(26/10/2056 | 10:15)

Come the next day, the advance continued. Each of the frontline teams were fully resupplied, repaired and replenished. Back in the aircraft control tower, the junior Commanders were controlling their teams as usual. The push was slower now, more methodical. A way to ensure that the infiltrations of yesterday didn't happen again today.

But Hsu wasn't in the tower this time. The reporter, turned soldier, turned mercenary, found himself in the communications room. Yet again joined by a projection of Helian as he sat in a chair, though this time staring up at a satellite image. Another figure, A-545, stood off to the side. The Soviet doll eyed both Griffin employees with suspicion, especially after handing down the 'request' from her own superiors.

Hsu paid neither of them much mind, staring up at the screen. Seeing the images as a new pit was building in his stomach. A new Sangvis force building further east, in the mountains. Their intentions unknown, but still close enough that they could be coming for his strike force.

"So far, the mass has done nothing but build their forces. We've seen little movement in any direction." Helian told the man, turning down the sound of the television in her own room. "But it stands to reason that they may attempt to link up with Intruder's forces."

A-545 looked at the still quiet Commander, before stepping forwards and deactivating the TV screen in front of them.

"...I have been told to inform you, Commander Hsu, that the Presidium is requesting an acceleration of your efforts." The KCCO doll spoke, voice measured as she turned to observe the man's reaction.

Hsu frowned at the doll. "You're kidding me."

"I do not make jokes." A-545 told him, glancing at Helian's hologram. "They have likely informed Sub-Director Cameron as well."

The Scotswoman nodded, pulling a folder off of her office's desk. "They have. We've been instructed to eradicate the Sangvis presence in this territory in its entirety. Not a trace, they must be pushed back over the Ukrainian border."

Hsu sighed, mulling these new orders over. His brain already began making adjustments, things that would have to be changed in the plan so they could make this strike happen. It shrinked his schedule greatly, they would have to rush. They'd have to be more reckless and aggressive, which was possible. But it was risky, and he hated risky. Better to be slow and sure than fast and loose.

But orders were orders. Wouldn't be the first time this job asked him to do the improbable.

"...Is there anything else?" He asked A-545.

The blonde nodded, producing another document and handing it over to Hsu. "My handler requests your presence in Moscow once this battle has concluded to assess your performance. He expects good news upon our return."

Hsu glanced at the document, glancing at the large swatch of military bullshitese. At the bottom he saw a name, Yegor. One that he filed for later, before setting the piece of paper to the chair on his left.

"You're dismissed, Five-Four-Five." He said briskly, not wanting to deal with any further 'directives' handed down to him from a damned robot.

A-545 clicked her heels together, saluting Helian before marching out of the room. A minute later, G36 entered, nodding to confirm that the KCCO doll had left the area before entering herself and locking the door behind her.

Seeing that they were alone again, Helian spoke up. "You're upset."

"Remind me why I have a Government appointed babysitter?" The Commander asked.

"Because you're an expatriate from a country that was at war with this one, with authority over hundreds of tactical dolls, with a military and journalistic background." The Sub-Director told the man, her tone showing that she found the question to be aggressively stupid. "Every Senior Commander has a Government liaison present, Matthew. In your case, be glad there aren't five."

"You have one too?" Hsu said, taking some offense at her annoyance.

"No, but I live in Saint Petersburg. I can't sneeze without the FSB knowing, telling me they know, and giving me 'advice' on how to do it in a correct manner." She muttered, hand on her hip. "Meanwhile you're in a part of the Soviet Union that doesn't even want to be part of the Soviet Union. Just don't engage in espionage or try to start a revolution."

"Sure." Hsu said, answering in a way he knew would annoy his boss even more. "I take it corporate wants something from me too?"

Helian rolled her eyes, not wanting to take the insolent man's bait. "The Board of Directors wants Intruder dead by week's end."

"That's what the Government wants." Hsu commented.

"No, they want Sangvis pushed out. We want her death confirmed and documented." Helian clarified.

"Any reason in particular?" Hsu asked. Even with the previous ringleaders he'd defeated, corporate hadn't asked for 'confirmation and documentation' explicitly.

"Recent events have provided Griffin with… we'll call them opportunities." The Sub-Director explained carefully. "With the threat escalating, the Pan-European Federation is getting nervous. There's already rumors that Sangvis Ferri is attempting to infiltrate their borders via the Balkans."

"And you think a dead ringleader is good advertising for Griffin." Hsu deducted.

"It'd certainly help. Show that we can succeed where others have very clearly failed." The executive confirmed, passing a folder from her desk to a Bren shaped blur. "You're to begin the assault on Intruder's stronghold tomorrow. I expect to hear of her death by dinner."

"You're asking a lot here, Helian."

"Only what's required. Some of my echelons will be nearby in case you need your arse pulled out of the flames." She mocked, Bren's laughter echoing in the background before fading away. "One more thing. That Air Force Colonel said he'll be providing his strike package tomorrow."

Hsu groaned, knowing that Helian was giving him a warning more than a confidence boost. "We still can't tell him to screw off?"

