(15:30 | 6/6/2056)
Two Blackhawks soared over the abandoned fields of eastern Ukraine. Aboard, both Griffin rescue teams readied their weapons for their first engagement against Sangvis Ferri. Below them, their occupants could see scattered settlements nestled into the cuts and crevices created by war. Shanty-towns and frontier outposts, each one linked by mismatched roads. Some covered by fresh concrete, others merely dirt hardened by the blazing summer sun.
Ukraine was recovering from her wounds, though very slowly. The only major city left in the region was Kiev, with the Soviet government opting to resettle the rural farmland before erecting new concrete jungles. The capital of the formerly independent nation acting as the heart of supply, while blood flowed from it's roads and into these small pockets of life.
The people here were fiercely independent, many not even considering themselves Soviets. More loyalty to Kiev than Moscow. Which was probably why when the Soviet Army sent the warning out to evacuate, almost all of them refused.
As Hsu looked down over each dot they passed over, he wasn't sure to curse their stubborn foolishness or admire their will to defend their homes.
He sat in the first helicopter, G36's echelon accompanying him along with some heavy equipment and extra supplies. He was still in his Commander's uniform, a plate carrier worn over it. He would've preferred fatigues, but the elder maid had nagged him about not adhering to company standards.
The others in the transport passed time in their own way. M1897 sat near the edge, absorbed in awe as she took in the rolling fields of wheat that were intermixed between unfilled craters. PPK sat in her chair, creepily smiling at her knife as she ran her finger along the blade. G36 sat prim and proper, hands folded in her lap as she kept an eye on both her juniors.
Hsu grabbed his rifle, then moved into the cockpit as he set himself behind the pilot. "Santiago, ETA?"
The pilot turned to face the man, frowning as he invaded her workplace, but not pressing her claim. "Less than a mike. And I still think this is a terrible idea."
Hsu grunted, not caring for the woman's protests as they began their descent.
The twin transports touched down on the closest end of the air-strip, next to what remained of the hangers. The first transport merely held over the ground, letting Thompson's team disembark before it rose back into the sky and flew off towards their base once more. The second touched down on a helipad, it's engines being cut and rotors coming to a halt.
The whole compliment dismounted, dolls and humans alike. The maids started pulling boxes from the bird's blood tray, enhanced strength helping them heave the supplies towards the aforementioned tower.
Meanwhile, Hsu activated the radio on his rig.
"Thirty Six, let's get that command gear set up yesterday. The ammo can wait." He instructed.
"It will be done, Kommandant! PPK, stop dawdling and assist Ninety-Seven!" G36's voice crackled.
The other German could be heard sighing. "Do I have to? I just finished sharpening my nails."
"So… heavy… " The small doll managed into her radio, the strain of her effort accenting her words. She continued to march towards her destination, lugging a large backpack that was double her size and filled to the brim with electronics.
"You can sharpen them again when we are done." G36 answered.
"But look at her face! It's so twisted and agonized! Let me enjoy zhis!" PPK pleaded, lust seeping into her speech.
"Keep it up and I'll put you in agony." G36 threatened, but her words only seemed to embolden the little sadist.
"Oooooh~. Ja, that would be lovely. Did you bring my whip from ze dorm?" The handgun doll asked, now becoming far too excited than what was reasonable.
"Stop being horny on my radio. Get to work." Hsu commanded, Santiago shuddering in discomfort as he switched frequencies to the other echelon.
"Hey, Sir. Want us to help set up the gear?" Garand's voice inquired. "Looks like Doughgirl needs a hand."
"I can pitch in! I know all about computers!" Fourteen insisted.
"Thompson, get the team moving to your objective." Hsu said, not replying to the other dolls' inquiry. "Rather we got there before the survivors."
"Got it boss. Gals, regroup at the far end of the strip." Thompson ordered, a few affirmations sounding through the radio before the Commander switched off once more. His eyes locked onto them as they started to make their way.
"Headquarters must really be desperate if they're sending us into the dark zone." Santiago commented, leaning on the nose of her helicopter as she matched his gaze. "Are we seriously not getting any help?"
"Sangvis still doesn't have a foothold here. One echelon is probably enough." Hsu assured, earning a chortle from the pilot.
"You do not sound sure, Commandante ."
"I'm not." He admitted bluntly, watching his combat team march off into the unknown.
(16:31)
"Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we goooo~." M14 sang as the team made further progress into the area of operation. As the others marched in an arrowhead, the pigtailed doll walked on with a glee that rivaled that of a schoolchild.
