It was a long list.

StG mulled it over as she and the rest of Chrysanthemum stepped along the hallway, vigilant for any unexpected movement. The dolls they were escorting – those formerly under quarantine – were kept two abreast between Chrysanthemum and some of the dolls from the security team. StG tapped the trigger guard on her rifle restlessly, her eyes going from point to point in anxious expectancy of something that might never happen.

ASh-12.7 was in front of her, hefting her own rifle casually as they marched down the hallway. Kerr – Type 81, rather – had ordered the dolls to keep it as quiet as possible as they escorted the dolls from the containment room in the bowels of the installation all the way up to the IOP research facility where RPD was also being kept. There were eight or so of the dolls, all of them attacked by Gestalt. They had been cleared of risk by Schuhart and the IOP team, but when the dolls were called up for additional testing, Kerr ordered that they be escorted. "Just in case," she (Type 81) said. Chrysanthemum was to augment the security team, which was already stretched thin.

The list had been out for a couple days at this point, but StG couldn't get it off her Digimind. The dozens of dolls with stolen backups – some had been there when StG went to look, had been looking on stoically or laughing it off or crying – who would be going into combat in one way or another in the coming operation, who were dead for real if Sangvis nailed their mainframe. StG was lucky that her backups were in the Griffin cloud, not stored physically, since Hunter was such a special unit. Other dolls were more unfortunate. K11's guess had been right – Mosin-Nagant was on the list, as was AKS-74u, RMB-93, Type 63 – many more dolls that StG didn't even know. It stirred something in her regardless. She had never particularly cared for the dolls in S17, even "friends" like G43, but the list had changed it, as if plucking a string that StG didn't even know existed, but resonated with her in a way that was almost indescribable.

It was the finality. Once killed, none of the dolls would come back and take a pill to restore lost memories. None of them would know their friends or squadmates, know Kerr or Type 81, know the role they might've played in another doll's life, know the intimacy they had shared, know any vestige of the life they had lived just days ago. They would be reborn as a blank slate.

But StG had always been able to ignore that, because it was not a worry she had about herself or her squadmates in Hunter. Sure, now and then StG or FAMAS or Type 79 would have an accident and need to have an old backup spun up, but such moments were few and far between. Chrysanthemum was different. There had been a few near misses during the pursuit of Gestalt a few days ago, and in the battle with the Aegis, StG had come close to death again. So had a few other members of Chrysanthemum over her time with the, especially K11. Especially K11, who seemed to have a nose for getting into the most dangerous situations and then escaping with just a little scorched skin. StG had only been annoyed at first, but a hint of worry had pushed its way into her mind whenever she saw CBJ-MS or K11 or Type 56-1 leaping into battle a little too hastily. She assured herself that it was just worry about the outcome, that it would make the mission harder, but it was something else.

This worry came back stronger when StG read the list of names. No one from Chrysanthemum was on it, but still – it was paranoia, plain and simple.

They passed into the atrium, where StG did her best to ignore the stares from dolls and humans alike. The security dolls up front, M1014 and PP-19-01, quickly cleared a path as they moved. Along with INSAS, the four of them made up the leading dolls while Chrysanthemum covered the rest of the sides and rear. Whispers from the quiet crowd around them were ignored as the group pushed on. StG glanced sideways at the dolls they were escorting. M99 and MT-9 led the group, shuffling along with mixed expressions of determination and trepidation. StG couldn't blame them, of course, she'd feel the exact same if she suspected her body had been corrupted by Sangvis nanomachines. Memories of RPD returned to her, remembered images of the doll pulling on the restraints and shouting as Schuhart took a sample of the coolant. She wondered what had become of the afflicted doll, if the IOP engineer had put her out of her misery, or simply kept her alive for further experimentation.

As alive as a doll like that could be considered.

They approached the elevator banks, and M1014, the one in charge of the security detail, turned around. "The elevators are a bit small for the whole group, so we'll split up. CBJ, take a couple of your team, ASh, and the last four there, and I'll take everyone else."