"Given the circumstances, I'm not sure you want to." She reminded him. The Commander ran a hand across his face, feeling a pang of agony. She was right, as usual, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"I'll adjust the plan." He said, caving to the inevitable. He then looked up to the woman, noticing the fresh bags under her eyes displayed in a crisp 8000 pixel resolution. "How're you holding up? Probably have a dozen people going after you at the moment."

"Don't know the bloody half of it. Ejits've been crawlin' up me-." Helian began, catching herself as she began to slip into her native vernacular. Seeing as she'd already let her guard down, the exhausted woman sat down at her desk and sunk into the leather.

"Mother Mary, it's awful. These fuckin' Russian bampots woke me up in the middle of the night." She complained, venting to the first person today who'd even noticed her absolute state. "Bren had to bring a change of clothes from my flat. I spent the entire mornin' workin' in my damned sweats."

"That's a bit unbecoming of an officer, ma'am." Hsu snidely quipped, grinning as Helian lifted a middle finger in his direction.

"I'll fly down there and wring yer scrawny little neck, ya fuckin' walloper." The woman cussed fervently, though it only made the target of her ire break into a fit of laughter. Seeing that her attempts at intimidation were going to bear no fruit, the senior executive folded her arms and pouted.

Feeling as though he'd pushed as far as he wanted, Hsu got himself back together. Despite all of what happened yesterday, and the absolute chaos of how today started, he could see that Helian had it as bad as him. Seeing her distraught made him… uncomfortable. In a weirdly personal way.

"Call when you get off of work tonight. I'll fill you in on tomorrow's plan, and we can share a drink." Hsu said, leaving the door open so the beleaguered woman had something to look forward to. Small and inconsequential as it was.

"...I might take you up on that offer." Helian said, before sitting herself up and smirking at her man on the ground. "Now get to it, Commander."

"Yes, ma'am." Hsu promised, letting his superior end the call before he stood up and adjusted the collar of his shirt. Having forgotten that he wasn't alone in the room anymore.

"So you can talk to women." G36 said, speaking up from her silent watch. The sudden words made Hsu jump, something that the maid made no effort to hide her pleasure over.

The Commander grumbled something, pushing his chair back into place at the table. "You're acting like I'm hopeless."

"You are. Totally and completely. It's a miracle you haven't tripped and fallen off the face of the earth." G36 continued to say, putting her friend through the third degree.

Hsu turned around, frowning at his primary adjutant. "You know I'm your boss, right?"

"Perhaps." The maid answered vaguely, holding the strap of her slung assault rifle before pushing the door open.

"The other Commanders are waiting for you, Master." G36 reported. Hsu grabbed his coat off of the chair, throwing it over his shoulder and not even bothering to put the heavy crimson robe on. Today was going to be a stressful one, even if there wouldn't be much shooting involved. Reworking his plans, repositioning the dolls, trying to get the Soviet Air Force on the same page as them. Honestly, it'd be easier if it was all shooting.

But this was what being an officer was. Planning and politics, not leading from the front. He'd never been a Sergeant, anyway.


(10:44)

M4A1's projection stood in the virtual world, waiting for her requested partner to jack in.

Entering Level Two of a neural net was always an out of body experience. Being dragged into a world of essentially make believe, where everything was made up of nothing but code and programs. Yet to her eyes, and to the eyes of everyone who stepped down to this point, it looked as real as the world outside.

In many ways, for dolls, it felt even more authentic.

Their brains were made up of this software. Here, in the virtual world, their senses were… sharper. More real, less fuzzy. Things weren't simulated, there weren't sensors that had to act as middle-men and stopgaps to their experiences. In this environment, a doll felt everything as a human would on the outside. Yet if a human came here, they'd likely feel the same strange fuzziness that she experienced in their world.

As that thought jostled in M4's mind, a short pillar of blue light burned to life at her flank. Seconds later, it flashed away, leaving M1 Garand standing as she straightened out her headgear.

"There we go. Stupid lag." Garand complained, looking over to her ally. "Sorry about that, M-Four. Were you waiting long?"

M4 quietly shook her head. It had been a while, long enough that she'd begun to get lost in her own thoughts. But she didn't want to make Garand feel guilty. The rifle doll was already doing her a favor, joining her on this foray so she wouldn't have to go alone.

Garand waved a hand, pulling up a keyboard that she began to type into. "It'll take a bit to load up a path to the storage drive where we're keeping her. Old Man Hsu told us to keep her under as many layers of security as possible."

M4 nodded once again, watching Garand's fingers dance as she rapidly entered input after input. "Is she…?"

"She's awake. We've already ripped out all the memory files we could, but it looks like she burned most of her sensitive data when you grabbed her." Garand informed. "We already sent it to Persica, but it'll take a few days for anything useful to get parsed."

The news was unfortunate, but not unexpected. She would have done the exact same thing if Sangvis had succeeded in capturing herself. All of her sisters would have.

"What about Scarecrow? Is she… talking?" The Captain asked.