They had left the airfield behind long ago, structures disappearing over the horizon as they traversed deeper and deeper into this unscouted territory. Surrounding them now were wide, open fields. Not having been tended to or touched by outside forces for years. On occasion, they'd find the remnants of civilization. Overgrowth coating over the walls, nature having reclaimed what was once lost.
It was a vast plane of nothingness. No trace of humanity, and no trace of Sangvis. A buffer zone that had been declared by the Soviets long ago, keeping their resettlement projects out of immediate danger. Though that buffer was growing smaller with these recent activities.
"I don't see a river or any woods, Fourteen." Garand commented, holding her weapon at the waist as she remained vigilant. "And try to take this seriously. We're in enemy territory."
"I knoooow, but this is so exciting!" M14 explained, hopping up and down as she kept moving. "We're finally on a real mission again! This is the best thing that's happened since we got here!"
"Marching into no man's land, with no help, trying to save dolls who're probably already wiped out." Garand reminded, taking the wind out of her cousin's sails rather swiftly with that heavy dose of pragmatism. M14 pouted, folding her arms over her chest as her rifle remained slung on her back.
"Let her enjoy this, Garand." Bar called from the opposite side of the formation, surprising both semi-automatics.
Meanwhile at the front, Thompson kept her gait up with a careful pace. Both her hands were clutching onto the grips of her weapon, the wood nearly cracking from the force. Her eyes were locked to her sector, trying to ignore the back and forth that was happening in the rear.
"Breathe, dear." Springfield reminded, words that almost made the newly drafted leader jump out of her skin. In fact, she did jump a bit, making Springfield giggle at the sight.
"Someone's nervous." The elder doll teased, moving so she was standing at Thompson's flank. The riflewoman looked over her shoulder, checking that the others were too wrapped in their own conversation before continuing. "What seems to be the matter, dear?"
"Matter? Nothin's the matter. I'm fine." Thompson denied with immediacy. An action that didn't assuage her senior's worries.
"Thompson…" Springfield said, prying into the girl's shell. She gave her junior a nudge with the butt of her stock, smile growing more sincere as the submachine-gunner scowled at the immediate contact.
But of course, the scowl fell apart soon enough. Thompson's shoulders sagged as she sighed, holding her weapon one-handed as the muzzle pointed to the earth.
"When I came off the assembly line, you know the first thing it was they told me?" Thompson questioned. Springfield shook her head, she knew the answer but wanted to let their new leader vent while they still had time.
"'You are the most advanced Doll of your kind. Your creation renders all others obsolete.'" The silver haired woman recanted. It was a phrase that had hung over her since the day she was 'born'. Expectations set high, and her programming only spurred her on to meet them. "I was made for this. Literally made to be superior. And now that I've got the chance to prove it, I'm… terrified. "
Springfield hummed, understanding the woman's plight. "All beings with emotion know fear, dear. It's only natural."
Thompson resisted the urge to scoff at the comment. Dolls like them were about as natural as a skyscraper. Pumped out of assembly lines like any other weapon of war or household appliance.
Her eyes flicked down to the bayonet sheath on Springfield's hip, then forwards once more.
"I remember one time, I saw a doll that wasn't afraid." Thompson explained, earning a cocked brow from Springfield. "On my first combat drop. Me and the rest of the new girls were hiding in that foxhole… and then I see a crazy woman, run across the field, and stab ten Soviets to death."
Springfield chuckled deeply at the story, a morose smile coming across her face. Her mood always seemed to sink whenever anyone mentioned the war, whether it was something she was involved in or otherwise. The fact that those years still hung so heavily over their heads brought her great sadness.
"She was afraid too." Springfield said carefully, eyes hidden behind her bangs as her hair shrouded her face.
Thompson prepared to retort, but was stopped as she felt the earth underneath her curl up. Looking forwards again, she saw that they were at the foot of a long incline. The gangster turned around, whistling back at the rest of the team. The five dolls scampered up the hill, going prone near the top and crawling up to the edge.
As they settled at the top of the hill, they were greeted by the sight of their endpoint. A vast industrial farming complex from before the war, the size of a small town. Five grain silos at the rear, each one riddled with bullet holes and chunks of steel ripped out. Large, emptied fields where crops once grew. Two rectangular, dilapidated buildings rested on the far edge. One smaller than the other, with a Soviet eagle painted on the side. Everything looked as it was supposed to, except for one key thing.
