Smog clung to the city of Prague as the helicopter descended. Although, from looking at the skyline it seemed to just be the general miasma that clung to the world at large in the modern era and not the results of large industrial concerns, or other manufacturing. A few towering cooling towers to the far south of the city housed it's power plants, but they appeared to sit idle in the early morning sun. Parts of the city still bore clear scars of battle, buildings bombed out, and a few streets clearly obstructed by rubble and craters. If she squinted, Ots-14, better known as Groza, swore she could pick out the rusted remains of tanks and armored personnel carriers in the roads.

Drawing her attention from the city, Groza turned to the landing pad below. Two men stood to greet them, although she did find it interesting that as they descended onto the roof, no one in the streets appeared to so much as bat an eye at their arrival.

"Right. This is where I leave you." The pilot called over the headsets. "Boss wants me back ASAP, something about a project that's 'high priority' and he sounded serious." Although he may have sounded serious, Groza got the sneaking feeling the pilot really didn't care that much.

"That is fine." Groza shrugged. Whether he obeyed or not didn't matter to her, although personally she had no desire to deal with the new Commander's ire, and would let the Commander sort that out. "We will keep him updated of any developments."

"Sure sure." They hit the ground with a rough thump, rougher than strictly required. "Well, here's your stop, ladies."

Groza led the way out of the helicopter, and almost as soon as the last set of boots hit the deck, their ride rose, banking away from the city to do something. She shook her head in bemusement, making a note to speak to the Commander later about that pilot, at least to mention the seeming lax treatment of duty. "I assume you are with our client." She turned to the two waiting men instead, reordering her thoughts.

"Yeah." One of them looked her over with obvious lust, although the other seemed to be trying to ignore all of them. "We're to bring you to the boss."

"Then lead on." She didn't care about the lustful eyes, having dealt with worse, and the Commander's reminder they could defend themselves however they needed ringing in her ears. Retrospectively, it was an odd order, one no other Commander gave her, even during her time with some less than savory ones.

Without further words, the men led them down the building, hallways lined with various art and war memorials and into an office. Workers pointedly ignored them, although a squad of obvious Dolls walking down a hall with uncovered weaponry, doubtlessly stood out in the daily routine.

"Sir. The Griffon mercs are here for you." And then their escorts were gone, leaving Groza and her squad alone with their apparent client.

Behind the desk sat a relatively bland looking man in a military uniform, medals lining his chest, and a nasty burn scar on the underside of his jaw. "Griffon Sector Nine." He gave them a once over, without any lust, or judgement. Only calculated eyes. They reminded Groza of the Commander, but without the Commander's carried a harder edge. "Hm. Good. They sent competent ones."

Groza shifted, "Pardon?" Ready to defend her comrades, her fingers inched towards her concealed side arm, mental flags rising, no warning, no subtlety.

Blue eyes curled into a half smile. "Soldiers. Fighters." He clapped, then gestured expansive. "Not some civilians in military clothing."

Groza shrugged, not interested in debating the philosophy and nuance of who they were. "You sound a bit like our Commander." Shaking off that thought, she folded her hands behind her back, settling into her role as leader and soldier. "What do you need us for?"

And, like that, all the humor and joviality fled the man's face, seeming to recognize her more military demeanor as well. "Yes. I require you to locate an individual for me. This person has been causing all manner of mischief about my city, including breaking into my residence. Nothing has been stolen at this time, but I cannot allow this to stand." While the words suggested anger, concern, oddly, Groza saw none of that on his face, just the facts. For a leader of the city, it struck her as peculiar.

"Do you have any other information about this person?" After a brief consideration she added on, "Or what they are aiming to do?"

His eyes narrowed briefly, then it vanished. "I will have the police provide you with their dossier on the individual." He tapped a few keys on a nearby screen, although whatever came it was out of view. "You have company lodgings in the city, correct?"

"We do."

"Good." He motioned as though dismissing them. "I will leave you to the investigations."

