Author's Notes: Hello all, thank you for your patience. This one took a while to hash out, partially because I ended up changing the target T-Doll a few times as the story kind of just progressed on its own. CR-21 is making a cameo appearance here, but I promise she will get full attention in a near chapter.
And, despite what it looks like from the length of this chapter, I may have to start shortening them. It was a huge pain to get this chapter up to length (until I said screw it and switched the main focus to LWMMG) because honestly I am having a hard time writing straight smut. I just don't find it interesting enough. Now, that doesn't' mean there won't be *woohoo* going forward, there will still be plenty, but some (most) of the T-Dolls will have slower progression than the previous chapters.
Reviewers -
Kargan3033 - I'll look into doing one-off side stories, but to be honest it's hard enough trying to just get the main 'story' written so not sure if I can make it happen.
Freddylane1 - Too bad all copies of it were expunged… or were they?
Humlet - AA12 added to the list.
I Fredric I - heehee
The Rupture - I'm honestly leaving M4A1 out of this story. She gets enough attention. Kalina will definitely have her turn. She's got too much of a hate boner for Commander not to.
Girls Frontline Chapter Five: No Lewding the LWMMG
Perspective - Commander
Griffon Base Oberon
05:57AM
After the incident with Saiga-12, things settled down around base. Most of the T-Dolls kept a wide berth from him, intentionally avoiding Commander lest they 'fall into the sex maniac's claws.' He did not know if that rumor had spawned from a troublesome Shotgun or if it was just the general reputation he had earned, but it did not seem like something he could get away from easily. At the very least the number of amorous Tactical Doll encounters had flatlined, and he went three days without a single incident to disrupt his rocky start to base operations.
Apart from that one night Ithaca barged into his room and begged him for sex. The Tactical Doll had a bad day and needed some comfort, and he willingly obliged the busty Shotgun by taking her to his bed for a proper lay.
So... one incident in the past three days.
On the fourth day post-Saiga-12, he found himself standing outside the designated aerobics room in the on-base gymnasium. Standing awkwardly against the wall, he let his gaze flit over the crowd of T-Dolls and human staffers as they funneled out of the room while amiably chatting or sipping from their water bottles. Their responses on seeing him were mixed, with a broad array of jealousy from the men, curiosity from the women, and uncertainty from the T-Dolls. DSR-50 was in the mix, the shapely Rifle looking spectacular in a spandex one-piece that shamelessly complimented her mature body.
His eyes caught hers for a brief moment. The Rifle almost missed a step as she walked along with the crowd. A tightness gripped her face, brows furrowing, and she hastily looked away. Before he could try and call out to her she fled down the hallway and disappeared into the women's locker room.
"Damn," he muttered, shaking his head at his own failing. The two of them had not exchanged more than a half-dozen words since his official arrival on base. He wanted to talk to her and repair the damage he had done to her. The scuttlebutt that reached his ear was mostly reliable as far as he could tell, and what he heard about the Rifle did not make him proud of himself. That she had become withdrawn and moody. That she would zone out at the oddest of times.
His first chance to mend their relationship had been thoroughly ruined by the unpleasant encounter of her finding Ithaca in his bed that first real day on base. Since then she actively avoided him, going so far as to change direction entirely if it looked like their paths would cross. He knew he could order her to his office, but that was a heavy-handed maneuver he did not want to exercise. The time would come that was right for reconciliation, but forcing it would be counter-intuitive. DSR-50 would choose when the right time was.
The last of the attendees exited the aerobics room, and Commander stepped inside. A lone figure remained in the center of the room, idly lying on her back with her legs pressed together and lifted high in the air. Most T-Dolls he had to walk around as if on eggshells thanks to the uncomfortable atmosphere that had developed on base. They were not exactly terrified of him, but most of them reacted strongly one way or another to his proximity. This one did not.
He paused just inside the door, studying the Assault Rifle with a refreshing calmness. She was a lanky beauty, with dazzling caramel skin and long grey hair that was currently matted under her head. Her tight-fitting yoga pants accentuated her inhuman fitness, encasing her gorgeous legs in a supple black embrace. Likewise her grey tube top clung to her shapely chest, pairing with the inverted posture to create a mouthwatering valley spilling up towards her lowered chin. The pose brought an unwanted image to mind, and he hastily looked elsewhere, settling his attention on the stack of mats lined up on the left-hand wall.
A pair of perky wolf-like ears twitched as he walked further inside, noting his muted presence, but the Assault Rifle did not react. She lazily rolled her shoulders, her arms stretching up to chase her distant feet, and gave a breathy sigh that bubbled with satisfaction and relaxation.
"Is it that time already," she asked, her playful voice carrying just a hint of coyness to it.
"Six o'clock sharp," he replied, stopping a respectable distance away.
"I do like punctuality," she purred, and slowly tilted her feet further above her own head. The motion was smooth, like water poured over a stone, bending her body inwards until her balance shifted and she glided over in a lazy reverse somersault, one leg tucked in as the other came down to halt her momentum. Rising to a crouch with her hands parallel to her shoulders, one knee tucked to her belly and the other extended, she naturally formed a predatory pose as she tossed her hair back over her shoulders and smiled up at Commander.
"Hm… you are in much better shape than the previous Commanders I knew," she said, offering a faint nod of approval.
The Assault Rifle rose slowly to her feet, rolling her body with sensuous grace as she stretched her back, extended her calves, and finished with a little flourish of her hands pointed straight in the air. Another quiet exhale of breath dripped from her lips, and she approached him fearlessly.
"Stand still for a moment, Commander. I want to inspect you before we begin."
Obediently remaining in place, he tracked the Tactical Doll as CR-21 looped around him twice, her eyes roaming across his body, a curled finger tapping against her chin in thought. She made little sounds of curiosity and approval as she looked him over, but showed no other reaction until the very end, where she clapped her hands together and gave a serious nod.
"Well then, let's begin with a light run. Are you familiar with our indoor track?"
"I am," he answered. So far he had not had much opportunity to utilize the gymnasium. This current meeting was a joint agreement between himself and Kalina to block out three periods each week to ensure he had proper time to maintain his fitness and take care of his body. The job of a G&K Commander did not naturally lend itself to a healthy work-home balance. Intentional concessions had to be made to remain in shape while juggling the thousand and one responsibilities of his job.
He wondered how much more hectic it would get once the base was cleared for active operations again.
Following the Assault Rifle to the side door, he entered the second-floor track that ran above the first-floor basketball court. It was a simple track, one-tenth of a mile long. He assumed CR-21 would have him run four or five laps to get the blood running in his veins before they moved onto the real workout.
"Alright Commander, time to get your blood pumping. Thirty laps, let's go! See if you can keep up."
CR-21 had scarcely finished delivering the task before she took off at a quick trot. He stared after her for a moment, processing the T-Doll and her definition of a 'warm up,' then allowed a small smile onto his face and took off after her.
Three miles on an indoor track. That was indeed a warm up, for him at least. Most would think that a full portion of the workout. If CR-21 counted this as the start, then she truly had an excellent workout planned for him.
The Tactical Doll seemed content to match his pace, so he started at a light jog for the first couple laps. CR-21 said nothing about his speed, remaining silent and focused on not just her own speed but observing him as a trainer would. After two laps he picked up the pace, going up to a relaxed run, then at ten laps he began to speed up more. One could only run so fast on a short track. The constant turning made it hard to maintain top speed for longer than short bursts, and a constant start-stop speed was terrible on the body.
At twenty laps CR-21 decided to up the ante. The lithe Assault Rifle began to creep ahead, slowly but surely outpacing him, with no challenge but a slight curve of her lips as she glanced over her shoulder to check on his pace. It was a cheeky invitation, and just shallow enough to rile Commander's competitive spirit. He increased his speed to match hers, and the two raced the last ten laps.
Proud as he was of his fitness, he could not deny that he was not as young as he once was, and Tactical Dolls were built to be more fit than humans. By the end of the thirty laps the Assault Rifle had a good quarter length of track on him, and only because she had held back from getting too far ahead. Neither he nor CR-21 were breathing heavily, though he did walk an entire lap to calm down his heart and walk off the intensity of the run. He had not bothered to time their pace, but it was more intense than he had done in a while.
"Not bad for an old man," CR-21 cooed, a towel dangling in her outstretched hand.
He accepted the towel gratefully and wiped his head, grimacing in distaste at how much he was sweating. "I've still got some miles left in the tank."
