Women are like dolls, some are Barbie, others are Raggedy Ann, and still others are like Annabelle – Daisy Anne from marketing

Operation Giga Pudding (D-90 hours)

T.C. paced back and forth on the rooftop, while Whisper was huddled over writing in her notebook. Her hair covered her face. Occasionally she stopped, erased a few words, and continued.

“What rhymes with boom?” Whisper asked as she pushed her hair from her face.

“What? Oh, doom, gloom…mushroom?” T.C. said as he continued to pace.

“I’ve used doom and gloom, but mushroom? I think I can work with that,” Whisper said and continued to write.

The door creaked open on its rusty hinges. Estelle stepped out carrying a blue lace umbrella. With the flick of her thumb, she clicked it open and used it to shield herself from the bright sun. Estelle tested the ground with the tip of her foot as if stepping on rice paper. Each footstep she made, moving closer to T.C., made no sound.

“Any updates to the status report on Fort Carré’s artillery?” Estelle asked in a mousy voice.

“Yeah, about that, first I wanted to tell you that I umm, well that Whisper and I, well that we…” T.C. said.

Estelle held up her right hand and extended two fingers indicating a request for the ‘short version’.

“We’re dating,” Whisper said in a dry voice, reminiscent of crunchy leaves in autumn.

T.C.’s face turned red as he added, “Umm, yeah I was kinda getting to that.”

“It’s little concern to me what consenting adults do with other consenting adults in their private time,” Estelle said.

T.C. stared blankly at his feet and back into Estelle’s purple eyes, searching to figure out how she truly felt. Then he decided on a different approach to test the waters. He decided to be direct with her.

“I thought you would be upset or worried that I would...would make an emotional decision or something in the heat of the battle,” T.C. said.

Estelle stared back at him with a blank expression.

He shifted his feet several times and asked, “Yeah, umm right, you wanted to ask me something? Go ahead.”

“Yes, thank you for giving me permission to speak,” Estelle said icily. “The status report?”

“That…sorry,” he said as he half chuckled and scratched the back of his head, “We have over 1,500 shells for…”

“Stockpile of,” Whisper corrected.

“Yeah, what she said…1,500 shells for the Navarone guns. As per your request we have a mix of high-explosive, shrapnel, and air burst shells. Oh yeah, here’s the memory crystal that you requested. All the memories of Icepick I have.”

T.C. handed Estelle a clear quartz crystal the size of his pinky on a silver chain, then he wiped the sweat off his brow.

“I hope you can find something useful from that. I racked my brain trying to think of anything useful about Icepick,” T.C. said.

“Mmmhuh, and how many other secret lovers do I have to worry about?” Whisper asked as she threw down her notebook.

T.C.’s cheeks turned red again and he waved his hands in the air. She clenched her fists and stared into his eyes.

“It’s not like that or anything,” T.C. said as a bead of sweat ran down his forehead.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me looking through your private messages then,” Whisper said, as she lightly punched him in the arm and laughed.

Estelle closed her umbrella and decided she had enough of their faux squabble. Without needing to bother to sniff the air for pheromones, all she needed was to see the way Whisper was playing with her long black hair as she talked with him.

The way she looked at T.C. with side glances as she teased him, told Estelle that Whisper genuinely cared for him.

“Hopefully,” Estelle mused as she closed the door behind her, “T.C.’s memories might prove to be of significant benefit.”

***

Estelle pushed a pile of fluffy towels, blankets, and pillows into the corner of her room.

Every time she caught sight of the red brick building directly outside her window, she either wrinkled her nose or sighed. She wanted to demolish the building and relocate the current occupants to the Nakatomi building. However, the problem wasn’t the lack of space at the Nakatomi, but rather the presence of another housing unit directly behind the current eye-sore.

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There were simply too many structures packed together on my turf.

Estelle hesitated by her nightstand, her fingers lingering over a knob to the volume of a small radio tuned to the orchestra channel. She stopped fidgeting with the volume and stared at the medical alert bracelet propped up against the speaker. Estelle felt like Bee was silently judging, as she made excuses to avoid the task of diving into T.C.'s memories.

The soothing strains of violins filled the room but did little to calm her nerves.

She crossed the room for the seventeenth time back to her palette of pillows, then cast her gaze towards Bee. With a deep sigh, she finally accepted what she had been avoiding. Slowly, she removed the pins from her bun, letting her white hair cascade down in soft waves. The release felt both liberating and heavy. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the crystal, its cool surface pressing against her palm as she finally gave in to the inevitable.

Sitting cross-legged, Estelle held on to the crystal and closed her eyes. Then cleared her mind of all her thoughts. The stray thoughts floated in and away like clouds on a breezy summer day. Clutching the crystal tighter T.C.’s memories, stacked like a pile of manila folders, appeared in her thoughts. Estelle picked up the first folder and opened it. A timestamp in her revealed in the corner of her vision: 00h:17m:35s.