-Faded Glory-

"What is this dump?" Groza couldn't help but agree with the outburst, as they scoped out the 'lodging' provided by G&K. A run-down little house that seemed to have not been entirely repaired after taking a direct artillery shell during the war. On further inspection, she decided multiple mortars instead. "Did they even…"

"Someone set up the line to the Commander." Groza instructed, ducking into one of the 'bedrooms'. A pair of cots, a basic bookshelf, and nothing else of value, aside from PP-2000. "Is every room this bad?"

"Yeah." PP-2000 looked up from unpacking some of their equipment. "It's a mess. I'll get 39 to help me clean up, but it's never going to be comfortable." Groza winced, giving one of the cots a hard kick, and watching it creak and buckle.

"Understood." She dropped her weapon case, watching dust explode from the floor, at least years of it.. "Don't worry about it too much, I want to get this done as fast as possible." Hopefully, they wouldn't need to sleep at all.

PP-2000 huffed, and Groza ignored the intrinsic disbelief. "Yes, ma'am."

"Groza, the commander is on!" Ots-12's shout cut off any further thoughts or debate, and she jogged into the common area, where Ots-12 stood beside the rugged laptop that powered the portable hologram projector.

A polite description of the transmission would be grainy, and cutting in and out. A hand stretched to the side, the sound of the Commander hitting sounded, and the image resolved better. "Groza." He nodded, upon confirming her attention. "Any initial issues?"

"No." Shaking her head, she pulled up a chair in front of the camera, dropping into it with less grace than she wanted. "The Mayor provided us basic details and the police dossier on the target has arrived. I will look it over shortly." A short bob of the head.

"I'm not going to like this answer, but…please tell me the state of the wall behind you is the result of video compression." Groza thought, but couldn't confirm the narrowing of his eyes, and the way his jaw set in a hard line suggested ire.

"Negative. This building is in a severe state of disrepair." He leaned forwards into the camera. "PP-2000 is working to determine the exact state of the facility-"

"Pack up. I'll get you a reservation at someplace worth staying at." He tapped something off screen again, with a mutter she didn't catch. "I'll forward you details when I get that settled. Meanwhile, get started looking for the target, scouting the area, and…" He paused for a while, before folding his hands in front of him. "Get a lay of the land. What do the citizens think of things nowadays?"

"Commander?" That wasn't their job, and Groza could see the other Dolls looking at each other in confusion, and concern.

"Call it a selfish request." He turned away, not meeting her eyes, even across the grainy video. "I fought for Prague. Guess I want to see how it's holding up after all these years." Hands laying down on the table he sighed heavily, gaze rising to hers once again.

"You never went back?" Ots-12 leaned into the call. "Why not?" Before Groza could chastise her, he cut the call off with a sharp gesture. "Well, that's rude."

"It is a sensitive subject, I'm sure." Although she did tend to agree, it was rather rude of him, but no use dwelling on that. "Right. Tiss, you and I will take everything to wherever the Commander gets us rooms. PP, 39, 98, start canvasing the areas marked on the map for our target."

"Ma'am!"

-Faded Glory-

"What are we doing exactly?" Equipment gathered, and waiting for transport, Groza decided to at least take a few short moments to indulge the Commander's odd request of them, by dragging the other assault rifle wielding Doll off to a café. While bars traditionally bore the label of best place to weasel information out of the citizens of a city, Groza suspected she might well learn something here.

Here being the most put together café she'd found, with a front that didn't bear the hallmarks of war, all the windows were intact, and the rest of the street trended towards being in good repair, although more than a few buildings sported the marks of the battle from years passed, she felt reasonably confident that this area of the city represented one of the more well to do ones.

"Listening. Looking." Giving Ots-12 a hard look, she led the way into the café itself. "The Commander wants to know what the people are feeling, and this is a good place to listen, as people rarely consider who exactly is listening in on them in public." Stopping for a moment, she added, almost as an afterthought. "And, they don't realize we can hear them.

