(10/10/2056 | 12:30)
Further on in the week, the negotiations had ended. The VIP was happy, and his stay had turned into little more than a personal vacation.
Instead of guarding board rooms or watching parking garages, now their jobs read like a tourist's travel list. Take the rich guy to a rich restaurant. Take the rich guy to the zoo. Make sure some local nutcase doesn't throw a bag of flour at the rich guy. So on, so on and so forth.
At least the dolls could handle that easily. Which left Hsu to go back to the bigger job.
As Bren had told him, Headquarters had handed down a new priority target. Griffin scouts had reported only one ringleader that remained in eastern Ukraine.
Model SP914, codenamed 'Intruder.' The ringleader that had personally taken out Springfield and Garand. If she was eliminated, their forces would collapse. Sangvis would finally be pushed out of Ukraine, and life could truly return to some kind of normalcy.
Hsu had already developed a plan. He'd been drawing it up even before Bren's call, IWS providing assistance as she had finally taken the position of Operations Adjutant. Last night he'd sent it to the Brass for approval. He'd gotten it this morning, which likely meant that someone up the food chain was getting impatient. The Board, the military, or even the Soviet Government.
Better to get the ball rolling now then wait for the complaints to start rolling in.
Hsu now stood in his office, document in hand as he spoke to an array of holographic projections. Each of the new Commanders, still fresh from Griffin's training courses, watched and listened while their doll adjutants would slip in and out sight.
The first was a Mongol man named Bateer, his features rounded and unweathered. His uniform coat was off, draped across the office chair. Out of all the Commanders, he seemed the least focused, his attention constantly being obstructed by PP-90 badgering him with stack after stack of papers.
Second was a vaguely Russian looking woman called Orlov. She looked, and carried herself like the daughter of the old Federation oligarchs. Jeweled clip in her blonde hair, perfectly applied makeup, and posh posturing to boot. Type 88 waiting in the wings, a tray of finger foods in hands while she catered to her Commander's whim.
The last was an East German fellow by the name of Blücher. In contrast to the others, he looked absolutely normal. No aberrations in his outfit, no strange antics going on around him. The most standout thing about him was his wispy mustache. But besides that, he simply sat still, listening as the Territorial Commander spoke while CAWS quietly took notes for him.
All three of them were almost young enough to be his children. Barely in their twenties, when he was already over the hump to forty. As if being around a bunch of robot girls who couldn't age didn't already make him feel ancient.
But this was how Griffin operated. This was what most of their Tactical Commanders were like. Young graduates from university or military academies, who'd escaped fighting through World War 3 because they were far too young to carry a rifle. What Helian had told him months ago rang truer than ever now, his military experience was more of an exception than a rule.
Still, at least they did as they were told. That was all he could really ask for. So when the briefing ended and each of their
Sapped of energy after having to explain the plan to a group of kids, Hsu traipsed back to his desk and reclined the office chair. His mind began to wander, thinking about finally taking a vacation once this was all said and done. Maybe out to Italy, or London, far away from the troubles that he'd become used to.
Sangvis, local politics, guiding new Commanders, teaching his own Captains. All of that, on top of his official duties as a Griffin Commander, really was weighing him down at this point. But at least the pay was good. Great, even. The first check that landed in his bank account for the first month was more money than he made in his first year at the CBC.
Guarding the rich and powerful really was more lucrative than digging up their dirty laundry.
"Kommandant, are you there?" IWS' voice chirped through his radio. The Commander shot up, dragged away from any chance of a nice nap. "Kommandant? Oh no, did I dial the wrong frequency again?!"
With an annoyed sigh, Hsu took up his communicator. "What is it, Weiss?"
"Oh, there you are!" The sniper said, voice pitching back up as her spirits were lifted. "Thank goodness, I need your help."
"Having trouble coming up with the posts to guard the opera house?"
"Hm? Oh, not at all!" She dismissed, a rare showing of confidence from the girl. "Some of us are testing a new shipment of weapons. Frau Star and Frau Five-Four-Five are requesting that you come join us."
"Why the heck do they want me down there?" Hsu asked, no response coming as a pair of voices in IWS' backdrop began to bicker with her and one another.
"They're saying they wish to help you choose a new field kit. A competition, I believe?"