Sangvis Ferri was already there.
A squadron of Prowlers rolled against the ancient plow lines, leaving tracks that clawed into the earth. Pairs of Vespids and Rippers could be seen standing guard at various perimeter points, keeping sentinel over all vectors. At the top of the central grain silo, a lone Jaegar unit could be seen looking to the east.
"What the hell?" Thompson muttered, increasing her optical magnification as she gave the whole area a visual sweep.
"That's a lot of bad guys…" M14 commented worriedly, ever so slightly crawling back to avoid skylining their position.
"This doesn't make sense. We were sent these coordinates through encrypted company channels." Garand sputtered, trying to rationalize how what she was seeing before her was real. "Why are they camped out here!?"
Springfield pursed her lips, removing a stripper clip from her belt and loading her rifle. BAR pulled the bolt on her machine gun, racking a round into battery. "Thompson, plan?"
Thompson snarled, not having expected this complication. She pulled her headset off her neck, bringing the microphone to her mouth.
"Boss, you online?"
(16:36)
"We are. I see the problem." Hsu said, standing in his newly finished forward command station.
The top level of the aircraft control tower had been completely occupied. Old computers, left from the former operators of this airbase, now cleared out for the mobile station and its power source. A holographic projector displayed a screen, showing a wide-shot of every doll's vision along with their head's up display. An old map was hung up on the back glass, red marker having defaced it with various battle plans.
The dolls who had remained on the airbase were outside, guarding the perimeter and killing time. Meanwhile Hsu and Santiago were watching above, Hsu keeping tabs on each of the girls and Santiago fiddling in a corner with her MP5k.
"Explains why we didn't run into anyone on the way here." Thompson chirped, her IFF kicking into action as each of the Sangvis dolls was tagged with a red outline. "I'm counting… thirty hostiles. That we can see. "
Hsu grunted, looking back at the map and their marked rendezvous point. Normally, this is when he would order everyone to reroute to a new position. This time he couldn't, the wounded dolls had only provided one meeting point. And even if he wanted to order them elsewhere, he had no means of contacting them.
Like it or not, they had to punch through this.
"Thin out the herd before you advance." He ordered, looking at the new second's screen as she brought a target in sight. "Bar, sweeping fire from bearing zero-four-four to one-one-one. Rapid rate."
A click was heard as BAR flicked her fire selector, while Hsu's gaze then shifted to Garand's view. "First shot is going to be on that Jaegar, on your team lead's mark."
"Calculating firing solution…" Garand announced, her HUD checking the local wind speed and forming a dotted line to show the trajectory of the round. Once confident, she too lined up her shot.
"Rest of you, spread out. Set up a killzone in the field." He ordered, seeing the final three girls begin to slink back off the hill and move towards new positions on the perimeter. The Commander then turned away, pointing to the radio set that Santiago was sitting next to.
"Call HQ, prep some lines for CAS." He said, reading the grids off the map as Santiago began to speak into the radio microphone. Chatter began back and forth between her and their support on the other side of the line.
(16:40)
"LET IT RIP!"
At Thompson's roaring order over the radio, the Garand squeezed the trigger. With a loud crack, a round tore through the air and smashed into the back of the Jaegar. The Sangvis sniper doll tumbled over the railing, then was pulled to the ground.
After that, the real show began.
BAR's weapon screamed to life, a flurry of rounds going out and tearing the patrolling prowler squad to pieces. At the far end of the field, a Ripper team could be seen moving towards the new gunfire, before each of their heads blew apart. Bursts of bullets flew from M14's new bush, the hail covering the whole of the field.
Like moths to a flame, the Sangvis drones were drawn towards the hilltop where Bar and Garand rained fire upon them. Each time they got close, a hail of fire would cut in from their flanks and tear their push asunder.
After two minutes of trading shots, the field was now littered with the bodies of enemy drones. Black oil seeped into the crop-lines, further poisoning the farmland.
"Bar, Garand! Push along the perimeter! Everyone else, we're moving to the center of the complex!" Thompson ordered, slapping a new drum magazine into her SMG as she stepped off from her position and began to run forwards. Soon she was joined by M14 and Springfield, both women keeping pace with her as they delved fully into the combat zone.
Another crack rang out, a beam of light burning one of M14's twintails off. The three girls dove into cover behind a derelict combine tractor.