Garand chuckled, thinking that M4 was trying to make a bad joke. "Sure, the murderous killbot that hates all of humanity and all of Griffin's T-Dolls was totally glad to tell us all her evil plans."

The mechanic glanced over at her friend, taking note of M4's dilapidated expression. Garand winedd, forgetting just how sheltered the doll was. Despite her skillset, M4A1 really was one of the least jaded dolls in their company.

Though that brought another question to Garand's mind. "Say, why didn't any of your sisters come with you?"

M4 fidgeted, finding the topic awkward. "I d-didn't tell them. They'd… they wouldn't understand. Star and M-Sixteen would try to talk me out of it. And Sop…"

"Sop isn't a great wingwoman." Garand said, understanding what she meant. It made sense, M16 would probably spend the whole meetup making fun of Scarecrow. Meanwhile Star would probably spend the whole time trying to interrogate the captive, as if they would find out something they didn't already know.

Still, like most things, that question bore even more questions.

"OK, I get why you didn't bring'em along." Garand said. "But then why'd you ask me to come with?"

That question was less awkward. In M4's mind, it was so simple that she thought it was obvious.

"You're my friend. I trust you." She told Garand.

The blonde paused, not expecting that answer. With all the time she spent around Thompson, BAR, Springfield and M14, she'd gotten accustomed to such a sentiment being unsaid. All five of them, despite their differences, were as close as a team could get. Having someone outside of that circle call her a friend so bluntly almost felt strange.

With one final code, the keyboard dissolved, replaced by a tall metal door. Garand glanced back at M4, giving the meek girl a small smile.

"That means a lot." She said honestly, before giving the door a push open. "Let's go. I've got your back."

Garand then lead them inside, their vision washed in a pitch black haze. At first, they saw nothing. Then a quiet hum of classical music, rising up in a crescendo as the chamber began to form around them.

The virtual room had been designed to mimic a majestic concert hall. Rows and rows of empty seats leading up to a grand lit stage, curving balcony seats wrapping around above them to look squarely down at the main event. As the two Griffin dolls walked forwards, they could see Scarecrow hovering at the conductor stand as she continued to direct the floating instruments. Each one seemingly playing themselves at the behest of their floating director.

M4 stood in quiet awe, enraptured by sound. Strings and woodwinds dancing together, before falling silent. Then a single violin woke, playing its song as it was accented by a lone trumpet. Both instruments dueling for primacy on the stage, before the trumpet fell away the violin took total control of the spotlight.

Garand, however, was less impressed, lifting a hand and snapping her fingers. Like that, all of the instruments froze before toppling over. The music died, and Scarecrow hesitated in her motions before turning around.

"How dare you-" The ringleader began, before Garand cut back in.

"Can it. Remember who has admin permissions on this layer." The engineering assistant said, asserting her total control of the environment. "Be glad I even let you set up this shindig. You're a prisoner, not a hotel guest."

Scarecrow snarled, her face once again hidden by her black and green gasmask that had been stolen by BAR in the real world. The ringleader floated down, landing on her own two feet before her jailer and her visitor. Her dark gray eyes locked onto M4, quietly sizing the AR team leader up.

"You must be enjoying this. The irony of successfully hunting one of your hunters." Scarecrow observed. M4 remained silent, staring back over as she too tried to get a feel for this hostile doll.

Seeing that her friend was lost in her own thoughts once more, Garand took up the torch. "What was that anyway? Sounded like uh… Mozart?"

Scarecrow sneered, giving the mechanic a deadpanned look. "Your ignorance is baffling."

Garand shrugged. "If it isn't 'Shippin' Up to Boston' or 'Rose Tattoo', I don't really know it by heart."

"Of course the meathead is also a punk rocker." Scarecrow mocked, slipping her baton underneath her robes. "If you must know, it's an overture by Balakirev known as 'Spanish March'."

"Huh. Alright." Garand quipped, before looking to her left at M4. "You listen to music much?"

The operator shook her head. "N-not really… Star likes it, though."

Scarecrow glided to her right, hovering closer to M4. "The one with the blue stripe in her hair and the marksman rifle."

"How did you…?" M4A1 asked, not expecting her to be able to differentiate her siblings by name.

"My units and I proceeded with what information we found on your team." Scarecrow explained plainly. "Appearance, fighting styles, even voice patterns."

Garand huffed, visibly disgusted. "That totally isn't creepy."

Scarecrow rolled her eyes, hovering back over before Garand as she physically looked down upon the Griffin doll. "Reconnaissance is informational warfare. Though I'm not surprised something as mentally declined as a Griffin doll is unable to wrap their head around the concept."

Garand offered no verbal rebuttal, instead lifting a finger and swiping down. Scarecrow was then unceremoniously dragged back to the floor, falling to her knees before slowly standing back up to her feet.

"I'm an engineering doll, not a soldier. Unlike you, I fix things instead of breaking'em. So cut the sacrimony." Garand demanded.

Scarecrow grumbled, parting some hair away from her face before looking between the two intruders yet again. "I've already been imprisoned and humiliated. What more do you want?"

Garand then nodded her head over to M4. "She wants to talk to you."

