgently in her ear as he guided her gently to the floor, securing her hands with a zip tie.
"A civilian…" Reinhard breathed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "She seems unharmed. That is a relief." The tension in his voice eased, though his eyes remained vigilant.
"This shows their readiness to distinguish between friend and foe," Crusch observed, a small nod of approval breaking her stern demeanor. "Good."
"These guys know what they're doing. Let's trust them a bit more," Ricardo added with a chuckle, his confidence in the SAS operators bolstered by their careful actions. "We're going to see some good work, I can feel it."
"Let's not forget they were all trained just like Subaru," Emilia noted, her grip on Subaru's hand tightening briefly. Seeing the operators take measures to avoid unnecessary harm brought her some comfort, knowing that professionalism and caution were valued even in the heat of combat.
Price stood poised, his aim steady as he watched the door, alert for any signs that their presence had been detected. But the casual conversation continuing on the other side assured him that they had gone unnoticed.
"Attacking Russia is the wrong move," a man's voice spoke from behind the door.
"Maybe… But that's what he wants," a younger voice replied, laced with uncertainty.
"Wouldn't that just encourage them to align with the West? We'll end up fighting everyone!"
"This country again… Russia. The one Subaru fought in the last viewing…" Reinhard remarked, piecing together the unfolding narrative. "It seems like these two are not aligned."
"You thought they were on the same team too, huh," Felt said, scratching the back of her head thoughtfully.
"Was that not already established?" Hetaro chimed in, recalling the previous viewings. "In that one viewing, didn't the lady commander say the Russians were fighting these terrorists?"
"You were thinking of a hidden accord between them," Crusch remarked, slightly surprised by Reinhard's line of thought.
"I merely considered they could be working to fulfill each other's goals, Crusch-sama," Reinhard explained, his tone thoughtful. "Their interests seemed aligned in some capacity. In the previous viewing, the Russian Empire was oppressing the people of Farah's country under the guise of combating these terrorists. Meanwhile, these terrorists attacked the side which Subaru seems to be a part of, which happens to oppose Russia. It's like a tangled web where enemies align indirectly."
"It goes down to the old 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' kind of thing. But it seems to be more of a free-for-all," Felt added, her brows furrowing in contemplation. "Everyone's fighting everyone, but…what's the final goal here?"
"Perhaps we will discover it later on, Felt-sama," Rem suggested, her gaze shifting towards the sleeping Subaru, a mix of concern and conviction in her eyes. "But I have a feeling that somehow they are interconnected, as Reinhard-sama supposes. And… Subaru will probably find himself caught in the middle of it."
Emilia's face tightened slightly, a faint grimace surfacing as she glanced at Subaru, her mind weighing the implications of Rem's words.
"It's scary how accurate that sounds," Garfiel sighed, scratching the back of his head as he considered the complexity of the conflict.
"You tell me," Otto scoffed lightly, sharing Garfiel's unease. The more they watched, the clearer it became that Subaru was entangled in a mess far larger than any of them initially thought.
Price made a subtle hand signal to Bravo two, indicating to cut the lights. Bravo two complied, plunging the room into darkness as the operators switched to night vision. The screen transformed into a stark phosphorus white, the eerie glow revealing every detail in the pitch-black surroundings.
Sounds of surprise erupted all over the theater at the sudden change of vision.
"So THIS is what it was for!" Mimi jumped in her seat, "it's like that one time!"
"Yeah, I remember too! The first viewing!" Ricardo scoffed, "so they attach it to their helmets so they can have that vision for the dark while using their weapons eh?"
"...These would make them extremely proficient during night battles, granted they could give something like that for each of their soldiers." Julius thought to himself.
"You must trust the Wolf, brother," a voice insisted, dripping with a fervent intensity.
"You know I do! But this operation failed, so what are we still doing here?!" came the heated reply, frustration boiling over.
"It did not fail! Your dead brothers made sure of that!" a woman's voice interjected, sharp and fiery. "Now everyone in the United Kingdom knows we can strike at the heart of their country!"
"We were supposed to have double the body count! It's all over the fucking television!" the first man shouted, his voice cracking with anger and disillusionment.