In her mind, she saw the image of T.C. sitting in the Battle City Recruit building waiting room with war banners of the Blue, Red, and Gold flags were pinned to the wall. Signed promotional pictures of combatants filled in the empty space.

A young teenage-looking girl sat next to him wearing a sheer white top and tight leather pants. She played with her hair, which was a long black braid.

T.C. did his best not to start at her cleavage, accented by her black lace push-up bra.

“Advertise much?” Estelle thought, trying to get a better look at Icepick.

Icepick kept ‘accidentally’ brushing her leg against his, every time she shifted in her chair. In which T.C. responded by concentrating on the flags even more. While she tried to strike up a conservation, his attention was elsewhere.

“This is an exercise in futility,” Estelle thought and accessed the next memory.

The next interaction she observed lasted one hour and thirty minutes.

Estelle saw Icepick, T.C., and a few others sitting on logs in the Blackett Forest, a glowing orange fire crackling in front of them. T.C. and the others were exhausted from clearing out the forest and makeshift village of practice NPC fighters. The group had finished eating and now had a few hours to relax before the night operations began.

Icepick sat directly across from T.C., her eyes frequently meeting his. This time, Estelle had a clearer view of her, noting the way the firelight danced across her features.

Clay, the guy with the bowl haircut and dirty face tossed a piece of bark he had ripped off from the tree and into the campfire. Icepick winced as the sparks shot up in the air.

Seeing Icepick’s face sour, Clay tried to put his arm around her, but she pushed it away. T.C.’s friends, Dirty Jack, and Mags were talking and waving their hands around, so Estelle was forced to filter out their conservation.

“Idle chit-chat won’t help, actions will reveal far more than words,” Estelle said and muted everyone else around the campfire, apart from those interacting with Icepick.

“Which group are you going for?” asked Clay.

“Gold Faction has the highest reputation rating, and being the best of the best, they have all the top tie talent,” Icepick said, leaning over and touching her hand to T.C.'s knee. “You should join me, Tunnel Cat.”

Clay picked up a twig and snapped it in half, then tossed it into the fire. Icepick winced again.

“Curious,” Estelle said.

“I’m hoping for Red; I hear they’ll see a lot of action this season,” T.C. replied.

Estelle rolled her eyes.

Clay snapped another twig and Icepick reacted by placing her hand on his. T.C. began to turn away when Estelle paused the flashback.

Icepick had dug her fingernails into Clay’s skin, drawing blood.

“I would have expected a reaction from a druid, not an…” Estelle said.

Estelle scanned the memories to verify her suspicions that Icepick was registered to the assassin/hunter class.

“Assassin,” Estelle added and fast-forwarded the memory.

She continued to delve into T.C.'s memories, but Estelle found nothing to suggest that Icepick was the Queen Pin’s strategist.

From what Estelle could gather, Icepick seemed to regard herself, and acted, as aristocracy or possibly royal born, often referring to those she disliked as lesser beings, plebs, trogs, or peasants. She had a quick temper, especially when anyone outperformed her on a skill review or test.

After the first few weeks of getting to know the others, she wouldn’t hesitate to punch people in the arm, especially T.C., after the test results were revealed. While this didn’t happen often when it did, she responded violently when someone was better then her.

After going through all files contained within the memory crystal, Estelle checked the final folder labeled ‘MISC’.

The subsequent notes and timestamp indicated it was accessing the end of the third season, the awards ceremony, and after-party.

T.C.'s last interaction with her prior to the events of the school was when he was talking with Dirty Jack. Icepick approached him from behind. He either didn’t notice or ignored her till she tapped his shoulder.

Her voice was drowned out by the music and people chatting away. When T.C. finally turned around, he saw that she was wearing a silk evening gown that reflected a golden light from the crystal chandelier.

When she moved away from the light her dress still shined with an iridescent golden glow.

Estelle paused the memory and increased the magnification of the golden material. After a thorough examination, and checking further angles from T.C.’s point of view, she recognized the material as a gold-flex weave which had a leaf-like pattern woven into the individual fibers.

“Someone has an exorbitant amount of money,” Estelle said as she continued to study the leaf pattern. “There’s only one species of tree that exhibits such a distinctive pattern…I know who you are, Icepick!”

Estelle snapped out of her trance and cackled. She jumped up from her bed, ran out of the room, and banged her fist on T.C.’s door. When the door finally opened, Estelle waltzed in.

“Everything okay, Boss Kitty?” T.C. asked, stepping to the side.

Whisper sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“"Please transmit a message to Icepick,” Estelle said with a reserved hint of excitement in her voice. “The time has come for you to see her once more!”

***