(11:24 | 31/5/2056)
Each of the girls sprung into action the moment the hammer was cocked.
BAR flung the table over, diving behind it with what little vision she had. Thompson joined her, meanwhile both Garand and M14 scrambled behind their respective seating arrangements. The soon, the only thing louder than the crack of PPK's shots was the sound of her insidious giggling.
As a round pinged off the table, Thompson flinched. When she knew all of PPK's rounds had been expended, she lifted a hand and extended a middle finger. "Ya missed, ya Kraut bitch!"
Something that prompted PPK to load another magazine.
More shots flew out, and the girls made themselves small against their cover. Each was completely robbed of their vision in this darkness, not having a handgun doll as part of their formation. All they could do was cower and wait, hoping that the lights would eventually turn back on somehow.
Until another hammer could be heard being cocked. Heavier, and in the opposite direction.
"Was war… " PPK questioned, right as three shots were rapidly fanned at her, the maid diving to the ground and covering her head.
Behind the bar counter, Springfield could be seen standing in the light of an open refrigerator. In her right hand was a black revolver, smoke curling up from the muzzle as the veteran glared towards her target.
She plugged another shot in PPK's direction, before moving to the light switch at the end of the counter and flipping the device. As their vision was restored, each of the other girls in her echelon poked their heads up like a pack of groundhogs.
"Did we win!? Is she dead!?" M14 asked, scanning the room for any sign of the handgun.
"Oh, I'm gonna make sure she is." Thompson assured, standing up and getting ready to vault over the table. BAR groaned as her cousin made the motion, but made no action to stop her. Instead, she looked to Springfield.
"Cover her." She ordered, a directive Springfield followed as she walked with her Colt to the other side of the room.
Which was when the second door leading to the cafe was pushed open. Something that made all the dolls, PPK included, turn to face the new noise.
From the entrance, a small blonde girl waddled out with an old shotgun in hand. She too wore a maid's outfit, complete with a red twist-tie around her neck and an orange apron covering her front. On her head, a white ball with small eyes could be seen rocking back and forth and waving a red flag.
"Ninety-seven?" Springfield said, caught off-guard as she adjusted her aim onto PPK's now exposed cranium. Though her shoulders did relax ever so slightly at the sight of her protege. "Thank God. Can you please help us get PPK under control? She's having another episode."
"At least this isn't as bad as last time! Remember the grease bomb?" M14 asked.
"Last time didn't happen!" Garand said sharply, standing up and fixing her skewed beret. "It was a bad dream, and no one can convince me otherwise!"
"Yeah, sure. That's why I bought a new set of clothes. We all had the same bad dream." BAR droned, walking over to Springfield's flank.
M1897 looked at the five dolls, then back towards PPK. The hand-gun wielding maid was holding both hands up at this point, weapon still held but she wasn't in any position to fire while Springfield had her stuck up.
The small maid loaded a fresh shell into her weapon, then cocked the shotgun once.
"S-sorry, Miss Springfield." Were her only words as she aimed her weapon at the rifle-wielder. Shock overwhelmed the woman, freezing her in place as the junior pulled the trigger and sent a shot flying her way.
It was only stopped by BAR's quick action, grabbing a large leather chair and using it as a riot-shield against the attack.
PPK took advantage of the new chaos, grinning evilly as she aimed her weapon forwards and began to blast at the group. M14 and Garand once again dove low, while Thompson took Springfield by the arm and pulled the rifle-wielder back behind the table. Meanwhile BAR continued to back up, using the furniture as protection from the two-sided onslaught.
"DOOR! NOW!" BAR commanded, stumbling as the impact of yet another round slammed into the chair. As both of their attackers ceased fire to reload, the five women tore towards the opposite door with all due speed.
Right as she slipped through, BAR gave the chair a heave towards PPK, forcing the German girl to hit the deck as the furniture flew above her head and smashed to bits against the wall.
As PPK remained prone on the ground, M1897 came over. She slipped a new set of shells into her weapon, then sat down with her legs crossed next to her companion's prone form.
"Did I do good, Miss PPK?" The pint-sized trench sweeper asked, a southern twinge accenting her words.
PPK giggled, slipping her hands behind her head. "Ja, sehr gut. Now we leave the rest to Frau Thirty Six."