"Pathetic dogs…" Priscilla's eyes burned with wrath, her fan snapping shut with a sharp flick. "The only way they can think to gain the world's attention is to kill… Such animals do not deserve to waste the air of any world." Her contempt was palpable, her gaze fixed with a dangerous intensity.
"It was really about killing as many people as they could then…" Emilia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Monsters…"
"Fucking scumbags…!" Garfiel growled, his fists clenching. "Good thing cap'n was there to put 'em down!"
"It's really scary to think they would have probably reached that goal if it wasn't for Subaru," Petra sighed, her expression reflecting a mix of fear and relief.
"And that's the point!" the younger voice on the screen snarled, punctuating his words with a slam of the table. "This is the United Kingdom! Do you think people walk around thinking they can get fucking blown up?! Well now they do! They will be scared to even walk outside, fearing our name in their households! And when we strike in other cities—Paris, Munich, Berlin, Moscow… The whole world will fear us!"
"And the Yanks?" the woman's voice prompted, her tone expectant and eager.
"Soon. They will be our finale," he chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with malicious delight. "Hey, where the hell is that tea?! Jess—"
Before he could finish, Price burst through the door with a powerful kick, startling everyone inside. The occupants scrambled to grab their weapons, but the captain was faster—three well-placed shots rang out, each one finding its mark with brutal precision. The sudden shift from tense conversation to violent action left many in the theater with widened eyes and gasps.
"Oh shi—" Otto gasped, taken aback by the speed and ruthlessness of the captain's actions.
"Yep! That was beautiful!" Ricardo clapped his hands, grinning widely. "That old man rocks!"
"So it's not only Natsuki-kun…" Anastasia observed, a thoughtful smile playing on her lips. "I'd suppose most of them can pull off something like that." She admired the efficiency and swiftness, traits that mirrored Subaru's in combat, further cementing her respect for the SAS operators.
"Meh! Cap'n would've done it better!" Garfiel scoffed, nodding his head with confidence in his own view.
Frederica raised an eyebrow, baffled by her brother's statement. "How would he eve—"
"Agh… Shit!" one of the terrorists groaned, clutching his shoulder in agony. Desperation took over as he shouted, "THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE—"
Price didn't hesitate. He strode over and fired another shot, silencing the man with a single bullet to the head.
"Good," Priscilla scoffed, her voice cold and unforgiving. "Let none survive."
"Yup, I totally agree on this one," Aldebaran nodded in agreement, his voice carrying a grim satisfaction. "Give 'em hell, old man."
"See?" Garfiel pointed triumphantly. "One of 'em was still alive and shouted! Cap'n wouldn't have missed his head the first time!"
Emilia, Rem, Petra, Ram, and Frederica exchanged uneasy looks, each of them wincing at the reminder of Subaru's lethal efficiency. While Garfiel's statement wasn't necessarily inaccurate, it wasn't a side of Subaru they relished being reminded of—the deadly, unerring precision that turned him from their friend into a force of nature.
From her seat, Beatrice's eyes remained fixed on the screen, her small form tense as she watched Price's cold execution. "It's unsettling, I suppose… to see such ruthlessness displayed so casually," she murmured, her grip tightening on the hem of her dress. Unlike the magic and conflicts she was accustomed to, this kind of battle had a stark finality that left little room for the nuances of mercy or restraint.
The theater buzzed with the mixed reactions of its occupants, the rapid shift from tense dialogue to sudden violence keeping them all on edge, each grappling with the raw display of human conflict unfolding before them.
"Alpha three, entering through the front door," an SAS operator's voice came through the radio, clear and focused.
Upstairs, chaos erupted as the terrorists scrambled in a panic. Footsteps thundered overhead, accompanied by frantic yelling and cursing as they rushed to prepare themselves. Price moved to the base of the stairs, catching a glimpse of another SAS operator opening the front door to let in more team members.
"All teams, rally up on me. We're moving to the first floor," Price ordered, his tone calm but commanding. The operators responded immediately, their replies crisp and synchronized.
"Rog."
"Copy."
"On the move."
Soon, a column of five operators formed with Price taking point, each one moving with precise, practiced steps as they ascended the stairs.
"This is fascinating… So this is how they proceed with their military formations?" Reinhard observed, a smile of genuine interest spreading across his face. "It is well thought out. They all have a view on each other's blind spots." His admiration for the tactical expertise was evident, his keen eyes analyzing every detail.