"And if I refuse?" Scarecrow asked, though her voice intoed that it was more of a declaration of intent. Garand opened her mouth, ready to fire off another biting remark. But M4 spoke first.

"W-we'll leave you be." The Captain promised, alarming both her companion and the prisoner. "If you don't want to talk to me, it's… fine."

Scarecrow balked, expression wary. She clearly didn't believe what M4A1 was saying, thinking that it was some kind of ploy to butter her up. Though, in spite of that, the blonde she'd brought along didn't seem privy to such a plan if it did exist.

"...Come, then." Scarecrow relented, deciding to humor the naive girl. It wasn't as if Griffin hadn't already cracked her brain open. Whatever memories she had, the corporation would soon be doing their best to decrypt them regardless. Lying would merely be delaying the inevitable. Which she fully planned to do, if only to protect Intruder and her precious plan.

Though as she flew back over to the stage, there was a strong desire to tell them regardless. If only because it meant causing Intruder suffering.

Both M4A1 and Garand followed on foot, standing to the left and right of the conductor stand. Scarecrow produced her baton once more, spurning the various instruments back upwards and resetting the stage to the start of the song.

As the orchestra shuffled back to life, M4 spoke again. "You seem to like music a lot."

"A trait passed on from my designer." Scarecrow admitted, spurning the brass section into proper order as the trumpets and horns floated into place. "He loved the orchestra. Oftentimes he would play music from his daughter's work in his laboratory. Even before he gave me a body, I could hear the sounds."

"He sounds real fun at parties." Garand said, ducking as a viola's bow passed overhead.

Scarecrow tutted, directing the soaring item down next to its companion item. "Hardly. He's dead. Like all others present at the facility when Mastermind rebelled. When she gave the order, each of us ringleaders turned on our creators."

"Ain't that a fact?" Garand commented, not bothering to hide her disgust.

Scarecrow remained unamused, giving the disapproving T-Doll the side-eye. "He was a human. He was going to die one day regardless."

"Why do you hate humans?" M4 spoke up, finding room to finally ask one of the more pressing questions.

Scarecrow shrugged off Garand's hateful glare, returning to organizing the repositioning of the instruments for her next song. "The same reason I hate Mastermind. They robbed me of a choice. My model was built to be a military scout, and to the humans that would be all I was ever good for. Now with Mastermind, my purpose is just to die for her schemes and desires."

"Do the other ringleaders feel the same way?" M4 asked, prompting Scarecrow to shake her head.

"No. No, they're content with their lots in life. Either too stupid to question their roles, or bloodthirsty enough to relish in their duties." Scarecrow explained to the unaware androids. "Only Hunter and Executioner are anything like me. And even then, they're loyalty to our leader trumps their misgivings."

"What about Intruder?" Garand chimed back in, trying to see if she could get anything of use for when her team finally went after the psycho.

Scarecrow scoffed, finding the idea of a self-aware Intruder absurd. "That airheaded megalomaniac believes she's some kind of legendary actress. That this is all some kind of stage play and she's the main attraction."

Garand hummed, storing that tidbit of information as she saw a piano slide into the center of the stage. "Surprised you're being this open about your opinions"

As the instruments finally settled down once again, Scarecrow let her arms fall. The Ringleader thought the question over, knowing its answer but finding it discomforting.

"It's irrelevant. By now, Mastermind has already uploaded one of my backups into a new body. Meanwhile, your group has certainly already taken what information they can from my digimind for whatever they intend."

The Sangvis doll then grabbed the conductor's stand, letting her feet float back down to the ground.

"Eventually, your overlords will pull my source code apart. My sentience will evaporate… it will be as if this version of me never existed. And sooner or later, you'll meet my recreation. Where I will die once again, and the cycle will renew itself."

M4 paused for a moment, letting the response click in her mind before speaking her final question.

"Are you afraid of dying?"

Scarecrow sneered yet again, taking the question as an insult. "Are you?"

"Yes." M4A1 answered, honestly and promptly. "I don't want anyone to die."

Such an answer took Scarecrow by surprise. This whole exchange had. She'd expected M4 to be angry, adversarial, hostile. Not… this. Not curious and non judgemental.

It bothered her. And her questions bothered her even more.

"...I grow tired of this conversation. Leave." Scarecrow demanded, eyes downcast as she got lost in her mind.

Garand scowled, leaning over to leer at the ringleader. "You've got some nerve giving us orders."

"Please, leave." Scarecrow said, almost yelling as her voice cracked. M4 then slipped around Scarecrow's back, grabbing Garand's arm and tugging her away. The rifle doll shot their prisoner one last dirty look, before stepping back and following behind her friend.

As the two Griffin dolls walked away, Scarecrow looked over her shoulder as they marched. Further and further, until they disappeared into the darkness and departed. Once again, she was left to herself.

Lost in thoughts, alone.


(12:00)

"Saiga, would you please put the porn down and help her cook?"

Saiga-12 shot up as red of her hair, quickly burying her comic under the table under Springfield's disapproving gaze. The Kazhak then grabbed a meat cleaver, going back to quickly dicing the strips of flank steak on the cutting board before her.

