"Uh... hello...!"

A new man steps onto the stage. Clad in a wrinkled white shirt and jeans, he looks as if he's just woken up, or perhaps not slept at all. He scratches his head nervously, his wide, bespectacled eyes darting across the space in front of him. "Thank you... thank you for... ah..."

He pulls a rolled up piece of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and starts reading. "T-thank you for... bearing with us..." He swallows nervously, glancing up from his script. "W-we're sorry for the delays and interruptions associated with various... well, I guess one event really, but it says 'various events...' Uh... I wasn't supposed to say that..."

He grimaces. "We at the NPB t-thank you for your patience during this time of... confusion...?" He squints at the paper. "Confusion? We just... F. is dead! CONFUSION!?"

He tosses the script on the stage and stomps on it. "DAMMIT! This... this isn't confusion! It's a catastrophe! It's a fracas! Calamity, apocalypse, armageddon!"

"Calm yourself, M!" hisses a voice from offstage, just barely loud enough to hear.

"R-right... sorry everyone," M. says. He stares at the stage, not meeting the invisible eyes of his audience. "Ok..." he says bitterly. "We're going to try and keep the production running without F., so please, enjoy."

"N! Stay in character!" hisses the voice.

M. snaps. "God damn it, H.!" He screams. "Look, my brother just died, alright? You put me out here to take over for him, so you're going to just have to fucking deal with-"

The lights cut out on M., and a woman appears on stage. She is dressed in a business suit, and a clipboard is clutched in her hand. She too looks exhausted, but there's a fire in her eyes. "We are continuing our compatriot's production. We apologize for any problems this might cause. Thank you, and enjoy the production. She steps offstage quickly, but a conversation is audible from the wings.

"M.," the woman's voice cuts in. "I know he was your brother, but we have to focus, alright? We've got an audience."

"Fuck the audience. They're just a bunch of sickos." M says. "And the production doesn't need our help to run; F. just brought it to them. What we need to do is find out how my brother got killed by one of his own pieces."

"We'll figure it out, M. Don't worry. Whatever F. was doing, the Bureau will know soon enough."

"I really, really fucking hope so, H."

The curtains part. The production begins.

In the course of the preceding week, the apartment had undergone a significant change. The building was mostly abandoned - which was why they'd picked it in the first place - and so, luckily, the gunfire hadn't attracted any attention. The five exiles, having recovered from shock, had decided on their course of action.

Four laptops, utilitarian, serviceable and outfitted with internet connections, had been set up on a central table. Touji and Rei had taken to them quickly, doing unhealthy amounts of research while constantly taking more and more extreme security measures. From time to time, Homura and Asuka would join them. Shinji, as it had turned out, had drawn the short straw. He was the designated supply getter.

He glanced at the holes in the wall, patched up lightly with little more than duct tape. "Way to go, bastard. Just drop a bomb like that and leave."

"Nothing yet?" Asuka asked the room.

"Nothing worth fucking reporting," Touji replied from his computer. "Jesus, I thought it would be easy to pick up politics from the net, but noooooo..."

"It is as if the major superpowers have gone into a sort of 'panic mode,' Rei said. "Many nations have isolated themselves, with America being the most blatant. Their entire network is accessible through only three separate channels, and all of them are monitored."

All typing in the room stopped. "Rei," Shinji asked. "How did you find that out?"

"International hacker groups have following America since Second Impact. Apparently it was the suspicious deaths of a number of presidential candidates that triggered suspicion. Ever since the election of the most recent President, Maxwell Church, America has become increasingly isolated and secretive. What little data has leaked out has been... strange. It seems that despite major trade cutoffs America is actually in an economic rise, and logical statistics do not match the reality."

Silence again. "Rei," Shinji asked. "How did you get that information?"

"I contacted the hacker group Whiteblood Cell."

Shinji recognized that name. They had existed in the old world too, and he'd seen a few news reports. They were infamously secretive, and were apparently powerful enough to attack city power grids and other, similar systems. "And how did you get them to give you this information?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"I impressed them."

"How?"

"By making their leader's computer explode."

"Did you hear? They say the new girl is the one who fought that monster!"

Such talk spread like wildfire, although for the first two weeks of Sayaka's stay at the new school, no one dared ask her if the rumors were true.

However, one fateful morning, during a particularly dull sermon from the teacher regarding Second Impact, a little message popped up on Sayaka's school laptop.

ARE YOU THE MAGICAL GIRL? Y/N?

Sayaka stared at the prompt. She looked back to see a couple of girls she didn't know waving at her. She turned back to the screen, biting her lip. What do I say? It's not like my identity can really stay secret, but should I just tell people straight up?

Another prompt appeared.

WELL? Y/N?

Sayaka sighed. "Fine," she muttered. She started to type.

YES

The reaction was instantaneous and dramatic. The room surged forward, completely drowning out whatever the teacher had been saying. A deluge of questions rained down on Sayaka, and she tried to answer as much as she could.

"So are you really a magical girl?"

"Well... no, it's not really 'magical'-"

"Were you really fighting out there?"

"Yeah... yeah I was-"

"Are you giving out autographs?"

