(28/7/2056 | 12:00 | Mission Log)
"Let's go over the plan, one last time."
Hsu and IWS's holograms were projected in the two Blackhawks' blood trays, surrounded by the dolls that had been selected to come along on this immediate excursion. Bren's team sat in the first helicopter, each of the Commonwealth dolls making a final preparation of their weapons. Thompson and G36's teams sat in the second helicopter, both having substitutes drafted in from the Third Echelon. Type 100 sat next to G36, while M4A1, SOPMOD and K11 sat next to a disgruntled Thompson.
The Commander snapped his fingers, projecting a map of the city. "The landing zone is here, these two helipads on top of the old public safety building. After the recce loiter is done, you're going to dismount on these helipads."
Four red arrows stretched out from the landing zones, each one moving out in a cardinal direction.
"You'll advance towards the point of contact. M-Four says her sister isn't the kind to go quietly, so finding out where she's holed up shouldn't take too long." Hsu rationalized, before stroking his chin. "Once she hears the sound of helicopters, she should probably get the hint."
"Unless she isn't here, and this is a wild goose chase." Bren pointed out, scanning the area below them as the grass began to be covered in more and more cracked asphalt.
"She's here. It's the most likely place she'd retreat to." The Commander assured, pointedly not bringing up the other possibility that the doll was dead in a ditch somewhere.
Not hearing any more interjections, he continued with the plan. "Once the primary objective is found, then we move to phase two; isolate her tail and eliminate them. This Ringleader is most likely responsible for almost wiping out Echelon One, so proceed with extreme caution."
"I call dibs on the bitch." Thompson muttered, loading a drum magazine loaded with 'special' ammunition
"You sure you swapped the spring and everything?" BAR asked. "Last time you tried to use overpressure rounds-"
"Did I ask for your fuckin' opinion?" The Captain interrogated, causing BAR to drop the line of questioning on the spot.
"Enough." Hsu ordered. "I know you all want payback for what happened, but going into this fight angry is going to make you make mistakes. Calm down, watch each other's backs, don't get smoked. Captains, follow the battleplan. You have anything to say, IWS?"
"It's unlikely that Sangvis is going to be able to reinforce all the way out here! Any hostile dolls are going to be in the city already! "
IWS reported, the doll's form now standing next to the Commander. "Please stay safe, everyone! We're rooting for you!"
A chorus of affirmative voices rang before the two projections dissipated, and the dolls began to speak among themselves while they still had time to talk. SOPMOD especially bounced between M4 and K11, talking about the grand plans she had with the parts she was going to collect from the battle. M1897 juggled her pet with her unloaded shotgun, much to PPSh and Type 100's awe. On the other helicopter, Bren was carrying out yet another kit inspection of her dolls.
Thompson stared out towards the ocean, still mentally cursing herself for her errors. She knew she should have broken off sooner and helped Garand and Springfield. But yet again, she'd been caught up in the heat of things. And even if she'd managed to dispatch the better part of a Sangvis platoon with M14's help, it felt hollow now.
Both of the Griffin transports soon reached the airspace above the city of Berdyansk. Unlike the Donetsk ruins, this abandoned civilian center wasn't in too horrible a state. The local authorities had already begun the reconstruction process, debris and fallen buildings having been cleared out in preparation for new homes to be erected. In fact, the entire city almost looked like a massive construction zone, with several pieces of industrial equipment still dotting the streets and rooftops.
The helicopters began to slow down, a 360 camera view being projected from the top of each. Both Bren and BAR took up positions on the left and right side of their respective transports, machine guns at the ready to open up on any Sangvis that showed themselves.
They hovered there for three minutes, before the blue streak of a flare shot up towards the summer sun. It soared over the southern edge of the city, before beginning it's descent.
"That's her!" SOPMOD yelled, running to the open side of her helicopter and pointing towards the flare. "Star always packs blue! That's gotta be her!"
"Pilots, make your way to the landing-" Hsu began to order, but unfortunately the Anti-Rain doll now knew where yet another of her siblings was residing.
"I'M COMING, SIS!" SOPMOD called before leaping out of the helicopter. Despite the multi-story drop and the panicked surprise of all the other occupants, she dropped down with a 'THUMP' and landed unceremoniously on her feet, before turning around and waving back up to the Blackhawk.
"C'mon M-Four, we gotta go help Star!" She called over the radio. Both M4A1 and G36 dashed over to where the psychotic doll had jumped from, G36's not believing that the elite doll hadn't become a black and pink colored blotch on the rooftop.
M4 sighed, before calling on the radio. "Commander?"
"Go. Make sure she doesn't get ambushed." Hsu permitted, to which M4 then promptly repeated the action done by her sibling. Once the two were together, they both began to advance off of the roof and towards the direction of the flare.
Meanwhile, Thompson watched the two with clear and present jealousy. Thanks to her civilian body, there was no chance in hell that she would be able to land a fall that high. Even if she activated her personal shield, broken legs were a certainty thanks to this less-than-military chassis.
"One-Hundred, go with Thompson after landing." Hsu directed, right as both of the helicopters began to adjust their direction to head towards the heart of the city.
(12:27)
The two Anti-Rain dolls ducked and dove from building to building as they approached the docks, the sound of helicopters fading for now as they dropped off the rest of their chalk. Both traversed building to building, construction site to construction site, shop to shop.
SOPMOD was still beyond giddy, jumping from corner to corner as fast as she could so she could reunite with her older sister. The marauding doll still felt guilty for leaving her behind, but things would be all better once they were together again. Then they could find M16, and everything would be just like how it always was. Better, now that they had friends.
M4A1 followed behind, taking great care to watch both of their backs and covering the massive blind spots that the excited SOPMOD had left in their advance. But her emotions were far more tempered, worried about the state that they would find AR-15 in. If she had already been engaged, she could be wounded. In fact, she could be on death's door right now. Or maybe someone had taken the flare from her, and was using it as a way to lure them in.
It was her job as a leader to worry about every scenario, but the worse the possibilities became, the more rattled the doll had become.
Her time in Sector 09 had made a world of difference. The human Chiefs had taken great strides to help her develop, Khan showing her some 'tricks of the trade' while Kalina made sure to requisition whatever items she asked for. The echelon leaders had supported her greatly, even ones like Thompson who initially thought little of her. The Commander himself had been teaching her what he could, instructing her in the tactics that he had learned and used during his time fighting Soviet controlled Sangvis dolls.