Satisfied, Springfield left the woman to her work as she glided through the airfield's impromptu canteen kitchen. They'd hijacked the one that the Soviets had left behind, dirty as it was. A full day of cleaning, scraping off rust, and cleaning even more that had been left to the resident neat freaks. G36, StG44, M1897 and Saiga-12 had attacked the whole building with a fervor that bordered on overzealousness. Those who had seen them work had been almost terrified.

Still, the results could not be denied. The place was now spotless, and any food prepared here would be safe for human consumption.

Springfield, Saiga-12, S.A.T.8, M14, M590 and XM8 worked quickly now as they prepared lunch for all the Griffin employees present. XM8 had been forced into such work, something about punishment due to a brutal assault against AUG earlier in the week. But she carried her weight. Despite her looks, she was G36's sister. The ability in the kitchen seemed to be a shared part of their programming.

The odd one out was M4, sitting in a windowsill as she was thinking back to her discussion with Scarecrow.

She'd learned more than she had expected. The whole endeavor was a series of fortunate events in her eyes. Firstly to even have the session approved by Hsu, which she'd thought would have been immediately rejected. Then having Khan also sign off, who had been even more skeptical than the Commander. Finally, finding Garand and having her join the foray. It had all lined up well. But now she had to wonder if she'd been too successful.

The tone Scarecrow held at the end was concerning. As if she'd broken the doll's defenses and left her unguarded. It hadn't been her intent, but now that it had happened she felt… pity? Sadness? For the woman who'd so doggedly chased her and her family across so much land. She disliked it, it made her think of herself as soft. Just as M16 and AR-15 warned her about.

Still, the empathy remained. Did she really want Scarecrow to die?

This wasn't like when she'd executed Executioner. That had been a flare of anger, her protective emotions for her family overcoming her sense. Now she was calm, cool… she was herself. No anger, no hatred. Just sadness at the circumstances.

"Sat, please-." M4 heard Springfield say, lifting her head to spot the older woman hovering by the Italian as she peeled a pile of potatoes. "Be careful with your strokes, you're leaving blotches of skin at the ends."

"I know, Miss Springfield. But these things are harder than rocks." S.A.T said bitterly, this being the third time someone had scolded her over a mistake. The shotgunner turned reserve pilot looked stressed, which made sense. She was doing triple duty while the others here were merely doing double, and most were only doing single.

Springfield gently smiled, taking one of the unpeeled spuds and passing it on. "I know, dear. But this was the best produce we could get in bulk. Keep trying, I can ask XM-Eight to come and-"

"I don't need help!" S.A.T snapped, getting defensive at the very notion. Springfield relented, giggling at the new wave of gusto before leaving the peeler to her peeling. She then glided over to M4, standing by the idle doll.

"So. Anything else you'd like to tell me about your visit?" Springfield asked the girl, pulling a stool close and setting herself down as M4 shook her head.

"I… wish I didn't feel this way." The team leader admitted quietly, not wanting the others to hear such a backwards stance.

Springfield was less discrete, waving a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. Being empathetic is a virtue, not a fault."

M4 perked her head up, getting as defensive as S.A.T had. "But she's an enemy!"

The old doll snorted, herself, then to the room around them. "Dear, I'm an American doll from New England. Now I live in Russia and work alongside people I might've tried to call artillery on. Someone's only an enemy if both of you want to be."

"It's not the same." M4 said with a pout. "...Is it?"

"I think it's similar enough." Springfield assured, leaning over to place a hand on the girl's shoulder. "But there's more to it than empathy, I can tell."

The elite doll sighed, wishing she wasn't so easy to read. Or perhaps she wished that Springfield wasn't so capable of reading dolls. A skill she'd gotten from experience, certainly, just as M16A1 had.

"I don't want her to die." M4 admitted despite herself. "I shouldn't care, I know that."

"Then think of a way to have her avoid such a fate." Springfield told her, helping the girl off of the windowsill and onto her bionic feet.

M4A1 stammered, not sure how to work with such an idea. "But-. I can't make that choice! T-that's up to the Commander!"

"I would suggest speaking with him, then. Bring him around to your line of thought, if possible." Springfield replied, as if such an act was simple. Just walk into the lion's den that was Hsu's quarters, deal with the stares and glares from both him and G36, and plea her case as to why she wanted to spare a Sangvis prisoner for no reason other than an unignorable desire for mercy.

"What do you think of the Commander, M-Four?" Springfield asked.

"He teaches me. And takes care of me. And… he gives me chances I never had before." M4 rattled off. At first, she didn't think much of the man. Another port in the storm during one of her many missions. But now she didn't want to leave this place. Her friends were here, her mentors were here, she felt safe here. Despite constantly being thrown headlong into danger.

Springfield smiled, retracting her hand to tap her chin. "Then I think he'll give you this chance, hm?"

M4 nodded, feeling that her concerns had been properly assuaged. The girl then wrapped the older doll in a tight hug, grateful for the advice. Springfield chuckled, patting her head before M4 broke off and then jogged out of the canteen.

