Despite the number of face-to-face meetings Welrod had had with Miss Helian, she'd only met her in person once. That'd happened on her first day on the job. Every following meeting had been via hologram.
Today was no exception.
Welrod took a sip of her Earl Grey. Her programmed sense of taste interpreted the flavour as a balm.
Setting the cup down with a soft clink, she activated the holo-projector/-recorder before her. As per Miss Helian's earlier instructions, she was meeting her at the pre-appointed time: 10:30 p.m.
She reclined in her leather-bound chair. Her neural cloud was alert as ever.
The hologram comms device chimed and she reached forward to jab a button on the console. In doing so, she accepted the call. An image of a thirty-something woman, nine inches in height, formed, flickering briefly before it stabilized.
"Welrod."
"Miss Helian."
"You require my services once again?"
Kryuger's right-hand woman adjusted her monocle. "Straight to the point as always. That's one of the things I like most about you. And you're indeed correct. Griffin has just had a new hire. I'm sending you the relevant file."
Welrod's inbox issued a pop-up notification. She clicked on it, getting redirected to the email, and downloaded the file. It opened up as a holo-display beside Helian's holographic figure.
The handgun Doll skimmed the file. "...Interesting record," she concluded.
Helian harrumphed. "Yes, well, I believe you can see why I was against - and still am - the hiring of this man. But Mr Kryuger would have none of it. He personally appointed him to Commander, even knowing his past history."
Welrod leaned forward, rubbing her chin. "This 'Xavier Dumont.' What do you want me to do about him?"
"Have him under surveillance. Treat him as a threat. He is a threat to Griffin. I want you to find proof of that - irrefutable proof - and then bring it to me."
Welrod found that the grey-haired human was being somewhat paranoid. If Kryuger vouched for the man, regardless of his record, that meant he was a good fit, right?
'Not good enough for Miss Helian, clearly. She's dead set on booting him out of G&K. Though I am a bit curious, myself. What made Mr Kryuger take on this man?'
"I accept the assignment."
"Excellent. You'll be transferred to his base of operations tomorrow. Expect a heli to arrive at 0600."
"Understood, Miss Helian. Welrod out."
Welrod sat in her study, scanning files on her desktop.
Three days ago, Dumont had 'recruited' Agent.
She'd provided a plethora of data for Welrod to go through.
Whilst she was processing information about the Ringleader named Beak, Welrod came to a realisation. The status of Agent's self-destruct device had never been verified. 'That means that right now, she could be walking around with a bomb in her chest, which she could trigger at any moment.'
Ringleaders were notoriously difficult – near impossible – to capture. Each one's mainframe and dummies always self-destructed upon being surrounded by Griffin forces. The last notable effort had been Scarecrow. Skorpion, Sten, Ingram and others had gunned down the reconnaissance specialist, leaving their masked foe battered and sparking.
Frustratingly, she'd followed Sangvis protocol and had blown herself up before any information could be extracted from her memory module.
Early on, HQ theorized that SF command units had self-destruct mechanisms installed in their torsos.
Agent's intel confirmed this.
'Harkov was in charge of implanting the tracker and det-chip provided by Helian,' recalled Welrod. 'He had to have seen that Sangvis' self-destruct device.'
Except, there was no mention of it in the report he'd submitted after the procedure. Even more damning, the device itself was nowhere to be seen.
'We know what they look like. We also know that they are as durable as tank armour plating.'
Her neural cloud incorporated these details into its inference algorithm.
'The self-destruct explosive was never taken out. Agent has still got it,' she concluded.
Why would Harkov keep quiet about that?
Dumont must've ordered him to remain silent. According to repair bay cam footage, the Commander had supervised the implantation procedure. Unfortunately, the side-room where this had taken place lacked cameras. Furthermore, Harkov was vigilant.
Any attempts to bug the repair bay had ended in failure.
'So why, Commander? Why would you make Harkov keep his mouth shut?'
That wasn't the only odd occurrence. Dumont had asked Welrod to not view a particular segment of Agent's unencrypted memories.
The one showing the Commander making a deal with the former Grand Overseer.
She'd agreed not to, out of respect for his privacy.
It hadn't crossed her mind that he was trying to hide a different sort of secret.
Groaning, the HG T-Doll slapped her forehead. 'Dumont, I don't even have to watch the footage to be sure.'
Being pardoned and accepted into Griffin's ranks wasn't enough for Agent. She apparently required a countermeasure.
A deterrent.
