The water spun down into the drain, and the blonde girl opened her eyes. She was not quite sure how she had gotten where she was – only vague memories of being led to the showers by someone with long, black hair came to her. Now, though, she was alone, and the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the dark washroom drew away what remaining warmth she had from the shower. The girl stepped away from the shower head and across the floor.

In the adjacent room was a thick white towel and a neatly folded black and white uniform and undergarments. The blonde girl dried herself off with the towel before donning the uniform. The underwear fit perfectly, as did the pressed white shirt and navy blue skirt. Over her shoulders went the jacket, brass fasteners complementing the wide white lapels, over her legs were the matching socks and thigh-high boots, and over her hands was the pair of soft white gloves. Finally, she clipped the provided aiguillette to her right shoulder and fitted the cap around her head. She could not really say why she had found it so natural to dress, or why the clothes were so familiar to her, or even why she had obliged the unspoken request to dress at all. As a matter of fact, she didn't know where the obligation had even come from.

The girl looked down at the table the clothes had been on. Underneath them had been a small canteen and a pill, set upon a piece of paper. The girl set aside the canteen and pill to pick up the paper, reading the neatly printed text upon it.

Consume with a full cup of water on an empty stomach. Results typically immediate. Seek solitude prior to consumption.

The implication was obvious. The girl set down the note and picked up the canteen, unscrewing the cap before taking the pill in her hand. Without considering the matter any further, she placed the pill in her mouth and put the canteen to her lips, flinging it back and swallowing. The water was frigid, but she drained the flask anyway, taking the pill down easily.

The memories returned all too quickly.

"Reinforcement squads! Be careful!"

It was too late. The blond girl whirled around, and so did her clones, all five of them raising their rifles to aim at the apartment door.

"The fact that you could kill me once was very good on your part," said the maid doll, "Coming from such trash dolls as yourselves."

The blonde girl's senses froze at the sight of her. The doll had its skirts lifted as if making a curtsy, and underneath them was the pair of fearsome cannons the blonde girl had heard before from a distance. She squeezed the trigger, but the cannon blasts reached her first. In a second, her lower torso was pulverized and her legs torn away. Excruciating pain filled every inch of her body, and what was left of her fell to the floor, ears ringing.

"It's over, you Griffin trash," said the maid doll. "You've done nothing except get the floor dirty." Through the pain, the blonde girl lifted herself up on her elbows, looking up at the maid doll. Its slate-grey eyes were turned down to the girl, and only thing she could feel from them was cold regard.

"The… the AR team…" coughed the girl, lungs nearly nonfunctional from the damage. "The AR team will definitely escape!"

"It's useless. You're simply wasting time," said the maid doll, and the cannons under its skirt swiveled to face the blonde girl again. "And right now, we have all the time in the world."

The cannons fired, and the girl's head split.