"Whaddaya want?" The man handling orders glanced up. Slipping into an old, practice aristocratic mask, Groza stared down her nose at him, and the slouched posture, obviously carefree attitude, and dress.

"Tea." A soft, sure command, that made the man squirm in his chair as he inputted the order. "Two."

"Sure sure. It'll be out." Turning, she led the way to a table with a view of the street, letting Ots-12 sit first.

Settling into the chair, Groza watched the passing citizen for a while, trying to get rid of a niggling feeling. "Hm." Her fingers started to drum the table, before she caught herself. "It is odd."

"What do you mean?" Produced a mobile phone, a good way to pretend to be doing something while listening, and seemed to listen to Groza only halfway.

"For a city ravaged by the war, Prague seems to be both recovering and falling apart." Even in a more well to do area, parts of the city looked blasted by artillery fire, and others seemed entirely fine." She motioned to a building farther down the street. "Take this street. In the buildings we can see, two appear to be repaired, that one in the middle is completely rebuilt, and then several others are still halfway to ruins." Including one with boarded up windows and more damage than just from the fighting. "It's been almost ten years, and there is certainly enough activity for them to be able to repair, enough people out on the streets. So why?"

Ots-12 shrugged into her phone. "Maybe no one came back?" The other AR however didn't sound sold, just offering a token argument

"Perhaps. I am not sure if I believe that." Groza accepted her tea from a waiter. "There was no listed drop off in population after the battle, or at least, no more than expected from a siege and large-scale battle taking place in a city."

Ots-12 hummed, flipping a few screens while she thought for a while. "You read all the files in the city?" Groza hid her smile, realizing the game they would be playing for the time being.

Nodding, she sipped her drink. "When the Commander suggested we investigate the views of the people and the situation of the city, I did some checking into the history, and the fighting in Prague itself. After the battle, the population of Prague dropped off rapidly before stabilizing and not changing much in the intervening times, outside of the occasional surge when the ELID swarms got worse in the East. The most recent rise has been because the Soviets stationed a number of soldiers here, and families came along." Which given the Czech's independence didn't make sense to Groza at all, and she made a note to ask the Commander in private later on. "Tell me, Tiss, why would there be burned out tanks still in the streets in a city that should, by all accounts, be recovering, or even recovered?"

Tiss thumbed a few things out of the way on her phone screen. "So, if the people aren't leaving, but the city isn't' rebuilding, do you think it's money, or something else." A vicious curse followed, something not going as she intended. "Budget is fine from what I can find. So not money." She glanced up. "We investigate?"

Groza shrugged. "I don't know. I will inform the Commander and let him decide."

"Understood." Tiss returned to her phone in silence.

The Comm beeped in her ear, Groza accepting the call with a tap. "Groza." PP-2000's voice crackled. "This place is a complete slum."

"Pardon me?"

"It's a slum." SV-98 elbowed into the call, and from the grunt from PP-2000 that statement was quite literal. "Everything is run down, people are sleeping in the streets, at least four people have offered PP money to sleep with them, and-" She broke off, a rifle shot ringing out.

"SV-98 what did you do?" Groza could feel the start of a headache already. The worst of headaches truthfully.

"Nothing." SV-98 huffed. "I didn't kill anyone."

"She didn't." PP-2000 confirmed. "I get the feeling the people here don't like the government, and I doubt will tell us anything useful."

"I see. Meet us…" Groza considered before rattling off a nearby location. "We'll regroup and talk to the Commander."

-Faded Glory-

Three more hours, and they were inside a much nicer rented house, clustered about the laptop, with a notably better signal, allowing a better view of his hardened visage, although still somewhat lacking for details still.

"Police are directing you to a slum. That makes sense." The Commander mused. "Although, it does complicate matters as we are not in a position to go clearing out some lurker without significant backing." Giving them a sweeping look, he opened the floor. "Unless you have any guesses?"