"N...no?"

There were cell phones in her face. Someone in the back, a boy with glasses and messy brown hair, was actually filming her with a video camera. She felt crowded. She couldn't answer their questions fast enough. She was overwhelmed, and after a while she just stopped answering.

Gradually, interest started to subside. Sayaka might be a Shito Kira, but for the most part she was still herself. Besides, she wasn't exactly enthusiastic about describing her exciting new job.

Soon, the class dispersed. Everyone had places to be, and so it was that Sayaka ended up alone.

Almost.

"...Ikari?"

Sayaka turned, meeting the eyes of the last girl in the classroom. "What is it, Miss Class rep?"

"I... just wanted to ask you..." Hikari Horaki glanced down at the ground. "Is... is it worth it, Ikari?"

"...what do you mean?"

"Sure, everyone thinks that you're a big hero, and hey, that's probably true... but are you really?"

Sayaka didn't know what to say. "I..."

"Because I really hope you are a hero, Ikari."

"What...?"

"Because..." a tear slid down Hikari's cheek. "Because... my little sister is in the hospital right now, and I'm not sure she's going to leave."

"Oh my god..." Sayaka's eyes widened. "You mean she was..."

"She got left behind," Hikari said, choking down tears. "She got left behind in one of the buildings that didn't go underground and... we found her a day later, trapped in the rubble."

"Is she...?"

"She's in intensive care. The doctors don't know if she's going to be alright or not. They told us we'd have to 'wait and see'." Hikari laughed hollowly. "Yeah, 'wait and see'. My little sister might die in a hospital and I've just got to 'wait and see'."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Sayaka said. "I..."

"Don't tell me you're sorry," Hikari spat. "I don't need you to pity me or her, that won't help anyone. All I want to know is if it's worth it. Is your end goal - or the one of whoever you work for - really that important?"

"I..."

"Don't lie," Hikari said. "Don't you dare lie to me. I want to know the truth. Is. This. Really. Worth. It?"

"I..." Sayaka glanced at her feet. "I... don't know, Horaki," she said. "I wish I could tell you otherwise but I-"

It was at that point that Hikari punched her in the face.

"Ikari?" Mami said, approaching the girl, who was lying in the hallway outside her classroom.

"Hey Tomoe," Sayaka replied.

"What happened, are you alright?"

"Sorry," Sayaka said, propping herself up on one arm. "Apparently Horaki's little sister got hurt in the fight a few weeks ago."

"She hit you?" Mami asked, surprised.

"Yeah."

"I've never seen Horaki get angry enough to hit someone before," Mami said, reaching out for Sayaka's hand, her still-new prosthetic arm glistening silver in the sunlight filtering through the window. "Is her sister alright?"

"She's in a hospital," Sayaka said accepting Mami's help to stand. "I'm not sure how bad it is, but it sounded pretty bad."

Mami nodded, her gaze wandering to the window, out toward the city. "Things happen. You couldn't have avoided it."

Sayaka sighed. "Yeah, I know. That doesn't change the fact that it's still partially my fault, or that the class representative blames me for it."

"It's not fun, is it?" Mami asked.

"It never was, Tomoe."

Mami nodded. "It's happened," she said, jolting Sayaka out of her daze. "I just got the call. Another Angel is approaching."

Sayaka stared out at the city. Sure enough, a siren started roaring somewhere far off, and was soon joined by more, closer to the school. "Well..." Sayaka said, smiling weakly. "This is it then?"

Mami didn't smile. "Let's go," she said, and turned away from Sayaka.

"Yeah. Let's go," Sayaka said. She tried to smile, but she found that she couldn't. If she was wrong, if she made a mistake, if she failed again... well, things were going to get a lot worse than one girl in critical condition. "It's time to end this."

Author's note: There's a reason this chapter is so short, and you're not going to like it.

Hey everyone, sorry I haven't been updating much... at all, really.

School came up a lot, as have several other stories that have come and gone. I'd planned a move to Archive Of Our Own (AO3, for those who are fans of acronyms) for a long time now, and recently I received my invite. In addition, another fic has taken up much of my time, which I'll be posting here, as well as there, possibly. I don't know when I'll be updating NGMM next. Honestly, much of the enthusiasm I had for it is waning due to the lack of interest I've been able to generate from friends and such. Not that I don't want to entertain you guys, don't get me wrong, but it's a hard story to write and there are other roads I have opportunity to take.

That said, if there's anyone out there who wants to take over this fic, that's fine. Just send me a message and we can figure something out. If not, I will still continue it, and may do so regardless, but if there turn out to be more fans than I'm predicting then I don't want to disappoint them.

I've got plans for this story, and I certainly don't want all the effort and thought I've put into it to go to waste. It's just that other subjects are demanding my attention and sacrifices have to be made. If this ever gets finished, it'll probably be my finest work. If not... well, it'll just be me rambling on the internet. Sort of like what I'm doing now.

You can find me on AO3 as thegameEnforcer. It's fairly likely that anything I write from now is is going to appear there and here, but I can't promise anything. Thanks for reading, guys.

-Fred.