(24/10/2056 | 12:00)
Four months had passed, and yet Hsu found himself exactly where he had been. This same derelict aircraft control tower on the same forgotten airfield that he'd used to rescue Ingram's group. Yet again, they'd lugged along the supplies to convert it into a proper command center.
The more things change, the more they seem to stay the same. And things had certainly changed in those months.
Instead of two echelons, he now had six. Instead of being alone, there were three other Commanders sitting in this makeshift command center. Instead of coming here with no plan whatsoever, now he'd spent the past two weeks doing nothing but draw up plans, backup plans, and backup plans to those backup plans. The old quote from Eisenhower rang ever true in his ears.
For the first time since he'd come to Griffin, Hsu felt… truly in comfortable territory.
He sat in the command room, watching and listening as the trio of Tactical Commanders carried out the initial assault on Sangvis' front. Each had three echelons at their disposal, and every one of those echelons had fully dummy links. Plain android bodies that were guided and ordered by a T-Doll's mainframe. 1 doll had 5 bodies, 1 echelon had 25 gun toters at their disposal. Which meant that, even with Hsu keeping his teams in reserve and without links, the current push was advancing with 225 dolls and dummies.
It was a hell of a hammer strike, that's for sure.
Progress was as steady as he could have hoped for. They weren't blazing through the timetable he'd set up, but they were sticking to it. Formations were held, flanks were being watched. Each team was making progress, no one was truly falling behind.
But of course, as soon as that thought crossed his mind…
"Sir, my second echelon is taking losses!" Bateer called over his shoulder, the young Mongolian's voice tightening up as he began to panic. Hsu stood from his seat, noting as the other Commanders quickly became distracted from their own duties to come and watch their peer's misfortune. Both Orlov and Blucher began throwing 'suggestions' at him, from a counter attack to a full withdrawal.
Hsu looked at the screen, observing the situation. One of the dolls had lost all of her dummy links, and had also sustained major damage to her mainframe. The others were also dwindling, seemingly having walked into an ambush out of formation. Another doll's dummy went down, then another. All the while Bateer froze, the other two still 'helping' in the worst way possible.
"Have them pull back to the nearest clearing." Hsu directed, shutting all three of them up. "Bring the injured mainframe, use the dummies to delay."
Bateer gulped, relaying the order over to his dolls directly. Hsu snapped his fingers, shooing the other Tactical Commanders back to their stations. After they scuttered off, the old soldier turned about and walked back to a waiting Kalina.
"Get Liberator on Dragon One for Casevac tasking. Bateer's got the coordinates for an LZ." He instructed. The logistics officer smiled, darting off to the radio without any stress. It amazed Hsu how someone so young was able to hop from job to job as fluidly as Kalina did. A good part of him wondered what it would be like if she was a Tactical Commander instead of what he had available.
Alas, he had to work with what he was given. After drilling and refining a bunch of dolls that had been jury-rigged into soldiers, working humans who'd been put through their paces already wouldn't be as difficult. None of them seemed to have egos, they all simply seemed stiff. Inflexible.
Though even with that, it was still all familiar to him. A Major having to show a bunch of shiny new butterbars how the real world worked.
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
(12:17)
It was a good day for a shootout, and Thompson was always looking forward to those.
Before they had loaded on, Kalina had given her team the skinny on what their job was. Simple rescue joint, really. Go in, save a bunch of rookies in way over their heads, take out the bad guys, get out. 'Quick and clean' was the Bossman's only demand, and Thompson certainly had no interest in disappointing.
The past few months had been good to her and her team. Again and again, Echelon One had proven to be the biggest money makers in Sector 09. Perfect contract completion record, no significant damage taken on by membership, almost no complaints from those who hired them. On a regular basis they beat out every other group, even the Prima Donnas in Anti-Rain. Something that brought the Captain a snarky sense of pride, topping 16Lab's oh so special experimental squad.
Though it wasn't as if either group had bad blood between them. Thompson and M4 had long since buried the hatchet. Garand and SOPMOD got on surprisingly well, both of the dolls being 'mechanically' inclined. BAR found a surprising associate in AR-15, both having something of a fashion sense about them. And M16, well, she just got along with everyone.