"Right. K11, Type 56-1, stick with me. Z-62 can go with StG," CBJ-MS ordered. The two groups split up and filed into the elevators, StG going in first while each of the other escorts took one of the dolls and stuck close to them. M1014 pushed the button for the IOP level, the same button Schuhart had pressed, and the elevator doors shut and the carriage started moving.

M99 suddenly reached up to adjust her hat, causing INSAS to flinch and swing her rifle about, pointing it at M99 for a split second before hurriedly turning it away. StG's gaze snapped over to look, but her self-restraint kept her rifle pointed down.

"What was that?" M1014 asked, turning slightly to look at INSAS.

"Er, nothing. I just got startled, is all."

The shotgun's eyes flickered down to look at M99. "Right. Well, let's just keep it quiet and have no sudden movements. It's just a minute ride, yeah?"

"Or just don't be so touchy," MT-9 muttered.

INSAS huffed. "Care to repeat that?"

"Sure, I said 'Just don't be so touchy.'" The doll narrowed her eyes as she said the words, affecting an explicitly sardonic tone. INSAS adjusted her grip on her rifle.

"Now listen here–"

"Yeah, what's that supposed to mean?" PP-19-01 said, looking over from where she was shadowing L85A1.

"That's pretty obvious," M21 snarked. "If you can't even figure that out, it's no wonder you're just security."

"Oh, will you all just cut it out?!"

They all turned to M99, who had put her hands on her hips authoritatively and was looking up to the others, exasperated.

"We're not about to turn into Sangvis murderbots, so quit being so jumpy. And antagonism isn't the way to go about this," she added, catching MT-9's eye. "Let's just proceed as we would normally."

The elevator came to a halt, allowing M1014 to regain control of the situation as the doors opened. "Right, let's go!"

M99 went with M1014 right behind her, then INSAS with M21, then Z-62 with MT-9, then PP-19-01 with L85A1, with StG bringing up the rear. M1014 held them there for a moment until the second elevator dinged and the other group stepped out in much the same way.

"Just tell me!" One of them had latched on to ASh-12.7, pulling at the doll's outfit. StG identified her as M2 Browning. "Were they on the list?!"

"Get off me," the Russian replied. "Didn't we say that you can't touch us? Get off!"

M2 started to turn angry. "Screw you! Russians aren't worth a jar of piss, I'll tell you that…"

"Don't try to pull that card!"

"Behave!" M1014's tone brokered no argument, and the rest of the dolls fell silent as they slogged down the hallway. None of them were willing to go along, and it was only the steady push of dolls at their backs that kept the quarantined individuals moving. At least M99 seemed to need no encouragement, and StG wished that the other dolls were as confident as her. It would take the hassle out of this whole thing, she thought.

Then she remembered why this was being done – to stop these dolls from going insane, or worse – and any annoyance she had with the assignment was replaced by a deep sense of…

Awareness.

Awareness that, as they marched by the rooms of IOP equipment, marched towards the hazard-yellow doors StG-44 had passed through once before, M99 and the seven other might be infected, and if they were, these might be their last days as intelligent, Griffin dolls. It was easy to die in battle, noble, even, but there was nothing glorious about corruption of the variety RPD had suffered. It was cruel. And no less cruel was the way in which this virus – fear of a virus, no less – was already turning dolls against each other.

They approached the doors, coming to a halt as M1014 stepped forward and punched the intercom. "It's M1014 with the quarantine dolls."

After a moment, the doors slid open, revealing one of the suited IOP scientists flanked by another security dolls, this one KS 23. Out of the repair bay. The doll wasn't smiling like she usually did, however, and StG could see why: A squad's worth of uniformed Griffin soldiers lined the walls of the room, wearing full gear and looking like they were ready for… well, StG preferred not to speculate.

