Brightfield Town
Morning sunlight spilled over Brightfield's cobblestone road, making the entire street look warm and harmless—exactly the kind of place where nothing bad should ever happen. Which, naturally, made it the perfect battlefield for Bella's child-squad.
Two of her little operatives skipped down the road and stopped in front of the butcher shop, giggling as they played catch with a small wooden ball.
"Kyaaaahahahaha!" they laughed, loud and adorable, the purest distraction nature could produce.
Inside the shop, the butcher lifted his head from a giant slab of pork. The man, burly and rough around the edges, melted instantly the moment he saw the kids outside.
"Cute little things…" he murmured with a warm smile.
Reconnaissance data: The butcher has a fatal soft spot for children.
He returned to chopping meat while listening to their laughter echo through his quiet morning. A perfect day. Peaceful. Predictable.
Until—
CRAAAAAASH!
"WAAAAAAAH!"
The butcher jolted, nearly slicing his own thumb. A clay pot shattered outside, followed by a cry so raw and terrified it ripped right through his ribs.
He dashed out of the shop.
One child sat on the ground sobbing, a broken pot beside him. Another child lay motionless, "blood" pooling beneath her small body.
The butcher's face went white.
"A-are you hurt!? What happened!?" he shouted, heart pounding.
"WAAAAAHHH…" the crying child wailed, clutching the "injured" girl.
The butcher looked up.
A severed rope dangled from a balcony—the pot must've fallen. A freak accident. He's too panic to realize the crayon X-mark on the ground.
"Don't worry, child," he said, scooping the limp girl into his arms. "We'll bring her to the healer right away!"
The crying child sniffed and nodded, following him with perfect pathetic sincerity.
He sprinted toward the healer's clinic with the girl dripping what he believed was blood.
Grape juice. Thick, dark red, and very convincing grape juice.
Too bad the healer wasn't there—currently traveling to another village after being summoned by a fake "emergency patient," courtesy of the Misfit Party's planning board.
From an attic window overlooking the road, Bella lowered her silenced MP5, barrel still faintly warm. The rope she had shot clean through dangled in the wind.
She grinned.
"Team Two, you are green. Move to extraction," she whispered into her earpiece.
Right on cue, a wooden cart rolled around the corner, pulled by a disciplined fourteen-year-old with the posture of someone who'd survived too many of Irving's drills.
The second the cart stopped, a wave of children spilled out.
The older kids jumped out and immediately began loading meat into the cart. The smaller ones spread out and innocently played near the street—forming a "natural barrier" to keep any passerby from approaching too closely.
"Maintain rhythm, Bravo. Ten minutes max," Irving's voice crackled through comms.
The heist—difficulty rating: "Easy"—was going exactly as planned.
---
Fairview Town
Inside the tavern, the owner cleaned glassware in preparation for the busier evening hours. At this hour, visitors were few.
Quiet day. A few hours before the dinner rush. Nothing strange.
Then the door slammed open.
An adorable child stood in the entryway.
"Huh? What is it, kid?" the owner asked, scratching his beard. "Looking for someone?"
"Mister… is this the place where grown-ups can forget their sadness?" the child asked innocently.
The tavern owner blinked.
"I… guess? Usually, yeah." the owner replied hesitantly.
The kid dashed out without another word—only to return seconds later dragging an adult man by the arm, helped by two other children. The man looked thoroughly broken, eyes wet, expression hollow.
They shoved him into a chair.
"Father! We are in the tavern now!" one child cried, eyes brimming.
"Yes!" another wailed. "Now you can stop being sad!"
The tavern owner froze.
"What… exactly is happening here?"
"Father is sad because of Mother," one boy whispered.
"Mother left us because Father is poor," the girl said, tears flowing.
"So Father works three jobs to get more money," another added, voice shaking.
"But now Mother is with a rich man," all three said together, perfectly rehearsed.
A long silence.
The tavern owner's face slowly darkened.
"Say no more," the owner growled.
Reconnaissance data: The tavern owner has survived two catastrophic divorces.