The Commander rolled his eyes. Yet again, he had to go down and stop the AR team's designated marksman from causing a fight with someone. The girl had an ego that was only rivaled by her ability with her rifle, and that tended to peeve anyone who didn't care for her showboating.
He really was a glorified College Professor, wasn't he? Stopping fights and controlling a bunch of twenty-somethings who thought they were adults.
"Tell them I'm on my way." Hsu said with palpable resignation, knowing that he was signing off any chance that there would be peace for him in the next few hours. IWS muttered a quiet thank you, her own inflection showing great relief before the call ended.
He really was getting too old for this.
(1:17)
"Fire!" BAR commanded, watching as the volley of rounds erupted after her clearance.
A line of ten different dolls stood along the firing range wall, each of them holding a weapon not their own. SAT stood firing off rounds from a Spas-12, StG44 emptied the magazine of an StG-940, and MP-448 did her damndest to get a ZiP .22 to fire at all. Their accuracy was less than stellar, each doll having to rely on their fire control core purely without any support from an imprint.
But the point wasn't to be sharpshooters.
As the leading sector in the territory, all of the new weapons that trickled down to its subordinate sectors passed through this base. Here, they were tested one more time before being shipped to their final destination. Better to find a malfunction or a deformity now, rather than later. Plus it got the girls some range time, and the raw skill of shooting a weapon without an imprint was something he wanted them to nurture.
This was the second time they'd done this now, the first having been a month prior. There hadn't been any incidents then, and there hadn't been one now… so far. But IWS' warning brought the Commander out of his cave, and he watched in the wings as Garand continued to act as range master for the dolls. Waiting to see if any would try and cause a fuss.
"Cease fire! Cease fire on the firing line!" BAR announced, walking down behind the booths, checking to see each doll clear and unload their given weapon. The base Auntie had been relegated to being the drill sergeant. Not a job she particularly liked, but better than no one.
XM8 stepped back from her booth, weapon still loaded and bolt still closed as she jumped up and cheered at her rather clean shooting with an INSAS of all things. StG44 visibly winced, jumping clear out of the way while the younger doll flagrantly waved her rifle about. Her happy singing caught BAR's attention, who approached initially to congratulate the grenadier.
Until she saw what she was doing.
A switch flipped in the older doll's mind, and she stomped over with furious anger. BAR ducked, grabbing a fist full of spent brass and pelting XM8 right in the forehead before grabbing the rifle and clearing it out.
"You complete moron!" BAR seethed, slamming the magazine down on the counter and ejecting a very much live round from the chamber before shoving the firearm back into XM8's hands. "If I ever see you flag my line again, I will shove that rifle where the sun doesn't shine. Understand?!"
XM8 yelped, jumping behind StG44 and using her team's Lieutenant as a shield. She looked up at the old German, doe eyes on full force to try and garner any kind of sympathy.
StG simply frowned, carefully, pushing XM8 to an arm's length away. "Don't look at me, child. She's right."
XM8 went on to loudly protest, chastising StG for not protecting her from a 'bully'. BAR, not caring for a brat being a brat, finished up her check on the rest of the dolls before going over to the Commander.
"Any problems?"
"Well the Cars don't work. Garand's in the armory trying to find out why." BAR reported. "Who's bright idea was it to make an Enfield a machine gun? Actually, why do one of our dolls use it?"
"I'll be sure to tell you when I find out." Hsu promised, looking over to see AR-15 and A-545 standing in front of the virtual shoothouse. Both of them seemed to be deep in debate over what IWS had warned him about. A setting that served to only make the good Commander more annoyed.
Not being ready for the headaches that dealing with two firearms hobbyists entailed, Hsu instead walked towards the armory. There he saw Garand at the counter, trying to figure out how to make the bastardized Lee Metford rifle fire the way they were supposed to.
"That looks like a fun project." The Commander observed, his sarcasm stronger than bad cologne.
Garand lifted her screwdriver, waving it in a vaguely threatening manner at the man. "I don't want to hear it, Chief. I'm at my wits end as is with these stupid things."
"Guess you know how I feel babysitting you girls." Hsu threw back at her, coming to the counter as he took one of the machine gun's magazines. "How bad is it?"