M1897 nodded, somber as she cradled her weapon close to her chest. The plush on her head bounced down, landing in her lap to look up at the girl's sad face. Reflexively, she went to pet her animatronic pet as it squished under her palm.
"Thirty six isn't going to hurt them, right?" The cleaner asked, looking to her teammate with no lack of concern. Certainly more than PPK did, the other maid merely waving a dismissive hand to such a silly notion.
"I would be more worried about Frau Thirty-Six than Springfield." PPK corrected, stopping her gesture and returning to her previous pose. "One of them is a veteran, the other was a maid in Munich."
"She still is a maid! All three of us are maids!" M1897 protested, arms going over her chest as she pouted.
"Nein. We are tactical dolls . Soldaten. Trying to save the innocent, or… whatever." PPK explained, disinterested at the idea.
Her argument didn't seem to sway the shotgunner. The pudgy drone rolling out of her lap and going to make circles around them. M1897 followed the small robot's motions with her eyes, sighing.
"I don't feel like a soldier..." She admitted. The girl had signed up to fight bad guys and help people. So far all she'd done is clean rooms and carry things, just as she did as an A-Doll."
PPK giggled again, settling herself into the carpet as she drew out her radio. Now was good a time as ever to give the Commander her report.
"Your time will come. Until then, try to enjoy yourself."
(11:34)
"Link up with your echelon leader. Prep for phase three."
Hsu killed the call after giving that order, leaning over the command center's table as the base's camera feed materialized.
The command center itself was a large, sprawling room. At the center was a table, the top covered with a glass screen that projected different feeds. Across the room, computers and chairs were strewn about, resembling something of a space shuttle command room. An elevated stage was at the far end, along with a final large protection screen that was the size of the whole wall.
It was a place that was supposed to be staffed by more than just three people. And yet, three people were all that were present. Hsu, Kalina and Khan.
The camera feed cycled through different hallways, tracking BAR's team as they ran headlong through the base. Things had gone about as well as he expected. The androids had reacted a bit slow, but he factored that into the shock of being fired on by a friendly. None of them had been injured, and they did the smart thing of retreating once a second hostile element had entered the room.
He didn't predict that Springfield would pull out a revolver, however. And unlike the maids, she was probably using lethal rounds.
He looked back to the dolls, then pulled up a map of the facility. Their path was set to lead them right towards the base armory, where they were likely going to try and arm themselves before carrying on their next step. What that next step was , he didn't know. Maybe barricading themselves in their dorms. Maybe hunting down his agents. Maybe hunting him down and finding out what the hell he was doing.
"Kalina, is Thirty Six in position near the armory building?" He asked, still going from news feed to news feed.
"Yep! And she's got four hijacked Prowlers too!" Kalina said, hopping over to stand at the leader's flank. The logistic officer grinned, enjoying this glorified prank of theirs. Or 'training exercise', whatever the grump wanted to call it.
"You're going to let them get armed before letting Thirty Six engage, right?" Khan said from the opposite side of the map, on the exact opposite spectrum of enjoyment as Kalina. Sure, he'd seen the girls go through live-fire drills, but never something this… impromptu. It was a miracle none of them had been hurt yet.
"And I'll order her to avoid getting directly involved." Hsu assured, swiping a screen past and bringing up the feed outside of the armory. In the room next door, G36 could be seen cleaning a group of Prowler drones with a feather duster. Her assault rifle was slung over her shoulder, tucked over the long braid of hair that ran across her back.
Khan tapped his fingers against the table, still not content. "Remind me why you couldn't just run them through a combat sim in the VR chamber?"
"Because they know that's a sim. They won't be nearly as stressed." Hsu pointed out, swiping again so the camera feed was once again tracking the girls as they traversed the base. "I want to see how they operate in a desperate situation. And how Thirty-Six can handle herself in a fight."
The Engineer sighed, his head sagging as he watched the feed alongside Hsu. A gesture that Hsu didn't overlook, though his focus remained on the task at hand.
"Kalina, go make sure the repair-pay is prepped." Hsu ordered, a directive that made his logistics officer pout in rebellion.