"Let's hope so. You've become quite a star on base. I haven't seen a Commander make as large an impression as you have in such a short amount of time."
"I doubt the impression I am making is one worth being proud over," he grumbled.
The Assault Rifle smirked, her eyes travelling up and down his body. After a moment of inspection, she re-entered the aerobics room and held open the door. "Perhaps. Come along now, Commander. We only have another half hour and I am going to put you through the paces."
They pulled out fresh mats and set them down a couple paces away from each other. CR-21 made no comment as he smoothed his out, though her lips curled in an approving smile, revealing the thin points of her razor-sharp canines. She had a cuteness to her face, very bright and lively, paired with the wolf ears that he could not deny drew his attention every few seconds as they twitched.
"It isn't polite to stare at a woman's finer assets," the Assault Rifle chided.
"Apologies. Your ears are… interesting."
"Hm, charming, yet hardly the smooth line I expected from a womanizer like yourself." CR-21 ran her hands through her hair, brushing back her shaggy mane to better reveal her animal ears. In the process of doing so he noted she had regular ears as well, which made him even more curious. "They're auxiliary. These ears carry several extrasensory systems implanted in them, which markedly increases my hearing and depth perception as well as allowing me to use a form of echolocation in the dark when thermals are down. They are also quite fluffy."
She threw out that last line with a pointed look, her fingers running along the edge of her wolf ears in a teasing fashion. Commander felt his curiosity tickled by that remark, but held back. This was hardly the time or place, not to mention it would be extremely inappropriate. He did not need a repeat of the scathing lecture Helianthus subjected him to after catching Saiga-12 with his cock buried in her throat.
"I will take your word on that."
The Assault Rifle nodded graciously and motioned for him to remain standing. "Before we begin, might I trouble you for a drink from the vending machine?"
"I can do that. Any particular favorites?"
"Banana is lovely," she replied. "There's just something wonderful about wrapping my lips around a thick… long... banana."
He ignored the sultry grin on the Tactical Doll's face. Chalking it up as mere teasing, he exited the aerobics room and approached the lone vending machine in this particular hallway. A full lineup of ten assorted drinks were there, and his gaze went straight to the one CR-21 had indicated.
Banana-bly Delicious, the tagline boldly declared.
He punched in his ID code and pressed the button.
[OUT OF STOCK]
"Of course it's out of stock," he muttered wearily.
The Assault Rifle had not mentioned any other preference. Deciding it was better to just grab something than waste both their precious time going back and forth to pick one out, he selected the next one down.
Get Ready to Get Graped in the Mouth, a horrible choice for a marketing ad.
[OUT OF STOCK]
"Damn it."
He continued pressing buttons, working his way down the list.
[OUT OF STOCK]
[OUT OF STOCK]
[OUT OF STOCK]
[OUT OF STOCK]
[OUT OF STOCK]
[OUT OF STOCK]
[OUT OF STOCK]
All nine of the flavored drinks repeated the same message. His finger hovered over the last button, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together to prevent a snarl of unreasonable irritation. It was not the fact that the vending machine was almost entirely out, but rather the identity of the last drink that stoked the flames of his wrath, and triggered a superstitious uncertainty in his gut.
Generic Water Bottle, the name mocked him.
"Don't you fucking dare," he breathed.
His finger depressed the button.
[FUNDS DEDUCTED. DISPENSING DRINK]
"Fuck!"
The water bottle rolled into the receptacle, wiggling off its momentum as it peered cheekily up at the scowling Commander.
"Not going to happen," he muttered. Scooping up the bottle, he fixed it with a murderous glare. "I swear to god, if something happens I'm shoving you down a dolphin's throat."
Smoothing over his anger, Commander stalked back inside the room. He found CR-21 waiting for him, lying lazily on her back with her head towards the door, offering a distracting view of her tightly bound bust and her smirking, upturned smile.
"You took so long I thought I'd have to send out a search party," the Assault Rifle teased.
"They were out of everything but… but water."
"Good enough."
She accepted the bottle and drank half of it. Tipping her head back, she cradled the bottle with both hands, one beside the other in a posture that made it uncomfortably similar to if she was on her back and sucking a-
No! Nope, not going there. Not an icicle's chance in hell!
"Ahhh~ delicious," she purred, carefully capping the bottle and setting it to the side. Then, rolling over onto her belly, she motioned for him to duplicate her pose. "We'll go through some basic stretches today, see what sort of flexibility you have."
Despite her questionably flirtatious attitude, CR-21 wasted no time during the actual training portion of their meeting. She guided him through a series of increasingly complicated stretches, testing his body and learning what he could and could not do. While he would have liked to claim he was still in top form, it had been several years since he had last applied himself so rigorously to physical exercise. There were some things he just was not able to do anymore, but he did not allow his pride to be riled.
It was to be expected that he had lost some of his edge. CR-21 said little to indicate her thoughts on his fitness, but he had a feeling she was impressed, at least in comparison to other commanders. For all he knew he was the first commander with 'boots on the ground' experience'. What little he had heard of previous commanders seemed to indicate a propensity for pencil-pushers over meatheads. Not that this was a bad thing. The job required dedication and intelligence. Those were rare enough qualities without adding in the additional requirement of high physical fitness.
By the end of the stretching session it was almost seven, and CR-21 graced him with the glowing evaluation of "not bad" and sent him on his way. Commander thanked her for her time and hurried off to the showers, allowing his towel to casually drape down his front as he retreated from the saucy Assault Rifle's presence. Throughout the stretching she would step in and 'assist,' as she called it. Her assistance involved a whole lot of skin contact, and more often than not had her body pressing up against him in ways that seemed entirely unnecessary.
In what seemed like an uncomfortably growing pattern here, the Assault Rifle's perfectly tailored body and stunning looks left him in the uncomfortable bind of being visibly aroused despite his best intentions. There was no way the T-Doll was not aware of his distress; he was fairly certain he had heard her make more than a few muttered comments to herself about it during their session.
Whatever her intentions were, he had no desire to find out. Not right now, at the very least. Kalina was expecting him in a meeting at 7:30. Though her irritation at him had been mollified quite a bit by the influx of cash that came in hand with her winning the lewd bet with Helianthus, she still referred to him in private as "Mr. Perv." Their working relationship was certainly in a bit of an awkward position. The logistics officer's displeasure at his escapades remained, reasonably enough, quite prominent in their discussions.
He did not fault her for that. A commanding officer should maintain a healthy distance from his subordinates, and sexual relations completely tore that distance apart. While there was a significant societal argument currently about the concept of Tactical Dolls and whether they counted as 'people' and should be treated accordingly, he fully accepted Griffon and Kryuger's position that Tactical Dolls deserved the same treatment as real human beings.
Which made the fact he had already engaged in sexual relations with four of them a glaring black mark on his record. Thankfully, and embarrassingly enough, two of those events were recorded, and the third occurred in the presence of Helianthus, and those three proved his innocence, so to speak. The fact that Honey Badger quite literally barged into the shooting booth and assaulted him calmed Kalina down. Just a little. That, and as far as he knew neither Ithaca nor Honey Badger voiced any complaints about their encounters. DSR-50 was a whole other story, and Saiga-12 had advanced on him for intentionally devious reasons and was being suitably dealt with by Helianthus.
Ironically, he found himself eager for Saiga-12's return. Not because she had surprisingly devastating fellatio skills, but because after reviewing everyone's training data he had no doubts that Saiga was the premier Shotgun doll on base. There were a handful in total at Oberon, and all were excellent operators, but Saiga's record stood out like a nugget of gold on the concrete sidewalk. By Kalina's estimation the base would be ready to start tackling missions again next week, which gave him a few more days of breathing room before things got really hectic. But Base Titania was struggling to keep up with operations by itself and the teams lended over to Titania's Commander often came back ragged and battered. There were just too many operations to complete, too much Sangvis Ferri activity in the area.
"Commander?"
His head twitched towards the sudden voice. Over the course of his musings he had entered the private shower room reserved for command staff. Though it was not exactly a locked facility, no one else was supposed to use it, especially not when it was occupied. Whether or not adventurous staff chose to sneak in and use it during the off-hours was a different matter, but since everyone else had gone through their morning routine already it should have been empty.
