(Griffin HQ, St. Petrograd | 09;12)

It wasn't often that Griffin's board of executives met on a Sunday. Each of the senior members had their reasons, from spending time with family to spending time in the city's cathedral. The same went for most workers in the building, human and doll alike. It was an old standing tradition that their Director had brought from his time in the military; never work on the day of rest.

Today was one of the few exceptions.

The table was seated by ten men and women, origins ranging from all corners of Europe and the Neo-Soviet Union. Each one wore their company uniforms, red trench coats with differing rank placards on their shoulders. All were locked in furious debate over the Sangvis situation, and the continuing escalation along the border regions.

All the while, Kryuger sat at the head of the arrangement. The aged Russian stroked his beard as he tried to pick out the sensible points his advisors and subordinates threw at one another. Trying to salvage what was quickly becoming an unsalvageable dilemma. Each of their sectors was being pushed by SF, defensive lines were being torn asunder. Tactical Commanders were being forced to withdraw, some of them had already been killed by the hostile androids.

The Military was furious. Newscasts had already recorded footage of SF combat units moving into Soviet settlements. The KCCO tried desperately to fill gaps, but Carter made it clear who the other Generals wanted to blame for what was soon to happen. Now the Kremlin was forced to tell the public what was really happening with Sangvis. The rest of Europe would find out shortly after, making their nation look even weaker in the eyes of their enemies.

For the past five years, ever since he'd left the Ministry of the Interior, he'd lead the fledgling company through trial after trial. From the initial small time work that the company had built itself on, to the assassinations that had targeted the founding leaders. Through that he'd garnered the company a good reputation, and many favors from within the Government.

He'd need to call in a great deal of them to keep them from suffering too greatly in the aftermath.

After an hour of debate, they'd planned out their response. Ordering more tactical dolls from IOP's line as soon as possible, digging up older monetary assets to pad their loss of income, assure their investors that this was more opportunity than loss. More importantly, they set the date for another recruiting drive. New technicians, engineers and Commanders to replace their recent casualties.

Soon enough, everyone had filed out. Everyone except the Director and Helian, Kryuger looking at the skyline of his home while his second in command kept her nose in a datapad.

"If Carter does as he promised, we should be able to repulse Sangvis' advance across most sectors." Helian assured, tapping away at the digital screen. "Soviet Special Forces are leagues ahead of our combat capability, sending them to focus on the most heavily impacted regions is wise."

Kryuger grunted, which spurred Helian to look up at him with a cocked brow. "You think he won't follow through?"

"Carter is an old friend. I know he will." Kryuger assured, eyes locking on a drone soaring towards the horizon. "But he also knows this will put me in his debt again."

"Lovely." The Scotswoman noted sarcastically, going back to the paperwork on her tablet. "I always do enjoy being told what to do by dodgy Generals with too much autonomy."

The Director nodded his head, pulling a steel flask from under his coat and unscrewing it open. "Which Sectors need immediate relief?"

"Five, twelve, fifteen and twenty four." Helian listed off. "...Chechnya, Dagastan, Orenburg, and Perm."

"Tell the Army that's where we need them." He ordered. "And the other situation?"

Helian sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of the way of her monocle. "Sector Nine is still searching for Sixteen-Lab's doll. Their Commander reported that they've taken casualties, but have yet to encounter overwhelming resistance."

"Do you think they will?"

"I have a theory." She said, before pulling up a tactical map and showing it to her superior. A map of the Soviet Union was displayed, with each sector Griffin managed control for highlighted. Along with that were battle lines and movement patterns, each massive SF strike marked and how far Griffin had been pushed.

Sector Nine was the only southern sector that hadn't reported a full-scale assault.

"This is a ruse, they're trying to draw attention away so they can capture Anti-Rain." Helian deducted. "This way, once they're able to muster a proper force to hit Sector Nine, we're too busy putting out fires to send reinforcements."

Kryuger nodded, closing the flask after a swig and slipping it back into his coat. "The Tactical Commander for Nine is still green. Do we have someone we can relieve him with?"

"Me." Helian suggested, now drawing curiosity from the Director. "I was planning to head there once they found Em-Four regardless. My personal echelon can help hold the line in case my theory is correct."

"You're willing to put yourself in the line of fire?" Kryuger questioned. "You're not a British Colonel anymore."

"And you're not part of the Ministry of Interior anymore, yet you're doing their job." Helian commented, handing the tablet over to the man so he could inspect the map himself. "That 'Scarecrow' made a point; I've spent too long hiding behind holograms."

The former operator shook his head. He didn't like the idea, but he knew when his second's mind was made up. But this was probably the best option they had until more Commanders finished their training.

"Make sure to grab a rifle and body armor before you leave." Was his final instruction, handing the tablet back. Helian hummed in compliance, before turning around and leaving the man alone to stare out at what was left of Russian civilization.


(11:03)

It might've not been the first time Hsu needed help getting dressed after a medical check, but it never stopped being embarrassing. But here he was, standing with his arms outstretched as G36 buttoned his uniform shirt up to his neck.

He'd come out with a clean-ish bill of health. The base doctor had cussed him out about his terrible cardio, and told him not to put too much strain on his shoulder. But it had all gone in one ear and out the other, after everything that happened yesterday all he'd wanted was a stiff drink and a quiet night in his bed.

The Commander had gotten both, until G36 had barged into his room as the clock crept closer to noon. Apparently she'd meant what she'd said about making sure he woke up before the day's halfway point, and was now going to make it her personal mission to ensure he had a 'normal' sleep cycle.