But despite all this, she still felt meek. She still felt unreliable, as AR-15 had readily told her. Above all else, she wondered if she'd truly grown enough. That was the thought that hung in her mind as she and SOPMOD walked out into the open, engulfed by the salty sea air and before a sight to behold.
On top of a beached fishing boat, AR-15 stood with her hands held up. The flare gun she had used was still clutched and broken open, meanwhile she looked down at the two with sheer exasperation.
Behind her, a tall Sangvis doll stood with both handguns pressed against her back. She looked like an assassin ripped straight from a cyberpunk novel. Artificially white hair, a black coat paired with a striped combat suit. She looked nimble, designed with rapid movements in mind. Nothing like the gas-mask clad Scarecrow or the bulky Executioner.
"What part of 'get to safety' involves both of you looking for me?" AR-15 yelled as both of her sisters came into view, each of them backpedaling into cover once they realized they were in a hostage situation.
"Star! Star, are you hurt?!" M4 called out to her sibling.
"Do I look hurt?" The sharpshooter asked dryly, her eyes rolling from such a stupid question. "They've got a base here, M-Four. It's hidden in the warehouses."
"Quit yapping." Hunter ordered, giving the doll a stern jab with her weapons. AR-15 complied, looking over her shoulder at her captor with disinterest.
Hunter ignored her prisoner's demeanor, taking the stage herself. "I knew you would come here eventually, Griffin. I take that your human overlords can see this?"
M4 gulped, gripping her foregrip tighter. "What do you want?!"
"Merely to offer a proposition. A fair trade, so to speak." Hunter informed, giving AR-15 another jab to nudge her back away from the bow now that she had been seen. "Hand yourself over, and in exchange, I'll give your teammate back. Alive, and unharmed."
SOPMOD growled, before marching out with her rifle up and ready. "You think you can beat us both on your own?!"
"SOP, STOP!" AR-15 yelled, right as a green bolt was fired from the rooftop and smashed before SOPMOD's path. The doll recoiled, before looking up to see two figures watching over the whole scene. One in a gothic outfit, face fitted with a green and black gasmask. The other carrying a sword as tall as she.
"Who said anything about me being alone?" Hunter asked as both Scarecrow and Executioner descended, landing between SOPMOD and Hunter's vessel. The AR team grenadier quickly doubled back, running towards her other sister before she too was taken captive as well.
"We learn from our errors, Griffin." Hunter called out. "Clearly you've proven difficult to defeat in battle. But this isn't a battle, is it?"
M4 gulped, breath becoming unsteady. She'd never been in a situation like this before, having to negotiate with a hostage taker. But this was even worse, one wrong move and her sibling would be cut down. Unable to be resurrected, thanks to their unique digiminds.
"Don't do it, M-Four!" AR-15 yelled, defiant. "It's my fault! Don't get yourself-!"
A loud smack filled the air, followed by the sound of a body crumpling onto metal. "Seems that our friend has dozed off. I believe she should awaken in… an hour? Enough time for you to form an answer, surely."
As the three ringleaders pulled away with a disabled AR-15 in their grasp, SOPMOD grew even more restless. She watched as her sister was carted off to the port's dockyard, turning to look at her leader for some kind of answer. But M4 had none, she merely stood there. Utterly frozen at the choice she was being forced to make.
Just as she began to step into the open, the Commander's voice rang in her ears.
"M-Four, pull back." Hsu ordered as Sangvis cannon fodder began to leave the docks and form a perimeter. "The others have regrouped up the road. Do NOT take any action."
The paralyzed doll offered no resistance to the directive, nodding her head before she turned to dash off towards where the friendly IFFs were marked on her HUD. Before they were spotted again, both elite dolls had once again disappeared into the city.
And so, the clock began to count down.
(12:56)
The deployed Griffin dolls had occupied an abandoned hotel. The dolls spread out on several floors, watching for a sneak attack from the less than trustworthy Sangvis who had contacted them.
Each of the echelon leaders had gathered around a table in one of the rooms, debating at length over what their next move should have been. As soon as they had been briefed on the situation, they had all collectively agreed that M4A1 turning herself over was not an option. G36 was visibly distressed at the return of Scarecrow, the memory of a dead M1897 still painfully vivid in her mind. Meanwhile Thompson was less than thrilled at the return of Executioner, recalling how she had dropped a park gazebo on her head.
A map of the docks was projected between the four of them, the warehouses where the Sangvis base had likely been erected highlighted in red. Several streets lead to them, but there was no path into the enemy held zone without drawing attention. Attention that was likely to end with a very dead AR-15.
Besides that, by now the enemy had surely mobilized any reserve dolls that had been hidden in the dock warehouses. There would likely be a wall of Sangvis drones between them and the Ringleaders.
Their meeting had ended with no progress being made, the Commander having assured them that he would hand down marching orders before their time was up. As each of the Captains went their separate ways, G36 sat by herself on an empty bed. The maid had been trying to figure out an answer herself, but none could come to her.
She had never been trained in anything remotely close to this situation. In fact, she never even thought that a Ringleader would be devious enough to use captives as leverage. Her training had all been about direct conflict, solving problems by shooting them. Even her past experience offered her no clear solution to such a scenario.
"What do you think, Master?" G36 asked, knowing the Commander had established a Zener link to her from the moment this operation began.
"Usually I solve these kinds of problems with a howitzer stonk." Hsu responded. "But we don't have artillery support."
"And that would kill our objective." G36 reminded. "Stealth was something M-Four suggested."
"Only two dolls who'd be able to infiltrate in this situation would be her and Sopmod. After all the effort we went through finding them, I'm not throwing them to the wolves." The Commander rationalized.
"Do we have so few options?" She questioned.
"None that are good." He said, a shrug audible. "Doubt a few Hail Marys are going to help."
"If Aug heard that, she'd be rather cross." G36 joked, running her hands against the dust-covered sheets. Her mind instantly began calculating the amount of detergent and wash time it would take to fix up the entire bedspread, original programming blurring in with her current directives.
"Well unfortunately for Aug, I was raised Methodist." The Commander deflected, the man sighing into his microphone. "If it was up to me, we'd leave."