Fed up and frustrated, Garand set her tool down and crossed her arms over the countertop. "Bad enough that I'm not sure I can fix it. Unless you mind buying me a forge for Christmas?"
"Nope." The Commander answered. He didn't know how much something like that would cost, but it was probably more than Corporate would approve.
Sensing another glorious opportunity to mess with the old soldier, Garand innocently tilted her head and batted her eyelashes. "Come on, Commander. You wouldn't want to break a pretty girl's heart, would you?"
Hsu grimaced, his stoicism broken by the doll's flirting. Garand giggled in success, beginning the process of putting each of her work implements back into her toolkit.
"So why'd you come visit? Normally you don't supervise us directly." The mechanic asked as she set her tools aside.
"Those two want to pick me out some new weapons for the field." The Commander explained.
"Not happy with your current setup?"
"They're not happy with my current setup."
Garand tutted her tongue, understanding that the man wasn't here out of his own volition. However, the situation did bring an opportunity to her. "Well, how about I just pick instead? It'll be less of a headache."
"Nice to see you're using me as an escape hatch." Hsu noted sardonically, seeing through to Garand's true intentions. The girl shrugged, not offering to try and hide what was obvious. Hsu gave the two argumentative dolls one last look, deciding that dealing with their nonsense was not something he really needed today.
"Long as you know what you're doing." He said, figuring it was better than playing principal.
"Of course I do! Khan made me the base armorer for a reason." Garand promised, going to a door and unlocking it. Hsu went around the corner, going to the other side and following the blonde into the large weapons room.
The armory at this new base was tailor made. Split into five sections for each type of doll, with their weapons resting in assorted racks alongside several spares. To the collector, a room like this would be a dream come true. M4s and AK74Ms resting alongside XM8s and G36s. Weapons that had been designed well over a century ago, and some that were nearing their bicentennial as well.
"So, preferences?" Garand said, standing at the man's side as she looked over their selection.
"Something that slings five-five-six." The Commander replied.
Garand frowned, looking up at the man. "Doesn't your C-Eight already do that? Why not try and expand your horizons?"
"Sounds like you've got something in mind." He inferred. The girl grinned, hopping off to the side and plucking a bulky gray rifle. It looked like an over-designed M14, with large picatinny rails and a garishly large handguard, complete with an adjustable stock.
"This right here is an M-Thirty-Nine 'Enhanced Marksman Rifle.' America made it back in the two-thousands." Garand explained, hefting it one handed with the muzzle aimed at the roof. "Accurate, toggle fire, twenty round box magazines. Perfect for someone who wants to keep some distance between them and their target."
Looked the weapon over for a few more moments, before shaking his head. "I'm not turning into a sharpshooter any time soon."
Garand released a dramatic sigh, shelving the battle rifle before she walked along the racks. Normally they wouldn't even have a selection this large, but thanks to testing day it meant there were more weapons than usual in their grasp. One or two staying behind wouldn't be much issue, assuming the right paperwork was filed.
She then grabbed another rifle. A blackened weapon, with what seemed to be a grenade launcher permanently affixed under the barrel. It also sported a carrying handle, one that looked almost anachronistic compared to the rest of the relatively modern design.
"A-Ninety-One. Light weight, forty-mike-mike launcher loaded from the muzzle." Garand said, this time holding the firearm by the carrying handle so Hsu could see the full profile. "Chambered in Seven-Six-Two by Three-Nine. Same cartridge the older AKs spat, so you know it works."
Yet again Hsu, shook his head. "No bullpups."
Garand let her arms fall to her side, giving the man a deadpanned glare. "Seriously?"
"Not losing almost a decade of muscle memory. I'm slow on reloads as is." The Commander rationalized.
"Sounds like you're out of practice." Garand teased, though her tone sounded more annoyed than playful.
"More reason to not pick up something new." Hsu insisted, not budging an inch.
Garand grumbled, but stowed the rifle. She gave the racks one final look, trying to narrow down on something that met the specifications but was better than what the man already was using. Which was when her gaze happened upon a particular rifle that had recently come into their care. It was a weapon that had been seized at the airport, brought in by their teams while the police were focused on the disguised janitors.
Hoping this would be the one, Garand grabbed the brown and black assault rifle.