M14 whimpered, looking at her damaged hair on the verge of tears. Thompson, meanwhile, found the point on the ground where the shot had made impact. Her neural cloud calculated the angle of the shot, before forming a virtual line and sending the data to Springfield's digimind.
"Got it?" She asked, seeing Springfield cycle the bolt on her rifle. The eldest doll moved to the far side of the combine, before whipping around and firing a single round in response.
Another Jaegar stumbled forwards on a rooftop, now headless before it's corpse rolled off and crashed into the ground.
"Clear." Springfield announced.
"Push up!" Thompson ordered, running out towards the building while the other two followed behind. As they ran forwards, another Sangvis Vespid popped out from behind a pile of decomposing cornstalks.
It fired a shot, Thompson activating her deflector shield while M14 fired a volley at the attacker's position. Metal exploded as the rounds found their mark, and the trio kept advancing undaunted.
As they reached the door to the first warehouse, Thompson signaled to her followers. "Springfield, this small one's yours. Fourteen, we're taking the chubbster."
"You're sending Springfield in by herself?" M14 questioned, confused as why someone with an old bolt-action rifle was being ordered to clear a building on her own.
"She'll be fine." Thompson assured her, before she began to move to the next warehouse.
"But-" M14 began.
"Fourteen." Springfield piped up, her voice chillingly level. As M14 turned around, she would see the riflewoman removing her bayonet from her sheath. The sixteen-inch blade reflected the sun's light with a flash as she fixed it to the end of her rifle. "Go with Thompson. I can handle this."
Still wary, but more assured, M14 nodded and followed behind her superior.
The two girls moved to the second warehouse, finding the entrance rather quickly. Thompson motioned for them to halt, stacking up on both sides of the door.
She leaned up against the steel blockage, pressing her ear against it and focusing her audio receptors. Beyond, she heard several sets of footsteps scrambling within. The sounds of confused and panicked Sangvis sent a shot of thrilling satisfaction into her circuits, until she pinpointed one that was especially near.
The girl pulled her head back, then nodded to M14. At once, the riflewoman hit her selector and set the weapon to fully automatic. She took a step back, then fired a three round burst through the door.
A loud 'thump' was heard, the sound of a body hitting the dirt.
M14 then walked up to give the door a strong kick, the android's superhuman strength sending it almost flying off its hinges as it swung back. Thompson rushed in, going over the leaking Vespid corpse and moving inside. A loud staccato of gunfire filled the warehouse as both women cleared it of enemy presence. By the time they were done, seven more enemy dolls were rendered into scrap.
"Clear." Thompson announced, sighing in relief as she loaded a new magazine into her weapon. As she racked the bolt back, the woman groaned as she looked down at her footwear. "Ugh, these dumb broads almost broke my high heels."
"Oh boo hoo . Have you SEEN my extensions!?" M14 growled, violently shoving a stripper clip of rounds into her weapon to top off the magazine. Thompson merely chuckled, giving the girl a good-natured slug on the shoulder.
"We'll get cleaned up back at base." She promised, just as another spout of gunfire erupted out on the perimeter of the farm.
"That… sounds like BAR and Garand." M14 deducted, sliding the ejection port of her rifle shut.
"We'll get Springfield, then regroup." Thompson said, the two girls turning heel and exiting the warehouse at speed. It wasn't long until they came to the same point where they'd split off, seeing the door was now wide open.
The inside was dimly lit, few windows able to provide any illumination. Looking to her side, Thompson saw that someone had clearly sabotaged the fuzebox.
Both she and M14 went inside, carefully stepping in. As Thompson took point, M14 pulled out a small flashlight to try and let them see what was inside.
A slew of six Ripper bodies were laid across the concrete, each one with a deep cut through the torso. The grey of the concrete was now coated in the slick blackness of Sangvis oil, forming pools around their former containers and streams from corpse to corpse. There was a clear trail of footsteps through the room, leading to the far end of the warehouse.
"Springfield? Come on, we've got to go!" Thompson announced into the darkness, meanwhile M14 continued to scan the carnage like she was the protagonist in one of her horror games.
A set of footsteps could be heard coming close, the doll's Griffin IFF appearing before she could be visually seen. Springfield then stepped into the ray of the flashlight, looking mostly the same. Though her rifle was now coated in a new black paint, as were here gloves and sleeves.
"Are you both alright? I was beginning to worry." Springfield asked, lowering her weapon and coming further forward. M14 balked at the sight, suddenly more scared of Springfield than she'd ever been of PPK. Thompson, on the other hand, saw M14's expression and chuckled.
