(24/10/2056 | 14:20)

The push had paused for the same reason most pushes paused, logistics.

Hours of constant combat was a drain on resources. Ammunition, rations, explosives, repair kits, spare parts. Equipment in the field dried up at a rapid rate when it was in constant need, especially across dozens of different dolls. It was expected, and planned for, with a forward ammunition dump being constructed so supplies could be driven to and from the front.

But then came the hard part; getting ammunition from the dump to the dolls that needed it.

Echelon Two was one of the teams selected to undertake such a task. Driving a Ural truck up and down the dirt roads, grateful that the muddy season hadn't quite obliterated the paths used. It was simple and routine. Go to a point on the map, meet up with a front-line team, hand off the requested ammunition and rations, then drive back and wait for another call.

On the bright side, it took a good while before Sangvis started hounding the rear echelons.

Now their truck sped on the dirt road as fast as its wheels spun, a pack of Sangvis pursuing them on foot. New models, wearing camouflage tops and donning blue hair in ponytails. No ranged weapons to speak of, only a blade held in each hand. But they ran fast, fast enough to keep pace with the large truck as it rolled along the back country road.

XM8 and StG44 sat in the rear, trying to cut down their pursuers. Further in the back, a panicking M1897 was doing her best to make sure the leftover munitions didn't become unfastened and tumble out of the truck. Meanwhile in the front cab, G36 jerked the steering wheel in an attempt to keep the vehicle straight while PPSh-41 did her best to navigate with an old paper map.

"When is ze next turn?!" The Captain demanded, head bobbing as they ran over yet another hole in the road.

"I a-am not sure, Captain!" PPSh answered, trying to figure out where they even were. This far into the badlands was little more than wilderness, and even the charts they had available were easily twenty years out of date.

G36 growled in frustration, reaching for the truck's built-in radio microphone as she kept her other hand firm on the wheel. "Get these shissekampfs off of us already!"

"We are TRYING!" StG44 shouted back to the driver, doing her damndest to line up a shot on the hostile dolls. But between the bumpy ride, the strafing brutes and the nature of her rifle's iron sights, it was easier said than done.

XM8 was having better luck. The benefits of using a modern rifle firing a modern cartridge. 5.56 flew through the air far faster than 7.92, and paired with a modern optic it meant she was easily landing more shots than the doll sitting across from her. Yet another brute caught a round to the head, tumbling over and rolling to a stop while the rest of the pack kept sprinting.

Eventually, four Sangvis dolls evaded the lead rain and jumped onto the sides of the truck. Three tore holes through the canvas, while the final one hung onto the back right side and hovered over the tires.

The sound of ripping fabric made M1897 squeal in fear, eyes shifting to see the pink visor of an emotionless android staring back at her wielding a dagger the size of a frying pan. Caspar bounced up and down, signaling to his companion to fight back. The young cleaning doll scrambled to grab her weapon, jumping on top of it right as the brute squeezed its upper body past the flapping fabric.

A shotgun blast rang out, and the unfortunate Sangvis doll went flying back the way it came and slammed against a passing tree.

At the back end of the cabin, two more unwelcome passengers made their way in and entered a melee with StG44 and XM8. The first of the two made the false assumption that StG44 would be the easier target, lunging for the older blond and sending one of her knives deep into StG's shoulder.

The German doll yelled in pain, but the injury seemed to insult her more than anything. In response, she pulled her trusty boot knife out and began to shiv her attacker repeatedly in the torso.

Next to her, XM8 found herself trying to brawl with the brute. She swung and missed at the doll's head as it ducked under her strike, moving itself in between the grenadiers and M1897. As XM8 lunged at her attacker once more, the shotgunner scrambled up from behind and tried to slam the butt of her weapon into the back of the brute's head.

Already having clocked onto the cleaner, her target ducked. M1897's strike found itself smashing XM8's face.

XM8 stumbled back, grabbing her now broken nose as she tried to recover from the blunt force trauma. M1897 yelped, trying to stammer out an apology as the brute spun around to sweep the southerner's legs. As M1897 hit the deck herself, the brute hovered over her, lifting a knife and preparing to plunge it down into the small girl's chest.

XM8 lunged up yet again, tackling the brute from behind and slamming it head first into the crates of ammunition still resting at the front of the cabin. The tin boxes shook from the impact, one of the straps slipping undone while the other held firm.

