"Repeat after me: 'Would that it were so simple.'"

"'Would that it t'were so simple.'"

Lee-Enfield made a noise of disapproval. "No, you're saying it wrong. 'Would that it were so simple.'"

"Would that it t'were so simple," SAA drawled. Enfield sighed.

"It's hopeless." She looked to the doll seated next to her, one F2000. The blonde doll shrugged and said something in French, so Enfield looked to StG44 instead.

"I'm afraid I can't help you," she said. StG44 had grown used to those around her forgetting mention of her accent – nearly everyone on Hunter Squadron save Tokarev had their own accent, and since they rarely talked outside of missions, StG44 had never gotten much attention from her German elocution. Now, though, Lee-Enfield's perfect pronunciation and enunciation of every word made her feel terribly embarrassed by it. I'm better than this.

Luckily, SAA had drawn the British rifle's attention away from StG. The little doll's American drawl was more than enough to prompt Enfield to do her best to fix it, though she had apparently given up after the latest exercise. SAA sat checking the chambers on her pistol while Enfield stared straight forward, ever prim and proper. Even StG44, who appreciated good posture more than most, could hardly find it in her to match Enfield.

Worse than both of them was MG42. The doll was carefree to the core, slouching in her seat with her gun lazily thrown across her lap. StG suspected that Enfield had maneuvered herself to be seated with F2000 while StG was saddled with the other two, easily the worst of the rag-tag echelon they were in. It had been formed out of necessity: when StG had arrived at the combat simulations, it was nearly empty, the only other four present being the ones she was with now. None of them were particularly willing to be together, but it was better than going solo.

StG turned to look at the MG42 now. She was looking out the window of the car, enraptured by the view. It's only a simulation. The other doll was younger, however, so StG allowed for it. She would be out of MG42's presence soon enough anyway.

It was cramped in the car. StG was pressed hard between SASS and MG42, and given both of their poor postures it was a struggle for her to keep any space to herself. SAA at least had the independence to sit somewhat upright, whereas MG42 was dangerously close to leaning on StG. The latter was about to push MG42 away when she heard the doll speaking.

"Freunde heut' wird's eine lange Nacht," MG42 muttered. StG frowned. Weil wir alte Kameraden sind was the next line, she knew, but where had MG42 learned it? She was far too immature to have any grasp of what they meant, that much was for sure.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying?" she hissed to the younger doll, leaning over her head. MG42 sprang upright and StG's jaw clacked shut, leaving a sore sensation in her mouth.

"Of course I do!" MG42 proclaimed, much too loudly. "MG34 taught it to me, and I remember everything she says!"

"Did she translate it?" StG replied with thinly concealed contempt, massaging her hurt jawline. MG34 was much too kind to her younger sister, she thought. MG42 shook her head.

"No, I don't think so."

StG sighed. "Old comrades on the march through the country, holding a friendship faithful and true," she sniffed. "And I am certainly not an old comrade."

"That's mean," MG42 complained. "If you had acted like that before we ran the simulation, I would've left you with the others."

"I'm terribly scared," StG mocked. MG42's complaints meant nothing to her, nor her threats – in fact, the only thing she did care about the small doll was her performance in combat, which was quite lackluster. StG hoped she would have better luck with training partners next time.

They were riding back to the command post – or, what was supposed to be a command post. Given that the entire thing was a simulation, the command post was only a location they had to be in in order to leave the virtual reality. Normally, all five of them could simply leave the instant they finished training, but Kerr had implemented an "operation-level" training program that meant everyone had to run through battles as it were the real thing. That meant getting rides back to command posts and to and fro objectives. StG saw the merit in such an idea – it was vital that younger dolls, such as MG42, learned to overcome the impatience and anxiety of long waits between battles – but she herself was bored mindless from the entire thing. She never took part in the sort of operations the other four did anyway. Hunter Squadron was virtually only deployed to take out Ringleaders or hard-to-crack Sangvis targets, always with unconventional methods.