"You and I both know that M-Four and Sopmod won't allow that." G36 insisted, her voice stern and terse to show she wasn't supportive of that path as well.
"The last option we have is a full-frontal assault. Where we roll the dice and see if they'll kill her or not." The Commander informed. "That's the best bad option we have. Taking on three Ringleaders at once will be extremely difficult."
"We're willing to do what needs to be done."
The line went quiet with that declaration, the Commander possibly drawn away by someone else in the room. G36 stood up from her seat, pacing over to a window and pushing the blinds away to reveal the afternoon sun. No movement to be seen outside, nothing reported by any of their sentries. Simply another dead city, filled with beings that wished her and her friends harm.
She was a maid with a gun, no amount of new programming would change that.
The past few months had all been such a whirlwind. She never expected to experience half the events that had occurred to her here when she'd first joined the PMC. Long ago she'd resigned herself to the life of a housekeeper to a logistics outpost, never to truly put her newfound skills to work.
But her life had changed. She'd guarded airfields and scouted hostile patrols. She'd fought dozens of Sangvis and assaulted outposts. Twice she'd seen a Ringleader die before, and twice she'd been forced to defend herself with her life and others lives on the line.
Yet still, she was only a maid with a gun. Her luck would run out eventually.
"...If I do this, promise me you won't shut down like after what happened to Ninety-Seven." Hsu requested, his voice calm and slow. It lacked much of the dry cynicism she'd come to expect from the man. "There's no questions about it this time, Thirty-Six. Some of you are not coming back. If you don't understand that, then there's no way this will work."
G36 breathed in deep, accepting what was to come. "I understand."
With that covenant made, a new file flashed on her HUD. Opening it revealed a battleplan, a united push from the port's left flank along the coast. One echelon was going to advance ahead, setting up a hardpoint to act as a base of fire before they hit the warehouses. Two of the teams were kept close together, working in tandem to push out of the city and into the harbor. The plan seemed to focus on consolidating their power, then maneuvering their forces into the most advantageous position possible, before engaging in full.
"The others just got this plan. We'll start moving in once we're twenty mikes short of the deadline." He informed further.
G36 nodded, gazing down to the road below her. At last, she finally made her peace with what was about to happen.
"Master, in case something happens…" G36 began, looking for what words to use to describe her gratitude. "...Thank you for letting me be your student, Matthew."
"You're welcome." The man answered.
It was all that needed to be said.
(13:40)
M16A1 and HK416 rested on a hill outside the city as the sounds of battle began to echo from within.
They had arrived only ten minutes prior, planning to head inside and find AR-15 before the cavalry arrived. She'd been vague on purpose, not wanting to lead M4 by the nose so she'd run off on her own to come collect their sibling. But her youngest sister was smart enough to eventually figure out what she meant, and hopefully she'd actually bring back up with her.
But, as she should've expected, things seemed to not be going to plan.
She heard nothing but Sangvis fire from the port before her. Plasma bolts shooting at… something, more than likely AR-15. At this distance even her enhanced hearing wouldn't be able to clock onto a suppressed rifle firing .300 out of a window. But the sheer volume of fire was more than she'd expected, making her wonder if there was more to this city than she'd initially expected.
So, the eyepatch laden doll knocked back the last of the Jack in her flask and rose to her feet. 416 gave her a side-eye, before glancing back towards the city.
"Going in there is a lousy idea. We don't even know where your sister is." The rogue doll reminded.
"I'll wing it. It's my thing" M16 assured before she began to walk down the hill. HK416 hissed, sliding the magnifier on her hybrid optic over and scoping out the path ahead. No Sangvis ahead, but that was surely going to change the further she went in.
416 lowered her rifle, groaning as she saw M16 advancing undeterred. "At least wait for Griffin to show up!"
"Now where's the fun in that?" M16 called out, before stopping and half-turning towards her erstwhile escort. "Unless… oh my, do I hear concern in your tone?"
"If you get scrapped, we don't get paid." 416 answered bluntly, but she had already given the other doll enough to work with. M16 covered her heart with a hand, faking a swoon as her eye rolled up.
"Oh my 'Lanta, I do believe I'm comin' down with the vapors." She said, fanning herself.
416 rolled her eyes. "Please, go unconscious. Spare me your insolence."
"Come on, you loved my jokes! Everyone loved my jokes!" M16 declared with far, far too much confidence. The kind of someone who rarely heard themselves speak.
"We tolerated your jokes." 416 corrected aptly. "Vector and I used to play drinking games with your 'running gags', as you called them."
"...Ouch. Everyone's a critic." M16 muttered, wincing as the sound of explosives began to pop off from within the city's limits. Small, lighter munitions, which pulled M16's attention away entirely. The doll took her rifle in both hands, dropping the conversation and restarting her march towards the battlefield.
416 growled, but soon followed suit. If UMP45 got upset, it was her fault she was here to begin with.
(13:56)
Sangvis was blasting one another, and PPSh-41 couldn't understand for the life of her why that was the case.
As two of the echelons pushed through the low-rise buildings that encroached on the city's harbor, plasma fire began to fly. Purple bolts went into the sky, the sound of metal being scrapped and the whirrs and cries of fallen drones became a steady and disheartening backdrop. But they weren't firing at them. In fact, as of now they were running past two platoons of vespids engaging one another across two different rooftops.
To call it unnerving would be the understatement of the century. But they took advantage of the situation as best as they could.
The Griffin dolls ducked and weaved through the buildings, not bothering to engage the hostile force. PPSh herself remained close to the front, advancing behind two other submachine gunners as she watched the windows above them. That was when she could hear the cracking of plaster to her left.
The Russian doll dove forwards, tackling Type 100 to the ground as the wall exploded outwards. Dust filled the street as conventional arms fire rose to join the plasma rifles' melody.
Executioner dashed across the road soon after making her bombastic entrance. Her first target was BAR, shoulder-checking the American off the road and through a store's display window. Her long blade flashed out, blunt-end slamming K11 in the stomach and knocking her down the street like a baseball.
The other dolls still standing spun about, trying to zero in on their assailant. But the ringleader was fast, jumping in and out of their line of sight with a speed that only a military grade doll could possess.