Welrod cracked her mechanical knuckles. 'To be fair, I'd have done the same. Use a deterrent, that is. Not threaten to blow myself up if things didn't go as planned.'
She wouldn't watch the implicating footage.
Instead, Welrod made a call.
One hour after dinner with Agent, Xavier returned to the Command Room. A meeting with Kryuger and Helian would begin shortly.
His adjutant wasn't supposed to attend.
That was the condition stipulated by Helian.
He'd ordered Agent to help Kalina write up combat reports.
He stopped next to the touchscreen keypad by the door. The Commander tapped the 'lock' option for it. Gears whirred and metal clanged.
The noise died down quickly.
Welrod stood waiting at the communications array. Xavier strode over to her. "How's the soundproofing here?" he asked in lieu of a greeting.
The gynoid turned to him. "Works as intended, sir."
"Good. Then we're ready to start."
A flickering bluish figure sprang up at the hologram-emitting console. The silver-rimmed monocle and grey hair, coupled with a constant frown, were unmistakable.
Xavier grunted. "Helian."
"Dumont."
He lit a cigarette. It'd make the meeting a little more tolerable. The smell of tobacco assailed his nostrils. Welrod's face puckered in disgust. She smoothed out her features into a neutral visage after catching him glance her way.
"Mr Kryuger will join us in a few moments. But before he does, there's something I'd like you to answer, Dumont."
He puffed out smoke. "What is it?"
"What happened to Agent's self-destruct mechanism?"
Xavier's teeth clenched around the cigarette filter.
Helian continued, "I looked over the reports and there was no mention of it, even though we're aware that all Ringleaders are equipped with one. Would you care to explain this oversight?"
'Damn it. I really should've prepped better for a situation like this. I thought it'd escape her notice, but guess not. What excuse should I give?'
Folding her arms, Helian tapped her bicep repeatedly. "I'm waiting, Dumont."
Holding his cig, Xavier opened his mouth to speak.
But Welrod beat him to the punch. "He just forgot to mention what happened. I've got it right here, Miss Helian." The T-Doll placed a matte black cuboid object on the table with a quiet clack. A serial number in white print ran along one side. The item was no bigger than his thumb.
"This is the self-destruct device that was inside Agent's mainframe," lied Welrod, her palms flat against the table.
Xavier put on his best poker face, and simply resumed smoking. 'I'm not surprised she figured it out. Then again, I don't think I did a good job in hiding the fact Agent can blow herself up whenever she wants. Cover-ups and fabricating evidence are not my forte.'
Helian squinted. "That's it? That's what's prevented us, time and time again, from capturing a Ringleader for interrogation?"
Interrogation was a term being used loosely. Helian was referring to data extraction.
"Its size and appearance are deceptive. It can destroy everything in this room, and then some." Welrod laid a hand on her navy-blue tie.
"How typically destructive of Sangvis technology. Thank you for clearing the matter up, Welrod."
Xavier didn't like being seen as incompetent, but in this case it was preferable to the alternative.
The console chimed.
"Ah, that'll be Mr Kryuger joining us."
The leader of Griffin appeared in hologram form alongside Helian. "Commander Dumont. I trust your forces are regaining their strength?"
Xavier immediately straightened. Even though Kryuger had fought against his homeland in WW3, he still respected the man. "Yes, sir. All T-Dolls who survived the raid have had their dummies restored. We're expecting the first group of rebuilt T-Doll mainframes to arrive tomorrow."
Kryuger nodded ever so slightly. "Good. I'd question you on your appointment of Agent to adjutant - " Xavier clenched his jaw " - but this meeting isn't about that. It's about the KCCO."
The Commander unclenched it. "The military? What the hell do they want?"
"Six Commanders were tasked with advancing towards the central Sangvis facility." In front of Kryuger's figure, a holographic display of a map appeared. There were six areas marked with the Griffin insignia adjacent to a mountain range. "The plan was for them to clear a path for reinforcements, who would then take over the assault to keep up the momentum. But the military has put a stop to that." The Griffin logo over four of the locations flickered and vanished, getting replaced by the KCCO symbol, a two-headed eagle with a pair of crowns and sceptres. "Their forces have taken over operations in these sectors."
Rage thundered within Xavier. Rather than show it, he stifled it, and leaned on the table. He studied the holo-map. His features illuminated by cyan light, he looked up at Kryuger. "Without the KCCO's help, the T-Dolls in the sectors still under Griffin control are gonna end up getting bottlenecked."