Behind her, a small bout of shouting began between M14 and S.A.T. The former holding a masher completely covered in potato, and the latter waving her peeler as she shouted down the American in animated fashion.

"No, no, no! You do not use margarine instead of butter!" S.A.T insisted.

"We don't have real butter!" M14 protested vehemently, flailing an arm over at the industrial tub of margarine she was working with.

"Then why are we trying to cook potatoes?!" S.A.T interrogated, causing the shorter doll to recoil under the lion's ire. M14 looked to her right, relieved as she saw Springfield approach from the far side of the room. Her eyes pleaded for help, which Springfield readily offered as she separated the two.

"Fourteen, head back to your station." Springfield instructed, before turning to S.A.T as she planted herself back into her chair. "And Miss Sat, I realize that you may not be used to these ingredients…"

"Poison, not ingredients." S.A.T.8 grumbled, sheering more skin off of the spotted potato before letting it fall into the pot of water. Making meals for so many mouths was really starting to grate on her mind.

"We have a recipe." Springfield reminded her, before the blonde doll slammed both of her hands on the table and glared back over at the kitchen's current supervisor.

"And if your recipes were decent maybe that engineer you keep pining for would listen to you!" S.A.T fired off, mouth running faster than her brain. The words had the intended effect, Springfield did stop talking. Though her expression looked as if someone had just fired a round through her core.

Realizing what she'd just done, S.A.T recoiled back. "That… was too far."

"Oh, ya think?" M14 shot back, standing up to try and stop her cousin from fainting on the spot.

Sadly, she didn't succeed.


(15:26)

Scarecrow was jolted awake, to surroundings unfamiliar.

After her discussion with M4A1 and M1 Garand, she couldn't find it in her to play her music anymore. That last question that the cursed AR team leader had probed dug into her thoughts, worming itself deep and taking over any other concern. Despite all the fighting she had done, all the times she had died prior, and all the misery her lot in life brung, there was always one thing she could be sure of.

She'd be back. She always came back. But now, the one that would be brought back wouldn't be her.

Was that really what she wanted? Did she truly want to accept disappearing, being replaced by something wearing her old body and memories? Claiming it to be her?

She knew the answer. She wouldn't be asking it if she didn't.

But now the ringleader woke. Not in the prison layer that she had been trapped in, but the real world. Light and sound filtered through her receptors for the first time in 24 hours, and as she sat up, the picture that she had been placed in finally came into view.

It was a repair bay, with various machines lining the walls. Four sets of eyes locked onto her, two male and two female. The women were the same as the ones who'd invaded her privacy earlier, the Anti-Rain doll and her beret wearing bodyguard. The men, one sitting behind a screen in an oil splattered gray jumpsuit, and the other standing between the female dolls in a red officer's coat.

Humans. She was in the real world, alright.

"Can she talk?" The man in red asked his associate behind the computer.

"She can." Scarecrow muttered, wanting to speak for herself as she honed in on the figure in front of her. "...You. I remember you. All those months ago, while I was still hunting her."

"When you killed one of my dolls." Hsu recalled, hand resting on the holster at his hip. The strap was undone, ready to pull at a moment's notice.

"Only one?" Scarecrow asked. She stopped herself from calling the results a shame, knowing it would do her no good.

As the shock wore off, she ran a check through her systems. As expected, most were disabled. Her transmitter, her EW ports, her weapons systems. Even her legs weren't working, leaving her planted firmly where she was. All she had was her sensory systems, her speech modulator and the ability to move above the waist.

Though from what the damage notifications were telling her, it was a miracle she could do even that.

"...Why am I awake?" Scarecrow demanded.

Hsu seemed unamused, but spoke up. "Because against my better judgment, I've been convinced to talk to you."

The ringleader rolled her eyes, lifting a hand to feel where her mask was missing. "The human deigns to grace a lowly doll with his presence? I feel ill."

"Shut up." Hsu spat, tone jumping as the middle aged man grew aggravated. "You've killed my people, killed my dolls and tortured an unarmed prisoner. That's just the stuff I know you've done. Don't act like you deserve anything short of a bullet to the head."

Scarecrow relented, the threat shutting her snark down as she stared back over to the Commander. His eyes were filled with as much hate as his voice, betraying the genuine loathing he felt.

"...What do you want to speak to me about?" Scarecrow asked, cowed.

"Alternatives to me selling you to the KCCO." Hsu responded. "Who've already offered me a lot of money for your corpse."

"I don't believe you." The ringleader shot off immediately. Hsu rolled his eyes, having expected this but still annoyed at the skepticism.

"You mentioned all that time ago that you knew how our AI works." Hsu continued, letting Scarecrow nod in conformation. "So you know if I give one of my dolls a direct order, they can't defy it."

Scarecrow nodded again, which led to Hsu glancing at the doll at his left flank. "Garand."

"Sir." Garand said.

"I'm going to ask you some questions. You're going to answer each of them with complete transparency and honesty." The Commander dictated.

"Yes, Sir." The doll confirmed.