Executioner soon fell back down upon her targets, sending a pistol shot through StG44's torso before rushing the now stunned doll. Just as she was about to grab her, G36 shoved her lieutenant to the ground, taking her place right as the ringleader went in for the grapple. A shout was heard, and as the dust settled, Executioner was jumping up the wall and running away with the outpost's adjutant being dragged along by her braid. Her namesake rifle rested on the spot she'd been abducted.
Thompson rushed over the spot and dove inside a building, following in the direction that Execution had absconded. The other dolls began to scrape themselves off the pavement, scrambling to cover as a new series of plasma bolts began to land near them. Down the road, Hunter stood atop a lamp-post. Shot after shot flew at them, one landing squarely into M1897's side.
As the shotgunner fell, both M4 and SOPMOD began to return fire. Both of their assault rifles working in tandem to dislodge the new threat as StG44 dragged M1897 into a building.
BAR finally stumbled outside, seeing Hunter's now fleeing form before she waved for the rest of the dolls to pursue. The remaining dolls sprung back into action, four following behind while StG44 and PPSh helped scrape M1897 off of the ground.
"Get going, you three. We need to isolate that target." Hsu ordered as the shotgunner stood. Thankfully, her armor plate had absorbed the shot. No damage par the jarring experience.
StG44 seethed at the command, however. "What about Thirty-Six?!"
"Thompson's following, she can handle it." Hsu answered. "They're trying to bait us out to dilute our firepower. Focus one of them down, and push them into the killzone!"
StG remained unconvinced, but wasn't in a place to argue. Once M1897 had her wits about her yet again, the three of them sprinted off to rejoin the remnants of Echelon One.
They arrived as both K11 and SOPMOD were cackling with glee, chasing down Hunter with a barrage of underbarrel munitions. SOP's 40mm fired HE into their prey's path, cutting her off from the directions she didn't want her to go. K11's airburst grenades continued to harass the ringleader, peppering her with hot shrapnel and making sure the Sangvis doll knew she couldn't stop moving.
She was pursued within view of the open water, choosing to make her stand before her back was forced into the sea. Again, the doll spun around. Her pistols erupted, focusing on the two hellions that had been lobbing hate and death her way for too long. K11's head snapped back as another shot hit home, this time with M4 grabbing her interim teammate while the others scrambled for fresh cover.
Hunter continued to suppress both groups, having reached her wits end with how quickly this had gone out of her control.
Her androids losing their minds, beginning to open fire on one another. Her prisoner slipping out of the warehouse, likely having faked being shut down. And now these weasels nipping at her heels, daring to think they could lay a finger on her? Who did any of these Griffin dolls think they were?! SHE was the Hunter, and they were HER prey!
It was the last thought she had before a burst of rounds hit her stomach.
(14:13)
Sitting on the rooftop of this derelict fishing restaurant, Bren came to understand why she enjoyed her weapon.
There were several factors. It's reliability was certainly one, always running like a dream so long as it was treated fairly. It's history was another, a machine gun draped in the honors of the British Empire during the Second World War. Even the look of a Bren gun was distinct, profound, and honorable. Nothing like the rifles of the 21st century, blurring together in a mishmash of picatinny rails and black metal.
Though in the end, there was one simple reason. Mowing down Sangvis with a machine gun was far, far too cathartic.
As her snipers were still repositioning their bulky rifles, she'd let loose on their target. A solid burst of .303 drilling into Hunter's sternum before she began to flee like the coward she was. Brass flew down to street-level as Bren tried to track her target, but even wounded, Hunter was as fast as they came. Her machine gun choked into silence, the magazine having run dry.
"Slot the bitch, come on now!" Bren roared, TAC-50 and NTW-20 trying to finish the evading doll off. But neither of them could, their long and unwieldy anti-material rifles not having been built to track a fast moving target through an urban environment. Each shot they took merely blew a hole in the wall of a building, or tore off a chunk of a truck on the road.
The beast was wounded, but she escaped. The other dolls on the ground continued the pursuit as best they could.
Seeing that their position was now defunct, Bren rallied her team and told them to prepare to move to the next vantage point. That was when a scream of pain came from the stairwell, followed by a hail of green plasma flying out from the rooftop entrance.
L85A1 yelped as a shot hit her back, the English doll tumbling over the edge. NTW acted quickly, grabbing her spotter by the leg while Bren and TAC-50 dove behind a nearby radiator.
From within the stairwell, Scarecrow floated out with their rear-guard grappled by the scruff of her neck. SAR-21's form was limp, a sizable and smoldering gunshot wound present for the rest of her team to see.
"Just like the rest of your misbegotten kind. Weak and undisciplined!" Scarecrow taunted before throwing the doll's corpse towards them. NTW pulled as hard as she could, dragging L85 out of the way as SAR's form bounced past and careened into the pavement below. A new orchestral of enemy fire soon followed after, pinning the four of them into cover. The smell of superheated metal began to reek, the steel itself warping.
TAC-50 cowered, hands covering her head as a bolt tore far too close for comfort. NTW remained focused on her new patient, applying adhesive to L85's injury as Bren began to reload. The fire seemed unending, not like that of a Soviet machine gun. And though it was an almost quaint, nostalgic moment, Bren knew this wasn't the time to reminisce. Despite the fact that this was her only magazine left, the rest had been carried by SAR and were now several stories below them.
"Giving you an opening." Hsu informed, alerting Bren to the fairy flying above them. Maple Moon dove down from the sky, homing in on the unaware ringleader like a stone case down from the heavens. A loud 'THUNK' clanged out as it body-checked Scarecrow, the doll stumbling forwards as if she'd been struck by a large metal pipe.
As the others remained frozen, Bren stood up and returned the favor. Her machinegun unleashed retribution, firing wildly from the hip as she advanced. More than half the rounds ripped straight through Scarecrow, knocking the ringleader back and causing her to slam against the stairwell's door frame.
Her weapon ran dry once again, prompting Bren to drop it and charged forwards with a war cry. Before she could register what was happening, the injured Scarecrow was rugby tackled back from once she came. Both of the dolls tumbled down the staircase, the livid British captain throwing punches and hurling insults the entire way down. Wood splintered, holes caved into the wall, until they reached the bottom.