He had to admit, she was a good maid. But this was starting to border on nanny territory.

"You're lucky this was not your first dislocation." G36 chastised, taking the tie off of the bedspread and throwing it over his neck. "No sling, but the doctor forbids you from leaving the base for at least a week."

"Good thing he can't force me to stay here."

The maid shook her head. "What is it with men and macho bravado? Do you think women find it attractive?"

"The only women here on base are either married, half my age or androids." Hsu pointed out. "It's not a mating ritual."

"So you're stubborn for no reason. Wunderbar." G36 replied, looping up the knot.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you Gretel?" Hsu asked dryly, wincing a bit as his attendant pulled the tie tighter around his neck.

"It's my pleasure to serve you, Master Hsu." G36 answered sternly, putting the finishing touches on his neckwear before grabbing his maroon coat. "It's also my pleasure to stop you from hurting yourself."

She helped the older gentleman don the last of his attire, leaving him to button up the coat. She then picked up his headwear, a modified peaked cap that once upon a time had likely belonged to a Soviet officer. The red star had been stripped away, replaced by a G&K insignia. She then offered the man his information tablet.

Hsu hesitated, slipping his right hand into his pocket. "...Command needs me to pick an adjutant. A permanent one."

"Thompson or Bar have a great deal of tactical experience." G36 advised. "Either would make capable sub-Commanders."

"But they're not the best at personnel management. If all that mattered was telling people what to shoot, I'd have that covered on my own." He pointed out, earning a soft shrug as the maid tucked the datapad under her shoulder. "You, on the other hand. Everyone on base listens to you, trusts you. Even Thompson does, and she hates your guts."

"The feeling is quite mutual, trust me." G36 replied, bristling at even the mention of her rival's name. "That woman's a lowbrow thug playing mercenary. But she's a strong leader, loathe I am to admit."

Hsu pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding up two fingers. "Second lesson. Lead as yourself. You'll never get people to follow you when you mimic others."

G36 sighed, but took the knowledge to heart. She'd asked the man to instruct her, but she was also hoping he wouldn't turn every interaction they had together into a life lesson. "So what would my duties as your adjutant be, exactly?"

"Organizing, administrating, helping me plan with ops." Hsu explained, albeit without any real detail. "Basically make sure this place doesn't burn to the ground."

Gretel kept her arms folded over her chest, still appearing unconvinced by the man's offer. The datapad in her hand rumbled as a notification went off, but she was squarely focused as the Commander made his case.

Hsu began to frown, not expecting this much resistance. "You also get a ten percent pay raise. And on base, your word is mine. Everyone follows your lead, Thompson included."

The idea of putting the silver haired hellion in her place almost made G36 smile. That alone would have normally been enough for her to take an offer like this.

But still, there was one thing she wanted from the man. Something he hadn't been willing to admit since he came here.

"Does this mean we're friends?" The maid asked him. Hsu looked back, bewildered for the first time she'd ever seen. An image she instantly saved to her digimind if she ever needed a good laugh.

When Hsu didn't answer, she came up with a new idea. "I accept, one one condition. Tell me your first name."

Hsu chuckled nervously, looking at the inside of his hat. He'd been so ready to ask these girls about something they held near and dear, but not willing to do the same. Not even for the girl before him, who he'd asked this very question days prior.

Maybe it was time he started giving back.

"Matthew." He said, putting the cap squarely on his head.

G36 let herself smile, knowing she'd truly earned the man's trust. "Well, Matthew. It would be my honor to be your first friend here at Griffin."

The maid then looked to the tablet, reading the notification and gesturing towards the man's bedroom door. "And as your new adjutant, I'd like to inform you that Miss Kalina has rounded up all the new Tactical Dolls in the cafe as requested."

Hsu nodded his head, pulling the hem of his jacket to straighten it out. "Well then, let's rally the troops."

The Commander left the room, his assistant lock step behind him.


(11:11)

The ripper hit the concrete with a dull 'THUNK', a throwing knife lodged deep in her chest. Seconds before, she'd been trying to find her partners. Their signals had been cut, disappearing like blips. Programming dictated that she identify the cause of the disturbance, so she'd moved to their last known location.

Their bodies had been the last thing she'd seen before the blade made contact.

A minute later, once she was sure the coast was clear, Thompson crept out of the shadows. She hovered from body to body, removing each of her knives and putting them back in the sheaths on her person.

She'd been hunting for ten hours now, all alone. Combing over the city looking for any clues or breadcrumbs that could lead her to the missing princess. It had been so long since she'd gone solo like this, years since the last time. Back when the war was over, and she'd been sold off to a few mobsters in Budapest under the Army's nose.

Of course now, her targets were other dolls, not enemy gangsters. But this was easier. Sangvis was way more predictable than jumpy triggermen who loved to surprise her with how stupid they got.

She was fortunate, her model was built for long jobs. Even before the military had pulled her off the line and modified her for combat duties. Unlike the other girls, she wasn't at risk of shutting down over power loss. Push came to shove, she could sit down for ten minutes at an electric car station and steal some juice from the grid.

Still, she was alone for the first time in a long time. It bothered her more than she'd anticipated.

Either way, this was one of the last places M4A1 could be. The rest of the city was either quiet beyond belief, or filled with too many Sangvis dolls for anyone sane to try and hide there. So now she'd come here, to the old business district. Going up a highrise skyscraper and hopping cubicles because she'd found a used up suppressor lying outside.

It took four more floors, but she found what she was looking for. Or, it found her. As she reached the 41st floor, she heard the telltale sound of a hammer being pulled back. In the sea of abandoned desks and dust-covered computers.