Still, 'friendly' competition was a good thing. At least, that's what Thompson called it.
The Blackhawk soon came close to their destination, and Thompson stepped into the cockpit to get a good look at what was below them. Four friendlies were firing from within a small defilade, with a fifth seemingly hiding from the fire. Purple tracers all seemed to come from the direct east, which left them an opening to run. Assuming that Sangvis wasn't hiding in wait for them.
"You're going to have thirty seconds!" The pilot told Thompson, bringing the helicopter in for a landing. Thompson herself went back into the passenger compartment, giving the doorframe a hard knock with her fist.
"Garand, you get the one that's hurt. Everyone else is on security!" She ordered, the rest of her team locking and loading their weapons as they got ready to hit the ground running. "Let's crack some heads!"
A few hostile shots pinged off of the Blackhawk as it landed, but it didn't deter the team. Each of the dolls poured out, Springfield and M14 watching the western flank while BAR hit the deck and began blasting suppressing fire towards the oncoming Sangvis. Thompson and Garand broke into a sprint, dodging a few bolts that came their way before both slid into the natural trench where their objectives lay.
"Taxi service is here!" Thompson announced, going to the front and opening fire. Garand grabbed the injured doll, pulling her back along while the rest of the allied echelon pulled out and over to their extraction. A small lull in machine gun fire came as BAR picked herself up and ran over to join her cousin.
"What's the plan, Thompson?" The blonde asked, cycling a new magazine into her weapon.
"Wait until they're wheels up, then we adjust!" Thompson said, firing another burst at a ripper that had tried to move from cover to cover. "Just keep suppressing in the meantime!"
BAR grunted, bringing her weapon back up and letting it sing. All the while Garand finished helping the last of the evacuating dolls load into the waiting bird. She gave a final call over the radio, stepping away as the transport craft lifted into the sky and flew off back towards whence they'd came.
The remaining three members of echelon one soon regrouped, M14 sitting next to BAR as she tried to keep the remaining enemy shooters' heads down. Thompson then turned to the other two sharpshooters, sliding a new drum in before speaking.
"Right. It's time to get these guys off our backs. You both have your bayonets?" The Captain asked as the bolt of her SMG closed. Garand balked, not sure what Thompson was getting at. Springfield, however, had done this song and dance a dozen times prior. Soon the long blade was fixed to the end of her rifle.
"I'll use my shield and take point. Both of you, stick as close to my rear as you can." She continued.
"Didn't know you wanted to die in my arms that bad, Annie." Garand mocked, now taking the chance to lock her own bayonet in place.
"You're cute, Garand, but you're not my type." Thompson threw back, before pointing over to their destination. "The moment we hit the treeline, get in cover and disrupt their base of fire. Got it?"
"Got it." Garand chimed.
"Watch one another's backs." Springfield advised, eyes shifting over to the brush.
Thompson nodded, looking back to the other pair of dolls. Only BAR was firing at the moment, M14 ducking her head and waiting for the call.
"Switch!" BAR yelled, going low and letting the magazine from her LMG drop. M14 then rose, taking up the task of laying hate towards the forest with her fully loaded rifle.
The trio then rose with the new session of suppressing shots. Thompson activated her shield, a few purple bolts pinging off of her body. Springfield and Garand followed close behind, using their Captain as a human shield while their supporting fire ensured that none of the vespids got smart and tried to shoot them instead of the one shrugging off shots.
As they reached the tree line, a ripper brought up both of its machine pistols in a last ditch effort to fight back. Said ripper was then unfortunate enough to have its chest perforated by Springfield's makeshift spear, collapsing into a heap. Thompson slid into cover behind a tree, her typewriter blasting rounds at a manic pace into the flanks of vespids and prowlers still pinned down by the previous fire. All three dolls began firing at anything they could see, their new position causing absolute chaos in the inflexible hive-minded Sangvis.
Seeing as their initial targets had now vacated, and now their position was compromised, the marauding robots began to pull back as more and more of them fell. Soon enough their whole line was in a full retreat, with the American dolls continuing to lay into them as they fled. Though eventually their weapons also went silent.