Instead, he found himself hastily averting his eyes as the nude CR-21 sauntered into the compact showers. There were no walls separating the heads of these showers, just four nozzles spread about the corners of the room. A singular grate in the middle of the slightly sloped floor collected all the water and grit and soap and carried it away, leaving for a very simple, but efficient shower room.
"What are you doing in here, CR?"
His question came out a little gruffer than he intended it to. Not because he was tired, but because of the surge of anxiety that wormed its way up his spine. This was exactly the sort of situation he sought to avoid. A mature, sexy woman joining him in the showers was so horrendously cliche he might as well be the main character in a smut story at that point.
"As your personal trainer it is my duty to ensure you are in the peak state of health," CR-21 purred. She crept up behind him, her yellow eyes narrowed intently as she studied his broad back. Commander made no move to hide himself or shift away from her gaze. He was not some nervous youth, and though he had no desire to play with the gorgeous Assault Rifle, he was hardly panicked by her arrival.
If she truly was here just to check on his health then he would have no pro- did she just lick her lips?
"Hm… they say scars are the tapestry of a human's life. Your life must have been quite eventful, eh Commander?"
The teasing touch of two clawed fingers lighted on his shoulder, then trailed down to the small of his back. CR-21, in addition to her wolf-like ears, possessed a few other animalistic traits. He had learned not to question the decisions of the Tactical Doll designers, but had to admit that the sensation of claws sliding across his skin made him react in a way he had not expected. He shivered, his body tensing under the impulsive reaction to a cognitive threat, but his body also tensed.
"Ooh, I heard the rumors about you being a pervert. Is that all because of me?" A predatory grin eased across the Assault Rifle's expression. She leaned in closer, sniffing at his body. He pulled back just slightly, doding out of her touch, and continued squirting shampoo into his hand. He was already almost done in the shower, and he really did not have time to play around with the vixen.
"The male body does what the male body does," he muttered, forcing himself to look away from the enchanting sight of her canines peeking out from behind her lip. "If you are checking up on me then I can assure you I am fine. No pulled muscles, no sprains. Just a healthy ache from solid calisthenics."
"I believe I am the fitness expert here, Commander," she countered, switching to a playful pout. "Let me do my job."
Not accepting his deflection, she began to poke and prod him, running her hands along his limbs. For all her teasing and playfulness, she was taking her job seriously. Her sharp eyes missed nothing as she felt about his joints, seeking out any signs of inflammation while she clarified preexisting injuries. Honestly, the majority of his scars and visible damage was cosmetic at this point; extensive and expensive medical treatments left his body in far better shape than he had any right to possess.
It was only when her hands began to wander across his chest that he gently took the Tactical Doll by the wrists and eased her back a step. The Assault Rifle glowered at him, though her eyes glittered with crafty amusement rather than irritation.
"I need to get going. You can follow up with me later, CR."
"Hmph, I guess that's fine. You're certainly in top condition. Though I may have to report that you do appear a little… stressed."
Her eyes lowered to his erection. Commander released her hands and retreated to the changing room. The Assault Rifle followed after a moment, pausing long enough to turn off the shower and grab a towel for herself.
"Are you not going to shower?"
"I thought I'm not allowed to shower in the command head," she reminded him.
He tried to meet her gaze, but the sight of the muscular Assault Rifle standing proudly with her feet at shoulder's width, her naked body on full display, made him lose his train of thought. She had a wonderfully sculpted body, with a subtle six-pack and delicious tone throughout her body. The light patch of silvery fur between her hips drew his attention to somewhere he really should not be looking, but there was hardly a safe place to rest his gaze.
"I'm giving you permission," he told her. "This one time."
"Well then, I guess I'll have to take you up on it."
CR-21 flashed him a grin, tossed her acquired towel to one side, and strode back into the shower without another word. Multiple faucets hissed into life, and a breathy sigh emerged from inside.
"Aaaaahhh~ this feels so wonderful, Commander. Next time we will have to plan some extra time for a cooldown shower."
-v-
Perspective - Kalina
"You actually showed up on time. I wasn't expecting that." Kalina stepped aside and ushered the commander into her office. Once he had picked his way through the carelessly stacked piles of papers, books and supplies she had littered about the floor, stared down at the little mound of reports that occupied the second chair in the room.
It was true her office was usually a mess. Logistics jobs were not easy, especially since she had effectively been doing double-duty as the stand-in base commander until he arrived. Honestly it was a miracle sometimes that she even got to sleep at night. The deplorable conditions of her office would catch all kinds of reprimands in any other situation, but by now it had become accepted that her office was overflowing with work. Even with the new commander on base, she still had a lot to do. By her estimation it would be a full month before the floor was entirely visible again.
Commander never commented on the state of her office. For all his simpering, man-whoring stupidity, he knew how to run an operation, and he understood all the work she had to do. Extraordinary times called for adjustable standards. She appreciated that he did not have an unbending sense of the rules.
"You say that as if I make a habit of being late," Commander grumbled.
"Well, you did just come from a one-on-one session with a T-Doll. I half expected to have to go down there looking for you and find you halfway through the kama sutra."
His unimpressed glare warned Kalina to not toe that line. She grinned, but wisely changed the conversation. This was a business meeting after all, and their time was valuable. Too valuable to waste with excessive teasing. She did like that about this one, though. He at least was entertaining to tease, which helped her blow off steam. He was sturdy enough to take her flak without collapsing in an insecure ball of weeping patheticness.
Only time would tell if this commander could withstand the strain of running an operational G&K base.
"What is the status of the training reports," Commander asked, his eyes honing in on that particular stack of documents Kalina had perched dangerously on the corner of her desk. For a moment she wondered how he knew that was the correct pile, but then she realized it was smaller than the others, so either he was hoping that was the correct pile or he made a good educated guess.
"All T-Dolls on base have finished their training modules, thanks again for those repair costs by the way, and the data has been input into the system. You'll have the compiled readiness documents by the end of day."
"Excellent." Commander nodded sagely. "When will operation assignments start arriving?"
"Whoa, slow your roll there, cowboy. You haven't even seen the results of their tr-"
He held up a hand to interrupt. "I've seen the preliminary data and assembled a draft of standby-teams for essential operations. It should be sitting in your inbox. If you would review those, my estimations are that they should be passable with only minor tweaking once final results are in."
"Did you, now?" Her eyebrow arched in surprise. Circling to her chair, she eased into place and went straight to her internal mail. "Hm… watch report, another Nigerian Prince wanting to give me money, repair costs, XXXXL Magnum cond- god we need to fix our email filters… ah! Here it is. Prelim- Seriously?"
Kalina glared at Commander from over her monitor. "You sent this at four in the morning!"
"I was awake," he said, his expression devoid of mischief.
"Awake as in you hadn't fallen asleep or had woken up?"
His silence was answer enough. Blood pulsed through her veins, her heart rate accelerating with irritation at the man's stupidity. Get bloody sleep, you damn idiot! How are you supposed to run the base if you can't function?
Still, she opened his email and started skimming the contents.
"Hm… well, you have a decent spread, at least. Two SG/MG teams, two AR/SMG, two HG/RF, and four mix teams. I see you also have primaries and secondaries listed for each. Good, that accounts for on/off days… Huh, I would not have picked that pairing but I guess that… well that's, um, interesting… uh-huh, yep…"
It took her a few minutes to read through his notes and lists. Through it all, Commander remained silent and aware, his eyes closed as he concentrated on something else. Once Kalina finished, she leaned back in her seat and met Commander's gaze.
"That's not a bad lineup. It could use a little work, but overall they make for well-rounded teams. I also noticed that you more or less picked the same number of each class. Personal preference?"
"The Tactical Dolls operated in sync," he answered, explaining his reasoning. "Each should have a partner to watch their back."
"Agreed. Glad you understand that about them. Too many commanders get fixated on individual prowess and forget that, at their core, they are team operators."
"Once the final training data is uploaded, who should I consult with regarding changes? I plan on having the primary and secondary duty rosters, but will rotate those not selected in to test out various combinations."
"The Elites would be the ones to talk to for advice. If… you know… you can find one that doesn't hate you." Her lips curled in a sly grin as Commander's expression grew uncomfortable. It was a bit of an unfair jab at him, but there was no denying the fact that his current relations with the 'Elite' Tactical Dolls was strained. DSR-50 was more or less refusing to speak with him, and Saiga-12 was determined to out him as a Tactical Doll molester. That left MP7, Negev, OTs-14, and M950A. Negev and M950A were currently assisting Base Titania, and OTs-14 was attending an arms conference as Kryuger's bodyguard.