Felt glanced up at Reinhard, her expression contemplative as she processed the sight of the operators' seamless coordination. "Felt-sama?" Reinhard asked, sensing her thoughtful gaze.
"Nah, I was just thinking… How scary would it be if you were as proficient with their weapons as you are with a sword?" Felt replied, her voice tinged with both awe and a hint of nervousness.
The idea struck a chord with everyone capable of combat in the room. An image of Reinhard in tactical gear, wielding a gun with the same deadly proficiency as his sword, flashed in their minds. A collective shiver ran down their spines at the terrifying prospect of Reinhard mastering such modern weaponry.
"I believe it would be better if we pass on that…" Julius grumbled, unable to fully conceal the touch of jealousy in his tone. He knew all too well that Reinhard's innate talent would make mastering these weapons an effortless task for the Sword Saint.
"Shit, they're here!" a man's frantic shout echoed from the screen, followed immediately by a woman's scream, sharp and filled with terror.
"What are you doing?! Let me go!" the woman's voice rang out, her panic palpable.
"Shut up! Do as I say!" the man barked back, his voice rough and desperate as the woman's cries continued to echo through the room.
"Where do you need me?!" another voice shouted in a panic, his fear unmistakable.
"Get the shotgun, hide in the bathroom!" the first man yelled, his commands scattered and frantic.
"What is happening over there…?" Frederica voiced her concern, a chill running down her spine as she heard the woman's distressed cries. The fear in her voice mirrored the unease that was settling over the theater.
"Whatever it is," Al grunted under his helmet, his expression darkening, "I don't like it." His sentiment was echoed by several others, nodding along in agreement. The atmosphere in the theater was tense; they could all sense that the element of surprise was fading fast, giving way to an imminent clash.
"Didn't he just yell out his plan? That's stupid…" Felt remarked, though her heartbeat was steadily climbing. The stakes were high, and despite her bravado, the uncertainty gnawed at her.
The theater watched with bated breath, the suspense thick in the air. Every eye was glued to the screen, bracing for the violence that seemed inevitable.
"Bravo six, moving to the first floor. Bravo two and three, take the doors on the left. Alpha one, cover the stairs. Alpha three, you're with me," Price commanded as the operators reached the landing. Without missing a beat, the team sprang into action, each operator moving with purpose and precision.
Price took position with Alpha three at the door on the right. He glanced back to see Bravo two and Bravo three clearing their rooms. The camera view switched to their perspective: one room was declared clear, but in the other, gunshots erupted. Bravo three ducked back to avoid the spray of bullets that peppered the wall in front of him. Regaining his stance, he rushed into the room and fired, hitting his target multiple times until the threat was neutralized.
"We're clear," Bravo three reported through the radio. The camera view returned to Price's perspective as he nodded to his teammate, signaling him to open the next door.
As the door swung open, Price took point, his gun raised and ready. His eyes immediately locked onto a man holding a woman as a human shield, a pistol clutched in his other hand. The man's wild eyes darted between the operators, panic and aggression flashing across his face.
Without warning, the man fired at the operators. Price reacted instantly, stepping back to avoid the bullets that whizzed past, narrowly missing him.
All eyes were wide in outrage and shock as the screen froze on the sight of the man holding the woman under one arm, using her as a human shield. Her face was twisted in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled against his grip. The theater fell into a stunned silence, the only sounds breaking through were the sharp intakes of breath and murmurs of disbelief that rippled through the crowd.
"W-wait, aren't they allies?! Why would he—" Frederica's voice trembled, her hand flying to her mouth as the weight of the betrayal sank in. Her eyes were filled with a mix of horror and sorrow, struggling to comprehend the level of treachery on display.
"This is horrible!" Petra cried out, her voice cracking with emotion. She clutched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white, trembling with a mixture of fear, anger, and helplessness.
For most in the theater, it was already understood that terrorists employed immoral and unethical tactics in their fight. But this was a clear new low, even for them. The atmosphere was heavy with an unspoken consensus: this act was beyond unforgivable.
The only thing they all felt—without exception—was hatred. Even those who were often forgiving or pacifistic found no excuse for the display of cowardice and cruelty on screen.
