A/N: As a pre-warning to people, this serves mostly as a character introduction. I swear that next chapter there will be more blood, gore, action, and violence. Speaking of which, I'm afraid Rin, who does most of the writing will be unable to do so for 2 weeks or about so please be patient until then.

A Girl, a Flashback, and The Colonel Facing The General's Disapproval (Chapter One)

November 5, 2012

Tear after tear, the surgeons relentlessly operated on her eyes – blood accumulated around her head with yet even more floods to come, she didn't think it would stop. It was as though the surgeons were merely trying to destroy as much of her eyes as possible, mauling them, ripping them apart tear by tear. Having lost her eyesight only a few minutes into the surgery her other four senses were more acute, the surgeons mumbled on asking for various cutting tools, suction, and orders to "Hold the girl down!" She had to endure the unbearable pain and get through the surgery; her foregoing grey eyes were not good enough for what was ahead. Her body gave in, all sound faded, and she blacked out.

She opened her eyes to find herself in an office which she immediately recognized to be Clarissa's, who stood beside of her. In this very room, she had explained to the child why she needed those eyes: They were both better in the dark and allowed her to focus far more than any human being would ever be able to. They went to such an extent as preserving the eyes of a fallen Wolf just for this experiment; she really had no choice in the matter. Clarissa hardly moved, merely tapping her foot waiting for any potential orders that could be hurled her way.

The young girls head turned ever so slightly to look at the woman, brushing her fringe out her line of view. Chilling. Such an intense aura. The way she just looked straight ahead, like an animal waiting for her prey, getting slightly harder with every tap. She was truly scared of Clarissa. Suddenly, the woman's head turned, those fiery hazel eyes glared into her own, making her bolt back into position; looking straight ahead, as though she stood at attention. Clarissa looked a lot younger than she actually was, with those looks she could be mistaken for someone 16 or 17 years old, perhaps even younger. The intimidation was unbearable, leaving the young girl almost shaking.

"Is the surgery really necessary?" the girl asked, a slight tremble accompanying her voice. The memory of this conversation was mostly clear to Wolfhound, although some parts were still broken or missing.

"Of course it is," Clarissa stated, "you don't want to end up a complete failure like your father, do you?" She shot a glare at Wolfhound, trying to will her into submission just by using those powerful eyes. Despite Clarissa's age, she was the one in charge. She had all the power, being the ruler of the United States Empire. The necessity of the surgery overruled anything anyone had to say, she had no choice but to go ahead with it.

"Yes ma'am." The girl replied, lowering her head in defeat.

Almost as quickly as she entered this memory, she began to leave; everything started to blur and fade away only to collapse into darkness. The attempt to open her eyes was thwarted by the bandages covering them. How stupid, of course I'd be bandaged, she thought to herself.

A door creaked open on the other side of the room, which she immediately turns to – she did not want to deal with anyone right now, even if it was a doctor. The man spoke out of the blue; however the words were dismissed almost immediately by Wolfhound. One of the only things she picked up from what the man had said was the fact he had a very familiar accent, one that brought her back to the days she spent with her Uncle. This accent she's only ever heard once before, from the old films her Uncle used to play for her and her cousins while she still lived with them. She thinks he asked her how she was doing, but she had never replied. He sighed. Assuming he had read her files, he should know she doesn't talk much to anyone – let alone strangers. The man sighed deeply once more, and left the room.

This wasn't the first time she's been in surgery. In the past, she noticed how doctors tend to have similar patterns to how they go about their duties: They come in, ask questions, and then examine you to check if anything is out of the ordinary.

'Odd', she thinks to herself, 'he didn't even examine me like he should have'.

June 16, 2017

Yawning, the Colonel reflects upon his last mission – fighting that anonymous Soviet Dog wasn't too much hard work, however he had managed to at least tear up his uniform a bit. Waiting for his sister in this drab room wasn't helping the fact he hadn't slept in three days thanks to the mission, let alone the colors. He had absolutely nothing to do to occupy himself – there wasn't even a single window. It felt like an interrogation room more than anything else.