MP7 could be a bit of a hard case, but she took her job very seriously, as all Elites did. It surprised Kalina that the two had not really interacted yet, though she had a gut feeling that they would hit it off splendidly. Assuming Commander didn't put a move on the SMG.
"I will schedule a meeting with those on base," he confirmed after a short reflective pause. "You wouldn't happen to know when Saiga is due back?"
"Depends on if Helianthus is still pissed," Kalina answered with a careless shrug. "Anyhow, we'll get them all back by the time we're greenlit for operations. Except OTs-14, maybe."
"Is it common to have six Elites at one base?"
"Six? Four is about standard, I think. The previous commander did focus heavily on beefing up our garrison. This region was… is… a hotbed for SF activity."
"Then it's best we get up and running as soon as possible." Commander gave a curt nod to show his understanding of what Kalina didn't say. "I will contact the Titania commander and see about getting our operators sent back. Give them a week to rest before they have to go out again. In the meantime, do you have anything you need from me?"
"Just your promise that you won't make us go through a base-wide training again," she answered with a devilishly innocent smile. "I'd hate to have to pull from your salary to cover repair costs."
Commander chuckled quietly at her implied threat. Rising to his feet, he went through the motions of a dozen little stretches, resulting in a fairly unsettling popping noise from his neck. "Don't worry, the repair costs will be from live rounds going forwards. The inventory of the reserve units, it is current and all-inclusive, correct?"
"Yep. Every reserve unit on base is accounted for. Why do you ask?"
Commander frowned, his gaze growing thoughtful for a moment. "It's nothing, probably. On the last walk I did of the reserve barracks the count was short a couple. But they were probably off getting worked on or something."
"That wouldn't be unsurprising," Kalina agreed. "Persica does like to tinker with some models from time to time. Always leaves them better than how she found them, and usually the Tactical Dolls are pleasantly surprised by her work. How many were we short by?"
"Eight."
"Eight…" Kalina tapped her chin pensively. "Yeah, that's probably Persica. Nothing to worry about."
Commander refocused his gaze on the Kalina. "Well, thank you for the time. I've got to get over to the office and get the day's adjutant settled in. It's… ah… LWMMG?"
"Lam? Yeah, it is her day, isn't it?" Settling back into her chair, Kalina grabbed the first stack of papers for her day and dismissed the commander. "She's a cutie. Bit self-conscious, but you'll be hard-pressed to find a more eager Tactical Doll when it comes to her duties. Just don't hard-press her, if you know what I mean."
Commander scowled at her, earning him a cheeky tongue stuck out in his direction.
"Honestly I'd be grateful to have a normal Tactical Doll around for once. CR-21 was laying it on pretty thick this morning."
"Was she? Or were you just projecting your barbarian-esque level horniness onto what she was doing?" Kalina rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself, Commander. Not every Tactical Doll is going to trip over herself trying to get into your pants."
Commander exited the room, leaving Kalina alone to her thoughts. The logistics officer stared at the papers in her hand, idly reading over the Confidential tape wrapped around the important notes. After several seconds of silence, she groaned and pushed the stack to the side. It would have to come later.
"Damn it."
The exhausted woman turned on her headset and punched in a quick dial on her phone. The soft ringing tone echoed twice in her ear before the other side answered the call.
"Hey Persica, I need a count on all the reserve dolls in your lab. An exact count, if you don't mind. And a count of all the reserve dolls anywhere on base outside the barracks. Can you- five? Are you sure? Just five. I know they're all chipped! What ab- one in the display room, yeah, that makes sense. So what about the other two?... … … so we don't know where they are…"
-v-
Perspective - LWMMG
"Don't worry about it, Lam!"
"You'll be fine."
"Go get him, LWMMG! But- here, take this with you. If he tries to do anything inappropriate, stab him!"
With the encouraging cheers of the other Tactical Dolls at her back, LWMMG swallowed down her trepidation and marched towards the base commander's office. Her hands trembled with nervousness as she left the dining hall and began the solitary walk across the grounds. The moment she had been both dreading but looking forward to was finally upon her. She had spent the entire morning psyching herself up for this. Preparing for this very moment.
She had never served as a commander's adjutant before. Her older postings either had commanders with very set adjutant rosters or they simply didn't think she would make for a good adjutant. This opportunity came as a complete fluke - apparently the new commander asked for a complete roster rotation, and was using that to meet the Tactical Dolls and become familiar with them all.
Apart from the one incident with Saiga-12, of which the details were a bit murky and the rumors grew more absurd with each telling, the others reported he was very polite and professional. No one had any real complaints about him, and to be honest even Honey Badger could be goaded into admitting that he wasn't the worst thing in the world. The SMG's pride had taken a huge blow after being discovered in the shooting booth with him, but the spunky SMG insisted that everything had gone 'according to plan.' Ignoring the fact that she had been suspended for a week after Helianthus found out about the incident, it had not been a terrible experience, in her own words.
God, thinking about that just made her even more nervous. LWMMG anxiously wrung her hands as Commander's office building drew closer.
"Good morning, Commander, I'm LWMMG. You should call me Lam, for short. Uh… you can call me Lam, for short?"
"Good morning Commander, I'm Lam! No, um… or should I just intr- no, that's inappropriate. Gotta make myself look calm and professional and smart. LWMMG, then."
"Good Commander, morn- ack! Crap! Focus, LWMMG! Focus! Ahhhh… why do I feel like I'm about to play hide-and-seeker with a fireteam of Jaegers? This shouldn't be that hard! Just take a breath, clear your head… Good morning, Commander, my name is LWMMG."
"And a good morning to you, LWMMG."
"Aw, thanks, Commander. I- KYYYAAAAA!"
Her palm struck something as she spun, and the shrieking Machine Gun nearly toppled over backwards at the sight of Commander stumbling back a step, a brilliant red palm-shaped mark on his cheek. The human officer had snuck up on her- or, more than likely he had caught up to her as she was slowly approaching his door.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry, Commander!"
The Tactical Doll leapt forward, reaching instinctively to help steady Commander as he recovered from her panic-infused slap. His eyes were a touch unfocused as he wavered, but he shook his head to clear his mind and offered her a rueful smile.
"I guess that teaches me to not sneak up on you."
"I… um…" LWMMG blushed furiously, then hastily leapt back a step. Hiding her offending hand behind her back, she glanced down at the concrete walkway and tried to come up with an excuse.
"It's fine. I've been hit harder than this before. Though you've got an impressive swing there." He reached over and patted her on the shoulder. It was a kindly gesture, neither too aggressive nor too familiar. She still flinched, expecting him to give her a punishment. Striking a superior officer was no joke, not even if it was by accident like this. If a Tactical Doll put all her strength into a blow she could have easily crippled him, if not accidentally killed him.
"That's… but I shouldn't h-"
"I shouldn't have waited until I was that close to greet you," he interrupted, silencing her apology. "It's all good, LWMMG. Though, I heard you mention 'Lam.' Do you prefer to be called that?"
"Oh, Lam is what the others call me when they don't want to say LWMMG. It is a bit of a mouthful."
"Do you mind if I call you Lam, then?"
"What? No, that's fine." LWMMG felt the heat bleed from her cheeks, and followed meekly as Commander stepped into his office. He went halfway into the room before turning around and squaring up against her.
"Then let's do this properly. Good morning, Lam."
"G-good morning, Commander! I'll be your adjutant today. Please let me help as best I can!"
Commander grinned softly, and motioned towards the adjutant's desk.
"Go ahead and take a seat. You've already had breakfast?"
"Yes."
The Machine Gun hurried over to her seat and scanned the documents and paperwork before sitting down. G3 left the desk clean and organized for her, so it only took a moment to get herself situated. She spent several seconds adjusting the desk to suit her needs, then glanced over at Commander expectantly.
"Where should I start, Commander?"
"Would you contact MP7 and ask her to come by? I need her input on duty rosters."
"At once!"
The MG plugged herself into a data port and allowed her consciousness to slide into the base's neural network. The pleasant sensation of unfiltered data streamed around her, brushing teasingly against her core as she oriented herself and began scanning the base. A holographic projection of the base formed in her awareness, overlaid by hundreds of IDs and electrical signals. The sight of the base neural network always filled her with happiness; it was a comforting reminder of how many friends and allies were at hand should they ever come under attack or need support.