"Heads up display should show I've got a Griffin tag." She called out, lowering her submachine gun and standing casually. "Come on, my heels are wearing down. Don't make this hard."

There was a shift towards the center, cloth and metal rubbing together, before a head poked out. Thompson's eyes locked on the doll, verifying her with the mugshot they'd been provided. She looked human, even more than most dolls. Long brown hair with a green highlight. Sleeveless sweater and a tan coat wrapped around her waist.

M4A1. The leader of Anti-Rain, and the girl who'd gotten half of her old team killed.

"Holy shit, you are a schoolgirl." Thompson commented, whistling as she paced forwards. This 'M4A1' didn't look a day over nineteen. But she held her rifle like a hardened soldier, now sans the suppressor. Residue was building up around the ejection port and muzzle as well, signaling she'd been using the weapon beyond its limits.

M4 didn't respond, straightening up further as Thompson stood in her face. The gangster looked down at the shorter doll with nothing short of a malicious grin.

"A-are you my extraction?" The doll questioned, voice wavering as the taller android came close. Despite her best efforts, Thompson was an intimidating figure. From the outfit to how casually she carried her firearm, and especially the set of throwing knives that hung off each hip.

Of course, the gangster relished having such an imposing effect on this girl. The 'elite special operations doll' that had been giving her such a massive headache for the past twenty-four hours. But beyond that, she was now absolutely sure M4A1 was the doll who'd left her old team to die. The look, the attitude, the weirdly innocent aura that she gave off. All of it seemed to incense Thompson further and further.

If it wasn't for her orders, she probably would have slugged her. But her orders did stand, and there would be plenty of opportunities after this to get some payback.

"Yeah, I'm your lift outta here." Thompson told her, putting up a fake veneer of friendliness to hide her murderous intent. "Where's the rest of your team?"

M4A1 grew somber at the mention of her sisters, instinctively looking around the room. "We had to split up. It made it harder for Sanvgis to track us."

"So you don't know where any of'em are?" Thompson questioned further, to which the doll shook her head. The gangster grimaced, but expected as such. Everyone seemed to have gone to ground to avoid capture. Of course, that also made it extremely hard to rescue them.

Thompson couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to be chasing after 'Anti-Rain' for a while.

"Either way, we need to get out of here." Thompson said, checking how much power her chassis had left. "...I've got about a day's worth of juice left. We could try and make a break for the city limits."

M4A1 nodded carefully, logging the information for later. She'd never seen any doll that was the same model as Thompson before, which meant she was either experimental or cobbled together.

"I already have a plan." She said, pointing upwards towards the roof. "This building used to house a radio station. The antenna on the rooftop is still intact, which means I can send a signal."

"And ring a dinner bell for every Sangvis jackass in the city." Thompson quickly countered, with M4A1 staring blankly back at her elder.

"We have a defensible position. I'd estimate we can hold out for two hours of combat with my ammo reserve." She deducted, tapping the receiver of her assault rifle with her trigger finger. "And the helipad on the rooftop is high enough to avoid our transport being shot down."

Thompson blinked, the grip on her weapon going tight again. "You… watched that?"

Again, M4 nodded, though visibly tensing as she sensed the anger begin to radiate from Thompson's form. "I t-tried to come help, but by the time I arrived, you had all fled."

Despite her seething, Thompson brought herself back under control. Another thing she'd make this idiot answer for once they weren't about to get shot to pieces.

But first thing was first, it was time to leave.


(11:21)

Meeting the new dolls had been just as colorful and chaotic as Hsu expected. Or more accurate to say, dreaded. He'd pushed the whole affair to be as short as possible, and even then it took longer than he would've preferred.

The first one he noticed was the doll who seemed to be the quietest one. Type 100 was diminutive, even smaller than M1897 had been. She kept her scarf wrapped tightly around her mouth, even as she stood at perfect attention while Hsu addressed the room. Her long black hair wrapped around what looked to be a Japanese military coat paired with a girl's highschool uniform. Red, black and green, with some pink trim on the edges.

After that was her even more dour counterpart. AUG seemed to almost blend into the room, bleach blonde hair with large flowers tied at the knot of a long ponytail. An elegant black dress that only looked fitting for a funeral, with a silver Catholic rosary wrapped on her wrist. Truth be told, she looked more like a priestess than a soldier.

Hsu didn't even know dolls could be religious.

Next was the most visibly colorful of the bunch. S.A.T.8's orange and black outfit resembled that of a gas station attendant, but it looked almost chique in it's own way. An italian flag bow was tied around her neck, and her hair looked like she'd cut it off a lion. But out of the five, she gave a very friendly smile. Similar to Springfield's but more… energetic. Sisterly than maternal.

K11 also had a sibling vibe, though far less responsible. Her essence bled chaos, from a slightly unhinged smile to her punk aesthetic. Mismatched clothes, a glove on only one hand, unzipped short-shorts that were half-covered by an unbuttoned white dress shirt and black lab coat. Vials and explosives hung off her person, each one looking just as volatile as her.

And then came the final of these new dolls. Probably the most visually imposing of them all.

She stood taller than any other doll on base, and likely the only doll matched him in stature. Long wisps of snow colored hair and blood red eyes. The Captain wore a military style outfit, an officer's jacket and trench-coat with black and white bows tied at the hem. All over her outfit, little icons hearkening to the Habsburg monarchy shined brightly. One could think she had been pulled straight from the glory days of Austria-Hungary.

Her name was IWS 2000, and she could have easily been the most intimidating doll on base, if she wasn't such an absolute klutz.