Perhaps the worst part of the entire team simulation was the music. Before StG had ever come to S17, some doll had hacked the combat simulations to allow them to play music while fighting. Such things were strictly banned on the battlefield, of course, but Kerr had little to no jurisdiction in the digital simulation the dolls all practiced in. Virtually every doll abused the music hack by simply wishing a tune into existence with their digimind. Right now, it was playing an old British song requested by Lee-Enfield. StG could see the doll's lips moving, and every once in a while a word would be spoken loud enough to hear.

It's a long way to Tipperary,

It's a long way to go.

It's a long way to Tipperary,

To the sweetest girl I know!

So much singing, StG thought, but she said nothing. SAA seemed to think the same, but in a different sense. "Enfield, why do we have to listen to all these old marching songs?" she whined, stretching her hands out to her booted toes. "Can't we play anything better?"

"Like what?" Lee-Enfield asked, inclining her head towards SAA. If she had ever felt any animosity towards SAA for her accent, it was not to be found now.

"Big Iron!" SAA said with the enthusiasm of someone who was used to getting what they wanted. Enfield's look of vague amiability turned into a frown of befuddlement.

"I beg your pardon?"

"To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day," SAA began singing, though it was more a shout than anything else. F2000, who had been napping, snapped her eyes open and stared at SAA, though the smaller doll failed to notice.

"Th-that's enough," Lee-Enfield said. "I can't say I've ever heard that."

"That's because you only listen to boring marching music," SAA said haughtily. StG snorted, but said nothing. You have no culture, little doll. She suspected that the older British doll thought so as well.

"It seems that you just can't appreciate it," Enfield sniffed. "I would've thought Garand might've taught you a little about that sort of stuff."

StG bristled at the mention of the doll, but said nothing.

"As if I'd listen to anything that girl has to say," SAA said. "The way she talks, it's like she won the war herself."

"That's simply untrue," Enfield retorted, completely distracted by mention of the war. StG turned away from the conversation, sensing that she might be involved sooner or later, only to remember that MG42 was still seated next to her. This really was an unfortunate arrangement. At least it would be done soon. They would arrive back at the command post in only a few minutes.

The car jerked to a sudden halt. F2000 started back to wakefulness, and SAA sprung for the door handle, exiting the car and immediately vanishing. Next went Lee-Enfield out her side, then MG42, then F2000. StG stepped out and felt her stomach swoop. Her vision cut out to black, and the next moment she opened her eyes she was in the simulation pod. It cracked open and light was allowed in, briefly blinding StG44 before her eyes adjusted. When the pod was fully open, SAA and Enfield were already standing outside of their pods, and MG42 and F2000 were clambering out.

"Five hours, forty seven minutes," Enfield said. "Pretty good time, everyone."

The pod bay was enormous, filled with dozens of simulation chambers just like the one StG had just left. Thick cables trunked up to the ceiling and ran through the wall to the main simulation computer. The hall was chilly, but StG made no reaction to the temperature, whereas MG42 and SAA clutched at their clothes. StG looked to the immense television on the far wall. Kerr had approved the addition of a timing leaderboard to encourage competition and improvement amongst echelons. It only counted for registered, official echelons, however, so StG would have to run it with Hunter Squadron for their time to actually be recorded. As it were, their impromptu group had placed well below the four hour, thirty five minute time of tenth place: Chrysanthemum Team. StG44 put it down to their poor unit cohesion. She and Lee-Enfield had done most of the heavy lifting – StG room clearing and Lee-Enfield sniping, with F2000 backing them up while SAA and MG42 trailed behind, occasionally spotting or offering fire support.

MG42 had returned to StG44's side like a puppy. She had failed to notice until she started walking over to Enfield and noticed MG42 strutting alongside her.

"Are you mocking me?" she asked the smaller doll, noticing her goose stepping. It was not the first time someone had made fun of her rather rigid walk and behavior, though it irked her for MG42 to be doing it.

"No," MG42 replied innocently. "I mean, I just assumed it was how I should do it."

"Well, don't." StG44 thought back to how FAMAS had chastised her own manner for the first month she had been in Hunter Squadron, and even from time to time now.