"I think the reports are half right." Ots-39 pipped up, fiddling with her cuff. "They don't live in the slums. I think there is another reason why they are there." The SMG paused, lapsing into thought for a while. "A friend, or a base of operations away from their house maybe?"

The Commander made a vague motion of assent. "I trust your judgement on that matter, as I cannot make an assessment myself." Leaning back he appeared to relax, although Groza could see nothing to suggest he truly let his guard down. "What interests me more is Groza and Tiss's report that the city is halfway to shambles. Every modern city has a slum whether we like it or not, but having large chunks of inward areas still halfway to ruins is not." A snort. "Never mind half blasted tanks in the southern parts of the city, which notably saw extraordinarily little fighting during the battle.

"I have been to many major cities in eastern Europe and none of them are in quite this sorry a state." Groza tossed into the mix with a wince. "More importantly, there isn't a pattern to the way the city is and isn't fixed. It's not as though they are fixing the inner city then working out, you will see one building ruined and then next is just fine."

"A pity." It didn't sound like he felt it a pity, at least not in the way that phrase should be used, in Groza's opinion. "I rather hoped they would recover from the war better than this, but I suppose it cannot be helped. Keep an eye out for anything else out of place, but for now, focus on the mission."

"Yes, sir." A chorus came from behind her.

"Good." Rubbing his temples, the Commander flashed a rare, grim smile. "If that is all, I will leave you to your work." When nothing else came up, he concluded the call without a further word.

They sat around for a while, in silence. "He's not telling us something." Tiss spoke up first. "I can't tell what it is though." Groza couldn't disagree with that, but she saw no value in speculating about that. "Why is he so worried about the state of the city?"

"He's not from here." SV-98 joined in, looking up from cleaning her rifle. "His accent isn't the same as the locals." She slid the bolt home with a click, cycling it a few times. "If I had to guess he's from western Europe, but he's traveled a lot, and is good at blending in."

"Maybe." Ots-39 waved a candy bar. "Or, he could just have learned to hide his accent, that's possible isn't it?" She finished her snack. "Never thought about trying."

"Not everyone has secrets." Rolling her eyes, 98 turned to the group. "I'm going to go stake out the Mayor's House. It'll be faster to get ahold of our little thief if we catch them in the act." Although potentially volatile if their employer got annoyed.

"Take 39 with you." Groza commanded. "PP, Tiss. Find appropriate dress and go give the slums another look. Ask questions, but try not to draw attention to us."

PP-2000's nose scrunched up with distaste. "And you?"

Groza's lips curled in equal distaste. "I'm going to go bar crawling." Even the thought made her want to crawl out of her artificial skin. "I…I have a theory."

All four traded looks and Groza braced for questioning, but all she got was a chorus of salutes. "Yes, ma'am!"

-Faded Glory-

Swirling her drink Groza decided, without any doubt, she hated this idea. Doubly so, because she had it.

Bars, of all types, did not welcome her, as someone who preferred a little more class in her company, and surroundings. Worse, it seemed more than a few Soviet Officers were trickling in, already drunk, and in Groza's experience, dealing with drunken soldiers was the worst.

"Heh…you see the way she bent?" One of them slapped another on the back, and all of them laughed, trooping in to drop onto the bar nearby Groza. "Barkeep! Three, top shelf!" The barkeep shot them all incredulous stares, obviously sharing Groza's disbelief they could pay for that on military salary, doubly so out in Prague. "Buddy here got promoted, he's payin'!"

"And on a lieutenant salary, he's still not affording that." Groza muttered, turning back to her drink, already recognizing the ranking marks on his shoulders.

"Hey lady, what are you saying?" Then, one of them was in her face, already smelling of booze and… she resisted the urge to hit him, as the stench of sex hit just after, and her jaw set, the earlier comment coming into stark focus.

"That I doubt, given your earlier activities, you have the money to pay." She stared him down, almost daring him to argue, which perhaps given her instructions for the others to now draw attention.

"Welllll…." The man drawled. "How about…we cut a deal?"