He slammed the biggest mug of ale on the table so hard it foamed over.
"Kids, go play outside for a couple hours," he commanded. "Uncle is gonna help your father forget his sadness."
The children quietly nodded and marched out.
But they didn't play.
They circled the building and regrouped with another squad behind the tavern.
A wagon loaded with empty barrels and a hand-pump waited.
Half the kids snuck through the back door, descending into the cellar with coiled hoses. They tapped a barrel, gave an OK sign, and the pump crew began siphoning alcohol at a steady, silent pace.
"Very good, Team Alpha," Irving whispered through the comm. "Maintain noise discipline. Slow and steady."
The heist—difficulty rating: "Medium"—was progressing flawlessly.
---
Rockdale Town
In the quaint jewelry store of Rockdale, the owner examined a diamond through his loupe, humming.
The bell above the door rang.
And then—
"OOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!"
Sunlight burst into the shop. Or maybe that was the vision of a girl stepping inside wearing an impossibly delicate dress, heels clicking, posture dripping with arrogance.
He squinted at the sudden burst of light—
Elegant dress.
High-pitched laughter.
A maid behind her carrying boxes.
"Let's see what a simple little backwater shop can even offer me."
And an effortlessly arrogant tone.
The jeweler's spine snapped straight. Decades of experience screamed into his brain:
Noble lady. EXPENSIVE noble lady. BUYING noble lady.
He bowed so fast he nearly kissed the floor.
"WELCOME, OJOU-SAMA! TO THIS HUMBLE ESTABLISHMENT!"
Robert—playing the role of a spoiled noble girl—flicked his fan open.
"Oho? At least someone here understands proper manners."
Reconnaissance data: Store owner is a world-class butt-kisser.
"Please, my lady, how may I assist you?" the owner said, rubbing his hands together.
"Hmph. You tell me what this shop can offer," Robert said.
The owner presented a ruby necklace with trembling reverence.
"How about this?" The owner presented a ruby necklace. "A high-quality Maiden's Tear ruby from—"
"Boring," Robert said."I'LL TAKE IT."
Delighted, the owner hurried to show the next item.
"Very good, Robert," Ivy whispered through the comm. "Stick to the script. You're doing great."
"This pair of earrings, my lady—"
"I'll take those too."
One by one, the items accumulated in a neat line across the counter.
"Robert, go to act 2" Ivy said, "Fat lady is en route, ETA 3 minute"
Then Robert pointed at a pink box on the wall shelf.
"What about that one?"
The jeweler froze.
"Ah, that is… a custom order for another customer, my lady."
A words that Robert had been waiting.
Robert narrowed his eyes.
"I want to see it."
The jeweler hesitated, sweating.
"W-Well, I suppose it can't hurt just to look…"
He opened the box.
A tiara. A ridiculously gaudy, glittering tiara.
"OOOH I WANT IT!" Robert declared.
"I-I am sorry, my lady, but this one—"
"I SAID. I WANT. IT."
Robert's glare could melt lead. "Or I cancel everything today."
Before the owner could answer—
The door burst open.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? O~HOHOHOHOHOHO!"
Another noblewoman marched in—beautiful dress, fan, maid, aura of entitlement, everything.
The store owner went pale.
"C-COUNTESS! WELCOME!"
"Owner," she hissed, "are you trying to sell MY order to someone else?"
"N-NO!" cried the shopkeeper.
"YES," Robert immediately answered.
Both noblewomen snapped their fans open, glaring at each other over the edges.
"And who exactly are 'you', dear?" the countess demanded.
Robert countered, "I am the daughter of Count Von Schmucker!"
The countess narrowed her eyes.
"Strange. I've never seen you at any ball."
"Maybe you only attend the… lower-class ones?" Robert replies coldly
"Are you sure its not the other way around?" the countess replies with equal cold.
The temperature dropped.
Snob-war ignited.
The jeweler panicked, sweating buckets.
While the two "nobles" traded elegant venom behind their fans, Sister Catherine silently slid every already-selected item off the counter and into the subspace bag tucked under her cloak, lended by the misfit.