It only took a moment for LWMMG to filter through the scores of signals, homing in on the unique signature she had her sights on.
[MP7!]
[What the Sh- oh, is that you, LWMMG?]
[Sorry, Commander wanted me to reach out to you. Am I interrupting?]
[Not really, you just surprised me. What does Commander Cock-for-Brains want?]
[Commander who- wait, what?]
[Commander Cock-for-Brains.]
[Oh goodness, are people calling him that?]
[I mean, considering he spent his first few days on base shagging every Tactical Doll that crossed his path…]
[You can't call him that! I might accidentally call him that!]
[That's your problem. Anyway, I'm on my way over. Please tell me he at least has his pants on.]
[WHY WOULD HIS PANTS BE OFF?]
[I don't know. Are they on?]
[...yes… of course they're on.]
[Wait, did you actually have to check?]
[No! No, I did not have to check if Commander Co- damnit!]
[Better watch that mouth in front of Commander. It'd be a real shame if you accidentally called him Cock-for-Brains. I'll be there in five minutes. His pants better be on when I get there.]
LWMMG groaned as she disconnected from the network. Rubbing her aching head, she cursed the Elite SMG and glanced sheepishly over at Commander. The man was staring rather intently at his desk, his posture surprisingly rigid and uncomfortable compared to how it had been mere moments ago.
Don't call him Cock-for-Brains! Don't call him Cock-for-Brains! Don't call him Cock-for-Brains!
"Is something wrong… Commander?"
His jaw twitched when she addressed him. He blinked, swallowed, and answered while refusing to look in her direction.
"You were plugged into the neural network, weren't you?"
"Yes C-Commander." LWMMG nearly tripped over her words as she repeated the mantra in her head. Don't call him Cock-for-Brains! Don't call him Cock-for-Brains! "I contacted MP7 and she is on her way."
"I see…"
Commander resumed writing notes in the calendar. His tension did not ease, which made LWMMG frown.
"Is something wrong?"
"You were making… noises," he muttered, and the man glanced away as if embarrassed to meet her gaze.
"Noises?" The Tactical Doll scrunched her eyebrows together as she tried to understand what he meant. She would have to be making some pretty weird noises for him to- oh. Oh dear god no! "W-what kind of noises?"
Her face heated up quickly when Commander did not answer, but cleared his throat and made that little gesture with his head that told her: yes, that kind of noise.
She wanted to die. She wanted MP7 to kick in the door and just shoot her right in the forehead.
Horrified at what she had unintentionally done, LWMMG stared down at her desk and bit back her tears. This day was going terribly already. First she accidentally slugged the commander, then she put on an awkward show while completing her first task of the day. Could this day get any worse?
Commander rose from his chair, smoothly extending his limbs and stretching as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. LWMMG stared at him for a moment, then remembered that the commander had gone through a one-on-one session with CR-21 that morning. It was a surprise he was still standing, to be honest. CR-21 was a brutal trainer, even by Tactical Doll standards. Her previous career as a fitness coach was no joke.
A sharp, fierce knock on the door told her that salvation was at hand. LWMMG swallowed down her shame and leapt to her feet, hurriedly skirting around her desk.
"It's unlocked," she called out, rushing over to let the visitor in. "Come i-iiiii!"
Something caught on her shoe and the Machine Gun stumbled forwards. Her balance evaporated as one show came off, spinning into the air, and the Tactical Doll careened forward like an unguided missile. Her hands snapped up as she fell, frantically seeking something to brace herself as Commander's body flashed closer.
LWMMG's fingers caught on Commander's pants, and her superior force won out against his belt. Tumbling to her knees, her locked-out arms carried Commander's pants down to his ankles, leaving him half-naked as LWMMG faceplanted directly into his crotch.
"Oof," Commander grunted, stumbled backwards into his chair. A strong hand reflexively clamped down on her shoulder, dragging her with him, and LWMMG ended up with her face buried in Commander's crotch, her nostrils suddenly awash with the scent of soap, cotton, and...
"ooOoo," LWMMG groaned. The soft elastic of his underwear tickled her nose. Dazedly, she eased both hands up to grip Commander's thighs and tried to collect herself.
"Uh… Lam…"
Knock
"Hello? I'm coming in now. Good mo- good heavens, Commander!"
MP7's startled exclamation burst in LWMMG's ear like a grenade. A torrential shame swept away her dizziness, and the Machine Gun staggered to her feet, face burning as if someone had put her cheeks on a lit stove.
"Geez, It's not even eight o'clock and you're already getting it on with LWMMG? And you said his pants were on!"
"I- they were- it isn't what it looks like," LWMMG insisted, panicking as she smoothed her clothes and belatedly tried to make it look as if nothing were amiss.
At her side, Commander hurriedly pulled his pants back up and fiddled with the buckle. In her fall, the force of LWMMG's arms had snapped the buckle clean in half. That treacherous piece of uniform would have to be replaced, much to LWMMG's chagrin.
"Lam tripped as she went to get the door," Commander told the grinning SMG. He did not dwell on the incident, but brushed past it in an entirely professional way. "MP7, thank you for your prompt arrival."
"Oh, If I had known what you were up to I would have taken my time," MP7 replied. She shot LWMMG a sly grin that lanced through the Machine Gun like a high caliber Shame round. "Duly noted, however. LWMMG accidentally took your pants off and put her face in your crotch."
"Oh, please don't remember that," LWMMG begged.
From the merciless smile on MP7's face, that request was impossible.
"Please don't rag on her any further," Commander ordered, stealing the SMG's attention back. "If you'd take a seat. You'll see I have a printed list of potential duty rosters for when we are put back in operational status. Would you mind reviewing them for me? I would like to know the opinions of an Elite."
"I can do that."
LWMMG heaved a depressed sigh as MP7 eased into the seat opposite Commander's desk and began flipping through the files. Despite her candid behavior, MP7 had a renowned work ethic and took her job very seriously. Since these duty rosters could decide which Tactical Dolls came back intact, it occupied one hundred percent of her attention. The pair spent over an hour reviewing the rosters, with MP7 providing detailed and impartial feedback on pairings, choices, and observations. From time to time LWMMG inserted her own thoughts, either at their request or when she found herself burning with need to speak, but otherwise she retreated to her desk and worked on the miscellaneous jobs that had been lined up for her.
After Commander dismissed MP7, LWMMG vowed that today was going to have no more setbacks. She reaffirmed to herself that she was going to be the best adjutant Commander could ask for, and nothing else would spoil the day.
-v-
"Oohhh… you've got to be kidding me," LWMMG moaned, staring at the shattered tea mug as she sat on the floor, her shorts soaked in tea.
-v-
"C-c-commander! Don't look! G-give it back you beast!" she cried out, frantically tugging at her shorts, wrestling with Bettty, Honey Badger's pet, in the midst of a crowd of amused Tactical Dolls and one very uncomfortable-looking Commander.
-v-
"Aaaarrrrrgh… Commander!" The Machine Gun groaned and kicked her legs helplessly, wanting to die of shame as she hung suspended in midair, neatly trapped in the hole-in-the-wall she had fallen into.
-v-
"WHYYY!?"
LWMMG stood stock still, water spilling down her hair and shoulders, shivering as the broken faucet continued to blast her with cold water.
-v-
"Thank god it's over," she groaned, collapsing wearily onto her bed.
Her entire day had been nothing but a string of disasters. First there was the incident of slapping Commander, then the humiliating situation MP7 walked into, then she spilled tea on her shorts, then Betty attacked her pants because of the scent and yanked them to the ground, exposing her white panties to Commander, then she tripped while trying to put her pants back on and fell headfirst into the hole that Saiga put in the wall a few days ago and got stuck and Commander had to pull her back out of it which involved some very awkward touching, then he escorted her to a nearby washroom to clean off her clothes and a broken faucet exploded on her, leaving her soaked and revealing her bra underneath her shirt, then…
"Ahhhhh…"
The physical toll of her accumulated shame expelled itself in a ragged breath. Burying her face in her pillow, the Machine Gun groaned and cursed the day over and over. This had been her big shot, her chance to show off to Commander, and all she had done was fail. Spectacularly fail.
It would amaze her if she ever got put on adjutant duty again.
"That bad, eh?"
A comforting, and somewhat amused, voice came from her left. LWMMG shook her head petulantly instead of replying.