"I suggest you make it a good one." Sneering down her nose at him, she waited, almost curious.

"You pay for our drinks, then we'll go back, and you'll have a real good time." The 'we' seemed to include her, given how close he stood to her.

Groza considered before polishing a nail on her skirt looking down as she did. "Get out." Her eyes hardened when she looked up to meet his gaze, and the soldier flinched. "Before I have a mind to find your commanding officer and explain what his or her soldiers are doing, or deal with you… personally."

"Bitch you-" Very calmly, she drew her sidearm. Words died in his throat, all three backpedaling as Groza very deliberately set the gun on the bar. The entire time, she held the one who'd been in her face's eyes, content to let the implicit threat stand.

"Yes?" For a moment, the soldier wavered, and she thought the evening could manage to end, quietly. Then, a cruel grin started to cross his face.

"Hang on…You can't do anything to me." He stepped closer, entirely too far into her personal space. "Can ya, Doll." She blinked, doing her best to shut out the smell of booze, and the quickly supplied knowledge that, based on the amount in his breath, he'd been drinking more than a bit. Or, worse, the various ways this would end given his sudden realization. "We can introduce you to some others, you really enjoy it." She slid a hand towards her sidearm, his hand landing over hers, enough force to restrain a regular human, enough to make the implication clear. "Come on, we know you can't do shit to us."

"Well treat you real gooood." The second soldier joined, this one, slurring heavily, his arm snaking about her shoulders.

"I'm sure." Even if she put every bit of sarcasm she could into the words they sounded weak.

Soldier One laughed. "You should hear what they say about us, that we're the-"

"Quiet!" Soldier Two hissed. "Don't go yelling about that." He leaned into Groza's ear. "There's a place we can go spend ourselves some quality time. Us, you, some other Dolls."

Groza made up her mind in a split second. "Oh?" While the presence of Soviet soldiers this far into Europe raised questions, that line worried her more. "Where might that be?"

"Novák's place." The first soldier turned and thumped his buddy on the soldier. "We'll show you round, promise." Caught between the two, she couldn't easily wiggle free, opting for a more restrained approach. "You'll love em…"

Without much complaint, she let them lead her out, and into the street, doing her best not to snap the arm of the one whose hand was sliding just a little too far down her back. The third one, obviously a bit more sober, turned, ducking down an alley, and conveniently out of sight of the street, the others following behind him. The hand slid further down her back, dangerously close to under her skirt.

The leader stopped, turning. "I get the first go at-"

And at that point, she'd heard enough. Her elbow buried itself into a stomach, the explosion of air telling her she'd hit well, and her other elbow caught the second in something boney, the crunch filling the alley. The leader gaped, barely realizing what happened, when Groza stepped forward, grabbing him by the neck, and slamming him into the wall. Bone crunched, stone giving way in sequence.

"Urgh…" One of the other two moaned and tried to stand. She dropped the leader, took a step, and kicked him square in the chin. In a fashion better suited to a movie than reality the man rose, in a smooth parabolic arc, landing in a heap, barely moving.

As she turned, something slammed into her side, the surprise sending them both to the pavement. She rolled, her assailant getting in a sloppy punch, before as her back hit the ground, her knee jerked up, and the figure above her collapsed sideways with a strangled pain noise. She stood, dusting off her skirt, taking a few moments to ensure her appearance wasn't too out of place. Glaring at the leader, who still stayed in a heap by the wall, she advanced, feeling a sudden cold rage bubbling in her chest.

"Your…but-" She dragged him up to eye level with a jerk.

"Who is Novák?" All patience for these three was gone, between an alleyway brawl and their attitude, and at last, emotion hit her voice, a low growling question betraying her. Her captive squirmed not meeting her eyes. "I do not have the patience to ask nicely again." For good measure she gave him a shake, eliciting sounds of pain.