With expert nun-level stealth.
After exactly sixty seconds, she approached Robert.
"Ehm, My lady," she whispered, "you are expected for lunch with the count."
"Hmph. Very well. My shopping mood is ruined anyway," Robert pouted.
"Young lady, what about your pur—" the jeweler began.
"I shall return tomorrow," Robert said coldly, "Hopefully without such inconveniences."
He shot a glare at the Countess, who shot one back.
Then Robert and Sister Catherine stepped outside.
As soon as the door closed, their elegant noble walk instantly transformed into a rapid speed-walk
A second later:
"THIIIIIIEEEFFFFF!!"
The jeweler's voice exploded through town.
Ivy watched through her drone.
"Team Two, Team One is heading your way. Standby."
Ivy, monitoring miles away with her drone, dropped a decoy jewelry in the opposite direction of Robert's escape route.
Team Two—children waiting in the alley—helped with quick outfit swaps. Catherine shed her maid outfit, returning to nun form, while Robert's wig, dress, and makeup came off, revealing an annoyingly smug teenage boy.
They split into two escape groups.
"Charlie Team has the goods and is exfiltrating," Ivy confirmed.
The heist—difficulty rating: "Expert"—Also flawless.
---
Command Post
Irving monitored several screens at once, eyes sharp, fingers tapping rhythmically.
Every team moving.
Every signal clean.
Not a single town guard stirred in suspicion.
He looked to Bella's team.
Then to Kovalski.
Then to Ivy.
"Copy, Charlie. Keep an eye out until they're all clear," he said calmly.
The demon kept a commander's expression for precisely six seconds.
Then—
"Kukukuku…"
His grin widened.
"YEAAAAAAAAAAH! HAHAHAHAHA!"
The entire command tent rattled with his victorious cackle.
Another day, another perfectly executed three-town, multi-stage, cross-disciplinary, morally questionable, highly illegal, absolutely adorable orphan-military heist.
Life was good.
---
Brightfield Town, Exfil
Back at Brightfield, the butcher pounded on the healer's clinic door in desperation.
The building remained silent.
Meanwhile, behind him, the "injured" child quietly sat up, dusted herself off, and walked away with her partner.
Bella's voice came through the comms:
"Bravo, remember—exit the town through separate gates. And do NOT go straight home."
The kids split and vanished into the town's back streets.
---
Fairview, Exfil
The siphoning crew rolled up the hose and scattered. One kid slipped behind the bar counter and signaled Kovalski in silence.
Kovalski sniffled dramatically.
"Master… thank you," he whispered to the tavern owner.
"You're done already?" the owner said. "Most men need more mugs to get over heartbreak."
"I can't. My children need me," Kovalski said with trembling resolve. "And like you said… there are plenty of fish in the lake. I just have to find the right one. For me! And my children!"
The tavern owner's heart shattered on the spot.
He pulled Kovalski into a tight brotherly hug.
"Go," he said softly. "Be strong."
Once outside, Kovalski switched immediately back to his professional tone.
"Command, Alpha Team exfiltrating."
---
Rockdale, Exfil
Ivy watched her drone feed while keep grinning.
Team Charlie was already blending into the crowd.
Sister Catherine's group had turned down a side street.
Robert's group had vanished entirely—teenagers were built for stealth once they weren't wearing dresses.
"Command, all Charlie sub-teams clear," Ivy reported.
---
Command Center
Irving watched every child leave their respective towns. Only when the last child passed the outer boundary did he lean back.
"Alright, everyone regroup at home base after sundown," he ordered.
"Roger," Ivy replied.
"Roger," Kovalski echoed.
"Roger roger," Bella added for no reason.
Irving exhaled in victory. Another mission complete.
Zero casualties.
Three towns cleaned out.
And nobody suspected a thing—not even for a moment.
The only trace left behind?
Confusion.
Broken hearts.
And a dozen adults wondering if they just witnessed the saddest, cutest, weirdest day of their lives.
Irving let out a satisfied sigh.
He raised the kids well.