"I hope he kills him," Emilia whispered, her voice low but laced with an uncharacteristic sharpness. Her hands gripped the edge of her seat, knuckles turning pale. Her usually gentle eyes were wide, brimming with a fierce mix of anger and desperation.
"Yeah, don't you dare miss the shot! Straight to the head!" Felt shouted, raising her fist in the air, her face twisted into a scowl of righteous fury. The usual spark of mischief in her eyes was replaced with unfiltered rage.
Reinhard winced, his expression reflecting deep disappointment. Slowly, he shook his head at the screen, as if the terrorist could somehow see his disapproval. The sight of yet another moral failing weighed heavily on his heart, a somber reminder of the darkness that could reside in humanity.
"Well, now we really got a proper look at 'em," Anastasia muttered, her eyes narrowing into slits. "I mean, we already knew what to expect back in the city viewing but…" Her voice trailed off, the rest of her thoughts unspoken, yet the disgust in her tone was clear.
"Such despicable people do not deserve any mercy," Julius whispered, his usually calm demeanor shattered by visible rage. His fists were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. "How can one claim to be human after such an act?"
"Can't say I'm surprised, but that's still messed up," Ricardo added, clicking his tongue as he shook his head in disgust. The usually jovial demeanor was gone, replaced by a hardened, grim expression.
"That's disgusting!" Mimi exclaimed, her small frame trembling with fury. She looked ready to leap into the screen and take on the terrorist herself, her usual bubbly nature overtaken by a burning sense of justice.
"That's…a tricky situation. He has to avoid harming the woman but…" Tivey mumbled, biting his lip in frustration as his eyes darted across the screen. The pressure of finding a solution weighed heavily on him, knowing that there was little room for error.
"I hope he doesn't miss…" Hetaro sighed, his gaze fixed intently on the screen. His usually calm demeanor was tinged with unease, the tension in his voice mirroring the anxiety of those around him.
"Fuckin' hell, man…" Garfiel growled, his teeth gritted as his muscles tensed, ready for a fight. "Now I get why cap'n was so dead set on takin' 'em down. These guys all gotta die." His voice was low, a dangerous growl that conveyed the depth of his anger.
"Yup," Otto agreed, his voice flat and dry. His usually cautious nature was replaced with a cold determination, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the screen, taking in every detail with a focused intensity.
"They are similar to the Witch Cult in that way," Crusch commented, her voice steadier than most, though the fire in her eyes betrayed her simmering anger. "People who are ready to disregard the lives of their own, all for a twisted goal that serves no one but themselves."
"May they rot in hell," Felix cursed, his tail flicking in agitation as he glared at the screen. "With an agonizing death." The playful tone he usually carried was gone, replaced by a cold, vengeful edge that matched the mood of the room.
"I see everyyyyone is quite in high spirits~" Roswaal's voice cut through the tension, his smile still painted on his face, his tone almost mocking. The contrast between his lighthearted demeanor and the palpable fury of the others was stark, his reaction serving as a reminder of his own complex morals.
The room was charged with a fierce collective anger, the normally restrained reactions of the group shattered by the blatant disregard for human life displayed on the screen. Each member sat on the edge of their seat, eyes locked on Price, silently willing him to make the shot count and put an end to the madness unfolding before them.
"Roswaal-sama, I suppose such a situation isn't anything you haven't encountered before, which is why you show so little surprise compared to the rest of us," Ram said, her voice clipped and controlled, not turning to face him.
He hummed softly in response, his expression thoughtful. "Maaaany people have a part of them that is ready to do the utmost if they believe in the worth of whatever end result they strive for, dear Ram~ Such a thing isn't foreign to me." His eyes glinted with a knowing look, his words layered with a depth that spoke to his complex views on morality and sacrifice.
"...I see." Ram's face remained unreadable, but there was a tension in her posture that hinted at her distaste for such ruthlessness.
"Yup, they do that a lot…" Al grunted from under his helmet, his voice filled with disgust. "Fucking scumbags. That's always been in their playbook." His usual nonchalant attitude was replaced with a hard edge, reflecting his contempt for the methods on display.
Priscilla, unusually quiet, hid half of her face behind her fan. Her eyes were sharp and calculating, observing the unfolding events with a keen interest, her reaction contained but intensely focused.