"Looks like a Four-Sixteen-A-Five. Germans made it waaaaaaaay back at the start of the century. Stock's a modified version of the one on the G-Twenty-Eight." Garand explained, clearing the weapon before handing it off to the Commander. "Also has an adjustable gas regulator so you can use cans better, ambidextrous fire selector, smoother forward assist, and it's built tough so it won't break easily. Basically a straight upgrade from that rifle you've been using."
Pleased with her used car salesman act, Garand then passed the weapon onto the Commander. Hsu hefted the rifle, letting it settle in his grasp.
"So, whaddya think?" Garand asked, hoping she'd finally struck gold.
"Thing's heavy." Hsu said, causing Garand to quirk up.
"It's a full length rifle, Commander." Garand informed carefully, her voice growing stressed. "Plus it's got the same action as Thirty Six's piece."
"Last I checked her rifle's a lot lighter." Hsu observed, inspecting the empty magwell.
"Her rifle uses polymers, that's milled steel." Garand continued to insist. "Even then, that's still probably the nicest gun we have now."
The Commander grunted, running the bolt before peering down the barrel. Far as he could tell, it was a gun. He'd only used two rifles in his service, so the reservist wasn't well versed in the world of firearms. Something that seemed to only frustrate the interim armorer.
Hsu flipped the weapon over again, looking at the fire-selector with the same unimpressed deadpan.
"It's still heavy." He repeated.
"Oh for God's sake." Garand exclaimed, ready to blow her top before she saw Hsu wearing a smug little smirk. Realizing that the old soldier was taking her for a ride, she pouted and turned her back on him.
Hsu laughed, taking the 416 by the barrel and placing it back on the rack. "I'll try it out on the next deployment. Get rid of the rear sight post and swap the Eotech for my Elcan."
Garand nodded, but still refused to look at the man. She even spun around to make sure her back kept facing the Canuck. Hsu rolled his eyes, looking over to the handgun rack on the far side of the room.
"Tell you what. Pick a handgun for me to use, and I'll use it. No fuss or jokes." Hsu promised. Garand looked at the man over her shoulder, her digital green eyes having become a lighter shade as her anger came to the surface. But she nodded, walking over to the handguns to find what she deemed the best candidate. Eventually, she returned to Hsu with a rather small and blocky handgun that she practically shoved into his hand.
"Lift." She commanded. Hsu did so, before looking at the handgun with some surprise. It was incredibly light, certainly lighter than the Hi-Power he'd been lugging around his whole life.
"That's a Sig P-Two-Two-Nine. Light, compact and comes with good sights." The doll rattled off. "Plus it's chambered in three-five-seven, so it'll kill most Sangvis in one shot up close."
The Commander nodded, very much satisfied with Garand's pick. He peered down the sights, aiming at a bare pillar with the unloaded weapon as he got a sense for how to acquire a target with the thing.
"This is perfect. Thank you Genny." The Commander said.
"Yeah, sure." Garand mumbled, blushing at the man's use of her civilian name. "I'll have everything ready before our next deployment."
Hsu nodded, offering the handgun back over. It was then that the back and forth between AR-15 and A-545 seemed to reach a fever pitch, even breaching into the armory through it's service stall.
"I could out shoot you with my eyes closed!" AR-15 said, slotting the sim-munition mag into her rifle as she prepared to run the shoothouse.
"You can't even outshoot your drunk fish of a sister." A-545 mocked, giving the marksman a condescending smile.
That final insult made something snap in AR-15's brain. Her cool and calm façade fell away, boiling rage coming to the forefront as she marched to her position at the start of the simulation. No one, no one insulted her sisters. Only she could do that!
Meanwhile, back at the armory, Garand finally had enough and stomped over to stick her head out of the service window.
"IF YOU TWO MORONS DON'T SHUT THE FUCK UP, I'M SOAKING ALL OF YOUR MAGAZINES IN CHICKEN GREASE!" The mechanic yelled, her voice overpowering every sound in the range. It seemed to even drown out the gunfire, enough that everyone stopped their shooting to see what all the new commotion was about.
Hsu took the opportunity to slip out the back door. He had enough to deal with today.
(2:44)
No matter the base, it seemed that Springfield's cafe was beginning to become a constant for Sector 09's culture.