Was there not one doll without any quirks in this entire company?

Regardless, the meeting had been mostly painless, but he could tell that these new girls would give him just as many migraines as the one already here. Once he'd dismissed them, he told G36 to get a scotch ready for him in his office.

Which was when, as last time, Kalina summoned him to the command room in a flurry.

He'd barely taken a step into the room when the young logistics officer began to tell him about the radio transmission from Donetsk. How their long lost objective was now calling them over an unsecured channel for exfiltration, and that Thompson's IFF was also present in the same building that the broadcast was coming from. It also meant they were going to be hit soon, and they had to leave now.

Problem being, he only had one full-strength team, and all the Sangvis in the city were probably going to meet them at this tower.

The Commander called in the closest thing to a war counsel he could in the command room. IWS, the new echelon's leader. BAR, who was still missing an arm. G36, writing down a flurry of notes as he explained the plan. And Santiago, who made it clear to everyone she was not flying back into the city without at least two echelons present to keep her alive.

Hsu didn't like subordinates making demands of him, but considering what the Brazilian just went through, he didn't berate her.

"We've got enough dolls for this foray, barely." Hsu explained, pulling up the skyscraper's floor plan that Kalina had managed to find buried in the old Soviet internet archives. "Thirty floors, most of them tight hallways and sub-rooms. The ones higher up get pretty open, though. Plenty of sight, good vectors for snipers if they're set up on one of the shorter towers nearby."

"I'd be happy to assist, Herr Kommandant!" IWS gleaned, seeming keen to please the man already. "Aug and I would be honored to provide support for Frau Thirty-Six!"

"Good. Because she's taking half your team." Hsu pointed out, before bringing up the shuffled echelons for all to see on the projector. "IWS is going to roll with Aug, Garand and Springfield. Meanwhile, Thirty-Six is taking PPK, K-Eleven, One-Hundred and Sat-Eight."

"And I'm guessing you'll be coming along, despite the doctor's directive?" G36 deducted with no lack of disapproval.

"I'll be with IWS." Hsu relented. "After the jamming problems, I'm not risking losing communication again."

G36 rolled her eyes, but didn't argue further. It was obvious the man was coming, even if logic dictated otherwise. Frankly, the fact that he was willing to not be in the thick of the fight was a victory unto itself.

"Once Echelon Three is set up, Echelon Two is going to start moving down to link up with the objectives." Hsu explained, the floor where M4A1 and Thompson would be holding out highlighting in red. "Once contact's established, you immediately ripcord out to the roof. That Ringleader is gonna be close, and I don't want to engage her if we can avoid it."

The Commander settled down, waiting for any of the girls to ask him questions. When they asked him none, he gave the order for them all to double time it onto the transport.

Which then left him and BAR alone, the blonde American glaring at him expectantly.

"Come with me." He ordered, stepping out of the room and into the outer hallway. They both made their way back to the base cafe, now having been emptied out after the new dolls' slapdash orientation.

Hsu went into the back, grabbing a whisky tumbler, a soda can and a bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured the whisky in the tumbler, popped open the coke can, and then slid the glass over to BAR.

She took the glass carefully, eying his own beverage. "Not gonna partake?"

"Never drink before an op." Hsu explained, lifting his can up before stopping. "...Already had my 'hair of the dog' when I woke up."

"Yeesh, you really are as much of a mess as Thirty-Six says." BAR pointed out, enjoying the annoyed roll of the eyes that Hsu gave off as she downed her liquor. "Not sure how I feel about having an alchie as our boss."

"Then it's a good thing for me you don't have a say." Hsu answered, shutting the woman down where she stood. He could hear her mutter 'asshole' as she put the glass back down, to which the Commander took as a request for a refill.

He finished pouring the second glass, screwing the cap back on and stowing the bottle away for good. "There's a reason why I'm not letting you come."

"That is?" BAR asked as she took the drink once again.

"Same reason I wanted those emotion modules stripped out; you're angry and that'll get people killed." He explained, igniting the annoyance BAR already had into full-blown anger. The doll physically seized up, whatever she wanted to say getting caught in her throat.

"You have my permission to speak freely and without any restriction." Hsu said, taking his drink again.

"I'm gonna punch a hole in your fucking chest." BAR snapped, while Hsu scoffed the empty threat. Even if she wanted to, and he was halfway to believing she did, her failsafes wouldn't allow it.

The LMG doll scowled, sitting on a stool and downing the glass again. She then pointed down below, to which the Commander yet again drew the bottle out and placed it next to her glass. BAR grabbed it immediately.

"You know it's your fault she ran off in the first place?" BAR hissed as she unscrewed the bottle again, tossing the cap over her shoulder and behind the furniture. "Told me that she owed you or some shit. Like any of us owe you a damn thing."

The contents of the bottle were gone in an instant, golden brown whisky being chugged as the liquor began to hit BAR's senses like a truck. Vision blurring and her motions slowing down. The effects were all simulated, she could've turned them off if she so pleased, but at the moment she welcomed the sensation of being buzzed.

Hsu shook his head, finishing off the last of his cola and checking his watch. Another thirty minutes before he was due at the helicopter path, hopefully enough time to do what he wanted.

"You're proving my point." The Commander pointed out.

BAR put the empty bottle down onto the counter, giving the man a half-lidded glare. "That we're too 'emotional' for you, asshole?"

"That you and your team aren't soldiers." Hsu corrected, taking the bottle and walking over to the sink.

"Fuck. You." BAR answered, but seemed to get no physical reaction as the Commander rinsed what was left of the bottle out.