BAR and M14 moved up eventually as the skirmish died down, each putting a few finishing shots into what wounded Sangvis dragged themselves along the forest floor. Purple oil caked the grass, poisoning the fauna that took it in.
Off in the distance, a few stragglers were still in view. Something that the echelon's leader seemed to take personal offense to.
"Garand, Fourteen-." Thompson said, pointing over at the pair of ripper dolls running for the hills. "Try and pop those guys. Loser pays the winner ten bucks."
M14 didn't miss a beat, hitting the deck and flicking her rifle to fully automatic. She dumped her magazine without warning, 7.62 flying at the targets… and then past them. Her tracers almost formed a perfect outline around the dolls as they ducked and weaved.
Steam seemed to curl from the twintailed doll. She began to fight with her weapon, a piece of brass having failed to eject from the rifle. Thompson rolled her eyes, nodding over to Garand.
"Prank'em Genny." The Captain ordered.
"You already know." Garand assured, bringing her rifle up. Two shots then popped off. each one striking the back of the retreating Sanvgis' heads. Both of their skulls exploded into purple mist, before the rest of their forms collapsed into a measly pile.
Garand then walked up to her cousin's flank, giving her knee a tap with her boot and sticking her hand down.
"Hand it over." She said, smug in her victory. M14 stood up, yelling in protest as she began to accuse her teammate of cheating… somehow.
Thompson laughed, watching the remaining two girls set up on the sides to watch for any surprises. She then pulled up her headphones, her neural cloud adjusting to the Command frequency.
"Liberator to Dominion. Objective is complete, current Pos is clear of hostile contacts. Ace check is green across the board. Over." She relayed.
"Dominion to Liberator, good traffic." Hsu's voice rumbled back. "New orders are to hold Pos for extraction, Dragon One will swing back to the same LZ. How copy?"
Thompson looked about, spotting all of the damage that they'd managed to cause all on their lonesome. She then double checked her members' status over Zener, not seeing any abnormalities in the system or anyone's status.
"...Boss, my team still has plenty of fight in it." Thompson said, checking back out to the east that the previous doll team had ran from. "We can fill in until they get fixed up. Probably do better than they would, too."
There was a short shout of indigent protest on the other end from a man Thompson didn't recognize, but Hsu quickly silenced him. BAR glanced at her friend, 'what's the hold-up?' being mouthed back to the team leader.
"Dominion copies all. Liberator's new tasking is to push alongside the offensive's left flank until relief is ready, over." The Commander said, getting Thompson to grin.
"Wilco, boss. I'll trash a tin head for you, out." She promised, killing the call and shouting out to the rest of the team so they would get ready to move.
A little overtime never hurt anyone. Especially if they were having fun.
(12:30)
As the call ended, Hsu stepped away from the Command terminal and went back to Kalina.
"Tell Santiago she won't need to send Kravchenko back for a bit." He instructed. "And make sure Khan has the triage ready for a quick fix. I want Bateer's front back to full strength by Fourteen-hundred hours."
"Got it, Commander!" The Logistics Officer affirmed, moving back towards the set of radio equipment that sat in the occupied ATC.
"Excuse me, Commander Hsu?" Bateer's voice called. Hsu turned round, greeted by the sight of all three junior Commanders standing by their consoles and starting at him with an every present sense of disapproval.
Hsu, confused by their expressions, came forwards. "Something wrong?"
"Sir, why did you allow a doll to modify the plan like that?" The bald man asked.
Realizing what this conversation was about, the man's expressed confusion shifted back to his usual Commander's facade. "She didn't modify it. She advised in her role as senior officer on the ground. I acted with the information that was given."
"She's still a doll, Comrade Commander." Orlov chimed in, pulling her fine white gloves on tighter.
"She's a doll that's been part of the Company longer than all of us." Hsu retorted bluntly, scanning the three Commanders. Blucher remained silent, but he still stood with his peers. The East German seemed more interested in hearing what the old soldier's reasoning was.