"YOU'RE ALL DYING HERE, YOU FUCKERS! JUST LIKE YOUR MATES IN PICCADILLY!" the terrorist shouted, his voice filled with fury and desperation as he continued to fire his pistol, while the woman screamed, struggling to free herself from his grasp.
The gun clicked empty, and in that instant, Price stepped forward, his movements swift and precise. He aimed his laser directly at the man's head and pulled the trigger, ending the threat with a single, clean shot. The woman fell to the ground, her body trembling as she stared in shock, blood splattered across her face.
"Bullseye!" Felt exclaimed with satisfaction, pumping her fist into the air. Her triumphant grin was wide, her eyes gleaming with approval at the captain's swift justice.
"This is the end you brought upon yourself," Julius muttered, nodding in approval at the precise shot. His eyes were cold, his voice carrying a righteous edge. "Ponder how you met this end in hell." His usual composed demeanor was shattered by a visible rage that simmered beneath his words.
Emilia remained silent, her lips faintly trembling. The relief she felt at the terrorist's death clashed with the guilt of wishing harm on another, leaving her struggling with her conflicting emotions. Her eyes were reflective of her inner turmoil, a mix of relief and unease.
The rest of the theater mirrored a collective sense of vindication. While there was no outright cheering, the satisfaction was palpable in the room. Everyone expressed their feelings in their own way or quietly kept it to themselves, but the atmosphere was charged with a shared sentiment of justice being served.
"That guy is really good, huh," Otto muttered, his voice tinged with reluctant admiration.
"He's also older than Natsuki-san. He might even be better than him." His statement hung in the air, drawing mixed reactions from those around him.
"Otto, I understand this is impressive, but I would beseech you not to speak such nonsense." Garfiel's tone was sharp, and judgemental.
"W-WH-WHAT THE FU—" Otto stammered, taken aback by the vehement response, his eyes widening in surprise as he turned to face Garfiel.
"I didn't expect that either…" Frederica murmured, equally stunned, while Petra stood beside her, mirroring her expression of shock.
"I can't take cap'n slander like that!" Garfiel snapped back to his usual self, his voice rising defensively. "This old man's good, but he ain't reachin' the ankle of cap'n!" His fierce loyalty to Subaru was unwavering, his stance unshakable.
"I never slandered Natsuki-san! I was just saying that due to his age, he's probably more experienced! Also, it's the first time we're truly seeing him in action!" Otto exclaimed, frustration creeping into his voice. Garfiel merely huffed, unconvinced by Otto's explanation.
"I agree with Otto-san here," Julius interjected, a thoughtful hand on his chin as he observed the scene. "This man exudes a sense of experience. He is most likely a veteran in this field, whereas Natsuki is still in the early stages of his journey."
"Early stages, but already within the 'elite of the elites,'" Anastasia chuckled, her eyes glinting with intrigue. "I wouldn't mind learning more about how their army has crafted itself up." Her curiosity was piqued, eager to understand the origins of such formidable soldiers.
"I remember lil' boss was there for five years according to the last viewing," Ricardo nodded, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "The old man was already there, too. If you want my guess, he trained under him." His observation carried the weight of his experience and keen insight.
"So… He would be akin to Subaru-dono's teacher?" Crusch mused aloud, her gaze contemplative as she looked back at the screen. "Such competence could indeed stem from that relationship." Her voice was calm, her thoughts introspective.
"...I see." Wilhelm narrowed his eyes, his analytical mind dissecting the captain's performance. He watched with a mix of criticism and interest, his seasoned warrior's instincts taking over as he evaluated the captain's skills.
"MARK! NOOOO!" the woman screamed, her voice raw with fear and fury as she scrambled to her feet, lunging for the rifle on the bed. Alpha three, who had followed Price to secure the hostage, moved swiftly, tackling her to the ground and restraining her before she could reach the weapon.
The theater was filled with a stunned silence. At first, not everyone understood what had just transpired; the younger members slowly began to grasp the situation, their eyes widening, while the older ones stared in disbelief, already putting words to what they had witnessed. Madness? Devotion? The line between love and insanity blurred, leaving them questioning the woman's motives.