The benefits of this base being a decommissioned airport, much of the terminal floor still remained similar to it's old form. The far side was nothing but large windows overlooking the airstrip. There was a long walkway that traversed all the way from one end to the other, connecting each room. It was easy to go from the repair bay to the briefing area to Commander's office. Just follow the mirrors and read the plaques.
Right in the center of the terminal, Springfield had claimed and refurbished an airline lounge. It had taken about a month to get the place running, having to ship in new equipment and get some decor that made it seem as she wanted, but the doll was pleased now. Her new little shop almost resembled a Boston coffeehouse.
It wasn't nearly as quiet as one, but considering who her co-workers were, that was never going to happen anyway.
Two teams were still off guarding the VIP, but girls from the range were starting to file in now. Most of them bragging about who got better scores, XM8 being the loudest among the gaggle. They began to intermingle with the dolls already there, blending in as conversations rose and fell with the sound of music from the Roaring 20s.
IWS and AUG at in their own table. The latter sat silent as usual, a half finished espresso still steaming in its cup while she read Dante's Divine Comedy. The former using a laptop for a video call, her side decorated by emptied coffee mugs and planning documents.
On her screen sat a bob-cut blonde man, roughly the same age as her. His movements gave him away as an A-Doll, along with his factory perfect features. In the background, a few other dolls in tuxedos could be seen milling about, grabbing various instrument cases off the wall.
"How long until the symphony?" IWS asked, her positive energy almost being strong enough to overcome her friend's usual dour cloud.
"A good while, you're an hour ahead of us." The musical doll said, ducking his head as the bowstring of a violin almost clotheslined him. "They said the Queen and her family are coming tonight, so the director's having us practice all day."
IWS giggled, earning a tired eye roll from AUG. But she seemed too enthralled to care. "You'll do great! You always do. I still remember the first time I saw you play. It was magical."
"Well with confidence like that, how can I possibly fail?" The doll asked, pulling out his own case from underneath his table to show off. "They even bought us new instruments for this event. Believe I've tuned this perfectly, now."
As the two continued their back and forth, M4 was standing in the background chatting with SOPMOD. Both of the Anti-Rain dolls were comparing notes and plans, getting ready for the night shift of guarding the VIP's hotel. However, M4 caught a glance of IWS' screen. Seeing the unknown figure, the curious girl came to investigate.
"Is he that boy Bren mentioned a few months ago?" M4 asked upon arrival, the question also pulling SOPMOD over. IWS blushed as the grenadier poked her head over her sister's shoulder, eyes sparkling.
"Ooooh. He's pretty!" SOPMOD declared. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend, IWS!"
"Wait, WHAT?!" Thompson yelled from the periphery, before she zoomed over to get a look for herself. Without any warning, the submachine gunner body-checked her fellow Captain off of her chair. IWS yelped in surprise as she hit the floor, meanwhile the sisters crowded forwards to get a better look at the screen.
"Holy shit, he's hot." The gangster assessed, pulling her half-rectangle shades further down her nose to get a better look. "What's your name, handsome?"
"Uh… Jan?" The doll said, looking at the corner of his screen to see if IWS was still conscious.
"I-it's nice to meet you, Jan." M4 chirped, giving the man a megre wave.
"Hiya! Are you really IWS' boyfriend?" SOPMOD asked, earning a defeated groan from the defeated sniper.
'Jan' was about to open his mouth, but Thompson spoke up before him. "Duchess still thinks dates are just a kind of fruit. They're probably just penpals."
SOPMOD deflated, but seemed to buy into Thompson's rationale. M4 glanced down at IWS, watching the now dejected doll scrape herself up off the floorboards.
"Leave her alone, you three!" G36 called from the counter. Thompson shrugged, dipping out of the scene just as quickly as she'd barreled into it. SOPMOD hopped off to go watch Type 100 and K11's weekly Smash bout. M4 stuck around to make sure IWS wasn't worse for wear, but she departed soon after herself.
As she reoccupied her seat, AUG tutted on the other side of the table. "How you've survived this long without a spine continues to amaze me."
"You could have helped!" IWS protested with a pout.
"How many times have I helped you now?" AUG asked, not even waiting for an answer before she focused once more on her story. IWS slumped over, head resting on the tabletop while her companion on call tried to reassure her that she didn't need to worry about it.