"Commander's never going to look at me again," the Machine Gun complained.
"Aw, it couldn't have been that bad." The voice rang out again, this time much closer. A weight pressed down on the bed, and the mattress tilted just enough that LWMMG had to shift to avoid rolling over. She liked her bed a little underpressured, but right now she wished it remained level so she wouldn't have to take her face out of the pillow and see the grinning Grizzly.
The Handgun put a calming hand on LWMMG's head and stroked her hair.
"C'mon, Old Man. It isn't like you stripped naked in front of him or something."
"Don't call me old man," LWMMG pouted. "And I may as well have. Goodness, I even almost called him Commander C-"
"Commander what?"
"Um… nevermind…" she blushed furiously at the memory. MP7's teasing had almost led her into ruin too many times today.
"Still, everyone has bad days. You just had an unlucky one." A hint of her smile faded, and the Handgun allowed her perpetual smirk to grow serious for a moment. "He isn't going to let this reflect on your record permanently or anything."
"And how would you know that?" LWMMG glared up at the Handgun out of the corner of one eye.
"Because he'd be an idiot to judge you off of one bad day, and I don't think this one's an idiot." Grizzly shook her head. "Well, not that kind of an idiot. Listen, apart from the accidents, did you do your job?"
"Um…" LWMMG pondered the question, reflecting on all the work Commander had her do. They really had gone through a lot of paperwork, and she went on several fetch requests for him too. Those surprisingly went off without a hitch. Bad things only happened when he was present. "I guess we got a lot done."
"And do you feel that your work helped take the workload off Commander and help him destress?"
"...I think so?"
"Uggh… think so or know so. It isn't a hard question," another voice grumbled from across the room. Bren glanced over from her vanity, a selection of perfumes laid out for evaluation. The whole room had planned a night out to celebrate LWMMG's adjutant selection. Though they were staying on-base, there was little hesitation about getting dressed up for the event. LWMMG honestly did not remember who thought up the idea, but after a day like this she did want to go out and have a few drinks. With luck she'd forget entirely about the day.
"I… I did a good job," LWMMG grunted, firming her brows in a determined smile.
"Damn right you did. You're our Old Man, and an old man doesn't do a bad job." Grizzly snatched LWMMG's extra pillow and shoved it in the Machine Gun's face before she could protest the nickname. Dancing away from the bed with a husky laugh, the Handgun let out a cheerful whoop and summoned the others. "Oy! Bren, Ithaca, PTRD, Enfield, who's ready to par-taaaaay!"
A chorus of muted grumbling rose up from throughout the room. Though they were all excited about the evening out, none of LWMMG's roommates shared Grizzly's unbridled enthusiasm. The fiery Handgun had a wild streak a mile long and they had all learned to not encourage it. Should Grizzly get even more fired up, she might even insist on requisitioning a vehicle from the garage, and NO ONE wanted to ride shotgun with Grizzly behind the wheel.
Allowing herself a few minutes to bleed away the lingering embarrassment of the day, LWMMG groaned and hugged her pillow tightly. At least her day was over, and she had survived it no matter how much damage her pride had suffered.
She remained there until Ithaca dragged her off the bed and both Bren and Lee Enfield went to work prettying her up for the night out. Most Tactical Dolls did not use much in the way of makeup. They generally did not have to, at least not in the way human females did in order to look their best. But the ladies here were artists with a makeup brush, and LWMMG enjoyed the rewarding feeling of looking into the mirror and having the others comment about how stunning she looked. Were it not for their aid she would likely just go out as she always did.
"You know, if Commander sees you like this I'm sure he'll forget all about your embarrassing day," Ithaca tittered. The bubbly Shotgun hugged LWMMG from behind and planted her chin on the Machine Gun's shoulder. The fact that she reached that high up told LWMMG that Ithaca was on her tiptoes. "Look at you. You'll knock the socks off of any man!"
"T-thanks, Ithaca." LWMMG blushed, acutely aware of the smirks decorating her roommates' faces. The six Tactical Dolls combined could roll up into any club and draw every eye in the joint, should they want to. Between Lee Enfield and Bren's elegant dresses and the daring halter top Grizzly chose, not to mention Ithaca's shoulderless blouse and PTRD's spectacular black crop top, they were a fearsome sight to any human party.
She often wondered how and why she had ended up in this particular room. They all got along well, but the others were all social and outgoing Tactical Dolls while she herself had a hard time stepping out to meet new people. Still, it was nice to have such exuberant friends to push her along.
Once they had all finished preparations, the room inhabitants evacuated their dorm room and headed out across base for a night of partying. The sun was still setting, leaving it light enough for them to see easily and not too chilly yet. If the weather held they might even take up the outdoor seating.
As long as she didn't let herself get sandwiched between the notorious duo of Ithaca and PTRD, she should be fine.
Come to think of it, Ithaca was one of the Tactical Dolls who had… done it, with Commander. LWMMG glanced over at the Shotgun, who had engrossed herself in some distant thought and was gazing off to their right with a goofy smile on her face.
"Um… Ithaca?"
"Eh? What's up, Lam?"
The Shotgun blinked, drawing her thoughts back in, and shot LWMMG a friendly grin. Ithaca's infectious happiness had always struck her as a boon, but in this particular moment it only made the Machine Gun a little uncertain of how to ask the question. For that matter, she wasn't even sure what sort of question she wanted to ask. She could not exactly go and ask something super personal like how was Commander as a lover.
Did she even want to know that?
"Um… they say you and Commander are pretty… uh… close."
"Yeah, that's accurate." Ithaca's grin widened. "Are you talking about as boss-to-subordinate or the other thing?"
"Ah!" LWMMG made a strangled noise and glanced hurriedly away. She noticed that her roommates were all watching, some showing interest and others amusement. This early in the new commander's career, any information was valuable information. They all knew the sordid rumors, but there was more to it than mere gossip. Ithaca had been surprisingly tight-lipped about her trysts with Commander, though not out of embarrassment or shame. Rather, the Shotgun told those that asked it was 'none of their business.'
A fair judgement, after all. Ithaca was entitled to her own private life, such as a Tactical Doll could have.
"I take it you mean the other thing," The Shotgun murmured. A quiet, contemplative gaze spread across Ithaca's features, then the Shotgun nodded and slapped LWMMG on the back. "Well, I'd say you earned a bit of the story after everything that happened to you today. But not until I get a Cardinale in me."
"So, elusive tale of Commander's first night on base will be revealed," PTRD mused, chuckling to herself. "We want no embellishments, Ithaca."
"However, you may feel free to skip over the more obscene details of the acts," Lee Enfield added, somehow making the suggestion sound like a do-or-die order.
LWMMG winced when she realized what she had just unleashed.
-v-
"Pwaaah, that's the stuff!"
PTRD slammed her shot glass down on the table and waved over to the bar. Despite the crowd, G36 noted the gesture and translated it with the same crisp deductive skills the Assault Rifle showed on the battlefield. It went without saying that another shot would be appearing in a minute or so, and PTRD gave a satisfied nod in the bar's direction. Half a dozen empty shot glasses showed just how G36 had come to understand the Rifle's gesture so instinctively.
"I can't believe you sometimes," LWMMG grumbled. The Machine Gun was still nursing her second martini, anxiously glancing between it and the distant sight of Commander sitting at the far end of the bar's countertop seating. He had shown up just a little while after they did, entering the bar quietly and going to the corner without causing a ruckus. His off-duty attire was muted compared to the burgundy uniform he wore during the day. A dark blue button up shirt and black denims. Ever since he had come in LWMMG could not help but stare across the bar, wondering just what the man was thinking.
"Ha! You think this too much? Here, let me help you finish so you can join." PTRD chortled and made a half-hearted grab at the martini in LWMMG's hand. Hurriedly pulling it out of reach, the Machine Gun tsked at her roommate.
"I'll finish this, thank you very much."
"A'tha rate you're eye-ffffffucking Commander, I bery much doubt," Ithaca giggled from LWMMG's other side. Yes, somehow LWMMG ended up stuck between the two busty Tactical Dolls. She might have complained but they were exceptionally entertaining company.
The Shotgun did not have six empty shot glasses in front of her, but rather four empty glasses. Rosy-cheeked and clearly having lost a good sense of restraint, the Shotgun slumped against LWMMG's shoulder and giggled too loudly.
