The worlds 2nd Department: Valorie Division.
I always like to think of them as the spec op guys. Of course that's not their main job. It's everything.
Cuz yes.
Though there were a few… "mistakes" along the way, it was well worth it for them to bloom.
From The Twelve who created the foundation after the 2nd department was made in earnest, to the people who roam now.
…For some reason The Hunted show up incessantly.
Not bad but also.
This level of contact is far more compared to other departments?
Though there are some things I must clarify. (er while I write this)
Everyone has a story.
Can't say no.
Also, it's a given but they also have strange people.
But like that's all sectors of the pyramid so…
Despite such…. Things I still love everything.
Even if they took all the fun stuff. (Im joking)
I'm lying of course. (Or am I?)
Then there's the people.
The Twelve do their own thing.
The members, whether fresh wing or ash burned wing, I mean.
The department is old.
But it's not that old.
That goes to the guys that keep showing up at the arena.
Anyways, I want to focus on a few people for this part.
(Gotta keep consistency)
Salder [Aeternos] Dentra.
SAD man once had a lobotomy with another soul… blah blah blah Academy blah blah blah, is inherent to Val.
Zanert Michelin.
I quite like his personality. It has in no way due to it being similar in mindset. No. Not at all. Some scars leftover by his father and his fanaticism.
Technically I only need 4 people but like. The more the merrier so.
Irin Delumis.
One of the older members who came right around the 2nd-3rd generation of Valorie Division. Mainly worked solo until Zanert transferred. A fine connoisseur in speech.
Val███ ███.
She can't and won't remember her full name. Involved in every single "Mistake". A vessel. The flaws of the world and sentience are all in her. ███ Tragedy ███ ████ for ███. All I can say is ████ ███ █████ ██ ███████. I ██████ ██ ██ if they themselves do not █████ ███████. ██████ ███ █████ go away. It's impossible. Even with who I am, I still cling to old beliefs from when I was just an idiotic child. Waiting for the next update, waiting for the next chapter. She does more than me. I see that. I see a piece inside her.
I, ████, ████ ███████ ███ ████ ███████████.
She is the protagonist of her own story.
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"Hey ho! helloeverybodyit'syafavoriteKrisolosmoloscis! Here with my assistant Kelseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet quartet!!!"
The Assistant is at this point having strange thoughts about this consistency.
"I made it funner than last time! Uh, cue the rollers."
With that, quiet grumbles from a recently shattered door that's now not even a door, walked in single file.
{Sad you sold you're soul – the guy next to me 5 minutes ago}
…And that sign written by the Assistant.
"Re–! W-Wh– uh, where…"
"..." the Assistant just slowly looked to their left.
Then just returned to staring at the contestants for today.
Suddenly the lights went out.
At the same time four circular lights emerged in this sharp darkness. Basking in red.
The red light illuminating from the spot where The Host was, became bright enough to show a grin in the dark.
Then the lights turned again.
"Told ya! It's funner than before!"
"Damn…"
"Twenty people! One grand mission!" The Host shoddily waved their handgun coloured in gold and black at those who just entered.
Quick rundown description.
{Wow where did you get that}
The Host had one leg on the colourful desk and the other on the chair, bouncing lightly. The black gun with a drum mag bobbing in their right hand facing up.
The left hand pointing with the same handgun that was just a revolver that could obliterate entire limbs.
Their dark eyes covered by the night vision goggles worn by Valorie Division as a whole.
"I WANNA SEE THE WORLD BURN!!!!!!!!!!!! Innit?" The Host stretched Their arms out as if flying.
The deep end was reached a long time ago.
"Today's dance and song was decided, with a side of salt of course. But before that! Question, question, question!! Gotta maintain consistency. Ya know the drill."
They spun the revolver and it left Their hand, soaring straight up.
Snapping Their fingers.
In quick succession, They grabbed it flawlessly.
"Since I'm feeling lucky, the amount'll be random."
The audience felt intimidation rather than curiosity.
"Ey, while they at it, sit."
"Yes sir!"
"Waaait not enough seats… gimme a sec."
Magically two couches appeared. Long enough to hold all of them.
"Eurgh I have to sit with these people?"
"Throw him to the floor!"
"The floor?!"
"Down with the naysayers!"
"Fuck you guys you all smell anyways!!!"
…Childish.
Though that's nothing compared to–
"Hush."
"Hear me now."
"I haveth cometh!! Uh, so like, thanks for comin. And in a lil bit I shall explain."
"Yuh."
…Just ramblings from a guy in cosplay.
"I have a question." the man(?) raised his hand. "Specifically why twenty?"
"Ahaha… so you sad man… it's a conspiracy! Against me..! And th– I can't." The Host chuckled while looking away.
{His brain is in his ass.}
"Erm, so like I had a great idea."
{He didnt}
"I thought, what if, we had more people than before! And who did I think when I thought of groups?"
{He wanted to fuck you over.}
Some faces sitting constantly changed with both the chatter of The Host explaining horribly why, and the Assistant's ever changing sign.