"That's his job! " Kalina protested, pointing a finger at Khan. "And I want to see what happens!"
"You'll see the aftermath. And I still want that briefing the Sub-Director was talking about." He answered, not budging in his stance. The younger woman groaned, but she didn't put any more resistance as she trounced out of the room.
When the door slid shut behind her, Hsu spoke again.
"You're very attached to these androids." The commander observed.
Khan huffed, picking some grease from under his fingernails. "Is this going to be a lecture, Sir?"
"No. I want to know why." Hsu said, turning the cameras off as he looked at his subordinate. The engineer balked at the surprising request, turning about to face Hsu with gaped expression. The Commander perched himself against the furniture, maintaining some semblance of neutrality.
"Any day now." Hsu said, growing impatient as his company stared at him like some sort of golden goose. Khan righted himself, coughing into a fist as he racked his brain to find the words to explain what he met.
It took a little bit, but he settled on something.
"They didn't choose to be dolls, Sir. Just as we didn't choose to be human." The engineer rationalized. "They may have been made from a factory, but they still… think. Feel. Act. And they're well aware of their duties. If anything, they perform them with a greater dedication than we do."
"Because they're programmed to." Hsu pointed out.
"Because they believe in the mission." Khan countered. "Each of those girls had a life outside of this Company. But they came to us, and took up arms. If that doesn't speak of free will, what does?"
"One of them told me they did it for the pay."
"The fact that we treat them well is undoubtedly a bonus." Khan amended. "But there is no doubt in my mind that they're doing this of their own accord."
Hsu huffed, still not very swayed by the man's impassioned plea. "Your fatherly instincts may not be helping you here, Khan."
Khan stumbled at the jab, having it come out of nowhere. He hadn't told the Commander anything about him being a parent. But he was able to guess how the man had found out.
"The picture on my desk?" Khan asked.
Hsu nodded, before looking back to the tabletop screen once again. "How old is she now?"
"Ten." Khan informed, smiling as he thought of the girl. "She lives with her grandmother in Nottingham."
"Grandmother." Hsu repeated. Less a question, more to insure that he heard correctly.
"Yes." Khan confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought back to the past. A bolt of fear ran down his spine, one that froze him as he spoke. "My wife, she… she died when the Soviets bombed Liverpool."
Hsu grunted, taking some pause with the information. It contradicted the man's sunny disposition. Or maybe he was happy in spite of it all. The idea that one could be happy after going through such a loss.
"Most men who've led a life as troubled as yours don't care for 'ethics.'" Hsu observed.
Khan chuckled, a smile gracing his lips at last as he accepted the back-handed compliment. "Troubled as ours. Everyone lost something in the war."
That was another fact. Everyone, across the planet, was touched by the war. From the bombings, to the destruction of entire countries, to whole generations being wiped out. The war had crippled earth and humanity to the brink of disrepair.
It was a miracle anything was left standing.
The engineer walked forth, standing to Hsu's flank as he joined him in watching the cameras.
"Give them a chance. Let them prove what they're capable of as people , not just weapons.
"I am." Hsu admitted, before zooming in on the girls. Right as they reached the armory door.
(11:47)
"Come on. Come ON!"
Thompson continued to bash the armory entrance with both her fists, spewing out wild curses. BAR stood with her, while the other three girls watched the hallway for any more surprise visitors. When they'd gotten here, the door had unsurprisingly been locked. But when BAR tried to open it with her keycard, she was rejected outright.
"You're not gonna bust that down. It's a blast door." BAR reminded, trying to input the manual code. Again, the light buzzed red, denying her access.
"You got a better idea, air for brains!?" Thompson raged, throwing one last punch. A dent appeared in the steel, warping it inwards, but the doll reeled back and seethed as pain shot up from her hand.
"She's calling Bar stupid, but she's the one trying to brute-force her way inside." Garand noted, Fourteen giggling at the underhanded jab.
"I heard that!" The gangster hollowed, marching to Garand and grabbing the girl by the ear. The riflewoman yelped at the strong tug, wincing as Thompson got in her personal space. "You wanna say that again, big tits? Come on, I'm right in your face!"
"Thompson-" Springfield began to protest.