So Hsu waved them over to the command table, hitting a few buttons on the portable projector that had been brought along. A holographic image of the Day One plans beamed down onto the tabletop, along with an order of battle and scouted out enemy positions. The others shuffled over, though none of them seemed sure as to why they were being shown these plans yet again.
The senior most Commander put his finger down on the main push, dolls having been brought from and under the command of the newcomers.
"I put all of your teams into this advance. I gave all of your dolls as many dummy links as their bandwidth could maintain. Their orders are simple and it leverages both a strength in numbers and the superiority of our dolls over Sangvis." Hsu explained, tapping the projection twice before looking up to his audience. "Why?"
Orlov was the first to speak. "Deploying all of our forces would be foolish. Having a well of reserve troops is the best tactical option."
"True, but not what I meant." Hsu clarified, before pointing over to the FOB where most of his teams remained. "Why did I leave all of my units in the reserve, and exclusively assign your teams to the push?"
The three junior Commanders didn't respond. It seemed as if that particular question had never come to mind, simply taking their orders and following them as instructed. The lack of initiative causing a spike of pain in the back of Hsu's brain, but nothing that could be managed now.
"Since I've come to this area, I've been teaching my echelon leaders to act on their own accord within mission parameters." Hsu explained. "I let them advise during planning on missions, I've taught them proper platoon level tactics, and I let them operate autonomously. That way they're able to complete missions without me constantly hovering over their shoulders."
"But they're dolls." Bateer said clinically. "They don't have the capability to act without direct orders from a human commander."
"Unless I had their command protocols adjusted to do just that. Which I did." Hsu pointed out, causing Bateer to almost faint. The very idea of the company's androids being able to make their own decisions in the field sounded nightmarish.
Orlov's frown grew, the Russian taking a step forwards and standing upright. "Sir, these choices contradict Griffin doctrines almost completely."
"Griffin protocols are just modified Soviet protocols." Hsu said, moving to stand before Orlov. The Canadian officer wasn't the tallest person out there, but he was still taller than her. "Do I sound Soviet to you, Commander Orlov?"
The Russian took a step back, sensing that she had well and truly overstepped. Bateer seemed less inclined to fold, but seeing as the other two weren't likely to back up any more protests that he could levy, he remained tight-lipped. All the while, Blucher still was as quiet as a mouse.
Hsu sighed, fingers tapping the table before he finished his explanation.
"You were all taught how to command a certain way. Each of your marks during training were high. So, instead of trying to shove a new doctrine into your heads, I made a plan where you could all fight the way you know how." The old soldier laid out, hitting the button to kill the hologram. "None of you have any military experience. You're all green, which means you're going to be accident prone. Better that you stick to your comfort zones."
Hsu waited, to see if any of them would chirp up with any more quips or notes, but his words seemed to satisfy somewhat. As Kalina came over to speak with him, he dismissed the trio back to their consoles so they could continue as they were before.
"You have a call in the comms room, Commander." Kalina told him in a hushed voice. "Miss Helian's requesting an update."
Hsu nodded, giving his juniors a look of distrust as they all sat down. They were green, but they thought they knew everything they needed too. A dangerous combination that every new officer seemed to carry until reality hit them square in the face. The problem was, he couldn't risk any life lessons being taught. Not on an Op this important.
"You're in charge. Make sure they don't get any ideas." Hsu told his logistics officer. Kalina nodded, having heard the whole exchange while she redirected the call out from the command center. The Commander then took his leave, heading down the stairs while she stayed behind and grinned at her temporary domain.
(12:52)
The forest rested in the same eerily silence that seemed to follow after any firefight. The fauna that usually called it home had long since scattered, running off to anywhere was safer than the immediate area. A light breeze flowed through the branches, but even that seemed to only underline the deafness.
Thompson's team marched on in a single file column, firearms low as they advanced further along their battle line. Their assignment was fairly simple, keep pushing in tandem with the main Griffin force. Make sure that Sangvis wasn't able to hit them from this side, or snake around to the back. As Garand walked along in formation, she wasn't really sure if Sangvis was even smart enough to do something like that. Usually the rogue androids were little more than a glorified horde, using tactics that mimicked the human waves used by Soviets in old American World War 2 films. It was what made them such easy opponents.
