Story/Freaky Pandemic/E1-2 (Part1)/Script

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[...Slightly earlier that evening. ]
[In the dormitory.]

[P7 carefully peeps out through the gaps in the curtains to see what's going on outside. This is probably the busiest — or perhaps, the most chaotic the base has been in P7's memory.]

P7: Uwah! FF FNC is too daring! She looted all that chocolate from the warehouse during the confusion!
Hey, hurry up and run! Ahhh, no, don't pick up the chocolate you dropped, Makarov's going to catch you!
...Ah, Makarov caught her... Holy crap, FF FNC's crazy. She smacked another one of her pursuer, Vector, right in the face with all her chocolate.
...No, no wait, why am I getting all excited over this?

[P7 paces back and forth inside her room, eyes fixated on her tactical tablet as messages rapidly appear on the screen.]

"It's chaos as far as the eye can see outside. Sick Dolls are running around everywhere and refusing treatment!"
"Oho, isn't that S.A.T.8? Did she think people wouldn't see her if she hid behind a pumpkin? Well, ladies and gentlemen, the vanguard of the treatment team, P90, has just smashed the pumpkin and captured S.A.T.8 with lightning speed!"
"And now my drone's got footage of F1 trying to escape on a broom! How foolish! Type64 is giving chase on a broom of her own! F1 accelerates, F1 turns, F1 crashes into a pillar! She'll have to come in quietly for treatment now!"
"Ah! While Type64 is dragging F1 away, she collides with Bren in mid-air! Bren is trying to escape with F1! They're picking up speed! Will Type64 be able to catch them at the next intersection!?"
"Stay tuned for live coverage with my drone! And quit cutting in between my posts! I expect a donation from all those who interrupted me!"

"Stop adding fuel to the fire, MDR! Don't take me away! I've worked for the base and bled for it, you can't take me away!"

"We got the IP of that one! Git'em, P90! Hehe, goodbye my friend, it's all for the safety of the base..."

P7: W-What in the world is going on? Is there an outbreak of some plague inside the base...?
The message board is making it sound really scary. What does it mean to be taken in by P90's team for treatment? Don't tell me they're going to scrap the infected Dolls! Why are Miss Springfield and Miss IWS going around helping P90 catch people...
And everyone outside has a scary look on their face... Uuu, I don't want to catch that disease...

[P7 lowers her head to look at her hands. She tries tugging at her sleeves to cover up her arms, but after a long while, she gives up and resigns herself to her fate.]

P7: Miss Kalin's private stock is really scary...
I can't wash it off no matter what I do. Why would humans buy stuff like this?

[P7 plops her butt down on the bed and sighs.]

P7: If I go out like this, they'll think I'm an infected Doll and catch me, and then they'll take out my core... Uuu...
Wait, I know! I'll ask the Commander! Surely the Commander will know how to deal with this weird disease!


P7: What's going on? Why isn't the Commander picking up?
Hm? Wait a minute...what's this...?

[...Back to the afternoon.]
[At a corner of the base's parade square.]

Spitfire: Whew...that was hard with just the two of us.
I didn't expect M1919A4 to grab Type79 after she came out from the fitting room. Turns out Type79 is also infected, and M1919A4 started whining about taking Type79 to the treatment room...

Welrod MkⅡ: Fortunately, they only broke through the outer perimeter... In any case, we took care of them in secret, so probably no one else is aware of the S.F. intrusion.

[Just as Welrod and Spitfire are about to head back to the command center to cut off Architect's access, their communicators ring out.]

Architect: Heehee, took care of them already?

Welrod MkⅡ: Damn you, how dare you collude with the enemy!

Architect: What are you saying, Welrod? You shouldn't slander your mascot, you know?
Besides, I'm locked up in your database. Even getting to talk to you today was by simple chance.

Welrod MkⅡ: Fret not, you shall soon be silenced again.

Architect: Ehhhh? Take it easy, I have some interesting information for you. Wanna hear it?

Welrod MkⅡ: Information? So you ARE scheming with the enemy!

Architect: Ahhh, let me finish, dammit!

Architect: I'm referring to the situation in your base.

Spitfire: ...! You mean big sis 75's condition!