"I am not eye-f… eye-f-... I'm not doing that," LWMMG protested.
"I believe it is more likely that our little Lam is keeping an eye on our wayward firebrand," Lee Enfield commented. The blonde-haired Rifle with the steely gaze perched delicately on her stool, idly stirring her gin and tonic.
The Rifle's words turned the attention of all present to Commander's current companion. Grizzly had snuck off soon after his arrival and reappeared at his side, seemingly abandoning her own roommates for some one-on-one time with Commander. Considering she had been so excited about this girls' outing, LWMMG was surprised, and a little hurt, to see her run off like that.
"Just what is she doing over there," Bren complained, glaring at the Handgun over the lip of her brandy.
"Hey, hey, it's fine," LWMMG insisted, though she could not turn away from the sight of Grizzly leaning up against the bar countertop, her head tilted back and to the side to catch Commander's eye as the two chatted about something. The pose the Handgun had taken was a little… brazen… with how it showed off her womanly figure in that tight outfit. In LWMMG's mind, she imagined Grizzly was flirting quite shamelessly with Commander, who even-
"He just laughed at what she said." LWMMG gasped.
"Hooooly shipp," Ithaca mumbled. "She's gonna do the flirting wiv Commandah. He'sh my Commandah to flirts with. Ssshe how'zat gonna be? Not if'n I flirts wiv'm flirst!"
The table nearly upended as Ithaca pushed off of her stool. PTRD cried out in dismay as her neatly arrayed line of empty shot glasses started to slide, Lee Enfield grimaced and scampered out of the way as their extra napkins went over the edge, and Bren muttered something dark and ominous under her breath before scooping up all of the Shotgun's empty glasses before they could tumble.
LWMMG retained her senses just enough to grab Ithaca by the shoulder before the Shotgun rampaged across the bar.
"No, Ithaca! Calm down!"
"Your fashe can caaalm down!" The Shotgun flailed, nearly smacking the gin and tonic from her hand.
"Easy there, Ithaca."
Lee Enfield came to the rescue, wrapping her arms around Ithaca in what looked like a friendly hug, but was actually an inescapable strong pinning maneuver that relied on the Shotgun's greatest weakness: her height. Lifting Ithaca into the air, the Rifle carried the helplessly kicking Shotgun back to her stool and deposited her on it without ceremony.
"Behave, Ithaca, or we are taking you back early."
"Ssssssigggggghhhh, Okays, Lee. I'll b'halvs..."
The words had barely spilled from Ithaca's lips before the Shotgun groaned and dropped her head onto the table. Gentle snores quickly filled LWMMG's ears. Considering Ithaca and the other Shotguns on base spent most of the day in team-building exercises in the assault course, it was no surprise that she went from sixty to zero and passed out without warning.
"Oh great, now we have to carry it back," PTRD grumbled.
"We're carrying who ba- oh, wow, she's out like a light."
Grizzly bounded up to the table, a fiendish smile on her face. The Handgun poked Ithaca's shoulder once, one brow cocked in surprise, before casting her smile across the assembled Tactical Dolls.
"Look who's back," Bren growled. "And here I thought you'd left us in your dust."
"Aw, don't be like that Bren! You know I adore you all. I just had some business with Commander, that's all." The Handgun smirked, and slid onto the stool just beside the unconscious Ithaca. "Here, next round's on me, a'ight?"
"That I will drink to," LWMMG's other neighbor crowed. "Round of shots for ze room."
"A brandy, if you please," Lee Enfield added.
"Dark'n'Stormy," Bren chimed in.
"I'll take a-"
"Nah, you don't want to get drunk tonight," Grizzly interrupted, hopping off her stool and positioning herself behind LWMMG. The Handgun grabbed her shoulders and began rubbing soothingly, digging her thumbs into the Machine Gun to ease out the knots in her muscles. "You never know what opportunities you might walk into tonight."
The Handgun put a weird emphasis on her words, and the others at the table all stiffened as if Grizzly had sent out some signal from behind her back. LWMMG frowned at being left out of the loop, but she could only nod along as the others quickly chimed in, firmly cutting her off for the night.
"Great," the Machine Gun grumbled. She felt like the night was only getting worse.
-v-
"Lovely night out, eh?"
LWMMG cocked her head to the side and joined the others in gazing up at the starry sky. There were enough lights on in the middle of base that the beauty of the sky was muted, but they could still see the distant twinkling lights and enjoyed their appearance.
The six Tactical Dolls, one still out cold and the other five in various states of inebriation, shuffled off in the direction of their dorm like a herd of cattle. LWMMG led the way, being the most sober due to the unexpected and unfair drinks cut off that Grizzly and the others imposed upon her. This was a night to celebrate her, but she was the one left out of all the fun. Even Lee Enfield got tipsy enough to get on the karaoke stage and belt out an old sea shanty.
But here LWMMG was, sober as a child and frustrated at how the night had turned out. She tried to hide her disappointment, but in the end decided it made more sense to walk in front of the others because there was no good way to avoid the fact that her roommates were in much better moods than she.
Then again, she could not hide the tenseness in her shoulders, or the stiffness in her gait, and a garrulous Handgun quickly jumped on her because of that.
"Heeeeey, Old Man. Why's tha loooong face?"
"Leave me alone," LWMMG grumbled, roughly shaking Grizzly off.
"Sheesh, it's like ya think I stole ya panties or something." The Handgun laughed to herself, and the others joined in. LWMMG's ears burned at the sound of their amusement, but she held back her frustration and merely balled her hands into tight fists. She really was not in the mood to deal with Grizzly tonight. Not after the Handgun hyped her up for tonight, ditched them for a while, then showed back up and shut her off from drinking as if she was the boss.
""Don't be sour, LWMMG," PTRD chastised. The Rifle walked alongside Lee Enfield and Bren, who were supporting the still-snoring Ithaca. "The night is not over yet."
"Yeah, I can go sit in the room and listen to you birds chirping up a storm. Lovely."
"Hehe, that'shhh our Lammie. She's an angry widdle Lammie." Grizzly reappeared over her shoulders, this time locking her arms around LWMMG like a bear cub hanging onto its mother. "Don't be mad, get hic glaaaad. Wha' wouldj'a do if'n you're drunk an' tha commandah was'ta be riiiight aroun'dat cornah?"
"Grizzly!" LWMMG fought to extricate herself, digging her hands between Grizzly's arm and her own chest, but the Handgun clung to her fiercely. "Get! Off! I am not in the moo-"
"Oh, hai! Here'shh da commandah!"
A stab of panic shot through the Machine Gun's veins as they rounded the block and she found herself face-to-face with Commander. The human base officer was staring at what looked like a napkin, but glanced up when the sextet of Tactical Dolls came into view.
"C-commander?"
"Howdy, Commanah!"
An arm freed itself from around her neck and Grizzly slid from LWMMG's back, stepping back so smoothly it almost felt choreographed. The Handgun waved in an exaggerated motion, nearly hitting the other Tactical Dolls as they stumbled to a halt just a few steps behind LWMMG. The sudden positioning made LWMMG feel very alone and isolated, as she stood just before Commander with all her roommates at a safe distance.
"Lam, fancy meeting you out here." Commander stuffed the napkin into his pocket and turned to greet them all. "Ladies."
"Good evening Commander," the others chirped in chorus.
"Why, whatever could you be doing out by yourself this time of night," Grizzly asked innocently. The slurring speech she had been using for the past hour had mysteriously vanished, and LWMMG turned back to give the Handgun an incredulous look.
"Funnily enough, someone at the bar told me about this quiet spot on base with a good view of the stars. Unfortunately her instructions were a little unclear, so I've been trying to figure out where it is." Commander's voice sounded a little deadpan, suspiciously emotionless, but before LWMMG could think about it Grizzly spoke up again.
"Wow, that's weird, I think LWMMG knows exactly the spot that kind and lovely friend told you about. You know, Lam, that spot thirty meters south of the training field behind the equipment shed that you've definitely been to before." Grizzly stepped forwards and threw an overly familiar arm around LWMMG's shoulders. "Riiight?"
"The wh- but I haven'-"
"Yep, that sounds like the spot," Commander agreed. "But I'm still not familiar enough to think I can figure it out myself. It'd be real nice if I had someone to guide me there."