Then again, underestimating Sangvis last time had ended with Garand being executed by her own rifle. A memory that still haunted her every time she fired her rifle. For a long while now, every time she heard her weapon fire, there was some shock. Fear of her own weapon. Or at least, fear of it being turned against her again.
But it wasn't like she was the only doll that fell in that fight. Looking behind her she saw the other one, the tall and graceful Springfield quietly watching the perimeter with focused eyes.
To this day, the elder android perplexed Garand. Off the battlefield she was the sweetest person you could ever meet. Ready to jump in and help anyone without even knowing their name. Her very presence radiated the warmth that only a mother could provide. Or at least, the closest thing that Garand could relate to a mother
But on a combat mission, a switch seemed to flip in her mind. Thompson and BAR sometimes spoke in hushed whispers of what they had seen Springfield was capable of in the War. In those days she was a force of nature, near unstoppable in the eyes of those who witnessed her. It didn't matter who their company fought. Soviet, East German, Yugoslav, Syrian or Greek. Nothing could cut her down.
It made no sense. How could a woman this peaceful have been that violent?
That was the question that floated in Garand's head as she dropped back to join the doll on her mind.
"You alright, Springfield?" Garand asked, advancing alongside the team's oldest doll.
"Never felt better." Springfield assured, eyes focused on the oncoming territory as they passed through the forest. Even though it was barely into the afternoon, the thickness of the canopy dimmed the illumination of the ground before them. It was natural camouflage, ensuring that any scout drones hovering overhead wouldn't be able to track them easily.
Garand hummed along, taking the moment to eject the half-empty clip from her weapon and stuff a new one inside.
"So which one of us gets to kill the bitch?" Garand asked, narrowly avoiding her thumb getting bitten.
"You know I'm not much for vendettas." Springfield mused, focusing on watching their flank.
"That mean I get dibs?" The mechanic asked hopefully.
Springfield didn't respond immediately, green eyes flicking over to look at her teammate for a moment. "It means I'm taking special exception."
Sensing the malevolent intent, Garand nodded in acceptance and rescinded her bid. Intruder wasn't going to live to see the next sunrise.
Thoroughly unnerved, the mechanic moved further up the line. She passed BAR, giving the Auntie a friendly nudge before coming up to Thompson. The team Captain fiddling with her weapon as they kept on going forwards.
"So what do you call this, then?" Garand asked Thompson as she slotted the new magazine into her submachine gun. Thompson chuckled, giving the drum a smack to drive it home.
"Weaponized violence." The Captain described.
"Isn't that… all violence?" Garand asked, unimpressed at the explanation.
Thompson shook her head, hefting her weapon. It felt heavier with the specialized ammunition, but in a good way. A way that gave her a lot of bad ideas. "Nah, this is violence refined. Scientific violence."
"Wow. That is both the nerdiest and stupidest thing I've heard you say in a long time." Garand surmised.
"I'm not the one trying to make zombie dinergates." Thompson readily countered, bringing up K11's latest failed project. Garand rolled her eyes, less than impressed by her fellow mechanic's stupid attempts at 'elegant experiments.'
"Congratulations, you're less crazy than Grace. That's a low bar." She said.
"Wasn't Fourteen helping her?"
"Fourteen'll do anything for a bag of chips and a pat on the head."
"Right. Like that time in Moscow, and that guy wanted her too-."
"Don't talk about that!" M14 yelled from her position in the column, getting all the other dolls marching along to laugh. It helped deflate the tension, too. A small burden sliding off each of their shoulders as they kept advancing towards was was sure to be even more murderbots hoping to turn them all to scrap.
But Garand wasn't worried at least. She had a bunch of badasses to back her up, after all.
(13:03)
Once upon a time, this 'comms room' had been an officer's lounge.
A few Soviet flight suits still hung on the racks. Dusty and filled with holes that had been chewed by rats. The Air Force had abandoned this place ages ago during the War, fearful of the Turkish advance and not wanting their few precious remaining aircraft to be obliterated in their hangars.