"We'll take it from here," M1014 said, turning around to address Chrysanthemum. "This is as far as you all can go."

CBJ-MS raised a skeptical eyebrow. "... if you say so. You can handle this?"

"They're unarmed. We'll be fine."

The security team stepped inside, and at a gesture the quarantined dolls soon followed, albeit dragging their feet. Only M99 hesitated, looking instead to CBJ-MS. StG could tell that they were sharing something – not data, not over the doll's disabled Zener network, but through a mere stare – then M99 broke off and stepped forward, through the doorway and into the waiting grasp of the white-suited humans within.

M1014 put two fingers to her head in a gesture of recognition, which CBJ-MS ignored as she turned back to her team.

"That's it. Back to the dorm."

It wasn't until the elevator started moving that anyone spoke up. "Didn't that strike anyone as unusual?" said Z-62. StG surmised that it must've left quite an impact for the normally taciturn second-in-command to speak up about it.

Type 56-1 shrugged. "I don't like it either, but if there's a risk, then we shouldn't take any chances. We were doing the right thing.

"But what if they don't make it out?" asked K11. "I mean – I know they're probably clean or whatever, but I don't exactly trust IOP on this."

"And IOP doesn't trust you either," Type 56-1 quipped someone dejectedly. "What sort of authority are you…"

"It doesn't take a genius to know what's going on here! This is psychological warfare as much as it is physical… Gestalt is using our fear against us!"

Rather insightful of you.

The elevator door opened. "Just drop it, okay?" CBJ-MS said. "You all know Schuhart, at least a little. Nobody from IOP is about to kill these dolls just out of fear. Now, we've got the rest of the afternoon off, so let's just go back to the dorm and relax."

"How much time until kickoff?" asked Z-62.

"Soon. A week. Though the way Kerr has us preparing, we could start the operation as early as tomorrow. Tonight, even."

"Guess I'm not getting any sleep," Type 56-1 bemoaned.

K11 busted into the dorm as obnoxiously as she did everything else, hurriedly taking off her shoes and setting her weapon down before CBJ-MS could so much as get a hand on her shoulder. The other dolls filed in after her while their team leader gave the demolitions expert a warning not to self-modify in her room tonight.

"I'll get something going on the stove, eh?" Type 56-1 made for the kitchen.

"No! Oh, would you NOT eat for just ten minutes?" Turning away from K11, CBJ-MS descended upon her next victim. "I bet Kerr wonders where all the damn food goes, right? We don't have a SPAS-12 doll here, so there's only one explanation."

"Fine, fine, I get it…"

StG kept her jacket on, unwilling to take off any part of her uniform until she got to her closet. She'd always been extra careful with it, loathe to let so much as a speck of dust damage it, even when such things were inevitable in the context of battle. Leaving it out on a simple coat rack in Chrysanthemum's dorm was not at all acceptable in her eyes. In StG's shared room, she kept her items well away from any of K11's detritus.

As StG entered the room, she glanced over at her roommate's side. Doll parts were scattered everywhere – small packages of coolant, boxes of metal components, wires, a soldering station, worklight, stained worktable – the assorted debris of a madwoman. K11 was usually nice enough to do it alone, but a few times StG had walked in to her haphazardly soldering something into her arm, the skin peeled back and metal frame opened up. K11 usually disconnected her limb to work on it, sitting in the chair arm- or leg-less, poking and prodding for hours. One time she had asked StG to help her when she was working on her own torso, reaching something that K11 couldn't see herself – a rather unsavory thing, which was made all the more confusing by the fact that K11 was already a five-star in the IOP commercial ranking system, with one of the best bodies in the market. Why would she need to modify? StG wondered. All in all it was a very confusing activity, but K11 was quite carefree about it, even eating or drinking while she worked.