Then came the sound of helicopter blades.
(16:57)
"This is starting to get a bit frisky!"
The two blondes stood shoulder to shoulder, having taken cover behind an overturned transport truck. Shots and tracers whizzed past their position with wild abandon, rounds tearing metal chunks from the worn down vehicle. Garand's beret was now sporting two new fashionable bullet holes, while BAR had ditched her jacket completely. Both were covered in grime and muck, having been diving and dodging from hole to puddle.
From the south, a new squadron of Vespids rolled towards them in force. While a single one was no issue, large amounts of them concentrating fire was a force to be reckoned with.
"Any ideas, Auntie!?" Garand asked, her rifle ejecting another emptied clip after she fired. The doll ducked back around, shoving another set of eight rounds into her weapon.
"I'm thinking! And don't call me Auntie!" BAR answered back, shifting her fire selector to rapid once again as a torrent of rounds sliced through an advancing pair of Sangvis. Garand snickered at the reaction, but then yelped as her thumb was bitten by the bolt.
As BAR's LMG clicked empty, she patted her form for a new magazine. Realizing she was now completely dry, the doll ducked back down and extended her hand to her partner. "You bring any more?!"
"I already gave you the three extras I brought along!" Garand complained, unbuckling her belt and handing that over instead. "Here, load these into your empties!"
"You can't be serious!"
A beam of energy blasted past them, leaving a blazing scorch mark on the wall of a nearby building. "Yeah, because I'm the team clown!" She yelled back sarcastically.
Groaning, BAR took the string of clips and began to hand-load the .30-06 caliber rounds into her newly vacated magazines. Garand leaned back around the corner, focusing her aim as she pulled the trigger a final eight times. Each shot landing, putting another Vespid out for the count.
As her final clip ejected, she set the now useless weapon on the ground and reached behind her back. The doll drew an M1911, racking the slide and gritting her teeth. Meanwhile BAR slammed a full magazine into her machine gun, then continued to refill another.
"How many mags do you have for that thing?" BAR asked.
"Two." Garand answered, her reserve feeling ever so heavy in her jacket pocket. "They need to get closer, I'll miss at this range."
"Let me guess, you didn't go to the range like I said." BAR chastised.
"How was I supposed to know I'd need to bust this out!?" The riflewoman spit back, immediately going on the defensive. Even if she was kicking herself for ignoring her elder's warning. "When was the last time we've been out of ammo!? "
"Dunno, when was the last time we were outgunned?" BAR questioned, smirking at Garand's displeasure as Sangvis' voices filled the air. The elder sighed, continuing with her activity as she estimated the distance of the shrill cries.
"We've got a minute before they're on us, and I've got…" She looked to the final clip, before sighing as she transferred the last of the rounds. "Two and a half mags."
"So, we're tarf'd?" Garand asked.
"Completely tarf'd." BAR confirmed.
"Tarf'd. That's a new one." Hsu finally said, his voice ringing through their earpieces.
Garand snorted, looking around the corner to see the incoming wave. At least twenty prowlers peeling across the field, backed up by a number of bi-pedal Sangvis dolls of assorted variety. "Tell you what, Sir. Get us out of this, and I'll tell you what it means."
"Deal. Stay down." Hsu ordered, confusing both dolls. Until the telltale sounds of a chopper began to overtake all other noise.
A stream of yellow hellfire came from the sky. Two guns on the front end of an old AH-6 attack helicopter spewed them with aplomb, shredding the incoming Sangvis horde. Dirt and dust kicked up, a large cloud forming as the rounds were dumped away into the mass.
Both girls almost deactivated their ears, the sheer volume of two autocannons firing at such a continuous rate hurting even their sensors. But as the dust settled, and they both poked their heads up like a pair of blonde groundhogs, the deed was done. Columns of Sangvis scrap metal lined the earth, not a single moving part among them.
"Good effect." Hsu continued, unfazed by the scene that he was surely seeing. "Regroup with Thompson at the east entrance."
Their air support broke off, flying on and firing more rounds at more targets out of their view. Garand picked her rifle off the ground, slinging it over her shoulder before slipping her bandolier belt back around her waist.
"Hey, Springfield." She called into the radio, collecting the empty clips from the ground. "You've got ammo, right?"
"I've only used four clips, dear." Springfield called in, giggling. "And I still have my spare magazines for you, Bar."