"What?!" Anastasia was the first to voice her confusion and outrage. Her usually composed demeanor cracked as she leaned forward, eyes wide. "Did she really just…?"
"She tried to avenge him?! After he used her as a human shield?!" Petra shouted, her voice ringing with disbelief. "Why would she do that?!"
"...Love, I suppose," Beatrice muttered, her voice laced with disappointment. She slumped in her seat, her small form reflecting the weight of what she had just seen. The expression on her face was one of disillusionment more than anger.
"This is not love; this is…!" Emilia's voice shook with barely restrained emotion. She gritted her teeth, trying to maintain her composure, conscious of not wanting to cause Subaru any unintended harm. "To try and sacrifice herself even after being betrayed like this…" Her words hung in the air, cutting through the room like a sharp blade.
The theater fell into an even deeper silence, the impact of Emilia's declaration resonating like the toll of a solemn bell. Those words, laden with pain and truth, struck at the heart of everyone present, leaving them unable to speak, trapped in their own thoughts.
Emilia herself was left with her lips trembling, her eyes drifting toward Subaru's hand. She couldn't bring herself to look at his face, terrified that doing so would make her lose the fragile grip she had on her emotions.
Beatrice, feeling the sting of her own frustrations, averted her gaze from the screen. A grimace of distaste crossed her face, her small fists clenching in her lap. She understood all too well that no one but Subaru himself was responsible for his choices. Every sacrifice, every decision made for Emilia or anyone else he loved, was his alone.
"Such a mindset is nothing but a disease," Priscilla mused, snapping her fan shut with a sharp, decisive click. Her expression was tinged with disappointment, a faint scorn curling her lips. She, of all people, could not abide the notion of sacrificing one's self-worth for another so recklessly.
Next to her, Al sighed heavily, shaking his head in resigned acceptance. He had seen this kind of madness before, and it never ceased to dishearten him.
Ram's gaze slowly drifted toward Roswaal, who sat beside her, his expression stoic. He couldn't meet her eyes, knowing all too well that they both understood the gravity of the situation in a way few others could. If it came down to it, they both knew they would make the same choice without hesitation, regardless of the cost. The thought repulsed Roswaal, but for Ram, it was a simple, almost instinctual truth. Her expression was one of conflicted acceptance, battling between her loyalty and the rational voice inside her.
They were not alone in their twisted realities, nor were they the only ones in the theater grappling with such a complex web of emotions. Each member of every camp found themselves lost in thought, Emilia's words pulling them into a quiet, intense introspection. How far would they go for love? How much would they be willing to sacrifice?
"LET ME GO, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM!" The woman's screams shattered the heavy silence, her voice raw and ragged as she fought against her restraints, her grief and rage spilling out unchecked.
Price didn't spare her a second glance, moving past her as he focused on the task at hand. His attention zeroed in on the door ahead, where he could hear the muffled sound of a man whispering, the metallic clink of a weapon being readied echoing through the room.
"C'mon, I'm ready for ya… C'mon…!" the man muttered, the tension in his voice betraying his frantic resolve.
"Wait… He's readying his weapon!" Hetaro shouted, his eyes widening in alarm.
"Back off, old man!" Garfiel added urgently, his muscles tensing as if ready to leap into action himself.
"Relax. He's got this." Ricardo grinned confidently, his posture relaxed as if he had complete faith in Price's abilities.
"Oh dear…" Frederica felt a cold sweat trickle down her back. She instinctively pulled Petra closer, ready to shield her if things took a dangerous turn.
The theater watched with bated breath, caught in the gripping uncertainty of the moment, each heartbeat echoing the urgency and danger unfolding on the screen.
Price reached for the doorknob, twisting it open before quickly stepping back, anticipating the worst.
"SOD OFF!" the man inside screamed, panic lacing his voice as he unloaded his pistol through the doorway, bullets ripping through the wood and plaster. When the gunfire ceased, Price stepped in with measured calm, his aim true. He fired multiple times, each shot finding its mark in the man's torso and head. The threat was neutralized in seconds.
Gasps of relief and a few sighs of satisfaction rippled through the theater. Garfiel, Ricardo, and Hetaro shared a look of vindication, their tension easing now that the danger had passed.