The bearded Russian nodded. "Yes, that's exactly my Commanders have reported. Sangvis echelons are holding their Dolls at bay."
Xavier rubbed his chin. "And there's no way to properly flank the SF echelons without crossing over into territory under KCCO 'jurisdiction'. Do we know what Ringleaders are in charge of the sectors where Griffin's still got a presence?"
"Unfortunately, no," Helian answered for Kryuger. "No Ringleaders have made themselves known since the start of the campaign."
"Unusual for Sangvis. They're not the sort to shy away from bragging and showing off." The Commander furrowed his brow as he returned to staring at the holo-map. It became more detailed, displaying how the SF defences were set up. Evenly spread out, with no room for a gap of any kind. Jupiter artillery platforms had the Sangvis positions in their sights at all times. "But their defence tactics... they're ones devised by Agent."
"You can tell just by looking?"
"I've read up on them. This is straight out of her playbook. What's your take, Welrod?"
Welrod regarded the holo-map blankly. "It's as you say, sir. It would appear that the other Command units have begun to adopt her strategies. Both for their effectiveness, and to maintain anonymity."
"Has four-oh-four been roped into this?" asked Xavier. "Getting past one of these blockades and disrupting it seems like a job right up their alley."
"They've already been dispatched," Helian replied stiffly.
404 was a four-Doll unit led by UMP45, a "one-of-a-kind" model. One-of-a-kinds weren't rare. The AR Team members and all of the Ringleaders fell into that category, as well as models like MG5 and M200.
What made 404 stand out was their 100% success rate, all the while operating without human oversight.
No other unit could boast about that.
UMP45 and her squadmates were also on Helian's payroll. 'All the more reason to be wary of them.'
"So, what do you need from me?" Xavier planted his hands flat on the table.
"Nothing from you personally for the moment, Commander Dumont." Kryuger directed his gaze at the sole android in the room. "It's Welrod whose services we're after." The pistolier stood ramrod straight, hands clasped behind her back.
The PMC co-founder added, "I want you to investigate the military's activities in these four sectors. Find out their progress. If they've halted their ops, I want to know why. I want to know why I had to order my Commanders to withdraw from those sectors."
Xavier hoped nobody would notice his minute shiver. 'Kryuger's face is the definition of 'if looks could kill'...'
Welrod frowned. "That's a lot of ground to cover."
"You're more than up to the task. Whatever you choose to do, make sure it's not linked to Griffin in any way."
'Can't let the military know we're onto them.'
Welrod gave a nod. "Understood, sir."
"Commander, when your echelons are back at full strength, you'll be joining the offensive."
"Yes, sir."
Kryuger added, "Welrod, you should've received a file by now about the sectors you'll be investigating."
The gynoid confirmed that she did.
"Then I believe that concludes our business here." Kryuger's hologram winked out, and Helian's followed suit.
Xavier loosened his tie. "That went way better than I thought it would."
Welrod acknowledged his words with a hum.
He turned towards her. "So. How did you figure it out?"
She met his gaze. "Thanks to a certain omission, it was childishly easy to deduce the truth."
Realisation struck. "It was the report, wasn't it? The one made by Harkov. I knew I should've added something."
"Then I'd have requested to see the actual item. You could've tried to commission a forgery, but I would have been able to tell that it was fake."
"Even if you'd never seen the real deal before?"
The handgun Doll folded her arms. "How many forgers do you know who can make a convincing replica of a bomb based only off of blueprints?"
"...None."
"Hmph. That's what I thought."
"Wait. Can that thing actually explode?"
"Only if it's connected to a trigger, which it currently isn't."
"How long have you had the replica?"
"I collected it from my contact in Town Twenty Two."
Xavier's eyes widened. "So, that's why you humoured Agent." He grimaced. "Do I have to reimburse the cost?"
"The price was more than what a Commander earns in a year."
She named the sum. His jaw went slack. 'Y-You... Welrod, you went so far for - '
The blonde man cleared his throat. "...Are you mad at me?"
Welrod cocked her head. "What for, sir? For the fact that you kept a vital detail about Agent a secret? Or I should say, tried to."
He winced.
"I understood you had your reasons, Commander. I don't hold that against you."
His shoulders sagged. A sense of relief washed over him.
"That being said, next time please think twice before you decide to endanger everyone around us," she added wearily.
'Ouch. Hearing that is like getting stabbed right in the heart... I deserve it, though.' No matter how he personally felt about Agent, Welrod's remark was undeniably true.
"You're a lifesaver, Welrod."