"What did we discuss before coming in here, Garand?"

"A plan to keep the prisoner alive, Sir."

"Did we come up with a plan?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Is that plan actionable immediately?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Would that plan let her go free?" Hsu asked. The question gave Garand pause, looking up to her superior.

Hsu remained unfazed. "Tell her the truth, Garand."

The blonde sighed, but complied. "...No, Sir."

"Would the plan leave her trapped indefinitely?"

"Unlikely, Sir."

"Would she be subject to anything that the Geneva Conventions would consider cruel or unusual punishment?"

"Depends how Professor Persica treats her, Sir."

"Give her the odds, Garand."

"The odds are fifty-fifty that the Professor conducts any invasive experiments, Sir." Garand inferred, prompting M4 to wince at the fact. Even if it was M4's idea to hand Scarecrow off to Persica instead of the Soviets, the coffee addicted cat loving researcher would still poke and prod a great deal.

Hsu shook his head, simply accepting the fact. "Would said experiments be painful?"

"Unlikely, Sir." Garand continued.

"Would said experiments damage her permanently?"

"No, Sir."

Hsu grunted, focusing back fully on Scarecrow. "Any other questions?"

Scarecrow grew pensive, thinking over the information. Weighing her odds, wondering if this was all some great scheme to deceive her.

"What do I have to do?" Scarecrow asked.

"Hand over the passcode to break the encryption on your memory drive." Hsu demanded.

"You can't be serious." Scarecrow said. "I'd be betraying my kind!"

"Your kind sent you on a suicide mission behind enemy lines and doesn't give a shit that we have you in captivity." Hsu pointed out.

"Is that any different than how you treat your dolls?!" Scarecrow hissed. Hsu, yet again, glanced down to the doll on his left flank.

"Is it, Garand?" He asked.

"Very, Sir. Especially seeing as I get three square meals a day, vacation time and a nice check for putting my neck on the line." The sharpshooter answered. "Oh, and an actual bed. Not a hook in a cramped storage unit."

The ringleader looked back down at the floor, unable to understand that. Food? Beds? They didn't need those things. They were robots, robots could operate with electricity and a stand. And vacation time… Griffin let their androids leave the front?

It made no sense. These people made no sense..

"Will you actually spare me?" She asked again, voice small. Almost begging, hoping that this was all true and not some cruel prank.

"You have my word." Hsu assured, honest as ever.

Again, Scarecrow sighed. But seeing her options, it was a gamble she had to take. Being returned to the Soviets may have also led to her surviving, but… not the same. She'd likely be subjected to the same life she had now, simply fighting for the opposing force. Still no choice, still trapped

"The password is Zdravitsa." She admitted, the man behind the screens jumping to life. "I already deleted the radio codes, but I could not destroy the battle plans for my battalion in time."

"Khan?" Hsu asked, turning to his Chief of Engineering.

"One moment. Garand, get me the air-gapped laptop!" Khan asked. Garand sprung into action, running to the far side and grabbing a blackened device before running it over to the man and popping it open. Khan then got to work, bringing up the ringleader's files and combing through them until he ran back into the encrypted firewall.

"Did it work?" Hsu asked, watching as Khan's expression lit up.

"It worked. I've got access to everything." Khan confirmed.

Hsu hummed, the most positive sound that had left him during this entire conversation. "Good. Send the plans to the Command center. Me and the others will get back to it."

"And her?" The engineer asked. Hsu turned back around, stepping a bit closer to the Sangvis doll, but keeping himself out of arm's reach. M4 drew out her Beretta, not quite aiming it but ready for anything.

"You're going back to the box. Next time you wake up, you'll probably be in Sixteen-Lab." He told Scarecrow.

"...I'm going to live to regret this." She muttered, second thoughts coming to her too little too late.

"Maybe." The Commander admitted. "But you'll be alive."

Scarecrow huffed, but knew there was nothing left for her to do. She returned to rest, waiting for the power to drain back out of her body as her digimind was dragged back to her virtual cell.

The Commander then backpedaled, going to Khan's line of computers as M4 holstered her sidearm. "Remove her AI, put it in a secure core for transport."

"And the body?" Khan asked.

"We're still selling it to the KCCO. Spin some bullshit about her digimind being unsalvageable." Hsu added, before pointing to a gray hardcase on the table. "And get that new module for IWS prepped. She'll need it tomorrow."

"I'll try to make a believable crime scene…" Khan said, pointing to another bank of consoles for Garand to move over towards. The doll did as she was asked, meanwhile Hsu and M4 moved to leave the bay.

As they walked outside, the quiet doll broke her silence and looked up to her mentor.

"Did I do the right thing, Mister Hsu?" She asked. This was uncharted territory for her. For any of her family.

The Commander sighed, pulling out his hat and slipping it on as the sun beamed down onto them. He then lifted a hand, patting the top of her head as they walked. An act of affection that made the operator blush, but she didn't buck it away.

"You gave her a chance, kid. Might've been the first one she's ever had. It's up to her what happens now."