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

MG42 pouted, but relaxed her step. StG44 let out a mental sigh of relief as they approached Lee-Enfield.

"That wasn't half-bad," the British rifle was saying. "For a group like us, anyway."

She had adopted a relaxed parade stance with her rifle. StG envied it. It wasn't that she couldn't do it herself, but it was how Enfield could pull it off with such casual class. No one ever made fun of her for being proper, but it was too often that StG found herself the butt of a joke concerning a T-doll, dress blues, and Commander Kerr.

"I agree," said F2000. Her French accent was strong, but masked behind slow, deliberate speech that allowed the blonde doll to avoid the many pitfalls. "I think we all performed well. What matters is the experience."

True enough. StG knew that there could easily be a time where she was forced into a squad like this one – a squad she couldn't get along with. Kerr had transferred into Hunter easily enough, so there was no telling if she had a dysfunctional echelon set up just for StG. The doll shivered at the thought.

"I suppose that this is where we part ways," StG spoke up, picking up the edges of her mouth in an attempt at a smile.

"So it is," mused Lee-Enfield. Not good enough, StG thought. She had looked at her smile in the mirror, so she knew that it did nothing more than pick her typical frown up into a rail-straight, tight-lipped grimace, but Enfield could at least notice the effort. "The time's 0457, everyone."

StG had been in the simulations with the other four for over five hours. It had been a grueling simulation, that was for sure, made worse by her need to carry MG42's performance the entire time. She was filled with a mix of anger at the incompetence of half her team, but also pleasure at being the one that the responsibility fell upon. F2000 had even been there for her to show up – she was as good a cousin to FAMAS, and that was enough for StG. F2000 was much more pleasant, however, so StG couldn't help but feel a little guilty for using the Belgian doll as a vessel to prove herself against. It wasn't FAMAS anyway, so StG didn't feel fulfilled just yet.
"Nonsense!" SAA said loudly. "We should all go to the café together!"

"It's five in the morning," F2000 protested. "Too early."

"We could just get snacks," SAA said. "Or tea, Enfield!"

To her credit, Enfield kept a straight face, despite SAA's hyperactive leaping about. "I have an echelon to manage," she said. "And you have one to participate in as well. We all do, so I suggest we all go about our day, maybe even catch some extra sleep. Combat simulations are one excuse to skip daily duties, socializing at the bar another one entirely."

"Fine!"

"Glad we could come to an agreement." Enfield watched as SAA made for the exit, followed by F2000 shortly after. Enfield looked over to MG42 and StG44.

"Where're you two heading?"

"I've got cooking duty," said MG42. StG44 raised an eyebrow at that. MG42 looked like she was capable of messing up even boiled potatoes. Enfield lifted her gun up and set it on her shoulder.

"Speaking of cooking, you should all get something to eat."

"Yeah!" MG42 beamed, crossing her arms with a haughty expression.. "I'll cook for you, StG44! I bake a mean loaf."

Why are you offering to bake for me? StG wondered, but she felt hungry nevertheless. She made no reply, however, opting to speak to Enfield. "Herr, I believe I'll stay behind and review the combat logs. Always something to be gained."

Enfield regarded StG for a split second before nodding. "That's in order. MG42, you ought to report to the caféteria."

With that, both of them left the room. StG took a breath. She could feel the chilled air of the pod bay in her lungs – or, whatever passed for lungs. StG wondered for a moment if the sensation was just a simulated feeling to make her feel as if she had nerve endings there. They weren't real nerves, anyway, just sensors that acted like them.

StG disliked pondering her nature as a doll, so she refocused on the matter at hand: combat records. In reality, reviewing the logs was not a long or involved process, and it would not take much time – just enough to separate her from the other four. StG sat down by the computer station and reached under the desk for the connection cable. The system was analog enough to need it, rather than some sort of cloud method. StG supposed it was for security, though she didn't quite see the point of it.

Once she had the cable in her hand, she reached up to her chest and unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it open. On her chest would be… yes, there. StG held it open and raised her hand with the cable, carefully inserting it. A sharp push and the connection was made, a flood of data suddenly clamoring for her attention. StG ordered the system to give her the latest data from the simulation with Enfield and the others. It would take all of five minutes for the hours of data to be copied and transferred.