"Getting drafted into the war because the Army needed more dolls with guns doesn't change the fact that you weren't built for fighting." Hsu continued

"What, you think Thompson was?" BAR asked, giving the Commander a drunk and somewhat unhinged giggle. "Please. She's just as civilian as the rest of us."

Hsu looked over his shoulder, filling the whisky bottle up and washing it out again. "I thought she was built for combat."

"She was modified for combat." BAR said, giving him the mother of all grins. "You wanna know what her AI was originally developed for?"

Hsu nodded carefully, turning the faucet back off and letting a sense of silence return over the cafe. BAR released a drunken giggle, all her anger from before seemingly gone with the wind. Or with the liquor, in this case.

Still, she was enjoying her chance to regale her superior with new knowledge.

"Farming. She was supposed to get shipped to southern illinois so she could grow fucking corn." BAR finally informed, slapping the wooden bar counter with her good hand and hollering with laughter. Thompson would be absolutely mortified if she knew Hsu knew this, but with all the stress that cousin of hers had caused, this was a good start to her payback.

Hsu nodded along, pulling out a basket of bread that still smelled fresh. Likely G36's doing before his wake-up call. BAR turned her nose up at the food, but took a buttered roll and tossed it between her hands.

"That gangster get-up? It's allllll and act." BAR continued to explain. "It's why when she freaks out she turns redneck like Ninety-Seven. Ever notice how she starts dropping her 'Rs' and uses more contractions?"

"Can't say I haven't." Hsu admits, thinking back to the last one-on-one discussion he'd had with the wannabe gangster. How she seemed to sound a lot less 'Chicago' and a lot more 'good old girl.' Reminded him of some of his men who grew up in Alberta, the great plains where Canada got most of its grain. The thought of seeing Thompson in a straw hat and overalls was rather amusing.

"What about you? What were you made for?" Hsu asked, posting himself against the counter.

BAR scoffed, looking down at the roll and shaking her head. "I was supposed to be a film doll. Hollywood's going automated. Or, well, it was before the Soviets turned Los Angeles into a crater."

"I hear most of the movie business is in Houston now." The Commander offered as BAR swallowed a chunk of bread.

"Couldn't catch me dead in Texas." BAR cut in. "After the war, when I got de-cored, they sent me to Warsaw. Ended up being a waitress at a Bunny Bar."

"Aren't those the places where…?" The Commander began to say.

"They make the girls dress up in skimpy suits so old pervs can get stiff while they drink? Yeah." BAR finished for him, sighing as the memories of her post-war days came back. "Everyday someone slapped my ass or grabbed my chest. It was terrible."

Hsu hummed in concordance as BAR looked up to the room's roof. The doll's vision seemed to get lost in space. "You know the worst part? I couldn't fight back. My failsafe would kick in. So all I could do was 'ask them' to stop, and they never stopped. Not until the manager came over and told'em, anyway."

She looked back to Hsu, trying to discern a reaction. But the old soldier had his ever present poker-face on, not seeming interested in getting his word in. All he seemed interested in was listening to her story.

BAR sighed, rubbing one of her eyes as her digimind continued to wobble. "...Griffin was my out. After a year, I couldn't take it anymore. Figured getting shot at again was better than getting felt up all the time."

Hsu still said nothing. He simply checked his watch again, glanced up at BAR, then walked his way around the counter and towards the exit that led out towards the hangars. BAR shook her head, slouching in her seat as she felt her age creep up on her all over again. The nickname 'Auntie' ringing in her ears as the sluggishness set back in.

The Commander stopped at the door, turning around and calling back over.

"Two things." He said, pulling the sleeves of his red coat further down. "Thompson's going to be back by nightfall, so don't get too hammered."

BAR scoffed, moving from her stool and letting herself sink into a proper lounge chair. Though she saw the loophole in his wording, permitting her to grab some more liquor if she wished.

"And the other thing, oh so glorious leader?" The former Captain asked.

Hsu took pause, remembering the story she'd just told him. He then thought further back, about how Garand had warned him about how many of the dolls here hadn't come from happy homes. It was the first time he really began to understand the depths of how A-Dolls seemed to be treated in Europe.

Much as he tried to deny the feeling, the repulsion was still there.

"If anyone does that to you again? Break their arm." Hsu ordered, a directive that made BAR's head perk up. "And tell the other girls they've got permission to do the same or similar."

The android had no words. She couldn't believe that this man was, for all intents and purposes, giving her permission to hurt a human just to defend herself. A privilege that seemed so strange, she'd have problems understanding it even if she wasn't borderline drunk.

Hsu simply shrugged, placing his peaked cap back on his head and marching away.


(13:32)

Thompson could have sworn she'd heard the sound of rotors over her head, but that seemed fleeting in the middle of this firefight.

For the past hour, her and M4 had been holding off an endless stream of Sangvis cannon fodder. Dozens upon dozens filed up the staircases to come after them. Dinergates clambered up the walls and through broken windows. Rippers and vespids were clogging the entrances now, bodies stacked into makeshift barricades.

More than a bit extreme, but Thompson didn't seem to share M4A1's qualms about getting her hands dirty. Besides, they were more useful as sandbags than shooters anyway.

Not that it was doing much. Their assailants seemed more than willing to just climb or smash through their fallen comrades as they saw fit. Something that didn't surprise either doll in the slightest. Sangvis grunts operated on a hive-mind, which meant that as long their ringleader was around, they wouldn't stop until they were dead.

Things were starting to get dangerously close to that point.