The workstation was empty, though, and no light shone on the vintage Korean propaganda posters that K11 liked to put up. Her bed was as messy as always, but StG merely ignored it rather than curl a lip. Her side of the room was very neat and organized, sparse most of all. StG never collected much, keeping as much as she could inside her Digimind, where it could be accessed at a moment's notice. That said, she had always kept a few items close: a jar of the shrapnel that she had pulled out of her corpse back in S09, a memento of Agent; similarly, the badge from that uniform. There was a picture of her old unit too, Papasha and Skorpion, G43 and MP40. They had been split up after Kerr yanked StG-44 into S17. She picked the frame up from her desk and looked at it carefully. M4A1 and that team… Well, if the latest news on the official Griffin net was true, M4 and the other dolls from the AR team were still kicking, give or take one or two of them. StG wondered if M4 remembered her.

Well, that was in the past. StG opened the closet door and started taking off the jacket, removing the aiguillette beforehand and carefully placing it on the shelf and the jacket on its hangar. Then she pulled off her boots and put them on the closet floor, after which she removed the cap and placed it on the desk. It was not often that StG undressed like this – she certainly did it less often when with Hunter – but she felt comfortable nonetheless. Admittedly, it was hard to be less informal than K11.

As StG closed the closet door, she thought back to when she had spoken to NTW-20 in her old dorm room, now over a month ago. Normally she would be doing a combat simulation now instead of staying in the dorm with the rest of Chrysanthemum – she had never thought of spending this much time with a team, not with Hunter, not with her old squad in S09. She had even disliked CBJ-MS and K11 and Z-62 when she first joined, so what had made her change? What was different?

Maybe it was because they went out and fought more often. Yes, that was a big difference, that was probably it. StG turned away from her desk and made for the door.

The others had taken up residence on the couches and chairs. Z-62 had a blanket over herself and was nestled in one of the armchairs while K11 and Type 56-1 sat on the couch, sharing a big container of instant noodles. It was just the way StG thought it might look – but it felt different. It felt more like Hunter, like the odd silence of the common room when they were all together.

CBJ-MS looked up at StG's socked footsteps and smiled, patting the arm of the chair next to her own. "Why don't you have a seat, Sturmgewehr?"

Z-62 looked up, and the Swedish doll exchanged glances with her. This feels off. Not a little warily, StG crossed to an empty armchair and sat in it, folding her hands into her lap. Type 56-1 loudly swallowed the rest of her noodles and set the carton aside, her eyes flicking over to stare at StG. Z-62 pushed the blanket off her and leaned forward, the action winding up the tension that StG felt pulling at everyone in the room. The doll wet her lips and looked at CBJ once more before beginning. This won't be good.

"Look, StG… you remember why you came to Chrysanthemum in the first place?"

"Yes," StG replied testily. Z-62 held her hands up.

"Well, not the… not that. I mean what enabled you to join our team."

"Ak 5 was on leave receiving work from IOP," continued Type 56-1. "Calibrations, a new etched weapon, stuff like that. But she's flying back right now."

StG felt her core drop into her stomach. Ak 5 returning could mean only one thing for her. "So I'll be out once she's on base."

"Correct," said CBJ-MS, finally entering the conversation. Then, after a pause: "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," StG replied automatically. "It was about time I got back, anyway."

She looked up to see everyone else looking down. Packing would be quick, at least, though that only reminded her what little she had here.

"Her plane is landing at the airfield early this afternoon, and the helicopter will fly her to the base in an hour or so."

I should've just left for the sims after all. What use was it trying to belong, when she was shuffled out anyway? Maybe this was the real punishment Kerr had intended when she assigned her to Chrysanthemum: loss. K11 heaved a sigh, looking the least energetic she ever had. Z-62 was as tight-lipped as ever, and CBJ-MS had a caring look on her face, her hand up and ready to reach out.

It seemed to not be worth it. StG felt the oppressive weight of it all come back down on her, a weight she didn't even realize was gone: the weight of being alone, of being the outcast, the loner. She hadn't been the weirdest one in Chrysanthemum, nor had any of its members treated her unfairly, nor had she been left out, even when she first joined. But it was all temporary in the end.