With a groan, M1897 pulled herself back up. Seeing XM8 try to pin the brute in place, she scrambled over and moved to assist her comrade.

Back to the back, StG44 thrust her knife into the center of her opponent's chest one final time. The pinkish glow of its visor dimmed, head bobbing limp as its life faded. Victorious, StG reared a leg back and kicked the carcass off of her, watching it fall out and splat onto the dirt. Another brute jumped off the truck following its companion, though that one ran off under its own power back into the tree cover.

Freed from her impromptu duel, StG then turned around to see both XM8 and M1897 struggling to keep the final fighter pinned against the back wall of the cabin. Both of the shorter girls lacked the strength and reach of the brute, having to pour in every drop of their power to hold it still.

Seeing this, StG44 dragged herself up. She dug a hand under her jacket, pulling out a well worn Luger pistol that had been resting in a shoulder holster. Five steps brought her to the other side of the cabin, lifting the handgun up and pressing it right between the eyes of the Sangvis doll.

It's head snapped back harshly as she pulled the trigger, purple coolant splattering against the tarp before the body collapsed onto the girls who had been keeping it still.

"Finally!" StG44 exclaimed, shoving her backup firearm back into its resting place while the other two girls tried to scramble out from beneath the dead weight. Erika paid them no mind, heading back to check the rear of the vehicle and see if anyone else was still chasing them. Much to her delight, no one was. But it was then that she noticed…

…The truck was slowing down. More, and more, until it unceremoniously rolled to a stop.

Confused and concerned, StG hopped out and rounded her way up to the cab. There she saw PPSh ducked down and covering her head, a bullet-sized hole appearing in the glass behind her. G36, meanwhile, was turning the ignition in a vain attempt to get the vehicle rolling again.

"What's wrong?" StG asked, popping the door open and standing on the frame.

"I don't know!" G36 replied, jerking the keys one more time before checking the dash. Miraculously, the fuel gauge had gone from half full to completely empty.

"Uh…. guys?" XM8's voice could be heard from the back. "Might want to come take a look at this."

G36 looked to her lieutenant, who nodded in response to the unspoken request. StG dismounted the frame, going back to the rear of the truck to see both XM8 and M1897 staring at the truck's external fuel tank. The thing was rupured, a long tear going from head to tail with all of the diesel having spilled out. Looking back out behind them, StG finally noticed a trail of wet dirt that led back to where the hostile dolls had initially jumped onto the truck.

"Oh, fich dich." The exhausted grenadier said, holding a hand against her wounded shoulder as she felt more coolant begin to seep out.

This job always had to be complicated.


(14:44)

As the radio call came to an end, G36 let her head slam against the steering wheel. A groan of fatigue and frustration filled the truck cab, now populated by her and her alone.

When she had volunteered for this assignment, it was under the assumption that it would be low risk. Something to keep her team on ice until their involvement in the main attack. Simple and calm, ensuring that they would be prepared for when they were truly needed. Hsu had said that there was a chance of combat, but she interpreted it as a low chance.

Seeing how things turned out, the situation spoke droves for her luck.

Outside, surrounding the scene, the rest of her team dithered. M1897 and PPSh-41 sat in the back of the Ural, legs dangling over the edge as they passed the time with party games and small talk. StG44 stood under the shade of a tree, the only one of them on the lookout for more attackers despite her own injury.

A knock at the door was what roused G36 from her 'meditation', the door opening to reveal XM8 and her still broken nose.

"You look awful." The younger sibling observed.

"Take a look in the mirror." G36 responded. XM8 did as she was prompted, scowling as she tried to jerk her nose back into place. The elder sister rolled her eyes, hopping out of the cab before grabbing the younger by the wrist and dragging her off the road and into the roadside shade.

There, she pointed a finger down next to a tree. XM8 folded her arms across her chest, turning up her nose in stubborn defiance to the order. Though her resistance quickly fell apart, looking down the crooked bridge to see the unflinching face of her disciplinarian holding strong.

Both sisters sat down, with XM8's back against the tree while G36 hovered over her. The Captain took firm a grip of the broken nose, waiting for XM8 to brace herself before tugging it outwards. XM8 squeaked in pain, before squeaking again as G36 shoved it back into its slot with a 'POP.'

"You couldn't've been more gentle?!" XM8 protested, yanking her head back and covering up her face as it reddened.

"No." G36 answered matter-of-factly, beginning to search through one of her belt pouches. "How's your olfactory sensor?"