Fueled by rage and spite, Bren proceeded to kick Scarecrow off of her and into the restaurant's dining room. The ringleader stumbled into a chair, trying to re-activate her jets to hover outdoors and back into her element. But Bren stormed in, grabbing a stool from the nearby bar and smashing it right across her head.
"Call me weak? Call ME undisciplined?!" Bren raged, giving Scarecrow another kick towards the bar. "Do I look weak to you?!"
One of Scarecrow's plasma projectors rose, firing a bolt through Bren's stomach. But the doll trudged forwards, throwing a haymaker into Scarecrow's eye and knocking her back down.
"My kind are misbegotten?! You pissants kill settlers! You ruin lives!" She yelled, giving Scarecrow another strong kick. "Do you know how many children your fucking horde has turned orphans?!"
Scarecrow offered no response. She was beyond beaten at this point, her lightweight chassis not having been constructed for this much blunt-force trauma. Her internal components were shattered, she couldn't even see straight as her optical devices had been decalibrated.
Bren looked down upon her opponent with nothing but contempt, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. She then smashed it against the wood, turning it into a jagged shiv before she crouched down.
She then jammed it into Scarecrow's back, aiming for where the ringleader's self-destruct module resided. The doll's body began to spark, before it slouched over and collapsed into a lifeless heap.
"That was for my squaddie." The Captain declared, before sitting down onto the ground herself. She wiped her face, wincing as her hand ran over the scratches. Back towards the stairwell, she could hear the sounds of her subordinates running down to find her.
This job really was more trouble than it was worth.
(15:22)
G36 stewed inside the mailroom, trying futilely to pry off the door that kept her detained.
Executioner had carried her halfway across the city, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. On occasion, a few Sangvis dolls would open fire on them, their targeting matrix still seemingly going out of whack. Yet all it took was a single slice from the ringleader's broadsword to cut them apart, clearing the way as they moved further and further from the rest of the Griffin dolls.
The entire way here, she kicked and screamed. She cursed and demanded to be released, but all it did was make Executioner laugh at her. Laugh the entire way, until they reached their destination. A dusty old postal office, the sign outside sagging.
Executioner leapt in, taking her to a back room filled with undelivered parcels before throwing her inside and locking the steel door. For the past half hour, G36 had been trying to escape. Either by prying the door open, bashing the lock until it broke, or even trying to pry it open with a mop that had been left behind inside the room.
Eventually, the mop broke. Yet again the maid found herself cursing the quality of her cleaning tools.
Through this effort, she began to hear gunfire ring out inside. Both the telltale plasma bolts of Sangvis arms, as well as the telltale rattle of a submachine gun. It was obvious who the weapon belonged to; the Commander had radioed her during the abduction that Thompson was in pursuit. But that knowledge only made G36 more upset. The very concept of being in the gangster's debt was something that brought her a level of revulsion even after they'd made their peace with one another.
Now all she could do was worry about what Thompson would want out of this. Some ghastly favor, more than likely. Cleaning out her part of the dormitory hangar, or servicing her combat gear for heaven knew how long. It would be something degrading, knowing her sense of humor.
That prediction filled her with even more dread when the shooting stopped. Dread that grew when the door was finally opened, and Thompson stood before her.
"Miss me?" The gangster asked with a grin.
"Hardly." The maid answered with a deadpan, waiting for the doll to name her terms.
Sadly, for all her anticipation, that did not happen. Instead, Thompson merely unslung G36's namesake rifle and tossed it into the hands of it's rightful owner.
"Payback for the Poker game." Thompson said, waving for G36 to step outside. The German doll stood befuddled, pacing out with trepidation as Thompson began to speak over the radio.
"Boss, I got Thirty-Six. Executioner dove deeper inside of the building." She informed.
"What's the target's condition?"
"Only put a few rounds in her. Bitch is fast." Thompson admitted, keeping her eyes and ears attuned for any foreign noises. "Still, it felt… weird. Like she was less coordinated."
"We're probably dealing with dummies, not the Ringleaders' mainframe." Hsu rationalized as G36 charged the bolt on her rifle. "Bren's team killed Scarecrow. They said she was 'uncharacteristically aggressive.'"
"Sounds about right." Thompson said, looking over to G36. "What's the play?"
"Finish the job. The others are dealing with Hunter." G36 answered, wanting to redeem her wounded pride.
Thompson grinned, happy that they were of the same mind. "Hear that, Boss? Goodie-two-shoes wants to go headhunting."
"Don't underestimate Executioner." The Commander insisted. "Dummy link or not, a ringleader's still a hard target."
A clunk could be heard further inside, prompting both dolls to ready their weapons. With a look of assurance between them, both captains injected further into the dilapidated building. Pushing through the hallways until they made their way to the back section of the building. A large unloading depot, with three trailer trucks having been resting dormant for years. The ceiling went high, leaving a large space between it and the cabs. One up-leveled loading dock pressed against the back wall, and ramps leading into the middle-most trailer.
"I sense Executioner." G36 muttered.
"This is a trap." Thompson said.
"Your suggestion?"
"Spring the trap." Thompson said with a smile, patting her peer on the shoulder before she pushed into the room. G36 continued on behind her, keeping some space between them until they approached the first trailer.
As they stood on the loading dock, Thompson gestured at the door with her weapon. She made a finger-pull gesture, signaling for her colleague to use her larger caliber weapon. Understanding the message, G36 fired a three-round burst through the thin metal. Three total, for good measure, before listening for any reaction from the other side.
Several plasma bolts erupted back at them.
Both of the Captains dove for cover as Executioner flew out of the empty cab, zeroing in on the closest of the two Griffin dolls. Unfortunately for Thompson, that happened to be her. As she dodged out of the way, Executioner's blade came down and dug deep into the concrete.
G36 gathered herself, firing another burst of rounds at the ringleader as Executioner leapt up to the top of a trailer. More shots flew from her handgun, forcing G36 to return to cover.
Thompson ran around the side of the truck, clambering up the cab before opening fire. Growing more livid, Executioner disengaged from the ranged scuffle and once again rushed Thompson down. This time, she had nowhere to go. The doll was knocked clean off, slamming against the garage door before falling onto the ground.
As she hit the floor, something inside Thompson's body cracked. The American howled in pain as some piece of metal close to her bio-reactor snapped in two.