It was spacious enough for their equipment, at least. A few receivers and transmitters, along with projectors so that video calls could come through. Just as they were doing now, a blue tinted Helian standing in front of Hsu as she listened to his update on the goings on. The Sub-Director looked utterly whelmed, happy that they were still on schedule but had certainly been hoping that they were ahead of it. Especially now that the Soviet Air Force was hounding her in particular about a timetable.
"Long story short, we'll be breaching the compound right before dusk." Hsu finished, allowing himself to sit down in a plastic cafeteria chair as he continued to hide himself from the mewling fawns that dogged him upstairs.
"And you're sure there won't be any surprises?" Helian asked the man.
Hsu shook his head, his voice backed with confidence. "I still have Anti-Rain embedded behind enemy lines. They've demo'd every bridge, hacked every AA installation and scouted every enemy hardpoint in the AO."
"I'm still surprised you've let them operate like this. You aren't exactly experienced in irregular warfare." Helian commented with no lack of mirth. Hsu caught the amicable jab at his repertoire, a short laugh escaping him.
"Let's just say I'm stealing a lot of pages from Sir David Stirling." The Canadian admitted, words that only seemed to provide more amusement to the woman projected before him.
"Now why does it seem any time the Commonwealth needs killin' done, it always falls back to us Scots?" She boasted aloud, national pride beaming out even over the airwaves. Hsu couldn't help but roll his eyes at such bravado but said nothing out of a desire to not egg the woman on further.
Sadly for him, Helian didn't didn't need more egging on. Her victorious smirk still held, hologram approaching until she leaned down so she was at head-level with the sitting Commander.
"So, what was that new doctrine the welps were whingin' about?" She asked.
"How did you-?"
"Kalina let me listen in through the receiver in the Command center." Helian said, cutting off the question.
Hsu grumbled, taking a mental note to wring the logistics officer's arm for that later. But in the present, he girded himself as Helian continued to make her comments about his standoff with the rookies.
"Funny thing that, you alluded to not following Soviet doctrine with that Orlov lass. But unless my memory's begun to fail, the Candians used Local Pattern Sangvis models." She observed, taking a special amount of glee in deconstructing Hsu's little lie to the troops. "Which means, thanks to how Sangvis works… your doctrine would have been just as top-down as ours."
The Commander lifted his hands in defeat, caught in his fib with no way to eek himself out. Not that he had any reason to lie to Helian to begin with.
"Better to act like I'm some ignorant westerner sticking to what he knows than admit I'm experimenting." Hsu explained, letting his hands rest in his lap. "You saw how scared they looked when I told them what I was doing. They needed something to know I'm not crazy."
"Matthew, you joined a PMC in a country you were shootin' at for years." Helian reminded, something that got Hsu to respond with a deadened glare right back at her.
"I never said I wasn't a hypocrite." Helian quickly said, both officers sharing a chuckle. But then, another question probed Helian's mind. One that had been buzzing about her brain ever since this man's file had slid onto her desk, before they'd even first spoken after his arrival to Sector 09.
"Why did you join Griffin, exactly?" The Sub-Director asked, a groan leaving Hsu before she even finished speaking.
"If I had a loon for every time someone's asked me that…" He bemoaned, running a hand through his bedridden hair. They had moved out so earily in the morning that Hsu had barely enough time to clean himself up, and no time to make himself look presentable. But as he looked back to Helian, her gaze piercing through him, that reflexive fear he'd felt earlier in their relationship reared back up. She wasn't going to take no for an answer, that was for sure.
Not that it mattered. He would've gained nothing from lying here, and it wasn't as if Helian was the gossiping type regardless.
"Lev Abramovich." Hsu answered, a name that seemed to catch Helian by surprise. The Commander reveled in that shamelessly, enjoying the moment before he continued to talk.
"In journalism, being embedded for political trips is the worst assignment you can be given. Wake up at three in the morning, go to bed at nine at night. Write new articles every day in time for your editor on the other side of the planet to check them out, then make the revisions in time for the publishers to get it in tomorrow's morning post." The former newsman explained, setting the stage for the rest of the story. "You don't volunteer for those jobs unless you really care about the story or you really want to get the hell out of the office. I was that first guy, so I tagged along whenever the Prime Minister left Canada."