"Stay out of this, Savannah!" Thompson roared, invoking the other doll's civilian name. Springfield went wide-eyed at the call-out, but didn't back down. Instead, she handed her revolver off to M14, then stalked over and gripped the hand clutching Garand's ear.
"Let her go." Springfield commanded, staring the elite doll down with a deadly glare. On the surface, it didn't seem to bother her. But a pit rapidly began to form in Thompson's stomach as Springfield's maternal ire only grew.
Thompson finally relented, releasing her grip and stalking back over to the armory door. Bar released a sigh of relief, but the expression only rekindled Thompson's aggravated state.
"Yeah, you always gotta have someone else do the hard part for you." Thompson spat, before she sized up the door once again. BAR grimaced, but didn't reply, continuing to fiddle futily with the lock.
(11:51)
"Those two are a problem." Hsu observed, frowning at the stream.
"Thompson and Garand?" Khan questioned, to which Hsu shook his head.
"Thompson and Bar." The Commander clarified, pressing his finger down on Thompson's head to direct his attention.
"She's always trying to prove something." He said, then slid his finger so it rested on BAR's form. "And she's too passive. They seem to have a history."
"They're good friends. Or at least, they usually are." Khan explains, stroking his chin in thought. "Though there's been some displeasure with Bar's leadership style. Not just from Thompson, mind you. Fourteen finds her a bit too…"
"Out of touch." Hsu figured.
"Exactly that." Khan affirmed, before he spotted movement on a feed from the corner of his eye. G36, marching down the armory corridor flanked by the prowlers mentioned prior. The maid now had her rifle in hand, having a bit of trouble navigating the more crowded walkway as she brushed against her temporary squad.
"Those are loaded with rubber rounds, right?" Khan questioned nervously.
"That's what Miss Logistics said." Hsu assured, something that made Khan's brown skin turn a shade paler. Hsu cocked a brow, confused.
"...I'm heading to the repair bay." Khan declared, before he jogged out of the command room. Before Hsu could even have a chance to question what he meant, the engineer was already gone.
Hsu gave the cameras one last look, praying Kalina hadn't fucked this up.
(11:53)
G36 was never a fan of violence.
She hadn't joined Griffin out of any lust for warfighting or vengeful spirit. If anything, she'd come to the company out of circumstance. When the dust settled and the war was over, her former employers were buried beneath the bombed out rubble of their mansion.
Most people in Germany couldn't afford a personal maid model like herself, so she was slotted into the workforce. During that time she'd been worked to the bone, almost into total disrepair. Any money she made was sunk into her own repair costs, the hovel she called an apartment was more like a tenement.
As was the life of a doll without a master. She wandered without protection or purpose. Signing on with Griffin probably saved her life.
Before this, she knew nothing about war and conflict. To an extent, she still didn't. Even after she was imprinted to this rifle, even after they installed a fire control core… at her core, she was still a maid.
And she didn't mind that. If anything, she preferred it.
There was an unspoken honor about helping others in the small things. Cooking, cleaning and maintaining were acts often overlooked. Everyone wanted to be a hero, but she never did. She only wanted to be a maid.
...So how had she let herself get talked into this mess?
As G36 rounded the corner with her reprogrammed posse, the doll saw her assigned targets. Part of her regretted this, she considered all the members of BAR's team her friends. Unlike PPK, she didn't take some sort of strange enjoyment from other people's suffering.
On the other hand, it felt good to get a little payback for all the messes they left around this place.
They spotted her easily, which prompted the maid to take cover behind the rearmost prowler. The sudden movement caused her to wobble a bit, her neural cloud already being pushed to the edge maintaining all of these dummy links. But she still had enough wits to command, somewhat.
At her urging, three of the prowlers whizzed down the hallway and primed their rifles. A flurry of rounds was fired, destroying one prowler's treads and sending it careening into the other.
But the last one was still up. It parked itself in the middle of the walk way, entering an emplaced mode and chambering rounds into it's guns.
"My turn."
(11:55)
It had been a long time since M14 had been on the receiving end of suppressing fire. But the experience was just as she remembered.
First, panic as the rounds tear towards her. Reflex made her dive behind the corner, watching the bullets fly past and slam into the armory door. As sound began to warp, she activated her volume dampeners and covered her ears.
