Armed and Fandomizing

My Rose, My Bud

All the Hetalian Generals were taken by storm with this new information. The location of General Eastern USA and General Western Russia has been confirmed and the last of the 2p Hetalians have just been rounded up. All except for London, England, which has now becomingly obvious where the HQ is. All the capital-bearing Generals have come to London. Alice had become some temperate leader to the other Generals, just to help guide them along.

Tori burst into Alice's makeshift office, where everyone had gathered, "Anya! You know where-?!"

"Calm yourself, Eastern Lithuania," said a new general that no one seemed to recognize, "Please, have a seat," she patted the spot next to her. Tori reluctantly sat down.

"Thank you for coming by," Alice greeted promptly, "I am sure that you are the Global Generals, aside from...you, General Eastern Lithuania."

"Y-Yes," Tori murmured, but then glanced at the young girl from earlier, "But what about this general?"

"Ah," Alice's face faltered a little before picking back up, "how about you introduce yourself."

The young general stood up from her seat, her face indifferent and unfazed, "I am General Midwest USA, standing in for General Eastern USA."

"You look like mighty young to be a general," whistled General Southern Prussia, in his German accent.

"I am fourteen," she said deadpanned, making most of the generals a little surprised. Yes, all the generals were typically under the age of 30, specifically teenagers or young adults, but this one was just starting high school. Presumably, schooling had been held off due to the war.

General Midwest USA was definitely the shortest, underneath 5 foot, but gave off an air of knowledge. She was tanned with brown eyes and straight black hair, a picture of utter mundane. This girl had a quick way of speech, a curious but tired stare, and hidden bandaging on her right wrist that Tori just now realized. This little child has seen things. Stuff had happened and chances are, she doesn't want to talk about it.

The young, American general pushed up her glasses, "I am new," she admits, casting her eyes away for a second, "I've been brought to this post by my older sister who got brutally injured by falling debris. I used to be a regular Hetalian under her group and now she just drops this title...on me," Tori notices how her voice skitters like that in the end.

Everyone shutters at that, momentarily breathing relief at the news. Her sister isn't a casualty. There had been no casualties, yet, thank God. How are they doing this?

Alice nodded, "So I've...been told," she opened up her pocket journal of registered Hetalians, "CJ, right?" she eyed the name on the page, confusingly.

"That's correct," she answered.

The British woman squinted at her. CJ wasn't a common name, but when it was used, it mostly was for addressing males, as far as she knew since there was only a handful of CJs she knew. Which, as said before, were all male. Now she couldn't help but see and hear CJ's boyish features, "Forgive me for sounding unsure," Alice apologized.

"I get that a lot," CJ said indifferently.

"So," Alice closed her book, "All of you have been filled in with the situation here?" this had gotten serious.

"Of course," everyone chorused.

"Now, all of you have been assigned a partner to scout with," Alice started listing off generals to other generals, reaching the bottom of the list, "General Eastern Lithuania with General Midwest USA."

"What?" Tori abruptly squeaked.

CJ turned her head toward Tori, "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Ah, oh, of course not, it's just..." Tori tittered off, "You're just a little scary for a fourteen-year-old girl."

The young girl tilted her head to the side a touch, "Am I that intimidating to you?"

"Wha-?" Tori looked shocked as they walked down the hall and out the door to the London streets, "How did...how did..."

"You're very expressive," CJ commented, "It's not hard to read you."

"Oh, am I?" Tori chuckled, "Haha, Anya used to...say...that..."

"...West Rush?" CJ offers, Tori doesn't say anything, "Oh, I've heard of her."

"Who hasn't?" Tori gave a little smile, "She's the most popular general next to Amelia."

"Yeah," CJ said listlessly, gazing at the snow drifting down.

~~~~~

Anya was astounded by the knowledge of the Palace this woman had. They were reaching the end of the history, she had noted. Finally. They had run into a couple groups, but nothing Anya's magic metal pipe of pain couldn't handle. Oh, she didn't kill them, of course.

"End of the history?" Anya questioned.

"When the 'ole frick jus' burn down," the woman gives off a chortle.

"Ah, finally," the Russian general breathed in relief, "Wait, what? Burned down?"

"Stupid idea o' usin' tally sticks that caught on fire," she coughed, "y'know for the accountin' stuff under the Exchequer."

"Ah, didn't the Exchequer had anything to do with that last scene, where we were attacked?" Anya sighed, laughing to herself.

"Meh," she faintly smiled, feeling dreadfully tired. Anya hadn't let go of her the whole way, never noticed her weight. She wondered if she had really become this light.

A thought popped into her head, "Anya," she whispered, her eyelids drooping.

"You can rest, now, Kalinka," Anya shushed, "I have many great friends outside this heck-hole that have warm beds to sleep in, nice, hot food and drink."

Another thought sped past the other one, "Kalinka..." she murmured, not in question.

The Russian general laughed, adrenaline-hyped, slowly watching the door ahead of them get closer in her perspective, "Da, comrade," her walking sped up, "Kalinka. Or as Helena was calling it earlier, 'Kalika', which is actually more fitting, because that word means 'Rosebud'. And that's lit because even though I just think you're American, can't believe France took the freaking iris, I know you're my bud," her speedwalking transformed into sprinting and happy tears that plipped on the woman's face.

"Why," Anya heard, "Why are you down here...?"

Her running slowed. And for the first time, Anya started to feel a little heaviness in the mystery person's weight. She spoke with guilt-ridden in her voice, "I was...looking for a comrade of mine."

"...another comrade?" her voice cracked in her usual pain, but this time with caution.

"Da," Anya smiled sadly, "I do not believe that she survived anymore. The fact that I've lost such belief makes me even more miserable," the tears from Anya's eyes had become saltier to the woman in the general's arms, "You should've met her. But, Nyet, she was nowhere to be found. Not even in the cells, she was marked in. All that was left was her glasses, star hair clips, some hair, and blood," her lip quivered, the once strong smile fading as they approach the door, "so much of it."

Blood and tears trailed out of the stranger's eyes, her face unable to crumble in vivid emotion, "You..."