"Ah, I'm sorry, Commander, but I don't think I know the spot." LWMMG shook her head. "Grizzly here probably knows it. I'm sure she-"
"I'd love to help," Grizzly interrupted, "but you see I've got my hands full helping the others back to the dorms. We all went at it a little hard, you see, but LWMMG here held back because she's the responsible one."
"Held-" LWMMG's eyes narrowed. "Ithaca's the only one who needs help, and Lee Enfield and Bren-"
"I said," Grizzly repeated, raising her voice in something that sounded like exasperation. "I've got my hands full helping the others back to the dorms!"
An awkward silence followed in her announcement. LWMMG blushed under the amused scrutiny of Commander, who watched the clownish display in silence. Grizzly had her head turned back and was glaring fiercely at som-
"Oh!" PTRD suddenly staggered to the side, her head lolling in an exaggerated manner. "I suddenly feel drunk. It must have been that seventeenth shot. So drunk, much help. I don't think I can make it back to dorms unless just Grizzly and only Grizzly help me walk back."
"See, my hands are full." Grizzly's brilliant smile returned as if it had never left. Giving LWMMG an encouraging slap on the back, the Handgun retreated to slide under PTRD's arm and assist her. "Lam can show you the way, Commander. Nice running into you out of the blue like this. It's a real shame we can't all hang out or something."
"Shame," Lee Enfield agreed, nodding sagely as she and Bren scurried past with Ithaca in tow. An Ithaca that was definitely not snoring anymore. It sounded more like… snickering.
In seconds, the street had emptied save for LWMMG and Commander. The Machine Gun gazed up at him in curiosity, clutching her arms as if to ward off the cold, though in truth she felt fine in these temperatures. It would have to reach the single digits for her to really feel anything.
"Um… so…" Her words trailed off miserably, and LWMMG lowered her gaze to the pavement.
"Rumor has it that there's this nice place for stargazing out behind the training field," Commander told her. He held out his hand. "How about we try and find it together. If you don't mind taking one last job for the night."
"One… last job?" LWMMG's eyes brightened, and she accepted his hand with a small grin. "I think I'd like that, Commander."
"After you," he offered, and fell into step alongside her.
The Machine Gun clutched his hand as fiercely as she dared, and led him in the direction of the training fields with a slight bounce in her steps.
-v-
"Awwww… she's so adorable," Grizzly murmured, peering around the corner at the departing couple.
"It is clear she has crush," PTRD added, no longer staggering or feeling the slightest bit drunk. Due to the tall Rifle's size, her massive breasts were currently resting on Grizzly's shoulders, reinforcing her intimidating stature to any in sight.
"All I'm saying is next time someone else gets to play the drunk," Ithaca grumbled. The Shotgun had produced a flask of water from somewhere and was currently sipping at the drink to soothe her throat. "It's hard on a girl's throat to fake snoring for an hour."
"Shush, you. Everyone knows you and PTRD are the drinkers in this group." Bren scowled at Ithaca.
"Hey, I wasn't the one who got up and sang karaoke!" Ithaca thrust an accusing finger in Lee Enfield's direction.
"I… well… circumstances dictated that we distract LWMMG while Grizzly finished hashing out the details of the plan," the blushing Rifle countered.
"Oh, like you weren't making eyes at Commander the entire time." Ithaca sighed. "Sheesh, all you gals gunning for my boytoy's gonna make me jealous."
"I'd love to see Commander's reaction if he hears you call him your boytoy," Grizzly snickered. "Hm… he really does just have that feeling about him. You weren't kidding when you said you get giddy just being near him."
"Yeah, you know, it's the weirdest thing." Ithaca grinned and slid the flask back into her cleavage. "He just acts so level-headed and dependable. He's nothing like the previous commanders I've seen."
"And mysterious too," PTRD added.
"I know! Like, there's no way in hell his name is actually Commander."
"The records state it is," Bren pointed out. "I believe we can all agree that there is some measure of fabricated mystery in his background, but that is a decision that was made between himself and the higher ups. It is not our place to judge or investigate."
"Well, regardless, he's a good guy." The Shotgun gave one last look down the street. LWMMG and Commander had turned off the main street at some point, leaving it empty. "And I think LWMMG will be fine. He's only made moves on Tactical Dolls that advanced on him first, and she's definitely too innocent to do that."
"Yeah… she'll probably be fine." Grizzly nodded, then reached up and patted the two massive funbags sandwiching her ears. "Alrighty, then, let's head back now. PTRD, I appreciate the cushion, but could'ja move your pillows before I strain my shoulders holding them up? Drinks are on me back at the ranch."
-v-
Whoever told Commander about the view, and LWMMG had a sneaky suspicion it was Grizzly herself who had orchestrated all this, was not lying about how pretty it was. The training field was on the extreme edge of the base, in fact it technically was off the base grounds and outside the wire. This far away from all the lights, the sky was mostly unobscured, and she let out a happy sigh as she and Commander sat down on the bench they found waiting for them behind the equipment shed.
"Wow, this is gorgeous," LWMMG murmured.
"It certainly is," Commander agreed.
Their shoulders pressed against each other as they shared the bench. LWMMG was hesitant at first to have such intimate contact, but she had been holding his hand for a while now so she figured this much would be fine. Besides, Commander did not appear to think much of it. At the least, he occupied himself with stargazing for several minutes, and LWMMG did likewise.
It was a beautiful night out, with almost no clouds in the sky, and they took turns pointing out familiar constellations until she ran out of reference points. Commander knew a few, more than she expected but not quite as many as she did, though she had the advantage of being able to search through G&K records for an almanac and he was relying on organic knowledge and memory.
Night fell in full, and the temperature plunged half a dozen degrees. LWMMG shivered a little at one point, and checked her internal thermometer to confirm that yes, it was growing cold. Cold enough she would likely be trembling if she were human. The cold did not seem to bother Commander, but humans ran at higher internal temperatures and regulated heat more efficiently than Tactical Dolls did.
LWMMG gazed down at their entwined hands, enjoying the tactile sensation of his rough palm and calloused fingers. They were the hands of a fighter, a seasoned warrior. She did not think she had ever met a commander without smooth hands before. They were usually soft and gentle. Not like this commander. He was older, stronger, fiercer. Perhaps some of their commanders possessed strong wills, but Commander embodied the definition of competency. At least to her, he did. Being at his side like this made her feel secure and comfortable.
It struck her as odd, that. Tactical Dolls were supposed to make humans feel secure and comfortable, not the other way around. Tactical Dolls were expendable, reusable warriors that could fight and die and fight again so humans did not have to. Tactical Dolls were safe. A buffer between humanity and the horrors of war.
Commander came from before that time, if she had to guess. She was not exactly sure how; that was decades ago after all. But it felt to her as if he had seen war firsthand. That he had fought in the same way Tactical Dolls did, and possessed the same experiences. Of course, this was all conjecture based on vague observations, but LWMMG was convinced that Commander knew more and could do more than any Commander she had ever met.
"You look cold," Commander noted softly.
Things like that, LWMMG thought, made him different. The other Commanders were airheaded, oblivious to the thoughts, needs and desires of Tactical Dolls. They either saw Tactical Dolls as human-imitating machines or were unable to properly interact because they were overwhelmed by how human Tactical Dolls could be.
Commander wasn't like that. He talked to her, treated her, just like she was a normal human girl. And that made her happy.
"It's getting chilly," she answered, and dared to press up against his arm.
After a moment's pause, Commander lifted his arm, brought it over her head, and pulled her into the crook of his shoulder. LWMMG's face flushed with heat, but she snuggled into the warmth of his chest, happily grasping his dangling hand with both of hers.
"You did good today, Lam." His tone sounded almost fatherly to her. That made LWMMG's artificial heart hammer in her chest, and she hid her face to prevent him from seeing how silly her grin was.
"T- thank you, Commander. I know that I made mis-"
"No one is perfect," he reminded her, silencing her with a comforting squeeze. "And while yours was perhaps the most eventful day I've had with an adjutant, that hardly ruined it. You held on quite admirably despite the inconveniences that hounded you."
"I… I did, didn't I?" She wiggled happily under his arm.
"For what it's worth, I would happily have you as my adjutant again," he assured her.
The Machine Gun fell silent, because she feared if she opened her mouth nothing would come out but unintelligible squeals of happiness. Rather than risking embarrassing herself again, LWMMG settled for leaning into Commander's body and enjoying the pleasing warmth he provided. They sat on the bench like that for some time until her awareness faded and her core went into sleep mode.