"Which meant that whenever he came to Moscow, you did too." Helian deducted, Hsu's head bobbing up and down in confirmation.
"Lev was writing for Pravda when I met him. It was my first time in Russia, after a 'friendship summit' between our Premier and the Soviet Gen-Sec." The Commander reminisced, a small smile coming up. "...We hit it off fast. Had a few drinks, traded information, talked about family. And eventually, things drifted about the tension between the Soviets and the west."
"Neither of you wanted the War to happen."
"I was fresh out of college. Still idealistic as hell. He was too." The Commander said with a shrug. "From then on, I visited him whenever he was in Moscow. He visited me every time he was in Ottawa. 'Course we stopped talking when the War kicked off."
"He called me six months before Griffin. Told me I'd get good pay doing honest work. Said we'd be able to 'make the world better than it was' and all that jazz. For some reason I believed him."
"You trusted the word of a man you hadn't seen in years." Helian said pointedly, the idea seemingly out of character for someone as cautious and jaded as Hsu.
"When you trade sources with someone, that's a kind of trust that doesn't really fade." He said, defending his actions the only way he knew how. "...It's a reporter thing. You wouldn't get it."
"Sure." Helian said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Your file said that you'd been scouted. It didn't say that you were scouted by Griffin's bloody Chief of Communications."
"The phrase of the day is 'conflict of interest'." Hsu chimed humorously. "Besides, I'm not the only person in Sector Nine who got a job because of an old friend. Right?"
Helian's voice made a strange sound, as if the woman had swallowed a gerbil whole. She then collected herself, cheeks going rosy at the accusation that had been thrown at her feet.
"How in God's bones did you find that out?!"
"What part of 'former journalist' do people around here not understand?"
"The part where a man who didn't even know how Griffin Tactical Dolls worked somehow digs up information like this!"
"You're really gonna hold that over my head still."
"Yes, because it was daft! I thought I was speakin' with a lemming that day!"
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint." Hsu said, lying as easily as he breathed.
"Just… get back to the Command room you cheeky wanker." Helian ordered. Having nothing else to say, Hsu bowed his head before doing as he was told. The Sub-Director sighed as he left, her monocle popping out as her expression shifted so fast.
He really was one of the most exhausting people she'd ever met.
(13:20)
Back within the forest, Thompson's team had hit the jackpot.
They happened upon what seemed to be a recently used pathway, dozens of footsteps and and tracks littering the dirt. Signs of a large war party that had recently passed, likely making an attempt to penetrate the assault and cause some chaos. It was unsurprising that eventually a group would slip by them, seeing as they were so small. But like a pack of hunting dogs, the five dolls followed the trail until they came upon a small Sangvis staging ground. Roughly fifty enemy dolls preparing for something or other, on standby for orders from whatever ringleader was planning this little trick.
So, they spread out and set up. Turning the staging ground into the mother of all killzones, overlapping fire and all escape routes covered. Garand estimated that all of the enemy dolls would be terminated in less than five minutes of fire. Five minutes sounded like music to Thompson's ears.
"So, ten Sangvis run into a bar…" The machine gunner said over comms, laying prone as she set her sights on the unwitting androids.
"Jokes like that are why everyone calls you Auntie." Thompson mocked.
"I thought it was the aviators and addiction to shopping." Garand followed up.
"I thought it was how she always brags about how she could've been a movie star!" M14 chirped.
BAR sighed, flicking her weapon to rapid rate. "Why do I even bother…?"
Springfield giggled, resting on a knee next to her friend as she also took aim. "They appreciate you, dear."
The rest of the dolls finished their preparations, waiting for the call. Quieter than field mice, eyes darting across the enemy formation as they grew more anxious that they would be spotted. Until…
"Drop these jokers!" Thompson yelled, and a chorus of gunfire erupted. Before the Sangvis could even register the shots, half of them tumbled to the ground as pieces of metal snapped off from rounds hitting their target. A few made a break for cover, but they ended up meeting the same fate of being drilled in the chest with .30-06 or or riddled with a battery of .45ACP.