"Don't I know it."
Technically, he hadn't reneged on his agreement with Agent.
Technically.
'Wonder if she'll see it the same way.' He was tempted to not tell her that Welrod knew the truth. But it would backfire down the line.
Try as he might, Xavier couldn't stop pondering about the military's recent actions.
"Penny for your thoughts, Commander?"
"The KCCO... what do they have to gain by delaying our victory over Sangvis Ferri? Why would they block our campaign?"
"That's what I want to find out, too."
An android with crimson irises lounged on her chair. She pushed the brim of her fedora up so that she could properly look at the other passenger aboard the helicopter.
A plethora of knives were strapped to her torso and thighs. She took off the headphones around her neck, and tossed them on the seat next to hers.
Her attire consisted of heeled boots, black pants, similarly-coloured jacket, and under it, a sleeveless, cropped shirt showing off her midriff.
This was Thompson, newly restored. Chewing on a pocky stick, she blamed Type 100 for introducing her to the snack. The fedora wearer would usually buy a few packs of pocky from the vending machine each week to satisfy her craving. A drum-mag submachine gun, its safety on, was lying on another seat next to her.
The other passenger was a T-Doll called Super-Shorty.
A fitting name, as Thompson dwarfed her.
With the two of them, it was a study of contrasts.
Super-Shorty wore her blonde hair in short pigtails, and was clad in a kid's version of a police uniform, blue cap and all. The shotgunner's apparel was more modest than her own.
Her doe blue electronic eyes hinted at a childlike innocence that was non-existent. The pipsqueak had supposedly been an actual cop before getting hired by G&K. Although Thompson was merely dressed up as a mobster, it felt natural to her to oppose cops, be they humans or Dolls.
Personally, the SMG T-Doll thought that Super-Shorty was unfit to be a shotgun unit. Tiny and skinny, she was simply unsuited for the task of drawing enemy fire and protecting her teammates. The small armour plates she had for shields didn't help, either.
'I bet she got killed because of that...' Thompson finished her pocky stick. 'She'd be more efficient as a HG or SMG Doll. Look at MP5: she's small too, but at least she's fast.'
"Quit staring at me. It's offputting and makes me want to arrest you."
"Sorry 'bout that, Miss Police Officer," drawled Thompson. "Just have something on my mind, is all." She pushed her shades up the bridge of her nose. "I was wondering, as someone who's got issues with their height - " Super-Shorty stiffened, her scowl intensifying. Her stature was a sensitive topic. " - Why haven't you gotten your body replaced or modified?"
The ex-cop turned her nose up. "I thought about doing that. A lot of times, actually. But then, I thought to myself, 'Why should I change my mainframe just to try to get others to respect me?' It wouldn't make me happy. I want to be respected in spite of my height." She stared at the firearm placed next to her. "It's just really annoying that the gun I got an Imprint of is a reminder of how short I am."
"Huh." Thompson leaned back. "I'd have never thought that that was your take on the whole situation. You know, you come off as a whiny brat whenever you tell people to not call you short." This earned her a glare. "Still, a self-imposed handicap isn't the smartest choice on the battlefield..."
"We both got killed, and you don't have any sort of handicap, as far as I'm aware. Your point is moot." Super-Shorty folded her arms. "What's the last thing you remember before you got killed?"
"Bit of a personal question, there, pipsqueak." The mobster drew the brim of her hat down. She consulted the audio-video recording database in her neural cloud. "Lemme see... I'd just gotten off the phone with the Commander. He was inquiring about MDR's and RFB's performances, and my opinion on them. He's nosy like that. I guess you two have that in common."
No T-Doll ever remembered her own death. Thompson saw it as a flaw in the neural cloud's recording system.
A flaw that'd yet to be fixed by IOP or 16LAB.
The sole detail recorded was the time of 'death', and even that could be unreliable. It was, in reality, the instant a neural cloud disconnected from the T-Doll mainframe before it got stored on a server rented by Griffin.
If Thompson's time of death had been correctly recorded, then there was a difference of two hours between her last backed-up memory and her demise.
"And how long was that before you - "
" - Got offed? Two hours, according to the recording system."
Super-Shorty seemed to shrink in on herself. "How fortunate. I'm missing three weeks of memories."
Thompson hid a wince. 'I've been in that boat before.' The Commander was going to be torn up by the shotgunner's news.
"Pocky?" offered the SMG Doll, holding out her box. She didn't like sharing with cops, but today was an exception.
"...No thanks."