G36 and StG44 watched on from the counter, neither of the Germans very pleased with the bullying that their Austrian cousin had just been subjected to.
"That girl is too nice. She lets everyone walk all over her." StG commented, removing her hat and undoing her necktie. "Should we talk to Thompson?"
G36 shook her head, pouring each of them a cup of coffee from a freshly brewed pot. "It would make things worse. The only person who can get her to stop is IWS."
"So it's never going to stop." StG decided, running her finger along the edge of her mug. "I always hated people like that. Bullies. They never seem to care about the consequences of their actions."
The maid shook her head, grabbing a carton of milk and topping off her own beverage. "Annette isn't quite the same. Part of me thinks she's trying to help Weiss develop a backbone."
"By tackling her and mocking her?" StG44 questioned, clearly disagreeing with G36's train of thought.
"I didn't say I agreed with her methods." The maid backpedaled, though she knew it wouldn't help any. StG44 and Thompson already hated one another rather strongly, this was just one more thing for her girlfriend to hold against Echelon One's captain.
The maid grabbed a few sugar cubes, slipping them into both drinks. "Regardless, she is an adjutant now. She needs to become more firm."
"I do love a woman who's firm." StG added smugly, sipping her mug before a thought came to mind. "You sterilized these mugs, yes?"
"Gott ein Himmel…" G36 said with a sigh, resting on her elbows atop the counter as she hovered close to her lieutenant. "You are so, so lucky that you're cute."
"You're going to make an old woman blush." The grenadier joked, leaning forwards and stealing a quick kiss before she sat back on her stool. G36 shot up red, not having expected something so forward.
Feeling victorious, StG moved onto the reason she had stopped by beyond paying her partner a visit. "Have you heard anything else about the next operation?"
Recollecting herself, G36 nodded and took hold of her drink. She swirled it around, trying to parse what she was and wasn't allowed to discuss at the moment.
"The Commander put in the request for a special helicopter. He also said that each of the echelons will be working closely." G36 revealed, watching as the bubbles at the cusp of the coffee turned to form a stormy whirlwind. Her mind thought back to the last operation, and how she'd discovered what it felt like to die in a combat zone.
Her memory was somewhat spotty. Between the damage she'd incurred and the extreme amount of pain she'd felt being run through by a broadsword, it was as if her digimind was doing its best to help her forget. In time since, while working in the kitchen, she'd caught herself hesitating around any kind of blade. From a meat cleaver to a butter knife, they all seemed to strike some manner of fear.
Hsu had told her such reactions were natural. He'd even admitted he felt the same way around reddish liquids. Even the coolant that the dolls had running through them made him freeze up.
Despite that, she still felt pathetic. She wasn't human, she was a doll. Dolls weren't supposed to feel trauma. But then again, dolls like here were never built to carry a rifle and shoot things. They weren't supposed to die semi-regularly and be put back together. Yet whenever she spoke to it about those who'd experienced death on the battlefield, each of them reported similar fatigue.
She'd yet to speak a word of it to Sturmgehwer. The last thing she needed was anyone on her team, least of all her second in command, doubting her ability.
"Gretel? Is something wrong?" StG44 asked, sensing the unbalance in her team's leader.
G36 shook her head. "Apologies, the Kommandant has been running IWS and I around the clock."
"Do you need me to set him straight?"
"Oh, don't worry. I can handle that fossil." The maid said with absolute confidence. "Besides, he'd be lost without me."
StG didn't seem fully convinced, but chose not to push the subject any further. Despite being the elder, the seamstress still wasn't sure about how to handle their new relationship. Between their professional life, along with the extra duties that Gretel had, things were far more complicated than she had anticipated.
Despite that, she was committed now. She'd been committed ever since they'd kissed before the siege of the outpost. When news had come back that G36 had died, it had been exceedingly difficult to keep up a strong face. But she had to do it, if nothing else for the younger dolls like M1897 and PPSh-41.
Either way, all of them were about to be sent headlong into the thick of things once again. The date may not have been set, but it would be soon. StG44 promised herself that no one, no one on her team would come home offline again. Least of all her Captain.
Still, it goes to show. Maybe dating your manager isn't the best of plans.
A/N: Not a long chapter, so not a long A/N. Starting next installment is the Intruder arc. That's gonna be a long one.
o/