"So you're the reason there's server activity this early?"

StG nearly broke her neck twisting her head around. Her hand dropped to the gun at her side, but she could do no more than hold it there – anti-human protocols were something she lacked.

"Hey! I'm not an enemy," said the man, interpreting her movements accurately. StG's eyes were wide as saucers, and she kept a hand on her chest, ready to pull the cable out and bolt.

"I've never seen you before."

"I'm the IOP representative here," he said. StG's gaze flickered down to his ID. Mikael Schuhart. The name was unfamiliar to her, but she knew so few humans as it were. The chip in the badge was valid, however, and that was enough for her.

"Please pardon my reaction, sir," StG44 said quietly, and made to stand up. Schuhart held his hands out, a faint smile creasing his face.

"You can stay seated. Your reaction is understandable."

StG was still on edge, but she did her best not to show it, untensing as much of her body as she could manage. The man looked around the room, likely in an attempt to be disarming. StG kept her hand on the cable. "Why are you here?"

"Well, I just decided to check up on the sim pod bay. And I guess I needed… a break," the man said, returning his gaze to hers. "Like I said, I wasn't quite sure who was up so late performing sims. I saw the others leave."

StG was silent. Two minutes until the log transfer was complete. The man wore woodland camouflage BDUs, quite unlike the typical Griffin service uniform. StG had never much liked its thick, red overcoat, though she had only seen it in person twice. Kerr wore it well, at least, as did Helian, though the latter had been over hologram. She had seen it over a camera feed when Kryuger spoke to the entire sector last month, but it was not enough to judge how it fit him. She suspected that Schuhart would not look too good in it either.

He crouched down by one of the pods, checking the cable connection. One minute, thirty seconds left on the data transfer. StG watched Schuhart straighten up and look back at her.

"That's an StG44, right?" he asked. Of course it is, StG thought, but she couldn't help but follow his gaze and stare at her rifle like an idiot. It was a simple thing to look at, though StG knew the intricacies of its internals like the back of her hand. "You're not very talkative, huh?"

Just over a minute left on the transfer. StG turned her gaze up to Schuhart. "No, sir."

What kind of response was that? StG wasn't used to conversing with a human, or a doll, for that matter. Very few wished to start conversations with her, and those that did typically did it in the interest of a mission or in pursuit of something they wanted. Schuhart seemed to have no such objective. StG wondered if he did and she just couldn't tell. She would have to be extra vigilant in what she said.

"Well, that's fine," said Schuhart. He looked around for a seat, but found none; StG had taken the only one. She suddenly felt the urge to stand up again, to offer him her seat, but before she could do so he had veered away from the console, still talking. "Everyone seems a bit scared of me at first."

You're a human, of course they are, StG thought, but still she said nothing. Forty-five seconds remained on the transfer. She had met so few humans in her life that she had only the vaguest idea of how to interact with one without appearing awkward. More elite T-dolls received training in such fields, but StG was inexperienced enough that she had gotten no such education.

Why was she thinking so much about who she was? StG did her best to push the matter to the back of her mind and watched Schuhart. He had opened one of the simulation pods at the far end of the room and was tinkering with the internals. StG supposed that it had simply fallen into disrepair, though found that hard to believe. Griffin ensured that its technology was, if not advanced, at least reliable and lasting for many years. Perhaps a doll had broken something while training. It was a remote pod bay, though – so few dolls trained at any one time that StG found it unlikely that it had been used recently.

The transfer was done. StG yanked the cable out of her chest and hung it back under the console before she buttoned up her shirt. In a moment, her weapon was slung over her shoulder and she was marching for the exit as fast as she could. Schuhart said nothing, so she looked back and saw him standing up and staring back at her. StG snapped her gaze forward just as he started raising his hand and stepped out into the hallway.