This wasn't how she wanted to spend the day. She wanted to go have some fun with Garand or Springfield! Play some video games, or watch a movie. Or just do literally anything other than being shot at!
As much as she hated being bored, this wasn't exactly an upgrade!
Springfield took her last clip of rounds, then slipped them into the revolver. Out of the four of them, she was probably the least rattled from all this. Garand was a bit stunned, but alive. BAR was digging yet another bullet out of her arm, having been caught by the ricochet. Thompson…
Wait, where was Thompson?
She wasn't able to put much thought into it. The Prowler's burst came to an end, which signified the only opening she was likely going to get.
The sharply dressed riflewoman combat-rolled into the center of the hallway, blasting at the bot with the last of her ammunition. Each round landed, slamming into the polymer case and ripping chunk after chunk out. Until the poor prowler sagged forward and collapsed into a slagheap.
Springfield smiled, pleased with her performance, until the final prowler at the end of the hall activated.
Another burst of rounds flew out. She scrambled back to cover, but not before her leg was perforated by a hail of bullets. She screamed in pain, dragging the limb and looking it over as red coolant began to seep onto the floor.
Garand gaped at the wound, jaw almost hitting the floor. Live rounds. Some idiot had put live rounds into the things.
Garand had already guessed this was all some elaborate training exercise. From PPK's little hint at the start, to the lack of bullet holes left where the pistoleer had fired her handgun. Rubber bullets, and she wagered M1897 had been toting beanbag shells.
But now this was a problem, someone might actually get hurt. Or worse.
(11:55)
G36 powered down the drone as it expended the last of its ammunition, cursing herself.
On the plus side, she'd managed to pin them in place. But it cost her three of the prowlers, and yet another mess to clean up. Oil was already leaking into the floorboards, polymer was scattered across the hall. There was a dent where the first two drones rammed into the wall. This was all going to take her a week to fix.
How in the hell were they even armed? She'd locked them out of the armory herself! And she was the only doll on base who was able to do anything resembling electronic warfare! Even with that, these hunks of junk had lost to a pistol? What kind of worthless rolling trashbins were these!?
Ugh… well. If want something done right, you better do it yourself.
G36 brought her rifle to bear, pulling back the ejection port and racking a round into the chamber. Her head slowly began to clear up as the connection to the already destroyed drones was terminated, limiting the stress of performance on her digimind. The maid began to plan, glaring as she saw M14 poke her head around the corner.
This last prowler would be good enough mobile cover. She could use it to get close, then bring the fight to them properly. Oh sure, they could handle a few refurbished S.F. drones. But she wasn't a mindless robot. She was just like them, a tactical doll. Trained and capable, and properly-
"Heya, Blondie."
What.
Pain flared as G36 was suddenly clubbed in the back of the head. The maid crumpled over, dropping her hold on her assault rifle as she fell on her hands and knees.
"You Krauts never pay much attention, do ya?" Thompson mocked, moving to stand over the heaving maid. "No wonder ya lost two of the big ones. No brain between the ear, just air."
As G36 started to crawl, the gangster sent foot flying into her gut. The blonde cried out before she flew into the wall, groaning in pain from the blows.
"I'll admit, Thirty-Six, ya got moxie. But that's it." Thompson said, planting her foot squarely down on her opponent's chest while she grinned maliciously. Her boot continued to press further and further down, starting to leave an indent in the pinned android's chest. To the point that G36 was starting to feel pressure pushing up against her AI core, like a trash compactor.
Thompson didn't seem to notice. Or, what was more likely, she didn't seem to care. The gangster girl leaned down, her evil smile growing wider as she had their pursuer completely at her mercy.
"Anything to say, Nazi?" She questioned.
G36's expression suddenly went dark, her grip starting to wrap around Thompson's boot. "What… did you just call me?"
Thompson huffed, not paying much mind to the maid as she clutched at her leg. It was like a puppy trying to but it's head against a pitbull.
"Oh, did ya not understand me? I'll say it louder." She said, leaning down even further so she was right in the German's face. "Give up, you little Nazi piece of-"
Seeing her opportunity, a furious G36 smashed her forehead into her assailant's nose. Thompson stumbled back, freeing the maid from the pin as she launched herself up and tackled her opponent back to the ground. In a moment the tables turned, with the German straddling the American before throwing a flurry of blows. Each one accented with an enraged, vicious curse in the maid's native tongue.
