Mr. July's hike through the Crimson Forest came to an end at the foot of a cliff-face and a keypad. Mr. July was wearing his renowned attire, silver-lined houndskin boots, his black paisley fabric three-piece suit, and a felt cowboy hat. The keypad was built into a drawer that slid out if a hidden button was pressed.

Mr. July was one of the more extroverted members of the A.E.A., but even he preferred to steer clear of Dr. February's 'Monster Menagerie.' Mr. July grumbled as he lifted his white shirt cuff to reveal a series of numbers and letters scribbled in permanent marker on his wrist. He entered his unique password, and a hidden door- also in the cliff-face- swung open and inward. Just inside the doorway was a cutesy welcome mat, and though it seemed too cliché to be true, there was a small bloodstain on its upper-right corner, which the good doctor had forgotten to clean. Just on the other side of the entrance area was a network of halls leading to different rooms. Mr. July thought it looked like a government black site from a sci-fi movie.

Dr. February created most of the A.E.A.'s equipment, most of which was inspired by entities. Even though Dr. February kept the menagerie tidy, organized, and secure, Mr. July stayed on edge whenever he passed a room where the sounds of a live specimen inside could be heard. How does she even get them down here? He wondered. The doors to all the various rooms were closed except for one. In it, he found a skin-stealer corpse lying on an operating table, with several patches of skin missing, and a knife wound on its chest. There were also several bookshelves filled with journals, cabinets and drawers filled with various tools, implements, and chemicals, and a workstation, at which sat Dr. February.

Dr. February's blood-red hair was woven into an elaborate braid, and her pale skin testified to her mostly reclusive lifestyle. Her white lab coat was made of partygoer leather, and tucked behind it was a heart-shaped amethyst pendant.
"Geez, Feb, if I didn't know better, I'd say that skin-stealer looked at your imaginary boyfriend funny." Mr. July teased, breaking the ice whilst taking off his hat.
"Hey! For your information, my boyfriend is NOT imaginary; he just doesn't know he loves me or that I exist yet. And I found the corpse on the way home¹. It was already dead- but it was fresh and barely had any human skin on it, so I didn't have to use one of my live ones."

"Guess that explains why its limbs weren't ripped off. September said you had somethin' for me?" July was in no hurry to stay in the Menagerie longer than he had to. Dr. February grinned and motioned for him to come closer to the workstation. Mr. July did so, but kept several arm's lengths between them. Resting on the workstation was a dark purple dress shirt, which she picked up and held up for him to see better.

"Behold: Mimiclothes! The outside is normal, but when worn, the inside of the clothes reacts to sweat and other bodily fluids and attaches to the wearer. The wearer panics, tries to remove them, and peels their own skin off in the process," she beamed. Mr. July was simultaneously impressed, concerned, and horrified.

"I see. I just have to talk em' into wearing em' then?"
"Yep! Speaking of that, do uhh… you don't have the thing on you, right?" Dr. February asked nervously.
"No ma'am." Mr. July lied.
"Y'know, if you let me take a look at it, I could fix it. It would save you a lot of trouble on missions." February pressed.
"That's awfully nice of you to offer, but no." July firmly answered.
"Awwww, well, it was worth a shot," said February as a pouty look appeared on her face.

A moment of silence lingered in the air.
"So, when will these roll out for the rest of the group?" Asked July.
"That depends on whether we need them. Dissections are fun and all, but I'll burn through specimens at this rate, so I need to figure out how to make the suction stuff artificially," explained February. "As for now, take this one and do a test run for me. I'd like to see how they'd work on a mission," February said as she attempted to hand July the dress shirt.
"I ain't hauling that back to my house with my bear hands, you psycho!" July Protested.
"Ugh, fine. I'll box it up for you. Besides, it's only the INSIDE that's deadly. You crybaby." February groaned.

Without a word, Dr. February got up and opened one of the many doors in the room. July quickly opened the same door, attempting to keep up. What stood before him was a long corridor with dozens of doors on either side. Dr. February entered the closest door on the left. Before Mr. July could reach the door, Dr. February exited from another door on the right side of the hall. Mr. July stood there, confused, and was about to say something, but Dr. February interrupted his thoughts.
"What? I got your gift wrapped." Said Dr. February as she handed the box to July.
"Thank you, Feb; this should simplify the mission greatly," July said while they walked back into the main room.