"Still can't smell anything." XM8 answered with a pout, giving a sniff for dramatic emphasis. G36 rolled her eyes, pulling out a small cable and pointing to the nape of XM8's collar.

"Undo your tie and pull that down." She ordered. This time, XM8 offered no resistance and did as she was told. She fiddled with the tie and collar until she pulled it down to reveal the part of her chest just below her collar bone. G36 did the same, untangling her own red tie before opening the panels to both of their AI cores.

"It amazes me how much trouble you get yourself into." G36 said as she plugged one end of the cable into her core.

"Oh boy, this lecture again." XM8 bemoaned, eyes beginning to gloss over as she braced for impact.

"I'm serious. Getting into scuffles on base is one thing. Getting hurt on a mission is a whole other-."

"Yeah, yeah, it's dangerous and careless." XM8 said, cutting her sibling off as she connected the cable. G36's frown grew stronger, but she was more concerned with fixing the injury than actively berating the younger doll.

Both girls felt a jolt as the data was copied and transferred over. XM8 took a long, overdramatic sniff, appreciating the return of mundane scents such as fluffed dirt and tree bark. G36 disconnected the cable, slipping it back into its pouch before she did her top and tie back up.

She then reached over, helping XM8 do the same.

"If you listened to my 'lectures' more often, you might have a better reputation on the base." The elder began once more.

XM8 grinned mischievously. "Everyone's intimidated by my intelligence."

"They're not intimidated by it, they're annoyed that you flaunt it."

"What's the point of brains if you can't brag about it?"

"Using it to better yourself and others."

"That's what I do!"

"Pointing out people's errors and bullying them with chess matches is not bettering others, or even yourself." G36 insisted, finishing up the work on XM8's clothes. She then lifted a single index finger, pressing it through the tie right where the core was.

"You and I are the same model. That is why I can share calibration information so easily." The maid said, tapping the square once. "It also means I understand you better than anyone else."

"Last I checked, my variant's newer than yours."

"As far as hardware is concerned, the rest of our family is superior to either of us."

"But you still dote on Thirty-Six-C the most." XM8 teased, trying to knock G36 off balance by referencing the preferred sibling. Unfortunately, the trick didn't truly work.

"If Charlot acted as troublesome as you, Xayah, I would give her just as many tongue lashings." Gretel promised, before she took her sister by the hands and pulled her back up to her feet. She then cupped the smaller dolls face, tilting her head so she looked back up at her properly.

"Promise me you'll behave for the rest of the operation." She demanded, glare returning as XM8's pout came back in force. "Promise me."

"Fine, fine!" XM8 finally said. G36 smiled, releasing her hold and allowing her sibling to scurry off back towards the truck. From there she clambered back inside, leaping into the conversation between M1897 and PPSh-41 with ease. The three younger girls soon entered a heated debate about something or other, XM8 yet again causing a dust-up simply by existing.

"Not easy being an older sibling, is it?" Hsu's voice broke in through Zener. G36 sighed, allowing herself some small respite under the tree's shade.

"It's almost as exhausting as being your maid."

"I'm not that high maintenance."

"You forgot to wash your socks for two weeks." G36 responded with wryness in her voice.

"Water conservation." Hsu deflected, his adjutant groaning in frustration at such ridiculousness.

"...Do you think I'm too harsh with her?"

"A little." Hsu admitted. "Remember that you're still her sister, not her mother."

"So what should I do then?"

"Be her sister. Hang out with her like you do with Stg, or M-Four, or IWS."

"But… we have nothing in common." G36 admitted, the realization triggering some sorrow.

Honestly, she had little similarity with any of her siblings. MG36, her twin, was a sci-fi junkie who liked mechas more than other dolls. SL8 was a sporty girl who spent as much time outdoors as possible. G36c tended to stay indoors like her, but was more bookish and lethargic. Then there was XM8, who cared more about mind games and chess than anything.

"Well it's either you figure something out, or she'll keep causing problems to get your attention. Pick your poison." Hsu spoke bluntly, the increase in tone over by the truck starting to reach that of an argument. "Case in point."

G36 muttered a complaint, before running over to try and put the fire out before it began.


(14:55)

"So why did you call me here?" Hsu asked, standing in the field engineering triage next to Khan. A daze of workers danced around both of them, mechanics and technicians pulled from each of the territory's Sectors working on another team of dolls that had been flown in for a quick set of fixes.