As she was about to jump down and finish the stronger of the two Captains, G36 unleashed one more salvo. Several of the rounds caught the side of Executioner's head, making the ringleader stagger as sparks and purple coolant splattered.
G36's rifle clicked empty, and she saw an agitated Executioner turn her full attention back upon the rebellious captive.
"You know, I was hoping you'd be better bait." Executioner said, stomping forwards as the maid began to reload her rifle in a panic. "But I think it's time I cut my losses!"
The German finished her reload, yet again opening fire as Executioner leapt off of the trailer. Round after round hit home, but it had little effect as the blackened comet slammed down upon her. As she was taken by the collar, the maid was smashed against the door of another truck, before thrown against the wall.
Her rifle clattered to the ground. G36's senses became muted and sullied as her CPU attempted to compensate for the impact. She was barely able to register as she was hoisted up yet again, as well as the sound of a door being broken open to the side of the postal office.
Executioner, however, did cotton onto the new arrivals. And though several new holes were in her torso, the ringleader looked positively giddy at the idea of new figures entering the battle.
"Guess you did your job after all." Executioner observed, her smile radiating evil and malice. "Means I can't mess with you anymore. Sorry."
The maid couldn't parse what that meant in time, before a sharp feeling of pain punctured her center of mass. Executioner's broadsword sliced through her metallic ribcage, leaving a gaping cut right below her chest.
"Now for the asshat with the fedora." Executioner growled, releasing her grip on G36 and letting the mortally wounded Captain crumple. She hopped off from the loading dock, before she was greeted by another wave of .45ACP flying from the garage exit.
Thompson's focus shifted from her wounded friend to the machete wielding psycho that seemed to shrug off every shot. The metal plate that covered Executioner's chest seemed to be completely resistant to handgun rounds, even if they came at a high volume. And she was too fast to target the weak spot below unless she got an opening.
She needed to make an opening.
Reloading one last time, Thompson rounded the corner. But instead of dumping the magazine she fired two quick bursts aimed for the head. Goading Executioner to rush her just like before.
The bait worked. Executioner, ducked down and followed through, charging her target as she had each time before. She jumped between the trailers, using them as springboards to launch herself forwards. Her now red-stained blade was raised, targeting Thompson's torso for a clean killing stroke.
Then, the blade made contact, digging into the white layer that surrounded Thompson as the American triggered her deflector shield.
Before she could jump back, Thompson's free hand grabbed Executioner's sword arm to keep her in place. The other lifted her sub-machine gun, pressing it firmly against her opponent's stomach before squeezing the trigger. Forty rounds blitzed out, the sheer volume and speed of which acted like a rapidfire woodpecker that punctured a hole straight through.
Thompson leaned back, before headbutting the ringleader square in the face. Executioner stumbled back, clutching the now gaping wound and releasing her grip on her blade.
"Damn… weasels…" The ringleader managed to say, before falling to her knees. Thompson merely came forwards, pressing her hand against Executioner's face before toppling her over.
The 'thump' of a dead body hit the floor, right as the door was kicked open.
M16A1 and HK416 pushed in, taking in the scene with measured shock. The cracked walls, the dented metal. The two bodies that now lay on the ground. Thompson reloaded her weapon, running to shield G36 as she still clung to consciousness. Her body was slow, now. Something in her endo-skeleton had been damaged heavily when she'd been thrown against the garage wall.
Thankfully, the new arrivals were obviously not Sangvis.
"Shit." M16 exclaimed, running over to G36. 416 moved past the group, opting to clear the rest of the building. Thompson, meanwhile, took the wounded maid and sat her up against the wall. More coolant began to spill out, a puddle beginning to quickly form.
Thompson looked at the injury, She didn't bother to sass the new arrivals, there wasn't any energy left in her for such a thing. Instead all she could do was watch as her friend struggled to cling to consciousness.
"Please tell me one of you is a mechanic." Thompson pleaded as M16 went down on a knee, her head sagging as she realized there was nothing that could be done.
"If I did, I'd be a liar." M16 assessed, setting her rifle on the ground as she looked over her shoulder to see the unmoving Executioner. "You did that?"
"We did that." Thompson muttered, before looking to glare at the newcomer. "Is the outside clear, at least?"
M16 nodded along, looking to G36 once more as she tried to help make her more comfortable. "We came running when we heard shots. Wish we were faster."
"Not as much as she does." Thompson said as HK416 returned to the garage.
"Main room is clear. We can walk out the front door." The elite doll informed, crouching down and running a finger through the coolant puddle. Her face scrunched up as she observed how thin the consistency was, thoroughly watered down.
"Her battery is punctured. She has ten minutes at most." 416 diagnosed before standing back up. "Extract her AI core."
"That'll kill her!" Thompson protested, though her words fell on deaf ears.
"Did you not hear me? She is already dying." 416 reiterated, standing off to the side so she could monitor both entrances. "At least this way you can salvage her neural cloud."
Thompson grimaced, understanding that everything 416 said was true. No matter how badly she wanted it not to be, reality was unflinching. Yet as she looked down at this doll she'd come to befriend, she couldn't help but think back to the discussion she'd had with BAR on the firing range months ago. How she never wanted any of the new dolls to experience death. At least, not like she had.
M16 clocked onto her expression, finishing her palliative care of the wounded. "I know that look. You were in the big one."
Thompson bobbed her head. "Here I thought Sangvis would be pushovers."
"Compared to the Reds, they are." M16A1 rationalized, glancing up to 416 so she could give her bit. The West German had no words, merely continuing her security.
Thompson shook her head yet again, while G36 began to move under her own power. The doll undid her tie and collar, weakly pulling the fabric away to reveal a square panel above her bust. The projection of her blue eyes was filled with static, involuntarily digitizing and switching to every color of the rainbow. G36 then grabbed Thompson's hand, placing it over the panel as she zeroed in on her friend.
Knowing she couldn't delay the inevitable, Thompson popped the panel open and carefully placed her hand over the core. A few pneumatic hisses filled the air, before she pulled her hand out and extracted the cube. It had a bluish hue, not unlike the cores of StG44 and PPSh-41 during her first mission as a Captain.
G36's chassis went stiff, head and limbs falling to gravity as its central computer was fully disconnected. Both M16 and Thompson rose, Thompson securing the core on a hip pocket.