Thompson fired another angry burst from her weapon, only for the older SMG to suddenly stop firing. She crouched back behind her cover, a stack of metal filing cabinets, to see a cartridge jammed almost sideways in the chamber. With a furious roar, the doll began to slap the weapon.

"Stupid. Piece. Of. Shit!" Thompson exclaimed, each pause punctuated with an angry smack to knock the troublesome brass out of the gun and onto the floor. She made a mental note to check the springs on her magazines later, assuming there was even any help coming.

Which is when she heard the sound of enemies about to tear around the corner.

Immediately she dropped the weapon, lifting a fist and smashing it with all her force against the top-most cabinet. The office furniture flew off to the right, smashing against the wall and crushing two vespids like pancakes as it moved. Thompson then drew another of hew knives, the blade landing squarely in a ripper's head and sending her shots completely haywire. Three of her comrades were caught in the free-fire, but two more were making a bum rush for the lone Griffin doll.

Not wanting to be idle, Thompson charged forwards. Juking the first ripper and socking it right in the mouth. She then grabbed the stunned Sangvis android, before spinning around to face the second one. As soon as she did, her last remaining attacker fired a long burst into her meatshield.

Thompson waited until the ripper's weapons began to click, then chucked the corpse straight at them. Both flew out the large window and fell wordlessly back to street level.

Satisfied with her street fighting, Thompson pulled back to where she'd dropped her weapon. She gave the thing a dirty look as she recovered, only to hear another set of footsteps coming from the opposite side. The side M4 was supposed to be covering.

She turned to see her battle buddy present herself, brow creased in concern. "Are you alright?"

"DOWN!" Thompson yelled, tackling her protectee to the ground as another salvo of shots came from behind M4. Two vespids advanced, rifles at the ready.

Not bothering to ask permission, Thompson grabbed at M4's thigh and ripped her sidearm free. She fired four shots, two for each as they crumpled to the ground.

The gangster snarled, grabbing her weapon and forcefully pulling M4 back to her feet. They then made run for the stairwell, going up another four floors. Only five remained between them and the rooftop, where they would have nowhere left to run.

As M4 moved to barricade the doorways again, Thompson scanned their new bastion. Another office area, but far more open. Desks, printers, other furniture and tables stretched from left to right, with no walls present. They were surrounded by a box of wide windows, going from the floor to the ceiling, with plaster only being present to separate the office floor from the stairwell that M4 was currently blockading.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Thompson cursed, removing the magazine from her weapon and finally driving the action closed. Sighing with relief, she reloaded her weapon, sliding one of her final magazines in and racking a round into the chamber.

"You done, Princess?" Thompson jeered, turning to see M4 push the largest desk in the room in front of the door. The spec ops doll caught her breath, then made her way back over to the veteran.

"We're clear. That should hold them for-" M4 began to assess, right as Thompson's fist smashed into her face. The girl yelped, stumbling back as she felt warmth splatter across her cheek.

"Are you a moron?!" Thompson roared, jabbing the barrel of her weapon downwards in the direction they'd run away from. "I told you to cover your side! Why in the hell did you give them an opening!?"

M4's breath hitched, she wiped below her nose to clean. Fear and panic washed over the new recruit, completely blind-sided by the assault. "I th-thought you were hurt! I wanted to help!"

Thompson scoffed, marching over and jabbing her finger in M4's face. The girl flinched, half expecting another strike.

"Hell will freeze over before I need your help." Thompson promised, bearing down on the 'oh so precious' android that Corporate had demanded they bring back. "It's my job to get us out of here alive. We get out of here alive if you do what I tell you. Clear!?"

M4 nodded carefully, relief washing over her as Thompson pulled back and marched her way to the center of the room.

"What kind of crap is Eye-Oh-Pee sending Griffin these days?" Thompson asked no one in particular, before spinning around to glare at M4 yet again. "How are you supposed to be an elite doll? Because you sure as shit don't seem elite to me!"

M4 was about to speak, then stopped herself. She gazed over her partner in crime, checking her model with what was in Griffin's database. Most importantly, her clearance level. Though all her records seemed to verify that Thompson was also one of Griffin's elite tactical dolls.

With a deep breath, and a skittish look around her, she explained.

"I'm… from Sixteen-Lab." M4 explained, getting Thompson's attention away from her previous rant. The name immediately waved red flags, making the gangster far more wary.

"Sixteen-Lab." Thompson repeated, making her way back over to M4. "As in that research group that invented second-gen dolls. And imprinting, dummy bots. All that?"

M4 nodded along, not wanting to cut off Thompson's train of thought. Thompson clicked her tongue, tapping her foot at this new information.

"The rest of your team from Sixteen-Lab too?" She continued to question, to which M4 nodded again. "They any good?"

"M-my sisters are strong. Stronger than me." She admitted, something that made Thompson chuckle.

"Oh, I hope so." Thompson said, before looking at M4 yet again. "Because they need to be if they babysit someone like you on the regular."

M4A1 had no response. The demure doll had no defense left of her actions, or at least none that she was willing to use at the moment. So instead she simply slinked off to a corner, starting to move new pieces of furniture into another row of defenses.

Thompson, meanwhile, reveled in her small victory. She'd been wanting to do this from the moment Ingram had relayed what happened. Hell, she'd wanted to do more than just this. In spite of that, she felt satisfied. There wasn't any urge to take things further. One good lick to the face was enough repayment.

It was then that both girls began to hear a new chorus of gunfire. Older weapons, shots coming from further away. But the sound of glass shattering floors below them assured that this skyscraper, or at least something inside of it, was the target.