The Commander and his subordinate stood at a computer station, Khan typing at the console as he printed out a set of reports.

"That last batch of dolls that came through for repairs had some interesting injuries." The engineer explained, printing out a diagram that showcased the damage to several of the dolls. Hsu plucked the paper, scanning the information carefully.

"Between the two of us, you have far more experience with Sangvis than I do." Khan rationalized.

"The Sangvis of today isn't the same as the Canadian Army used." The Commander informed, still keeping his focus on the picture. "But the core principles are similar."

The diagram showed Hsu something he hadn't seen in a long time. The plasma shots were wide and large, searing even greater holes than fire taken from vespids and jaegers. The size of a human fist, it seemed. With the ability to penetrate deeply.

"Nemuems." Hsu deducted, offering the paper over to Khan. "Self-propelled anti-material platforms. Basically a cannon on legs."

"But Sangvis shouldn't have the resources to produce something that expensive." The engineer countered as he took the offered item. "The power cells on a nemuem platform could charge a minivan."

"They probably salvaged them from the local army bases that were overrun." The Commander deducted further, going over to a table where a doll's absolutely demolished dummy link lay with more holes in it than a cheese grater.

"Were you able to pull their video files?" Hsu asked.

"Yes, but they're still processing. We don't exactly have the best bandwidth down here with your Command Tower operational."

"I want ETAs, not excuses." Hsu insisted, not wanting to be given a runaround.

Khan shirked at the tone, but provided one. "Best I can do is a few hours."

"Good. Have a runner print me copies of any damage reports matching this pattern." The Commander said, before turning his back and moving to leave the field repair station.

"Wait. One more thing." Khan said, putting the paper down as he moved next to Hsu. "Let's walk and talk, shall we?"

"Need to head back to the command room, Assad." Hsu said, all business and no interest in small talk.

"And I need a smoke, but I hate smoking alone, so indulge me." Khan demanded, guiding them away from the direction of Hsu's preferred destination. Instead the two men found themselves walking along the derelict airstrip, a dozen different helicopters lined up as their crews kept them ready for a quick launch.

Hsu bristled at the detour, but played along. He knew that Khan wasn't one to press a topic unless he found it pressing, and he also knew he didn't smoke unless he was stressed. So when the British man pulled a pack of marlboro reds out and lit up, he didn't protest.

Khan struck the cigarette up and took a long drag, offering his Commander one. Hsu declined bluntly, which then gave him room to speak once more.

"So, a little while ago I got a ring from a certain angry Scotswoman." Khan said, a comment that seemed to please Hsu far more than it rationally should have.

"And now you wanna know how I figured it out." The Commander said, finishing the thought for him.

"It's bothering me quite a bit, yes." The engineer admitted.

Hsu let himself smile with pride, having now scared the crap out of two people with his ability to dig up information in one day. It had been a long time since he'd had this particular thing to be proud of. The last occurrence he could remember was when he had asked an MP about a certain unnamed bank account in the Swiss alps.

"Helian was on my ass for some reason when I first got here. First I thought it was because of our crappy first meeting, but then I realized she kept getting prickly with me." Hsu explained, waving a bit of the cigarette smoke away from his face. "Which made me think that someone must had snitched about my little ultimatum."

"Could've been any member of the sector's Command Staff." Khan interjected.

"Kalina knew I was threatening to boot them from the sector, not tear out their emotion modules. Santiago had no way of knowing either unless someone told her, and even then, I checked and saw she had no connections to any Griffin brass." Hsu retorted, crushing the deflection as he leveled a deadened glare at Khan. "Which left two options. Garand and you."

"But Garand's a doll and she doesn't have the clout to go that far up the chain that fast." Khan said with a sigh, taking another long drag from the cigarette between his fingers.

"Wasn't too hard. Just had to cross check your unit assignments with hers." The Commander uncharacteristically gloated. "Of course, I couldn't see anything after you'd joined the Service. But I didn't need too."

Khan sighed yet again, stopping in his tracks as the two reached the end of the airstrip. "...My unit was attached to hers before the war kicked off. We were fast friends. She contacted me about a year ago about a job here, and I took it."

"Was she always this much of a loud pain in the ass?" Hsu asked.

"No. She was worse." Khan said, both men sharing a laugh. "Helian was… different, before the war. Far more nationalistic, that's for sure. Honestly when the word came down that we were going in, she was more excited than any of us."