"Brothel!" He gasped it out, and Groza stopped, waiting. "He's got Dolls! A whole bunch of em, and-"

She cut him off. "Where?" He sputtered the address. "I see." And, without a word, Groza dropped the man in a heap, turning and walking out of the alley. No one batted an eye when she walked back into the bar.

"Another." She sat down in her previous place, knocking some dirt off a shoulder in the process. The bartender stared in muted disbelief. "Please."

"Uh…right." He turned to fetch her drink and she returned her sidearm to it's concealed holster, with a sigh. "That bunch-"

"I do not believe you need to worry about them." Even for eyes that weren't quite human a hint of danger lurked in them.

"Right." Her drink was there, and Groza savored it for as long as she could, before paying, and stepping back outside, into the night.

"98. Any sign of our little thief?"

"Negative." The reply came at once, albeit rather muffled. "A few military brass, but nobody sneaking in."

"Understood. Tiss, PP?"

A crackle then a long quiet. "Nothing." Tiss sounded frustrated. "Plenty of people complaining about stupid things, but nobody sneaking about that we care about."

"I see. We'll abandon that line of searching for now. Come to my location, we have a new problem." She paused. "Try and avoid being seen, especially by soldiers."

-Faded Glory-

SV-98 shifted on the roof she'd taken up residence on. The Mayor, or whatever he was called, occupied a rather lavish mansion, at least, larger than anything she'd ever seen, or dealt with. Large enough to have a helipad in the back, out of view of the average citizen. Then again, most citizens couldn't see past the wall around the place, never mind anything else.

"Anything?" Ots-39 was leaning against a chimney, staring morosely at the sky.

"No." Picking up the binoculars again, SV-98 started to sweep the area once again.

"Why'd she send me with you anyway? It isn't like we should be getting attacked."

"I don't know." They'd only had this exchange a few times since setting up. "Is it the new Commander's idea?"

"You think so?" Ots-39 frowned. "I dunno. He's a soldier, and you know he read our files, I doubt he cares about us wandering off alone." SV-98 hummed for a while. She didn't have much interaction with the new Commander before this assignment, but he reminded her of some of the soldiers from when she'd still been on Soviet bases.

"Maybe. Could always ask her. Groza isn't going to mind." Of all the bosses SV-98 had, Groza always proved the most understanding of questions about why she did things. It beat dealing with some of the stuck-up soldiers in the Army at least. "Probably thinks there's more than one person."

"I guess." Ots-39 huffed. "It would be hard to break in there without some kind of help. Even we'd struggle to do it." Giving the building and walls another look, SV-98 found she could not disagree. Then again, she accepted 39 as a spotter for a reason. "One person, they are probably smaller build. No way you climb walls like that, not and sneak in."

"No breaks, gaps, or trees leaning over it." Another scan. "Or rooftops to jump out from."

Ots-39 crawled over, taking the binoculars. "Somebody did a good job on this place."

"Tunnel then?" Tunnels sucked. Usually they were full of rats, or mice, or something else disgusting. "Or do you think they have someone helping them?"

"No." Ots-39 huffed. "They are right there."

SV-98 didn't hesitate, jamming her face back into her scope, tracking the right area. True to what 39 said, a small figure could be seen, pressed against the walls, looking about. "Where would they-" As she mumbled the words, the figure darted across the street, into a nearby building. "They won't actually try and jump from a roof will they?" She paused, waiting. "Ots-39?" Pulling back from her scope, SV-98 muttered a creative curse upon realizing she was alone.

"Stay there! I'll bring her to you!" And Ots-39 was off already, leaving the sniper behind.

"Damnit!"


AN: So...instead of writing Fire Emblem like I should be (it's been giving me hell and I needed a break), I gave in to the 'peer pressure' and started my own GFL longfic. This will loosely follow the game, a bit more strongly at the start but will diverge at some point.

On that note, go read Toy Soldiers by ClearlyInvsible, either here on FFN or on Ao3. Seriously cannot recommend it highly enough.

Besides that, sit back, acquire popcorn and enjoy the ride.