With a slight creak, the door opened, to reveal his sister; the person he had been waiting for. This meeting was no more than usual, the Colonel needed to file a report to the General, his sister. Looking him head to toe, disbelief written all over her face, she gave him a glare of disproval, making the Colonel snicker under his breath; just loud enough for her to hear.

"What?" he asked rhetorically, "It's not like I meant to ruin it!" His sister is a stickler for orderly, proper, impeccable uniform which is what prompted such a reply – after every mission, he gets lectured at how he should take more care of his uniform, which is extremely hard when you're risking your life every day.

Being a mute, she almost always spoke through her body language. Thanks to the fact he had known her all his life; he could make out what she wanted to say just by checking her body language. The slanted lip and narrowed eyes explained it all, she wasn't at all pleased. She rolled her eyes half heartedly and went back to staring at him, awaiting a reply.

"I do not lack tact" he stated matter-of-factly.

The clipboard in her hand soon became a weapon, throwing it like a Frisbee towards the Colonels head, who narrowly dodged it by lowering his head slightly. Obviously, by this she meant 'Go get yourself cleaned up or I'll make you wish you were never born'. Waiting for a minute to leave, wanting to avoid any further run-ins with her, he swiftly left the room.

Making his way down the hallway, voices coming up from the other side of the hall caught his attention:

"And that is why all women should be required to wear the standard uniform." Said the girl who fiddled with her glasses.

Oh, great, another woman who's a stickler for orderly uniform – just what he needed right now. The other girl stops and faces her with a panic stricken face – her eyes hidden behind her bangs, arms pressed against her chest.

"B-but, Kuroi, if I do that then people will be able to see up my skirt!"

"Of course!" she grabbed the other girls by her cheeks, stretching them in a minor attempt to hurt her. "That's the point, not only does it distract the enemy but it's also your duty as a woma-"she paused. She had noticed the Colonel who turned to face her quite a while before.

"Colonel!" she saluted him, "I didn't realize you were standing there, my deepest apologies." He despised people saluting him, annoying him to the point of lashing out.

Saying nothing, he simply continued staring back at them, his eyes darting from girl to girl. He knew both of them, of course, it was Kuroi and Wolfhound. He had never really much cared for Kuroi for instances such as these, whereas the other, little meek one was always a treat to see – at least she remembered previous orders, like not saluting him for example.

He sighed and continued off down the hallway, staying just long enough to hear Kuroi breathe a sigh of relief; probably because of the fact she couldn't stand his uniform, keeping it quiet incase she spoke out of line. Shortly after, he heard her mumbling angrily to Wolfhound – probably for not saluting.

As much as he loved killing people, he also had a love for relaxing as well, especially after a long mission. Everything had been extremely calm since his last mission, which put him in an even greater mood, with an even bigger urge to get to his room. Picking up the pace slightly, he fantasized about the food he'd have, the first food for three days, the first good nights sleep for three days, on his own, comfortable mattress. After breaking into a sprint, all his fantasies and dreams came shattering down on him like glass, as though laughing in his face with every scratch and cut.

Dread overcame him. Mano, his team member, stood before him hammering on his door calling out his name. What did this mean? This meant he had yet another mission to go on, not on his own, but with his highly despised team. Quite frankly, he hated them. One was an annoying man related to that irritating woman, Kuroi. Whereas this guy was the worlds most temperamental cross dresser you'd ever come across. Continuing to pound on the Colonels door, various escape plans cross his mind, foiled by the fact this man was more stubborn than even he was - if he claimed to be sick, he'd drag him. If he ran for it, it would only be a matter of time before he was found. Despite Mano's scrawny arms and build, he was quite strong.

"Ah, Colonel!" Shit, he noticed.

"Get changed already, we've got a new mission!" Who was he to deny orders, he may be the Colonel of all the Martials, but this guy – no matter how stupid he looked because of the way he dresses – was his team's leader. 'I regret not taking a desk job like my sister.' Was the only thought that crossed his mind.