"Young officers that are overly motivated. Story as old as time." Hsu said with dreary recollection.

"Truth." Khan said, spitting his spent stub out of his mouth and onto the wet grass. "I'm not going to apologize for blowing the whistle."

"I'm not asking you too." The Commander assured. "Something tells me if you'd wanted me fired, you'd have been able to talk her into it."

"I actually had to talk her out of it." Khan corrected. "But after what happened with Garand, I could tell there was more going on with you than some dime a dozen doll hater."

"It all comes back to that." Hsu said with little sentimentality. No matter the situation, no matter the relation, it all seemed to stem back to that choice he made in May. With Garand having half her head blown off, Springfield trying to keep her online with what little she had. His first day seemed to define him more than all the other days put together.

"What a man does when he needs not do anything speaks more than anything." Khan observed, producing a new cigarette from his box.

"You a robotics expert or a philosopher?" Hsu asked with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"I'm whatever I damn well feel like." The engineer said shamelessly, lighting up again.

"Cute." Hsu replied, thinking for a few moments before he asked one last question. "...Did you actually shoot a General named Smirnov in Vienna?"

"No." Khan said, thinking over his next words carefully. "...I may have shot a car. With an AT-Four. In a city, somewhere."

The two soldiers looked to one another, before Hsu began to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Khan did the same, both men deciding the enjoy what little time they had before the big push of the day began.


(15:08)

After yet another intervention by G36, the three younger dolls of Echelon two sat in the back of the cab. XM8 laid down on the bench, looking up at the perforated canvas as she felt the boredom overtake her. M1897 was further in, checking to see that the remaining ammo boxes remained intact and undamaged. PPSh-41 remained sitting where she had been, SMG in hand as she kept scoping the tree-line.

"Eighteen, nineteen… twenty!" M1897 said, finishing up her count. "We didn't lose any crates during the ambush!"

"Whoopie…" XM8 said unconvincingly, blowing some air at one of her bangs. "Not like that's the third time you counted."

M1897 pouted, with Caspar jumping off of her head and bouncing menacingly over to XM8's lackadaisical position. "Well… you're counting my counting!"

"Your observational skills are awe-inspiring." The grenadier said sarcastically, looking up to see Caspar having jumped up onto her chest. Unimpressed by the white blob's tiny flailing arms and attempt at an intimidating expression, she simply smacked him off.

The poor robot went flying, hitting PPSh in the back of the head before he flopped down back onto the truck surface. The Russian spun around with a jump, before glaring back at her uncaring assailant.

"Shouldn't you be doing something?" She interrogated.

"What's there to do?" XM8 said with a shrug. "Winn Dixie is counting the ammo, you're watching trees grow. STG and my sister are probably swallowing each other's tongues in the woods."

Both M1897 and PPSh's expressions shot up red at such a scandalous accusation, the image swimming in the Russian's mind before she stood up with folded arms and a puffed up chest.

"Miss Thirty-Six would never do something so unprofessional on a mission!"

"Really?" XM8 asked, looking over to PPSh to see the sub-machinegunner nod her head with iron-clad assurity. "Check outside, see if you can spot either of them."

PPSh scoffed, turning around to try and find either of the tall blondes. However, neither G36 or StG44 were in her sight. Even when she bent around the corner to check the front of the cab, both dolls were absent.

"Told you." XM8 said to no one in particular, going back to staring up at the damaged tarp that covered her view. "Don't know why you're both trying so hard to impress her anyway. She's such a killjoy."

"Th-that's not true! The Captain's wonderful!" M1897 said, going to scoop up her companion and place him back on her head.

"She's a boring stick in the mud who thinks fun is cleaning a rugby team's locker room." XM8 countered, tilting her head back to look at the cleaning android. "Then again, you probably think so too. No wonder you get on with her."

"Well maybe you'd get along with her better if you helped." PPSh continued to insist.

"Uh huh." Was XM8's only reply. A reply that finally seemed to push the Russian over the edge. PPSh stood up, stomping over to the lazy doll and hovering over her. M1897 soon joined her friend, and before she knew it, XM8 had three angry faces bearing down on her all over again.

"Why are you so nasty to us?" PPSh-41 demanded, eyes shimmering with frustration.

"Nothing I said was wrong~." XM8 declared with her signature smugness.