Thompson hid herself behind a desk, assuming another set of Jaegers had come to take her head. But M4 did the opposite, dropping her activity and moving over to face the direction of the shots. Her firmware scanned the horizon, analyzing for any aberrations that appeared.

Five figures were highlighted on a tower that sat across the roadway. On the top floors, two Griffin IFFs were seen floating behind muzzle-flashes. Her digimind was able to calculate the trajectory rather simply, showing their shots were being aimed at the floors below them.

The rooftop showed three figures; two more Griffin IFFs and someone wearing a Commander's trench coat. Their position seemed to be level with theirs, though the distance was great enough that she had trouble identifying who they were exactly.

"I'm gonna guess that's our backup? Seeing your head ain't a crater at the moment." Thompson called from her cover.

"Four Griffin dolls. They're already providing sniper support." M4 answered, her closer protection laughing in victory at the news. It was then they heard the sound of bashing coming at the front door. Both girls readied their weapons, but then saw five more Griffin tags appear on their HUDs.

Seconds later, the door leading to the second stairway flew open. Friendly dolls began to pour into the room, fanning out in all directions. Thompson shot a wink at S.A.T.8, one the Italian smiled at as she moved to check the barricade. Type 100 and K11 went to the windows, flagging down those who stood on the rooftop across from them.

Two maids then met the defenders at the center. PPK seemed pleased with herself as always, moving to cover where they'd just arrived from. The taller of the two came forwards, glancing at Thompson first and foremost.

"Why is it whenever there's trouble, you're the cause?" G36 asked her fellow team captain.

"If you're fishin' for a thank you, Kraut, you're in the wrong lake." Thompson shot back, giving the German a shit-eating grin.

G36 scoffed, but adjusted her gaze unto the reason all of them were here. She grimaced at the broken nose that M4 sported, and easily noted the red coolant that seemed to paint Thompson's knuckles. "Frauline, my name is Gewehr Thirty Six. I'm the adjutant of Griffin's operations in Sector Nine."

"Wait, what?!" Thompson said, dumbstruck that the base housekeeper had been promoted yet again. This time to a more senior position than even hers. G36 made no effort to hide her satisfaction at Thompson's reaction, but also didn't comment over the American's outburst.

"We're here to transport you to the safety of our base." G36 continued, before gesturing back to the stairwell. "If you'd be so kind to come with us, please."

M4 nodded, slipping by the two and moving for the exit. PPK fell behind her, handgun ready. G36, gave Thompson a sideways glance, now the corner of her mouth curling into the same shit-eating grin.

"I'm not calling you 'ma'am' either." Thompson snarled, shoving her way past. G36 chuckled, rather content with how this was all occurring.

That was when the floor erupted outwards, and a black clad figure punched upwards. Thompson and G36 were knocked away from the force, while new gunfire began to pour from the opposite stairwell. A new slew of rippers began to pour in, with K11, Type 100 and S.A.T.8 adjusting to engage them.

M4A1 and PPK were dragged back through the hole as the others were distracted. As both G36 and Thompson stirred, they could hear the signs of struggle below them. Both Captains righted themselves, jumping down as well to see what awaited them.

Executioner stood at the far end of what was once an executive's meeting room. A conference table rested between them, broken in half after the ringleader had used it as her personal springboard. In one hand, she gripped PPK by the neck. The other clutched her absurdly long sword, pointed at both her pursuers. Underneath her foot, M4A1 lay stunned and dusty.

"You know, I was hoping this was going to be you kill those brainless idiots until you both ran out of ammo, then I could sweep in." Executioner explained, pressing her boot harder against M4's back. The screech and strain of metal being overheard the gunfight happening above. "Then I finally get to capture her, and I get to kill the jerkoff in the hat."

"Someone's jealous." Thompson mused snarkily. G36 didn't share her compatriot's levity.

"Do you truly think you'll be able to fight us both with one free hand?" The maid questioned, PPK giggling in her position. Executioner growled, giving the girl's neck a firmer squeeze. The intent was to shut her up, but instead PPK moaned out loud.

"Ja, ja! Do it again! Harder!" The handgun doll pleaded, making Executioner visibly recoil in confusion and disgust. The whole room seemed to freeze from the strange request.

Thompson watched in disbelief as PPK began to beg the ringleader to abuse her further. The gangster's jaw began to sag open, questioning what the hell she was witnessing.

"Hsu was right. She needs a shrink bad." Thompson said.

"Don't remind me." G36 requested, groaning as PPK was now clearly hot and bothered. The maid kept asking again and again for Executioner to choke her out again, and now the Sangvis command unit had completely forgotten where they were. Both she and her captive were locked in a furious back and forth.

Meanwhile M4A1 stared up and listened to the debate, completely and utterly lost as they'd gone from hostage situation to this.

"Should we do something or…?" Thompson asked. "Don't get me wrong, this is hilarious."

"PPK knows what she's doing." G36 assured, taking no measures at all to intervene over the comedy sketch that was playing out before her. Though the skit seemed to be nearing its end, as the ringleader's shock subsided and was quickly being replaced with annoyance.

"Will you shut up when I'm trying to monologue!?" Executioner demanded, furious that her dramatic entrance had been ruined by this strange horny woman she'd had the misfortune to take captive.

"Mmm… maybe if you're a bit rougher~." PPK continued to goad. "Come on, pull my hair! Hit me! Call me a dirty whore!"

"Um…" M4 spoke out, tilting her head. "I'm getting… uncomfortable."

"I second that!" Thompson called out from her position.

"Thirded." G36 said, shooting a glare PPK's way. The maid giggled innocently, fluttering her eyelashes. She then pointed towards the window, where Executioner turned to look.