When a voice rang out in all six of the dolls' mind.
"Enough." The Commander boomed, the Zener protocol coming into effect. At once, everyone dropped what they were doing, responding to Hsu's order with robotics immediacy.
"The test is over." He informed the group. "Get Springfield repaired and meet me in the cafe. Now."
His voice cut out with that final echo, the new battleground filling with an eerie silence. Springfield looked at the three others near her, all four of them breathing easier now that the danger was over.
G36 glared down at her still pinned prey, snarling at Thompson. She still wanted to get a few more licks in, but she had orders.
Meanwhile, Thompson's head lolled back, her vision filled with stars and static.
(12:50)
It took a while, but each of the dolls found their way to the cafe. From both echelons, they lined up side by side.
On the right was G36's team. The leader of the team had her normal glare mounted, the earlier fury having washed away. M1897 looked around, nervous beyond belief. She'd spent the past half-hour in the medbay, begging Springfield for forgiveness in her complicity. Forgiveness that was readily given. The only happy one was PPK, having clearly enjoyed distributing her kind of fun.
On the left, BAR's team stood with battered and defeated expressions. Thompson still wore her newly broken classes and torn up vest. Springfield limped on a prosthetic, BAR's arm was in a sling. Only Garand and M14 looked untouched, but neither seemed to see that as good fortune.
All the while, Kalina prostrated herself before all of the dolls, apologizing to no end about her disastrous gaffe. Hsu watched on, letting the woman speak for herself. At the very least, all of the dolls were rather forgiving over the snafu. It wasn't like any of them could really die, real or fake bullets aside.
Once she was finished, Hsu took center stage. First going to G36.
"You need practice." He analysed. "Your team is going to clock in six hours every day in the sim room. I want reports on each of your performances delivered to me after each session."
She nodded, and he moved onto the small shotgun toter.
"Don't hesitate next time." He ordered in a stern voice, causing the girl to almost shake in fear. "Or else there won't be a next time."
Her head bobbed rapidly, so much so that her ghost-pet almost slid off her head. The little droid hung on for dear life, losing its flag in the process. Meanwhile Hsu moved onto the final member.
"...Therapy." Was all he said, PPK giggling innocently at his discomfort.
He dismissed the three, watching them leave the room before he turned back to face his primary combat team. Each of them looked terrible, physically and emotionally. M14 couldn't even look him in the eye, meanwhile Garand was nervously playing with her thumbs.
"Do I even have to say how terrible that was?" Hsu began, hands held behind his back as they stood in the remnants of where it had all started. The dolls all shook their head, par Thompson. She just kept staring forwards, lost in her own space.
Hsu moved up to BAR, staring her down. "You were dead weight."
He then moved to Springfield. " You tried to do everything without help."
Then to M14. "You panicked and froze."
Then to Garand. "You didn't even panic, you just didn't act."
And then finally, to Thompson. "And you. You almost got yourself killed trying to prove you're better."
He took a few paces back, sizing up the line with disappointment and disapproval. Every one of his fears about these robots having their emotion modules active came to pass, and it ended just as he expected. Total disaster, with multiple injuries. If this was a real field op, they would have all been scrap.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few moments before opening them again.
"You all failed. This is strike one. Strike two, and I'm taking drastic measures." He laid out, swiveling his glare across the formation with impunity. If anything, he wanted to take those measures now . Hsu truly didn't understand what was stopping him.
He then jabbed a finger towards Kalina. "Strike three , and I'm having Chief Poniatowski remove your Fire Control Cores. You all know what that means."
A chill filled the air with that threat, the five dolls sharing nervous glances. Removal from the company, being forced back into the normal labor market. Losing what little freedom they had gotten. A dreadful terror took hold of their beings.
Hsu retracted his arm, then waved at them with the back of his hand. A silent, angered dismissal that was clear as day. The five girls slunk past, walking back in the direction of the dorm with the air of a funeral hanging around their necks.
First the IED, then the firefight, now this. Things only seemed to be getting worse.
How little they knew.