It was early morning – early enough that one would still consider it nighttime. The hallways were quite empty, so StG saw virtually no other doll as she started walking. She would stop by the mess hall first, she thought, until StG remembered that the other four were breaking their fast there at the moment. Appetite soured by the thought of eating with MG42 and SAA, StG slowed her pace as she thought of where else she could go. Simulations were not an option, with Schuhart present, and everyone in the dorm would hate her if she returned so early.

A chorus of footsteps clipped on the stone floor behind her. StG turned to see a trio of dolls, dummy links in tow. All of them carried large, handheld spotlights.

"Hey StG44!" MP40 called from the back of the column as they walked.

"MP40," StG greeted. "What are you doing up?"

"Searching. Kerr has search teams running 24/7, combing the forest right by Gatehouse Pavlov looking for a missing doll team."

"Today will be the second day of searching," said one of the other dolls, SIG-510. "Still nothing, but Kerr insists we continue."

StG started walking with them. "Whose team was it?"

"OTs-12's," said SIG-510. "Yew team. They're pretty good, so it's surprising that they disappeared like that. I heard that one of theirs made it out, but no one's seen her. You know how secret Kerr keeps stuff here on base."

"Frankly, I'm surprised she's kept the search going for this long," MP40 huffed. "You'd think she'd call it off after an entire day of no results. Search teams have been going 24/7."

Maybe they're more important than the dolls that get trapped in the mountains, StG thought, but she had the tact to not say that to MP40.

"Want to help?" the blonde doll asked, holding out a spare spotlight. StG stared at it for a moment before she accepted, wrapped her gloved hand about the handle. MP40 smiled faintly. She was never much for a grin. "Glad you can help. It's a shame you don't have your dummies, though."

"The extra conversation will be enough for me," SIG-510 said. StG suspected that she wouldn't be as conversational as the other doll seemed to think, but didn't say anything about that either.

The team leader was MG34. She had looked over her shoulder at StG when she first approached, but hadn't made conversation. StG suspected she was looking at her through one of her dummies as they walked. It had been quite some time since they last talked, and StG wondered what the other doll thought of her. The last time they had met was StG's arrival to S17, where MG34 had been stationed as one of Kerr's guards at the time.

It was a long walk from the depths of the base to the blast door blocking access outside, but they made good time. Soon, they were walking down the winding path leading to Gatehouse Pavlov and the forest. StG peered up to the eastern sky, spying the morning star. Venus, she knew, but she still thought of it as a morning star. She had first taken notice of it when out on a mission in the pre-dawn morning.

"Of all the things you lose your cool about, it's a damn speck in the sky," FAMAS chided. "If you can see that so well, why don't you search for any hidden Sangvis snipers?"

"It is kind of pretty," Tokarev allowed. "But FAMAS right. Distractions aren't welcome."

"Sangvis isn't going to have any snipers here," StG said to FAMAS, but she had found five of them soon after the conversation. NTW-20 had sent StG to take them all out while the rest of them went about with the main objective, and StG swore to never look at the morning star again.

It fell out of sight as they approached the gatehouse, obscured by towering pine trees. The gatehouse guards greeted the search unit.

"The last search team is still out there," said one of the dolls. StG identified it as KS-23 by her gun. Like all shotgun dolls, she wore thick, variable armor plating. This doll in particular wore it like a skirt, close about her hips. "You guys wanna wait for them to come back?"

"We'll head out now," MG34 said without so much as a glance to her subordinates. KS-23 grinned a wide, toothy smile.

"I'll open the gate for ya and radio the other team to remind them to return. Good luck out there."

As they walked through the gate, StG saw the other doll of the guard, T5000, perched atop the guardhouse. She stared down at the passing dolls with a gaze StG could only like to that of a bird of prey. Her bright red hair was visible even in the night, and StG knew that it would be even brighter when the sun came up.

"It was her shift when OTs-12 and her squad disappeared," MP40 whispered to StG as they entered the forest. "Word is that she hasn't left her station since."

StG admired T5000's dedication, though the others didn't seem to share her sentiment. They were quickly deep within the forest, and all of them turned on their spotlights, sweeping the ground.