"I know it will. Now go, shoo, I have things to do." Commanded Dr. February.
July started to make his way back out of the lab.
"Have a great rest of your day, Feb," July exclaimed.
"You too," February answered, back turned to July as she worked on another invention.

Hopefully I'll be able to find my way back out of this damned place thought July.

Fredericksburg was one of the Wandering Legion's most populous settlements. Like the U.E.C., they were incredibly militant. Like Boveta, they allowed non-human entities like frowning husks amongst their ranks. The entire settlement was fortified, utilizing Level 11's buildings as part of its defence, with barricades in the outer windows on the lower floors and walls filling the gaps between buildings. The only way in or out was through one of its three designated entry points. Fortunately, the A.E.A. stockpiled fake IDs.

Dr. February and Mr. July made their way to the southeast checkpoint. As they were walking, Mr. July glanced over Dr. February's shoulder and said.
"What a pleasant day to infiltrate the most untrustin' city in Level 11, don't you think, Mrs…"
July read the fake name on February's ID. "Stockholm."
"Hey, you could be doing this on your own, Mr Bankman." February snapped.
"Let me guess, your master plan is to console the poor man after his wife mysteriously dies?" July guessed. Dr. February stared at what seemed to her a particularly fascinating patch of pavement.

For good measure, neither of them was wearing their work uniforms, instead opting for the same grey shirts and greasy overalls comprising the uniform of Legion technicians, in addition to wigs, makeup, and facial prosthetics (February didn't want to risk an incident with her real face a second time). Each of them carried a toolbox.
"Ah, finally, new technicians," was the greeting they received from one of the checkpoint guards.
The Soldiers adorning the gate wore suburban uniforms with gas masks and Stahlhelm helmets.
"Seriously, we've only had five for the last week, and three of them are husks. Those mouth-hands can't rewire shit." The guard complained, voice muffled by the gas mask.
"Tell me about it," groaned Mr. July.
"Alright, let's see the transfer orders. I can't wait for the lights and the radio receiver to get fixed; I've missed enough of Ralph's show as it is." The guard prompted.

"Small problem. This is what's left of 'em." July informed him, retrieving a half-eaten envelope from the front pocket of his overalls and handing it to the guard.
"Oh come on!" the guard cried out in dismay. "Is the seal of approval intact at least? I can't let you in without it," he quickly removed the faux orders from the envelope and examined them. "How'd this even happen?"

"Would you believe me if I told you a hound tried to eat it? I swear, some of these facelings have no business treatin' those things like pets." July shook his head disapprovingly.
"John, I haven't memorized whose seals are whose, which commander's is this?" the guard called out to the large guard who was stationed in the watch tower.
The bulkier guard climbed down, and his compatriot handed the half-ruined papers to him.
"I think it's Koba's… Yes, it's definitely Koba's," he answered in a deep tone.

"Well, I guess this checks out," the guard walked into the watch tower, and promptly the gates unlocked.
The big guard opened the gate and let July and February in, as the other guard came back out of the tower, double-checking the paperwork.
"Hold on," he exclaimed, looking up from the paperwork. This John stopped them with his arm.
The smaller guard thought for a moment. "Wait, just a second. Isn't Koba on leave currently? How could he stamp it if-"
July thought fast and came up with a way to get out of the situation. "Well, I mean, you may want to hope he is, given the fact y'aren't using the newspeak MANDATED for military types," he pointed out.
Under the mask, the guard turned pale. "Ripcord.²"
"Thank'ya kindly!" July chirped cheerfully, dragging Dr. February along by the arm.

"That was way too close," protested Dr. February as she sharply pulled her forearm from July's grasp.
"We're in, ain't we? Also, I wouldn't be complainin' because I'm one sarcastic word away from just outright blowin' our cover, Ms. 'I'm gonna kill anyone who has a healthy relationship,'" July quiped back.
Dr. February gazed at the ground again.

Fredericksburg's streets were so cramped, July thought the Legion had deliberately searched for the section of Level 11 with the most oppressive architecture. To call them alleyways would be generous; it felt as if the gloomy, tall buildings adorning either side of the street were squeezing them. The citizens kept to themselves. Most of them wore jackets and heavy pants, and some form of hat or beanie. Mr. July and Dr. February passed dozens of citizens on their way to the hospital. Most pushed past them; others sat on the side of the street.
Mr. July decided to lighten the mood with small talk. "You hear what happened to November?"
"Don't tell me the slot is open again," February groaned, dodging a group of engineers walking towards them.