The glint of IWS' scope shined bright, followed by the bright flash of her cannon firing.

A split second later, a SABOT round screeched through the window and caved in the ringleader's chest. Both she and PPK were knocked flying into the opposite wall, while M4A1 was able to scurry up to her feet and grab her weapon. G36 went to help the AR team's leader back up, while Thompson went to check on PPK and her victim.

PPK was fine, mostly. She got onto her feet, drawing her handgun out once again. The gunfire above began to die down as the connection between the Sangvis drones and their command unit faded. Executioner lay against the wall, a gaping hole the size of two fists squarely in her chest. Purplish coolant spilled out like a keg of beer that had been cracked open by a sledge hammer. Metal shards lined the floor.

"How… wha…" Executioner groaned, unable to move as power began to drain from her frame. "How did they… how did you coordinate…"

M4 came forwards, looking down at the figure that had been hunting her so doggedly for the past few weeks. "Human Commanders are able to organize our forces without my help."

"So you were… waiting…?" Executioner asked.

"It was a gamble. I had to have faith in them." M4 admitted, giving the other Griffin dolls present a glance. PPK smiled graciously, and G36 made sure to watch their back. Thompson snorted, but nodded along. The plan had worked.

"It's over. You've lost" M4A1 said.

Executioner scoffed, looking up at the elite doll with loathing and disgust. "Over... you seriously think this is the end? Even if you hide within other Griffin dolls... there's other ways we can get to you…"

"What?" M4 questioned, visibly tensing up.

Executioner laughed, gagging as she choked on her own fluids, but still managing to look smug. "Don't forget, the rest of your team is still out here… we both know they'll make excellent bargaining chips."

In a flash, M4 brought up her rifle. Three rounds flew out and found their way right into Executioner's head. More coolant splattered on the wall, and the ringleader's now lifeless body slouched in a pool of murky purple.

"...You shouldn't have brought them up, Sangvis scum." M4 hissed. PPK took a step back, not expecting a field execution. G36 looked over her shoulder with displeasure, but seemed more focused on the sound of helicopter rotors coming to a stop on the rooftop once again.

Thompson looked at the body, then at M4 again. She quickly reassessed the doll before her… maybe she wasn't as innocent as she'd thought.

A stampede of footsteps came down. Each of the dolls from before had already set up, both on all of the entrances and out the window below. G36 and PPK stayed close to M4, while Thompson took charge of the guard detail, organizing each of the dolls in the best positions.

Ten minutes later, Garand and Springfield jumped down the hole. The former immediately rushed down her Captain, wrapping Thompson in a joyous hug. Thompson groaned and protested, but visibly seemed to enjoy seeing her friend again after a long day. Springfield watched on with glee, happy to see that the best case scenario had played out after such a protracted mission.

From the stairs, IWS and AUG presented themselves. S.A.T.8 moved from her post, giving the Captain and Lieutenant a quick overview of what they'd missed.

Hsu came in behind them, walking past all the other dolls to meet the trio in the conference room. G36 saluted the man, and PPK gave him a curtsy. M4 remained silent, watching on as he greeted them all.

"Mission accomplished, Kommandant. Package is secure." G36 informed.

"You did great, Thirty-Six." Hsu praised, getting his adjutant to smile bashfully at the kind words. "Same to you, PPK. How'd you get her to stay still while IWS repositioned?"

PPK opened her mouth to answer, but G36 quickly shut her down as her smile disappeared at mach five. "He does not need to know."

The handgun doll frowned, but didn't protest the request. Hsu looked to his adjutant with curiosity, but read could read the look that G36 gave him as a desperate plea to not inquire further. A request he respected.

Which then had him turn to M4A1.

The AR team leader took a breath, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. "Commander… Miss Persica told me Griffin would send a team."

Hsu nodded, storing the name 'Persica' for later. It didn't ring any bells, but she was likely this doll's handler to some degree. He took note of the ringleader's still corpse, seeing that she had more than one hole in her body.

"My designation is Em-Four-A-One. Please refer to me as such." M4 requested, her timid nature coming to the fore. "I'm a Griffin tactical doll, leader of Task Force Anti-Rain. Sangvis is pursuing myself and my team after a raid we undertook weeks prior."

Hsu nodded again, then recalled what he'd been told in his debrief. "What's the watch-word?"

M4 blinked, before remembering herself. "Um… sugar cubes?" She asked, sighing in relief as Hsu nodded once more.

"Thank you so much for your help, Sir." M4A1 said, genuine gratitude present in every word. The Commander remained silent, trying to figure the girl out. She dressed like a hardcore Special Forces operator, but looked like a college freshman. She had held her weapon like a trained soldier, but now seemed to stand before him as little more than a scared civilian.

In truth he didn't know what to make of her. Or why Sangvis wanted her so badly. But he'd done what he'd been told, and that was enough for now.

"Thompson!" Hsu called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, boss?!"

"We're Oscar Mike, get topside." The Commander ordered. Thompson chirped in acknowledgement, then began to lead the other dolls back to the stairwell. They filed out somewhat sluggishly, K11 bragging about some new explosive compound she wanted to test while IWS seemed to be doing everything she could to dissuade her from even trying.

G36 looked to the old man, who merely nodded towards the stairs. The maids both compiled, taking the lead and walking towards the exit. Hsu fell in behind them, as did M4 at the tail end.

"Sir." M4 spoke once again, having Hsu stop in his tracks. "I truly am grateful. But… I have a request, if I may." The Commander didn't respond, but stood in place. M4A1 took that as a sign that he was willing to listen.

"...Save us."