"That's not an answer!" M1897 threw in as Caspar goaded his friend on.

"We are tired of getting heckled by you!" PPSh said in agreement.

"Maybe if you listened to me instead of constantly trying to impress my sister, I'd stop." XM8 offered, as if it was the simplest solution in the world.

"We do not answer to you!" PPSh insisted in defiance, the short doll reaching her limit after weeks of XM8's insufferable smugness. "And the Captain is far nicer than you are! At least she cares about us and our feelings!"

"Well then at least that makes two of you." XM8 said with a huff, leaving her seat and shoving her way to the exit of the truck. PPSh stumbled as she was moved out of the way, standing up in anger as she adjusted her hat and got ready to wallop this brat into next week.

M1897 stopped her, however, catching onto those last words.

"Wait… you think Miss Gretel doesn't care about you?" The shotgunner asked.

XM8 huffed, sitting down at the edge of the truck and glaring at the dirt. "Why would she? She's got you two and her new girlfriend. I'm just the least favorite sister."

"That-. That's not true." M1897 insisted, slipping past a somewhat defused Papasha as she went to sit next to the now sullen grenadier. "You're her family! Of course she cares about you!"

"Gretel's always cared about our other sisters more. MG-Thirty-Six is cool and confident. Or SL-Eight, the golden girl who's more clever than all three of us put together. And don't even get me started about how she gets around Thirty-Six-C." XM8 rattled off, fingers digging into the wood as her frustration came to the surface. "Meanwhile, I'm the model made for export. I'm the Malaysian one with the weird hair and funny accent."

M1897 went quiet as she came to understand the problem. This wasn't a recent development, moreso a long-term resentment that had been building for a while now. Before XM8 had come to this sector. Maybe it was why she'd come, some effort to try and bridge the divide between oldest and youngest.

"...I understand." M1897 said in a small voice.

XM8 scoffed harshly at the shotgunner's words. Enough to make M1897 wince. But she didn't back down.

"I've got an older sister too. Me n'her aren't… that close anymore." The cleaner doll explained, letting her legs swing free as she thought back. "Back in Alabama, she was my supervisor in the cleanin' company we worked for. I called'er Martha back then. She was so nice, and helpful… I only knew'er for a few months. But we spent all our time together."

PPSh came up, standing on the opposite side of XM8 while the grenadier looked over to M1897.

"What happened to her?" XM8 asked.

"...She applied to Griffin and got hired. Said that she was gonna work hard, send money back home to try n'pay my contract out. Then me n'her could be Independent dolls instead of being owned by our company." Jesse explained, taking a long breath as her eyes dropped. "But after that, she went quiet. I didn't hear from'er from months. And I kept gettin' worried, n'worried. What if she'd gotten hurt? What if she… forgot about me, y'know?"

XM8 nodded in understanding, both she and PPSh letting M1897 continue.

"Eventually I got so worried, I decided I wanted to go find'er myself. So I applied to Griffin too, they bought me out from my own owner and shipped me here for trainin'."

"Why'd they buy out the contracts on two cleaning dolls in America?" XM8 asked, the whole situation seeming strangely convenient. It wasn't as if M1897's model was anything special. If anything it was exceptionally mundane, just your run of the mill commercial cleaning doll.

M1897 shrugged. "I dunno. They mentioned somethin' about 'Project Neural Cloud' involvement but, it didn't make a lick-a sense to me."

The answer didn't satisfy XM8, but it didn't matter much either. Instead, PPSh-41 chimed in. "So, you found her."

M1897 nodded her head. "Yessum. But she was… different. She was quieter and more robotic. No one called'er Martha no more, just 'Eighteen-Eighty-Seven'. Honestly, these Sangvis fellers remind me of her a lil'bit."

The cleaner thought for a few moments, looking up at the blue sky as a small realization came to her neural cloud. "I think… that's why I get along with Miss Gretel so much. She reminds me of how Martha was b'fore she changed."

Feeling a new sense of solidarity, XM8 lifted a hand and gave M1897 a pat on the back. The shotgunner smiled in gratitude, glad that she'd finally managed to strike some kind of bond with her newest teammate.

"I know that Miss Gretel cares about you as much as you care about her. Just like I know Martha still cares about me." M1897 said with conviction. "But it ain't easy for folks to show it."

"Uh huh." PPSh said, crouching down into a squat next to the two. "My older sister treats my younger sibling and I the same way Thirty-Six treats you. But I know she only wants what is best for us."