"Hit the nail with the head of the hammer on that one. How'd you know?" July asked, rounding another corner.
"Well, that slot has been bad luck since like, forever. How'd it happen?" February asked.
A patrol of Legion Police Officers appeared at the end of the street they were in. Mr. July and Dr. February ducked into an open door and waited for them to pass.
"Apparently, November was attemptin' to poison her target, so she poured some liquid pain into their glass. The target later in the night then offered November the glass, and for god knows what reason, she drank it." Explained July as he admired the dingy, nearly empty restaurant they took refuge in. Dr. February laughed at the story told by the not-amused July.
"I'm sorry, that's not funny at all," said February while doing a horrible job at suppressing her giggles as some of the restaurant's gloomy patrons glanced in their direction.

Since the population of the Backrooms was perpetually dwarfed by that of the Frontrooms, its hospitals and infirmaries were far smaller and indefinitely understaffed. The hospital where their target lay was comprised of the first three floors of an apartment building. Upon entering, Mr. July approached the front desk and the nurse staffing it.
"Howdy, ma'am! Has anyone else told you your smile brightened their day?" Mr. July complimented the now blushing nurse. "Well, it has. Anyways, my partner and I were told there was a broken outlet somewhere on the first floor, so could you let us in real quick?" he politely asked.

The nurse, wearing dark spots under her eyes, smiled and used a well-worn key to open a staff access door. Mr. July thought about how understaffed they must be for this one nurse to look like she had worked a week of shifts without sleep.
"Thank you, and we are very grateful for you takin' the time to help all of the people here," July said, tipping his hard hat to her.
"Thank you," the nurse said meekly.
As she closed the door behind them, July looked at February and said,
"Sometimes a little bitty pinch of courtesy goes a long way."
Dr. February just rolled her eyes.

The disguised assassins walked down the makeshift hospital corridor until they found the room number of Dr. February's romantic competition.
"You see the wires running out from under all of the doors? I'm guessing that the power source must be where they all lead," points out Dr. February.
"I get what you're saying. I'll get to seein' where those lead," responds July.
"And I'll go make sure she hasn't woken up yet." February tags on with enthusiasm.

Dr. February- after meticulously jamming every door behind her on the path- finally burst into the maintenance room in the basement and noticed the tangle of wires.
"Whhaa?" Before February could finish her half-phrase, July spoke up.
"Fuss'n about it won't fix it."
"It gets worse! The fuzz are on their way, and I ran out of things to jam doors with!" February panicked as she attempted to move a shelf in front of the door to the room.
"You gotta be the dumbest doctor alive." July groaned.
"Hey! How do you know I led them here!?" February snapped as she finished barricading the door.
"Do you really want me to answer that!?" July hissed.

The two of them examined the life support power lines more closely.
"Well, we could go and try to find her specific wire out of this heap of junk. Or…"
Suddenly, both Mr. July and Dr. February got the same idea.
They looked at each other, and February asked, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Mr. July responded with a smirk, "Yes, ma'am."

Mr. July and Dr. February jumped into action, drawing wire cutters from their overalls and quickly bisecting the wires. As soon as the last wire was cut, alarms went into a fit of rage from the loudspeakers around the building. The spies went into a panic, quickly looking for the quickest way out.
"There!" Mr. July pointed to a part of the wall close to the ceiling, where a small window had been barricaded. "The hospital is on the town's border. If we pry the wood off, we're home free," he explained, retrieving a crowbar from his toolbox. "Wait, where's your-"
"Like I said, I ran out of things to jam doors with," was Dr. February's explanation for her absent toolbox.
"Let's hope you jammed enough of 'em."

Mr. July worked double-time to pry off the barricade, faster than either of the saboteurs expected. February pushed a second shelf closer to the window. No sooner had the last of it fallen from the window than the state troopers were banging on the door to the maintenance room.
"Ladies first!" said Dr. February as she scaled the shelf like a squirrel and crawled through the window in a single burst of speed.
"The things I've done for women…" Mr. July muttered, making his own hasty escape up the shelf and through the window.