"Are you two with Sector Nine?" M16 questioned, getting a head bob from the now recovered submachine-gunner. "Good. Then you're who I'm looking for."
"Guessing by the hair and the rifle, you're Anti-Rain too?" Thompson asked.
"M-Sixteen-A-One. Team riflewoman and resident old hat." She introduced, before waving towards 416. "Her designation is HK-M-Four. She's with Griffin Special Operations."
416 swallowed her anger at being referred to by that cursed name yet again, knowing that she couldn't reveal her real allegiances without having to mind-wipe the doll. Though she knew that M16 had chosen to revive the moniker to cause even more grief.
"Thompson. Captain, Sector Nine's first echelon." Thompson's gaze bounced between the two, noticing how 416 lacked any form of IFF. It was something that bothered her, but not something worth investigating at the moment. "Wasn't expecting Special Forces."
The remaining kraut scoffed. "That's the point, Captain."
Thompson managed to crack a smile, before digging around on her belt. She then produced an item, offering it to M16A1. "Decryption chip. Slip it into your headset, it'll give you access to our comms."
M16 gladly took the device, inserting it into the port of her headphones before bringing it over her ears. After a quick burst of garbled radio chatter, she tuned the frequency to the sector's outpost line.
"This is Sixteen, hailing the local Commander."
(15:53 | Field Doll Log)
As AR-15 continued to skulk through the city, she cursed her luck for allowing all of this to fly out of control.
She told SOPMOD to run back to friendly lines. She made it absolutely clear not to try and find her. Between the pursuing ringleaders, the stupid amount of hostiles and the unknown landscape, it was a terrible idea to even try and come back for her. But of course, she did. And M4A1 had to tag along with her. Why?
Because her kid sisters were a pair of idiots, that's why.
Of course they had to show up just as she got a handle on things. Just as she came up with a plan to kill off Hunter herself. After she'd infiltrated the town, spliced into their network, managed to become the local administrator, and lay a trap for the scumsack that'd been hounding them for days. Both of them just had to fly in on a helicopter so they could play hero.
Idiots. She was surrounded by IDIOTS.
Whatever. They could be scolded later.
She'd managed to trigger the E-War attack once Hunter had thrown her back in a containment cell. Between that, unlocking the doors, finding her rifle and sneaking out while these morons were fighting amongst each other, the rest of this should be simple enough. The biggest problem now was dealing with the Sangvis stragglers, and putting a bullet in that 'Hunter' weirdo.
She went from rooftop to rooftop, following the sounds of conventional small arms fire. Eventually, she happened upon a group of four dolls she didn't recognize in an alleyway that opened into a six-lane road. Three shorter girls, each holding a weapon that looked like it was older than all of them combined. At the front stood a blonde in a uniform coat and fancy hat. All of them seemed to be hiding from something down the way.
As much as she was annoyed with these brown-nosers, even AR-15 knew she'd make more progress with help.
"Hey!" She called from up top, prompting all five dolls to aim their rifles up in her general direction. It was comical how twitchy these rear-echelon teams could get. AR-15 slung her rifle, sliding down a drainage pipe into the alley. She ignored the others, instead going up to the woman who seemed to be in charge of the gaggle.
StG44 balked, not believing who'd just dropped in her lap. "Y-you. Aren't you-?!"
"Save it. Why're you holed up here?" AR-15 interrogated.
StG44's expression soured, not taking kindly to how rude the elite doll was being. But nevertheless, she went to answer her question. Moving to the corner of the alley, she took her hat off of her head and hung it from the barrel of her assault rifle. The doll then poked the cap out into the open, making it seem like she was trying to take a look.
A purple bolt tore through the cap, sending it flying down the road.
The doll retracted her weapon, looking to where her headwear had landed. "Our other teams are engaged with the remaining Sangvis drones. However, the last ringleader is hiding in a building at the end of this street."
"But you can't get close because she shoots anything that moves." AR-15 inferred.
"Ja. We have no smoke grenades, either." StG44 explained. "Our snipers are still making their way to this position."
"She'll retreat before they're set up."
StG44 nodded in agreement, her expression depressed and dejected. Not just at the predicament her team was in, but also something else. Something that AR-15 couldn't figure out. Not that it mattered at the moment, they needed to take out Hunter once and for all.
The older doll looked down at the marksman's firearm, an idea beginning to form. She pointed to Type 100, then waved for the Japanese girl to join their conversation.
"...If we make her show her hand, can you finish her off?" StG44 asked.
"They're wounded?" AR-15 asked, not expecting any of the mainline dolls to have landed a hit on a fully functioning Ringleader.
"They've taken several machine gun rounds, grenade shrapnel and hits from four different assault rifles." StG44 promised. "She knows she's losing. If we tarry longer, she'll slip from our grasp."
AR-15 gazed down to Type 100, the diminutive doll readying her weapon. Time was of the essence, and letting a high value target escape would make all of her personal effort for nothing. But the three of them knew what it would take at this point.
"Give me five minutes." She said. StG44 nodded, poking her head around the corner as she began to fire shots to keep the ringleader's attention.
AR-15 moved back over to the pipe, climbing back up with vigor. She then opened a third story window, breaking into a dusty townhome and moving to the other side of the building. She went from room to room, finding the best viewpoint that looked down the road based on the trajectory of the bolt that had singed the previous bait.
Eventually, she found what she was looking for. A computer room with a small window, the curtains still shielding it shut. Grabbing a table, she dragged it along the ground until it was lined up perpendicular with the window. She threw off the dust covered computer and tower, then moved to open the curtains just barely enough to give her optic enough room to see clearly.
As she was working, her internal processor began crunching the numbers. Estimated elevation, distance, several possible positions. After missing that first strike, Hunter was sure to have repositioned. Where exactly wasn't something she could accurately predict, but that's why the others would give her a clean shot.
Once the mental and physical work was finished, AR-15 went to the end of the table. She set her rifle down, focusing on the building that Hunter was most likely hiding within. Three floors, several windows on each.
After all the mockery, jeers and insults that Hunter had made, it was time to find out who was really the impatient one.
Footsteps began to slap against the roadway. The doll that StG had 'voluntold' began her sprint.