Sturmgewehr sighed and said nothing. There was nothing to be said at all, really, nothing that would mean anything. CBJ-MS seemed about to open her mouth when StG decided that she'd had enough of it and stood up – only for Type 56-1 to as well.

"It's been a pleasure," the Chinese doll said, holding out a gloved hand. StG stared at it for a second before taking it in her own, and they shook. Type 56-1's grip was quite strong, so StG returned it with one of equal strength.

"...likewise," she managed. Type 56-1 smiled. K11 was next, clapping StG on the arm and smiling wide despite the severity of the occasion.

"It's been fun, 44!"

Maybe more for you than me. StG nodded. Z-62 stood and offered a hand, which StG took in her own and shook.

"You fight well. I haven't read of many like you," the girl said, smiling in encouragement. StG returned the expression and nodded in silent acknowledgement.

"I'm glad to have served with you," was all StG could say.

CBJ-MS had to look up at StG thanks to her small stature. She had shed her coat and stood in front of StG in rather simple dress compared to the other doll's uniform. She really is rather short, StG thought. It was the only thing on her mind as CBJ-MS started speaking.

"To be frank, I hadn't expected to really end up liking you, even before you had joined us. But, well, here we are. It really was nice to have you. And… we won't have anyone quite the same."

That's for certain, StG thought somewhat bitterly, but before any more convictions about her worth went through her mind, CBJ-MS had stepped forward and wrapped her arms around StG, pulling her into a tight embrace. Without her coat on, StG could feel the smaller doll's warmth pressing up against her, the individual digits holding on in the small of her back, even the rise and fall of CBJ-MS's chest as she breathed. It seemed to last a moment to StG, who couldn't remember the last time she'd been hugged – in S09, maybe – or even being this close to anyone physically.

It was very nice.

CBJ-MS broke away and patted her small hand against the blonde doll's shoulder reassuringly. "I know it was rather sudden. I would've kept you in longer if I could."

StG's mouth worked silently for a moment before she could get anything out of it. This was like nothing that had happened to her before. It was almost unfathomable, something that the doll had always counted herself out of. It was like a dream…

But that feeling was fading away. "It's alright," she offered. "I was expecting it."

"You can always come talk to us," Z-62 said.

"Yeah, about explosives!"

"Or whatever you want," Type 56-1 corrected, smiling. StG smiled back.

"Dankeschoën. I… well… I never expected this," she confessed. "Thank you."

"Would you like help packing?" CBJ-MS said.

"...no, I can handle it myself."

Once back in her room, StG took a moment to simply stand still. The picture of her squad in S09 seemed to call to her, as if offering that she might once again rejoin them after her dismissal. Impossible. They were in the past, as was now Chrysanthemum. Hunter had been her home for far too long now, insofar as the motley crew of dolls from over five different sectors could even be a home. That had been StG-44's lot in life ever since she had been plucked out of S09 by Kerr all that time ago. The outcast.

She sighed, fetched her bag from the closet floor, and got to packing. It really wasn't much – it never had been – so it didn't take her long to fit it all in. Stepping back into the boots, slipping into the jacket, fastening the badges took but a few minutes. Moving again. Hardly the first time. Why couldn't she stop thinking about this? I've got to be less reflective. Dwelling on past emotions is of no use.

When StG stepped out, she saw that the other four were standing by the door, smiling. It was strange to see K11 smile anything but the insane grin, or Z-62 to do it at all, but there they were. StG stopped short of them as CBJ-MS reached for the door handle.

"..."

What do I say?

"...thank you all for everything that you've done. It's… it's more than I could've ever expected or asked for."

"It was our pleasure," said Z-62.

"I'll be talking to NTW-20 after this operation," CBJ-MS winked.

"Kill that Ringleader," K11 added.

"Good luck," Type 56-1 waved.

And StG left, smiling.