"But she ticks you off too, doesn't she?" XM8 asked.

"No!" PPSh-41 said, before both of her peers responded with looks of disbelief and trepidation.

"...Sometimes." PPSh admitted, sliding down to a full seat on the wood. "It feels like she is never satisfied with my performance. Always more, more, more. It is so tiring. You want to know what she said when I told her that we defeated Hunter?"

Both of the other girls shook their head before PPSh spoke again. "She asked if I was the one who took her down. Me! I'm only a two-star doll! I can't defeat a ringleader single-handedly!"

"Yeesh. Talk about impossible standards." XM8 bemoaned.

"How do you deal with that?" M1897 asked.

"I… smile and nod." PPSh admitted carefully.

XM8 smirked, amused at how simple of an answer it was. "Good to know that's an international solution to not wanting to deal with someone."

The three girls shared a friendly laugh, before the sound of snapping twigs caught their attention. XM8 and M1897 both instantly jumped up, running to grab their weapons that rested in the depths of the truck. PPSh held her ground, SMG already in hand.

"I-is Sangvis back?!" M1897 asked as she rapidly topped off her shotgun.

"Has to be. Thirty Six would have radioed in if she was coming." XM8 assured, loading a shell into her grenade launcher.

"What do we do, then?!" PPSh asked, staying low as the two other girls crept back over as the footsteps shuffled closer and closer to the truck.

"Just stay quiet. Once it gets close, we jump on top of it and knock it senseless!"

"Why wouldn't we just shoot it?" M1897 asked, befuddled at the strange idea.

"Think, dummy! If we capture a live Sangvis doll and keep it here until Thirty-Six comes back, she can hack it! Then we can listen in on their orders!"

"That is a good idea, actually." PPSh whispered, shushing the other two as the footsteps finally seemed to reach the truck's cab. All three of the girls prepared themselves, slinging their weapons and getting ready to pounce.

Waiting for the perfect moment, until the black and pale skinned figure turned the corner…

"NOW!" XM8 order, the three dolls barreling out of the back of the ural and tackling the interloper to the ground. What followed was a mess of screams and wrestling, each of the trio announcing what they were doing and shouting jeers at their attempted kidnap victim. Said victim, unsurprisingly, fought back with an almost surprising amount of viciousness, kicking and flailing violently as she handed out bruises and black eyes like Christmas presents.

After a minute of tussling, XM8 was thrown out of the scuffle and into the middle of the road. Which was when she heard an approaching conversation.

"He said I should try to act more like a sister. What does that even mean?" G36 asked.

"W-well… with my sisters, I try to partake in their hobbies!" IWS' voice intoned. "Gepard really likes baking! Maybe you can try playing chess with XM-Eight."

"Please. I wouldn't have prayer in a chess match against-" G36 began, before the conversation abruptly stopped as the maid spotted her younger sister trying to push herself off of the ground.

"Xayah!" G36 yelled, breaking into a sprint to her sister's side. XM8 coughed a bit, dirt having found its way into her air filters as G36 knelt down and helped her up onto a knee.

"What happened?! Are you hurt?! Who did this to you?!" She demanded, concern and malevolence dueling for dominance in her expression.

"I'm fine, I'm FINE!" XM8 promised, going back up on her feet with G36's help. "You're not gonna believe this sis, but look, we caught-."

XM8 pointed her sibling towards the clearing dust cloud, her vision now able to see the aftermath. PPSh was further back, sitting on top of the captive's legs. M1897 parked herself on the prisoner's back, wrenching their arms together in an effort to stop the flailing. It wasn't pretty, all of their clothes were torn and new cuts dotted their faces. But they'd finally beaten the invader.

There was one problem. They hadn't captured a Sangvis doll. All they had done was beat the tar out of a now dust-covered AUG. The Priestess now wore a mask of such furious anger, it was the scariest thing either G36 or XM8 had ever seen in their lives. StG44 ran back from the far side, breaking away from her picket to witness the staredown. XM8 gulped, pressing herself against the security of her eldest sister.

It was the only protection she had as AUG started screaming curses that would get her thrown out of every church in Europe.


A/N: I might be showing my preference for slapstick a bit too much at this point. But I don't care.

Next chapter is going to be following Echelon 4, SVD's Soviet team. First time they'll have the spotlight all to themselves, so look forwards to it.

o/