Architect: Hehe, looks like you're pretty quick on the uptake, my fair lady.
Who might be able to find some clues related to this weird illness.

Welrod MkⅡ: If you think I am going to believe a filthy Sangvis—

[Spitfire glances at Welrod and lightly shakes her head.]

Welrod MkⅡ: ...Fine, speak.

Architect: your smart, little artificial heads a bit and think about why Griffin would be suddenly attacked by scattered S.F. forces.

Spitfire: ....Don't tell me there's a new S.F. base nearby?

Architect: I...wouldn't know anything about that.
However, there's an "Alchemist" in S.F., and I'm pretty familiar with her.

Spitfire: You mean the S.F. ringleader who killed herself?

Architect: Yep, she always used strange methods to interrogate the enemy. Quite detestable, hehe...
That said, although Alchemist's already gone BOOM, I'm thinking that there might be one or two dummies of her left behind in S.F.. It wouldn't be unusual.

[Welrod and Spitfire briefly exchange looks.]

Spitfire: So why are you telling us this?

Architect: Who knows? Maybe I'll get something out of it, or maybe I won't.
But watching you bunch make fools of quite entertaining.
...Whoa, wait a minute, I sounded really cool with that last line, just like a movie villain who knows what's actually going on! Don't you agree?

Spitfire: ....Based on what you just said, can I assume the information you just provided is fake?

[Spitfire silently chambers a round.]

Architect: Waitwaitwait! I'll say it properly...
What I'm saying is, watching you blunder around in response to this illness has been amusing enough for me, so you can consider that information to be your payment.

[Spitfire is silent for several seconds.]

Spitfire: We can't fully trust what Architect says since she is a Sangvis at her core...but it is true that some S.F. mobs made it into the base. Perhaps there might really be a lair nearby.

Welrod MkⅡ: Correct, this requires investigation.
As for the name "Alchemist" sounds just like it would be the source of the disease!

Spitfire: ...I don't quite understand your logic...
But please give your orders, leader!

[In the command center's secret room.]

Commander: Are you doing this to settle a personal score?

Architect: ...Do you think that's what this is all about?

Commander: Why else would you mention Alchemist? All the information I have seems to paint you as an idiot who only knows how to blow things up.

Architect: W-What? Your intel needs an update! Hurry up and write "Architect is a graceful and well-behaved lady who is also an intellectual" in there!

Commander: Sure thing, I'll do that once I get out of here. However, you haven't answered my question yet.

Architect: What is the answer you're looking for, I wonder? Life is full of surprises. Griffin taught me that.

Commander: Alright, I suppose you're not going to tell me.

Architect: You know, I can't believe you actually infected your own people with a disease. That's so evil of you.

Commander: No, I'm innocent...
And this vacation I was forced to take today is just... Ugh, there's something fishy about this whole infection thing, but I'm locked up now and there's nothing I can do...

Architect: Heehee, why not ask a favor of me then, Commander of Griffin!
There's been a signal trying to connect to your command center. It's been quite annoying, but...perhaps it could be of use to you right now?

[On the outskirts of the base.]

[The members of the Secret Special Search Team are standing behind cover.]

Welrod MkⅡ: S-Surely this coincidence must be the work of fate!

Spitfire: Yeah, I didn't really expect there to be a new S.F. outpost right next to our base, and it's actually being led by one of Alchemist's dummies.

Welrod MkⅡ: Sneaking in shouldn't be a problem as we've finished decrypting the minimap.
Let's head right in and crush their cordon.

Spitfire: Roger.

???: Tch, I just built this new home and the rats have already come sniffing around.

[Welrod and the others listen to the arrogant voice coming through the transmitter in silence without any sign of surprise.]

Alchemist: What's the matter? Are you so frightened that you don't dare to speak?

Welrod MkⅡ: There is no need to waste words on you.

Alchemist: No matter, I have countless ways of making you talk.
—But that will have to wait until you get to me alive.

[Their hands tighten around their pistols in wordless coordination.]

[The clear, crisp sound of rounds chambering is lost within the rustling of tree leaves.]

Welrod MkⅡ: You are nothing but a nonsense-spouting piece of trash...
Let's go!