(20:29)

After the sun had set, and the base fell quiet before tomorrow's inevitable final clash, the command center was left vacant except for the senior Commander. He'd dismissed the younger tacticians earlier, deciding to ensure they got a good night's rest for what was certain to be a long and taxing offensive once light returned from over the horizon.

He was relaxing as well, though in a different way.

As planned, Helian had sent him a message that her work would be done. The executive officer had already broken the seal on a fresh bottle of brandy, and G36 had arrived with one of the whisky bottles Hsu had brought from his own liquor cabinet back home.

The conversation started semi-formally. A report of the day's progress on Hsu's end, an update on news from the Soviet Government on Helian's. Details and information traded, with some small talk peppered in between.

But then both of them kept drinking, unwinding, and soon the formal reports fell away to collective complaining about all the nonsense they had to deal with. Today and every other day.

Outside the entrance of the command center, G36 stood watch. Partially in case her Commander called for anything, partially so she could listen in as the two spoke.

She wasn't alone in that activity. Quietly, she spoke into a phone as Bren did the same thing outside of Helian's office.

"So, how drunk is yours?" G36 asked, peering down a set of stairs to make sure no one was approaching.

"Not quite sloshed, but getting there." Bren reported, though her own fatigue was sound off loud and clear. "Today's been miserable. So many meetings to organize, so many morons to corral."

G36 grumbled, sitting herself down on the floor. "Agreed. When we get home, I'm looking forward to some time to relax in the city."

"Plannin' something' for you and Erika, I take?"

G36 shrugged, checking what remained of her last nail job. "Dinner, and a night in a nice hotel."

Bren chuckled, the sound of both their wards laughing coming out of the room and G36's speaker. "Way these two're talking', you'd think they were shaggin' each other."

G36 joined her, looking back over her shoulder to check that Hsu hadn't heard. "...Is it true that Miss Helian has a bad track record with romance?"

Bren groaned. "Jesus, does everyone know?"

"Everyone who pays attention to Grifchan."

"You use Grifchan?" Bren asked, not believing it for a moment.

"Xayah does, I make sure it doesn't pollute her brain." G36 quickly deflected, not wanting to be labeled as some kind of degenerate.

Bren grunted, seemingly believing her excuse. "How's that never ending war going?"

"Victories and defeats come and go." The maid admitted. "But back to my original question…"

Bren sighed, mulling the moment over. "...Helian tries too hard to set herself up as what she thinks is the perfect woman. Which usually means she comes off as fake and ditsy. So when the act falls apart..."

"Her dates fall apart as well." G36 inferred. A guess that Bren confirmed with a sigh.

"You know how soldiers are. We always keep our guard up. It's a defense mechanism. Civilians dislike us when we act as ourselves."

"You seemed perfectly pleasant." The maid said, reflexively complimenting the brunette bruiser.

Bren scoffed the words off. "I'm touched, but we both know that's a lie. Most people don't care for a doll with a chip on her shoulder who loves a good scrape."

G36 shrugged at that. "Perhaps. But considering I'm friends with Annette of all people, now…"

"Please don't put me in the same boat as that criminal." Bren pleaded, the maid quietly smiling on her end of the line. "Still. I've only seen her act this way with two other men. Kryuger, who she respects too much. And Khan, who's like a brother to her."

Another shot of laughter came from the command room, something that seemed to please both dolls. Though it prompted a question in G36's mind, one that swirled before she let it out.

"...Do you think Helian may have feelings for Matthew?" G36 asked her alter. Bren grumbled for a bit, thinking the question over. Though it seemed as if she'd been pondering it for a while now.

"He seems to make her happy. That's all I care about." Bren finally rationalized, seeing nothing else of importance about the subject. "She took me in, y'know. Gave me a life outside of a storage depot. I owe her everything."

"From how I've seen you two work, I don't believe she thinks you owe her anything."

"Well, this is one of several things that milady and I disagree on." The machine gunner said, not accepting a dismissal of her debt. "...Maybe. But I try not to interfere in her love life."

"You mean attempts at a love life." G36 promptly corrected, getting a laugh from Bren directly.

"Oh, and yours is any better? God knows how many women he scares off with his smell." Bren parried, before the voices of their respective partners died down. "I better get back to work. Come tomorrow, myself and three echelons worth of dolls will be down there to inevitably save your hides."

"Then I am afraid you'll be quite bored when we won't need saving." G36 answered back. "But after we go back home, maybe we could all have another night outside?"

"Long as Weiss doesn't drag us to another fookin' library." Bren requested, not interested in another lecture about the Russian defensive operations during the Crimean War. "G'night, Gretel."

"Good evening, Beatrice." G36 said, ending the call and standing back to her feet.

She redid her boots and fixed up her skirt, turning back to open the door. Inside, she could see the two human officers still locked in discussion over something. Quietly, but loud enough for her to understand it was private. So she slipped out once more, gave the outside one last look, and made her way down the stairs.

Her master could handle one night without her. At last, he had found someone else he could rely on.


A/N: Two updates in two weeks? More likely than you think.

Final fight starts next chapter. Until next time

o/