"Listen up," MG34 said. "This sector's already been searched, but we'll be searching it again. MP40, SIG-510, up in the trees! Keep most of your dummies down here."

Are those Kerr's orders, or your own initiative? StG wondered. MG34 had seemed like a cat's-paw for Kerr – capable, but obedient – though she wondered if the doll had gained some sort of independence and was seeking recognition from Kerr by being a bit more assiduous in her search efforts. Well, StG knew that was bound to fail from the start. MG34 might devote her entire duty report to the matter, but Kerr might as well have never read it in the first place. The only thing that will get you noticed is failure. StG pondered if any doll had been praised by the Commander. She doubted it, though she had to admit that there had never been a doll that seemed insulted by her either.

Above her, MP40 grappled with the tree branches, carefully climbing about and probing dark corners for any sign of the missing dolls. In her black uniform, she was a floating head and shins, hard to track. StG had good eyes, though, so never lost track of the blonde doll. ...why don't you search for any hidden Sangvis snipers? FAMAS asked. StG swallowed and tightened her grip around the spotlight. The ground underneath her boots was thick with pine needles and fallen brush, numerous tree branches blocking her way. Her steps positively bounced on the detritus as she walked forward, but StG ignored the sensation and plunged forward. MG34 was well behind her now, as were the other dolls.

StG had covered a fair bit of ground when she felt something hard underneath her boot heel. The dawn's sunlight was beginning to filter through the trunks by now, but it was far from bright enough to see unassisted, so StG pointed the light downwards, lifting her foot. The muted shine of the shell casing glimmered up from its bend of pine needles, and StG bend down to pick it up. 7.62x54 millimeter, rimmed. Mosin-Nagant… or SV-98. StG looked back to see if MG34 was within shouting range, but the doll was a ways off. She shone the light around her, looking for similar casings, and found that several of them shined back at her. Casings, but no doll. Perhaps she was up in the trees. MP40 had not reached this section of the forest yet, so StG pointed the light up into the branches. Nothing, of course – it would be too easy if she found SV-98 right in front of her.

StG clipped the spotlight to her belt and made for the nearest tree trunk, setting her hands on it. It would be hard to climb with her heeled boots on, but not impossible; she was a doll, after all. The bark was rough, even through her gloves, but with enough scrabbling she reached a large enough branch to hang onto and pull herself up onto it. The branches were dense enough that she found handholds easily enough, and she could almost walk normally. StG took the spotlight back in her hand and started moving about, scanning the thickly packed branches for any sign of SV-98.

She had never met the doll she was searching for. StG guessed that she was like most snipers: weird, and perhaps a loner. NTW-20 was always the exception, she found, but even the pink-haired doll had moments where she wished to be alone, and she certainly wasn't normal. The other side of spectrum were dolls like WA2000, awkward and aloof, a nightmare to talk to. StG knew that it was quite hypocritical to think so, but disliked the doll nevertheless. At least I can cook.

Her thoughts strayed to the team SV-98 had been in, and OTs-12. She and the Russian assault rifle were of the same level, though they had not talked at all. OTs-12 was one of the hundreds of dolls that simply did their job, no more, no less. StG was like that too, she supposed, until her S09 Commander abandoned her near that safehouse, and nothing had been simple afterwards. She is lucky to be in her position, StG thought. Hunter Squadron was a challenge, and she craved that part of it dearly, but StG would give anything to lead her own echelon, away from FAMAS and in a place where she could make a name for herself. OTs-12 was much like herself, though regrettably in many ways quite different. StG44's stomach twisted, but she ignored the feeling.

StG pulled her hand away from a branch, only for it to come away sticky with sap. Her hair was probably in a similar situation. It was too late for her to do anything about it though, she would simply have to wash her hair rather thoroughly when she returned to the base. At least she had gloves on, as she could replace the sap-covered ones instead of scrubbing her hands.

By now, the sun had fully risen, and the branches were further illuminated to the point where the spotlight hindered more than helped. StG switched it off and went to simply scanning her surroundings. If SV-98 had left any indication of her presence, it would be around here, above where her casings had been. A last-second weapons discharge, StG thought. She was no forensic scientist, but such deductions were not difficult to make. Perhaps she took cover farther up in the trees. A sniper's place was up high, she supposed, so it would be natural for the doll to seek shelter up there.