"PHEEEEEEEW!" Otto let out a long breath, a hand clutched to his chest. "Yeah, alright, he knows what he is doing…" His voice was tinged with a mix of relief and lingering anxiety.
"This is a bit too nerve-wracking, isn't it…?" Felix shuddered, his ears flattening against his head as he tried to steady his breathing. The intensity of the scene had left him visibly shaken.
"I was wondering the same," Julius agreed, exhaling deeply and rubbing his forehead. "No matter how many of these viewings we witness… the sheer speed at which a life can end in this world is… jarring."
"It's up to the one who's smarter," Al commented from his seat, leaning back with an almost casual air. "Experience counts for a lot." His tone was deceptively calm, but the gravity of his words wasn't lost on anyone.
"And you might never gain it if you're unlucky…" Tivey pondered aloud, his brow furrowing as he processed the randomness of the violence. "Training is one thing, but I can't imagine training for years only for your life to end in an instant from one of these 'bullets.'" His voice trailed off, heavy with the weight of the realization.
The room fell into a contemplative silence, each person reflecting on the fragility of life and the brutal reality of the world they were glimpsing. The randomness of fate and the cruelty of the battlefield loomed large in their minds, a stark reminder of how quickly things could change.
Price glanced back at Alpha three, who stood over the crying woman now tied up at his feet, and nodded to him in silent acknowledgment.
"All teams, we've got the first floor secured. Three hostiles down, one restrained," Alpha three reported into the radio. Price followed him to the stairs, where Bravo two and three waited with Alpha one, all poised and ready.
"Copy. Charlie one and two on the move to secure," another team responded over the radio, their voices crisp and alert.
"Alpha one taking point, moving to the second floor," the lead operator called out.
Price, now at the end of the column, carefully watched over the shoulder of the operator in front as they ascended the stairs, each step deliberate and cautious.
"So they're going through each floor like this until everything is safe," Crusch observed, though a frown creased her forehead. "...Wouldn't such a strategy ultimately be flawed?"
"How so, Crusch-sama?" Wilhelm inquired, his voice calm but curious.
"It's one thing to take the enemy by surprise, but once that element is gone, the enemy will be more prepared," Crusch explained thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed the unfolding tactics. "There's only one way in and out—the stairs. As they clear each floor, they're inadvertently alerting those above them, making it more likely the remaining enemies will be ready."
"I must admit, this is a meticulous observation, Crusch-sama," Wilhelm responded, a hint of admiration in his tone. "Indeed. They're pushing themselves further into a corner."
"They're unintentionally signaling the enemies to adapt," Hetaro added, his face paling as he realized the implications. "Oh no… they might have put themselves in a dangerous position."
"Yeah, Karsten-sama is right," Ricardo agreed, clacking his tongue in disapproval. "This is getting riskier by the minute."
"Why didn't they plan another way to get in? It doesn't make sense!" Otto vented, frustration spilling over as he gestured emphatically. "They've got those flying carriages and ladders—why stick to the stairs inside?!"
"It might be to avoid alarming the public… They're still in a civilian area," Reinhard offered, recalling the beginning of the viewing. "I believe they're trying to be as discreet as possible."
"Isn't it a bit wasted with all the loud gunfire, though?" Felt questioned, raising an eyebrow at Reinhard. "Well… maybe it's not as loud outside, but still…"
"I don't suppose that was very smart, then," Anastasia continued, picking up on Felt's skepticism. "They're risking their lives to avoid a commotion that's likely unavoidable at this point."
Murmurs of agreement filled the room as the viewers mulled over the tactical flaws. The strategy, once appearing methodical, now seemed fraught with peril, and the tension in the theater rose as they collectively pondered the consequences of the team's decisions. The unfolding scene weighed heavily on everyone, a stark reminder of the thin line between calculated risk and outright danger.
Everything was quiet this time, a stillness that none of the operators liked. As soon as they reached the second floor, Alpha one and Bravo three moved swiftly to the first door, which opened into an empty bathroom. The unease among the team grew with every passing second.
"This is too calm…!" Garfiel growled under his breath, his senses on high alert. "I don't like this…"
"Yeah, me neither…" Otto echoed, his uneasiness matching Garfiel's. The quiet felt wrong, like the calm before a storm