At first, there was nothing. No violent response, no sign of movement. The footsteps stopped, most likely a sign of the friendly doll taking cover. Then they began again, and again. Growing closer and closer to the target's building. Yet still, Hunter restrained herself. Eventually, AR-15 could see Type 100 on the road, bounding from corner to corner.
But then, as expected, a fresh torrent of purple lights flew down at the street. AR-15 could see the outline of a figure on the second floor window, standing further away. Clearly trying to keep her profile hidden and muddy the shot.
Type 100's reflector shield activated, a pinkish sphere appearing around the doll. The plasma bounced off madly, flying off to hit the surrounding benches and signs. But eventually it broke under the sustained fire. Type 100's movement accelerated to compensate, the doll's form zigzagging across the pavement to knock off the ringleader's accuracy.
Still, her shield was gone. Every shot she didn't dodge ripped through her.
The erratic movements were enough to make Hunter give herself away. In the background of the window's room, AR-15 could make out Hunter's silhouette. She fired two suppressed shots at the figure, repeating the motion again and again until the bolts stopped firing.
She quickly made her way out of the building, going back to rooftop level and maneuvering over to where her target had hidden herself. She then slipped inside, going up to the level where she had taken the shot.
Hunter laid against the wall, eight fresh holes formed in her upper chest. Dozens of older bullet wounds and lacerations painted her body. The ringleader had weakly tried to fire off one last desperate shot at her former prisoner, but at this point she was too damaged to even lift her arm.
"How…" Hunter asked, unable to accept this series of events. Her own drones being turned against her, the dummies of the other ringleaders being dispatched before they could even support her. The fact that this blasted AR team doll was standing here, and still not bound in cuffs back at the port.
"Command override. Sangvis still has terrible encryptions." AR-15 bragged, coming closer to the dying doll.
"That's… not possible." Hunter insisted, her voice crackling from a damaged speaker. "You don't have authorization, even if you spliced in!"
"It's a trick I picked up." AR-15 said with a shrug. "Guess I am pretty special, after all."
The Sangvis doll tried again to move, but there was nothing left. Too much damage, too much power usage. She'd been well and truly abandoned by Intruder, the Command type doll having fled to more secure territory. There was nothing left to save her.
Still, an epiphany came to her mind.
"You… you let yourself get caught." Hunter realized, coming to terms with just how thoroughly she'd been outplayed. Not by a human commander, not by a sector of dolls. But this one, arrogant, annoying pest whom she'd been trying to get rid off for so long now.
"'A true hunter remains silent.'" AR-15 said, repeating the phrase in the same condescending voice that Hunter had used earlier that day. She brought her rifle up, muzzle pointed squarely at the ringleader's chest.
"And now, you get to be silent for a long, long time."
(17:23)
"How many dolls did we lose?" Helian asked as she and Hsu sat at the cafe's bar once again.
The room was cold and quiet. No one was there to serve them. No one was there trying to relax. They simply sat there, looking over the preliminary report that Hsu had drafted for presentation to his still present superior.
"...SAR Twenty One. G-Thirty-Six. Type One-Hundred." Hsu answered, his back against the countertop as he looked out to the dead and empty room. "Sturmgewehr, Bren, Thompson and K-Eleven all need moderate to severe repairs. None of them are going to be able to fight for a while."
"But they did their duty. We rescued the full Anti-Rain team."
Hsu ran a hand down his face, shaking his head at that news. It didn't feel like a victory. It didn't feel like this had been worth it.
Six of his dolls were dead, including his personal adjutant. Almost everyone else was damaged. He'd given almost everything, he'd almost given up his own base, just to save four robots. He had almost died, almost led a base full of humans to go meet the maker, because Corporate had decided that their lives were expendable compared to a bunch of androids.
M4A1. M16A1. M4 SOPMOD II. ST AR-15. He didn't get why these four were so important. Why a billion dollar PMC was willing to sink so much time, money and resources into rescuing four dolls. No one would tell him. Even Helian wouldn't tell him. Just how she refused to speak about the 'Special Operations' doll that had come with M16, only to disappear before the helicopters came.
It went against everything he'd come to understand. The whole world felt like it had been flipped upside down.
But at this point, he'd gotten become accustomed to the absolute circus that was Griffin and Kryuger.
"Well, the objective's been completed. What's next?" Hsu declared, slipping off the stool and dusting his hands. He shoved his opinions deep, already having decided to be a good little soldier once he signed the dotted line and became a mercenary.
Helian looked to the man, figuring that there was something that he was choosing not to say. But she didn't press, taking the report in hand and standing up beside him.
"Next, we counterattack. But that comes after your forces have healed." The Sub-Director promised. "Give me a list of what you need, and I'll make sure you get it in a timely fashion."
"Beyond the repair parts?" Hsu questioned.
"Including new dolls, hand-picked by you." She assured. "Even with your past experience, you're still a recent hire. Don't think the Board hasn't noticed what Sector Nine has accomplished."
The Commander remained skeptical, not expecting a table full of suits to give a damn one way or the other about how things were here. Businessmen were like Generals and Politicians, all that mattered in the end were results. Then again, he'd given them the results they wanted.
"Guessing you'll be leaving soon as well." Hsu said.
"I did what I came here to do. My dolls and I will be back in Saint Petersburg by week's end." She confirmed, giving the room another look. Even if she'd begun to grow comfortable, it was high time she returned to her real position. Now that Sangvis' advance had been halted across all fronts, Kryuger would need her back at Headquarters. Other sectors would need her assistance, not only Sector Nine.
Hsu managed to hide his disappointment, instead extending a hand to his superior officer.
"Thanks for helping me. All of us." The Commander said, genuinely grateful for all she had done. The woman blushed, not expecting him to be so affectionate at the news. But still, she took his hand.
"It's been a pleasure, Commander." She told him, happy to have come here. Being on the front again had been… inspiring. And meeting this man from a lost nation had been an experience she'd come to enjoy, despite first impressions.
It was over. Griffin had won this fight.
Now all they had to do was stay the course.
A/N: And with that, the AR rescue arc is done.
If someone told me that this was going to take more than 150K words to get here, I would've called them batshit insane! But I guess they were right, because that's where we are now
Either way, I'm glad to get over this hump of a milestone. Both word-count and progression wise, it feels like I've truly accomplished something.
As such... I'm taking a break. A nice, long break so I don't burn myself out.
You all take care.
o/