StG began climbing vertically, ignoring the scratch of pine needles at her face. At one point, her hat was pulled off and fell through the branches to the ground below. She ignored the loss and kept going.

"StG!" came a voice from below. She identified it as MG34's, but ignored the call and continued on. "What are you doing?"

A visual survey of the territory above her showed a large object blocking the sunlight. Big enough to be a doll, StG thought, and started making her way towards it. Color or defined shape was impossible to make out from the silhouette, but as StG got closer her heart – coolant pump – beat faster, if it would in such a situation. She ignored the distraction and reached out a gloved, sticky hand to the object. Just a little farther, and she would have it within her grasp.

Her fingers brushed cloth, and the object started. Doll. But before StG could do anything, the branches supporting the object bent, and it fell, crashing through branches as it plummeted towards the ground. StG slid off her branch and let herself fall after the doll, clothing whipped about her and branches caught in her gun's sling. She maintained enough control of her descent that she was able to grab at branches as she neared the ground, so StG only hit the forest floor with minimal pain.

She had landed face first, and the fall had produced a ringing in her ears, so the first thing StG felt was a boot on her side. Her hand flew to her back, expecting to find her gun; but rough pine needles on a branch was all she got. The doll rolled over to see the other three dolls in the search team standing over her. MG34 set her foot back down on the ground.

"I guess her underwear matches her skirt," SIG-510 snickered, hands on her hips. StG looked down to see that her bottom had been thrown up in her fall. SIG-510 grinned, but MG34 only looked on with a stone face. MP40 had the courtesy to avert her gaze. StG took a deep breath to calm herself and reached down to pull the hem of her skirt down.

"I see you found what we were looking for," MG34 said frostily, turning to look at the doll lying prostrate a few feet away. StG got to her feet and brushed debris off herself as she looked at the doll, then reached behind her and extracted the pine branch that had gotten caught in her weapon sling.

"Only one of twenty-four."

It was SV-98, no doubt. Her light blue outfit and white scarf were unmistakable, her face less so. It had been torn at as an animal might, eyes gouged out and skin removed to reveal the endoskeleton underneath.

"I remember M38 telling me that there are wolves in the mountains," MP40 said.

"Wolves don't tear synthetic skin off of androids," said MG34. StG knelt down by the doll's head as the others speculated.

"And where's her gun?" MP40 asked.

"I didn't see it up in the canopy," StG said, probing at SV-98's head with her fingers. "This doll's missing parts. Optics, nervous system control, all the important stuff."

"Get your hand out of there," MG34 chided, but StG ignored her, looking further.

"Something cannibalized parts from her."

"You can do that?" MP40 asked. "How would that even work? Doll parts aren't usually compatible if you're not the same model, and Griffin dolls can't just attack each other, right?"

"Usually," said SIG-510. "But this can't have been anyone from Griffin, and Sangvis isn't capable of this. They don't even have a Ringleader right now."

By now, StG's gloves were stained with coolant from SV-98's skull. She resisted the urge to roll over the corpse and inspect the rest of it, instead wiping her glove clean on a fistful of leaves.

"Done with that?" MG34 asked. StG ignored her.

"We need to bring this back to the base right now. It needs to be analyzed."

"What's there to analyze? Scars?" said MG34. "You said yourself all the important parts of it are missing. Without any sort of memory unit or central processor, the techs don't have anything to extract data from."

"Combat data recorder," StG replied. "They can cut it out and analyze memories from that."

MG34 said nothing. MP40 walked over to SV-98 and took her under the armpits, trying to lift her. "SIG-510…"

"I got it," said the doll, taking SV-98 by the ankles. StG avoided any glances from MG34 as she walked forward. The affair was morbid, for sure, but she felt an odd sense of satisfaction at having found the corpse. Something FAMAS might have missed, she thought.

StG glanced up. There weren't any hidden Sangvis snipers.