More than half of them were dead before they could even figure out where the Griffin dolls were shooting from. What weak attempts at returning fire they could manage did nothing but draw attention to the stragglers, sheets of conventional ammo meeting them in kind.
Seeing what little resistance remained, an idea popped into the Griffin Captain's head. One she couldn't really resist.
"Gonna drop on these shitheads like a bucket piano!" Thompson yelled as she barreled forwards into the Sangvis line. Her shield reactivated, bolts bouncing too and fro as the reflected off of the energy projection's surface. All the while her weapon rattled off, .45ACP tearing through the dredges of what Sangvis had to offer with little issue.
The rest of her team ceased fire, not wanting to cause a blue-on-blue incident. M14 had the bright idea to pull out her smartphone, starting to record her Captain's rampage in 8K.
Garand saw the motion, rolling her eyes as she reloaded her rifle. "Don't tell me you're gonna send that to MDR's stream."
M14 nodded, smiling as she zoomed in on a Vespid tumbling over. "I'm totally winning this week's 'Fresh Footage' contest."
"Yeah, great. Get yourself a hat with that gremlin's face on it." Garand mocked, M14 sticking her tongue out at her cousin in response. Meanwhile, Thompson was now upon the unfortunate Sangvis squad. Dropkicking the mainframe unit into another unfortunate bot while blasting another confused shooter.
"...Can you submit it with my username too?" Garand asked. A request that made M14 grin mischievously.
"Sure. If you give me the ten bucks back." The twintailed doll chirped. Garand grumbled, but did as was requested, passing the ten euro note back over. A small price to pay for fifteen seconds of internet fame.
Thompson continued on her rampage, unaware of her incoming internet stardom.
(14:00)
Forty minutes later, a Blackhawk made it's landing among the carnage of the ambush's aftermath. Echelon One's dolls were scattered among the scene. Springfield sat under the shade of the biggest tree she could find, eyes closed as she limited the drain on her battery. Garand and M14 were switching between watching the team's perimeter and chatting about whatever came to mind.
When HK33 and her team dismounted from the transport, they were primarily greeted by the sight of Thompson and BAR sitting on the bullet riddled carcass of an Aegis. The cousins were enjoying a smoke, using the chunky robot as an impromptu bench. BAR remained sitting, glaring over at the returning dolls while Thompson stood up and met HK33 half way.
"Well, well, well. Look who came crawlin' back." Thompson mocked freely, ignoring the other dolls and focusing primarily on her fellow captain. "You girls got less holes in you since we saved your ass a few hours back."
"The engineers are good at their job." HK33 answered coolly, taking in their surroundings with some manner of resentment. "...These were supposed to be our targets."
"Guess you owe me one then, cat ears." The gangster joked, though it only seemed to perturb the German doll even more.
"I do not like debts." She answered in an annoyed voice, glaring up at the taller android before walking past. BAR stood, moving over to stand with her leader while Thompson spat her cigarette out in the direction of HK33's back.
"Fuckin' Krauts…" Thompson hissed.
"What's that old saying? 'German humor is no laughing matter'?" BAR chipped in, only getting Thompson to groan aloud.
"Again. This is why everyone calls you Auntie." She insisted, much to the chagrin of her Lieutenant. Still, their team regrouped, eventually mounting onto the Blackhawk themselves before being lifted up into the air.
As the five of them flew back, a projection of Hsu appeared in the center of the passenger compartment.
"So, how was the warm-up?" The Commander asked Thompson.
"Think we're nice and limber for the main event, Boss." Thompson deducted, earning a series of nods from the others riding with her.
"It'll still be a while. Make sure you top up on everything, I might send you out for a few more errands before showtime." Hsu reminded. The Captain bobbed her head, pleased that the Commander had no further remarks before he fizzled out from view.
Today was just getting started, and it was already going fantastic.
A/N: After several revisions, the first chapter of the Intruder Arc has dropped. We'll be going from team to team each chapter, culminating in the finale at the end. Next time the spotlight will be on Echelon Two.
o/