"Thank Christ. We'll be there in five." BAR grumbled, dusting her sleeves off as she waved for Garand to follow. "Come on, we're not done yet."
"Let's just hope they're still coming here ." Garand complained, trudging towards their new regrouping point with a clear lack of enthusiasm. This mission was a crapshoot from the start, and now it was starting to seem like they were being sent into the meat grinder for nothing. "When we get back to base? I want a beer."
BAR chuckled at the point, taking point for the two while her partner hung back with her handgun.
"Ditto."
(17:28)
"Eye-Eff-Effs. Friendly, times two." Garand announced.
The team was standing at the eastern gate, having pulled over assorted items to use as firing posts. Trollies, sheets of metal, concrete barricades. Anything a doll could move, and that was quite a bit given their abilities.
"About fuckin' time." Thompson said, flicking away her cigarette and standing up from behind her blockade. She was beginning to worry that these 'very important dolls' were going to be complete no-shows, and she wasn't up for this becoming a night mission. "...Wait, two?"
"There were supposed to be seven!" M14 chirped.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." BAR called back, something that made M14 blow a raspberry at the former team leader.
"Verify visually." Hsu ordered over comms. The five girls stepped out from their dugouts, looking to the oncoming markers. Down the road, two heavily damaged dolls limped towards them. Clothes torn and burned, patches of metal showing where their 'skin' should have been.
The first one, a girl with black pigtails and deep purple running clothes was missing her left arm. A combat submachine gun clenched in her functional hand. The second wore a red and black strapless sheath dress, scorch marks blotching her shoulders. Her platinum blonde hair cradled a cross necklace, and a node in her hair sparked.
Thompson lifted her hand, waving at the two. As they approached, the taller blonde sighed in relief while the darker girl looked unimpressed.
"You our ride out of here?" She asked.
"We're your escort. Not your chauffeurs." Thompson corrected, waggling her gun towards the stub where the doll's arm was supposed to be. "You look like hammered shit, Ingram."
"Yeah? And you look prissy as ever, Thompson." Ingram answered, grinning as her eye glowed a sickly yellow. "How's life in the rearline?"
"Well, I'm the one with my limbs, so pretty good." The gangster taunted, enjoying the chance to rib one of her old colleagues. She then gestured towards the second girl. "Who're you?"
"Gewehr Three." She answered, turning around to show the G3 battle rifle slung on her back. In her hands, she had a pair of blue glowing circles cradled close to her chest. Though the lights seemed to be dimming, even as they stood there.
M14 went wide-eyed, stepping forwards and wrapping one of her own mitts around one of the spheres. "These are… AI cores…" She observed. "Are these…?"
G3 nodded somberly, allowing M14 to take one of them from her grasp. "Some of our friends… their bodies were too damaged. We took these to try and save them."
"OK. So where're the other three?" Thompson questioned, still seeing that they were a few dolls down even counting the cores.
"Dead. Missing. Worse." Ingram said with a shrug. "We had a ringleader on our ass, things hit the fan really quick."
"Ringleader?" BAR repeated, flicking the safety off on her rifle.
"Calm down. We weren't followed." Ingram assured, giving Thompson a nudge as she limped past her through the gate.
"Better not have, for your sake." Thompson answered, glaring a hole into the back of Ingram's head before she activated comms. "Well, Boss? What's the call?"
"Hrm…" Hsu hummed into the radio, contemplating the next course of action. This wasn't what he'd call an accomplished objective, but there was no guarantee the missing parties were going to arrive. As far as intelligence goes, two walking dolls and two more cores would provide HQ with all the information they'd need.
Besides, they couldn't hold this place indefinitely. Especially with night coming.
"Cut your losses, get back to the airstrip." He commanded. "I'll inform command of the situation."
Thompson nodded, motioning for her team to move up. The four other dolls made a square formation around the wounded, M14 handing the core back over to G3 as before taking her spot. As they continued to walk, Thompson keyed her radio again.
"Boss, does this…?" She began, remembering the ultimatum the Commander had given her before they left.
"Finish the mission." Was Hsu's only answer, before the comm-link went completely quiet. The gangster's head lolled back, frustrated at the lack of answer. And yet, she wasn't surprised. They weren't out of the woods just yet, no need to count her chickens before they hatched.
So she brought her headphones over her ears, flicked a thumb across the screen of her music player, and moved to the rear of the group as they walked off towards the sunset.