"And that's why!"
"..."
…Like before, The Host is a terrible explainer.
"Also my eyes are hurting."
Surely it must be blinding for something that's used in the dark. Not in a place covered in fluorescent lights.
That smile never left The Host's face.
"Uh…"
"Alright!" The Host clapped their hands.
The papers of moderate thickness returned to The Host's side without warning.
Startling some of the audience.
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell!!!!!!! Since it's more, we gotta have more! Ten to twelve questions or so. YEP!!!!!! Ya heard that right!"
Those just sitting next to each other gave each other glances.
A certain glance that was in the range of disbelieving.
{He's lying.}
"Put that down."
The Assistant looked at the sign that was now ripped from their hands.
The face (specifically the mouth) of The Host visibly soured as the Assistant did hand signs.
…That no one but The Host understood.
"I don't even wanna say anything. But I will!" an exaggerated 'huff!' with crossed arms.
As that was being said, the questions were being organized.
By who?
They, who aptly and always named themselves ████.
Such is the dichotomy of The Host.
A never ending spring of hypocrisy.
One in which all they grab ceases to fall–
"Now now now. Let's not be hasty."
"It's time for–! Where's the drumroll."
{We don't have that}
"You're reading this." The Host shoved a pile of papers in the Assistants face.
{Uh no}
In everyone's minds, that sign must be written at light speed in the Assistants hands.
"Bah. Val!"
"She can't speak." SAD man spoke.
"Bull to my arse, which involves twelve coal miners."
{You're unfunny.}
"I don't wanna hear from missy special here!"
The Host wildly planted the barrel of the black gun at the Assistants head.
{I'm sowwy}
"Disgoostang."
The Host lazily set their eyes (that can't be seen) on the bundle of papers. Sighing.
Numero uno.
"What is valkyrie separated? You."
"Oh. Uh. 'The people without talent' who…."
"You. Tell me."
{When are you gonna stop bashing my head in with this gun}
"Neva."
"Wide range of things we do. Mainly a force to suppress."
"Suuureeee that works."
Numero dos.
"Who are these people? Say your names~!"
Not at all coercion in The Host's hand pointing toward them.
"First name only. Doxxing can be a pain later."
"Felin!"
"Mina!"
"Salder…"
"Inso!"
"Werel!"
"Canri!"
"Yulon!"
"Geis!"
"Macha!"
"Asti!"
"Pulch!"
"Your mother must've not loved you."
"Shaddap!"
"Gisk!"
"Irin!"
"Zanert baby!"
Someone shoved their elbow into his ribcage, promptly a loud 'tsk' echoed.
"Uiel!"
"Widec!"
"Bennett!!"
"Slate!"
"Harp!"
And with that, all their names.
"Im gonna shoot myself."
The Host breathed in.
"Heeeeeeeeeeey Vaaaaaaaaalllllllllll!!!!!! Where's your, vooiiiiiccceeeeee~!"
Frantically, Val's eyes scampered side to side with an extremely strained smile.
"Ah-kay I'm done…"
Numero tres.
"Who's ya boss!"
They all looked at The Host.
"Where did that question… it's redundant…."
"Hey! That might hurt someone's feelings!"
Numero quatro.
"What is the equipamont used in the battle of Cantalupa!"
The Host looked at the question. With a wide smile.
"Wow, someone remembered."
"Now give a general statement!"
"Gun."
"Fair enough."
Numero cinco.
"Oh for me?! Dearie me!"
The Assistant wanted to see what's on it.
"Well this is the T250 blah blah blah, and this is my personal revolver! It's totally not from a game that was a reference to another game! It doesn't have a name."
The Host fiddled with the goggles.
"V.S.G. Valorie Searcher Goggles! Special stuff they do."
Numero seis.
"..."
The Host lost that smile.
They looked and looked.
Numero siete.
Numero ocho.
Numero Nueve.
Numero diez.
Numero once.
"Gotta hand to yall."
"Ain't got people who ask these."
"Who was involved in Cantalupa? What does Valorie Division adhere to? What was the goal for Valorie Division? Where was Valorie Division? The structure of Valorie Department? Diversity?"
{It's face value or not I guess}
"Pssssssh! How should I know?" the smile came back.
Numero dose.
"What's your game? Gracismo! Hey hey! Pick one!"
The host pointed to Val.
"Pick one!"
Now the moment of magic.
"Take yer time~! Make no small sweat wash down rationality!"
Val had a choice.
Between the card of the arrow pointing to the left or the one pointing up.
"...e…"
"So soft. But you chose– eh?"
The host's face stiffened.
They dropped the cards and grabbed the gilded gun. Then pointed it towards their temple.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU–"
{Wow it hurts}
"HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IS GOD SCREWING ME OVER!?!?! GOD DAMMIT I HATE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—! Ahem."
The assistant stared at the Host.
"What are you looking at?"
At that point the Assistant was sure.