Welcome to Chapter Ten, everyone! Following his surprisingly successful counseling session, Ian finally hosts that party he wanted to host. Meanwhile, Helian questions the wounded T-Dolls Sector 09 rescued.

Anyways, I think I should put some more distance between 1-3 and 1-4 in terms of chapter count, so I might use this opportunity to introduce a flashback chapter after the party.

I hope you enjoy the chapter, guys!

Sector 09 Base

Neo-Soviet Union

July 4, 2062

Commander Ian Becker

Ian exhaled as he and Kalina admired their work, along with Springfield and G36. The party was more akin to a small cookout between neighbors, but it was enough for the American. Two medium-sized tables carried various foods and drinks, and while they weren't fancy or anything, there was a little bit of everything, from traditional Russian foods to dishes from the US. Sten had also introduced her baking skills into the mix, adding meals from England into the mix.

Concerning the drinks (which got their own table), AK-47 had donated some of her vodka to the party, and accompanying it was a large bowl of fruit punch, milk (for MP5, as she was determined to "grow up,") some nice whiskey, and water.

M1911 had some fireworks left over from a previous celebration, and after asking Helian about them (and the party), she approved of it, stating that it would take a few days for her to get the intel she was after and that Sector 09 never had a proper welcome party.

So here he was, standing by the punch bowl with his heavy trench coat and black gloves discarded, waiting for the base's staff to get to the lobby.

There they are, he thought to himself as first the T-Dolls, then the humans that survived the attack entered the lobby, no doubt curious about the party he had told them about. AK-47, however, beelined to the drink table where the Commander stood at and extracted the vodka bottle, pouring a glass for her boss. Her bandoiler was gone again, but she had put a green tank top on in its place, unlike last time.

Ian was about to ask her why she poured him a glass, but then he remembered what he told her back in her dorm room.

"Thanks." he said instead, accepting the drink and consuming it. "Bottoms up."

The Commander was taken aback by just how strong the T-Doll's drink was, and for a moment he was tempted to spit it out, but he swallowed it and felt a burning sensation lance down his throat instead.

"Is vodka not your thing, sir?" AK-47 asked him, having noticed his discomfort.

"I normally don't drink alcoholic drinks in general, but that was a bit too strong." he replied.

"Sorry about that." she apologized, drinking her own vodka straight from the bottle.

Not in the mood to scorch his throat anymore, he ladeled some of the punch into a new cup as he was approached by M1911, who still wore her traditional outfit. Then again, it was Independence Day, and she was an American-built T-Doll. To his relief, her shoulder had been expertly repaired, leaving no trace of her injury.

"Hiya, Commander! Enjoying yourself?" she asked.

"I just scorched my throat with AK's vodka, so do you think I'm having fun?"

"Oh. I should have warned you, sir."

"It's fine." Ian simply told her. "I usually don't drink, anyways. Are you doing okay?"

"Yup! The technicians here are miracle workers."

She moved her right arm around in a circle to show her restored articulation, heading over to one of the food tables and fetching a buttery biscuit from it, biting into it. Her expression turned into food-induced bliss, humming contendedly as she consumed the simple biscuit.

In Ian's mind, she looked completely and utterly adorable in that moment.

"You okay, Boss?" AK-47 asked.

"Just saw something I liked." he replied.

The blonde AR's eyes fell onto her leader, and she nodded in understanding. Then she got a cheeky look on her face.

"I didn't know you had a thing for 1911, hehe..."

Ian could have sworn that some of his hairs greyed, and he was quick to deny it before she said anything dumb.

"Not you, too! I've already had one guy write a fucking erotica about the two of us! We aren't a thing!"

AK-47's eyebrows went up to her hairline, and her expression was inquisitive. Only then did the Commander realize what he just revealed, a swear escaping his lips as he facepalmed.

"Wait, what?!" M1911 shouted in surprise, but thanks to the music a serviceman put on, it wasn't heard by anyone but Ian and AK-47. She approached her superior and wasted no time in asking him about who had the audacity to write about him and her getting intimate.

"Hehehe, I forgot to tell you about that..."

"Who needs their nuts shot off?!"

"One of my classmates at the academy. He saw us together at some point and thought 'wow, those two look really adorable together' and wrote it on a whim."

"Where is he stationed?" M1911 asked, death in her eyes.

"Um, I don't think Griffin would like to lose a Commander with his skills." Ian replied, defending his classmate.

"I just need to secure that heresy and burn it." the blonde growled darkly, drawing a pistol.

Ian waved AK-47 off and gave his response to M1911: "The stubborn bastard gave it to me, so no random pervert's reading it in their private time."

"Please tell me you didn't read it."

"Only once, but it was only to see if it was good."

The blonde exhailed in relief, holstering her pistol and getting a cup, filling it with punch.

"Good, because I don't want anyone to be getting off to me."

The two friends simply drank their drinks in silence, watching as Kalina engaged in a drinking contest with AK-47 while G36 and Springfield watched them, remembering the last time this happened.

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!" the servicemen chanted, watching the Russians engage in a battle of alcohol and endurance as well.

"I wonder who's gonna win this one." M1911 stated, grabbing a sandwich to eat and giving Ian a second one.

"Does Kalina have good alcohol tolerance?"

"Yup. She consistently beat our old Commander out in drinking contests in the old days."

It then occured to Ian that he was woefully uninformed on his predecessor, even if he was dead.

"What was he like? The old Commander, I mean." he asked.

M1911 didn't speak for a moment, but when she did, she spoke softly.

"He was in the Russian Army during the war, fighting in North Africa as an infantryman kinda like you were in Germany, where he lost his leg to British artillery. While he couldn't rejoin the army and the war ended, he ended up joining Griffin a few years later after he got a prosthetic leg. He was a bit jaded in the beginning, and he didn't like to talk that much, but he warmed up to us later on, and he was a bit like a benevolent ruler then. He kicked a lot of ass, too."

She then looked at G36, who was completely prepared to clean up the mess that AK-47 and Kalina were bound to make. The latter indeed had good tolerance, but she was beginning to act a little tipsy, and her cheeks were flushed.

"He and G36 loved each other greatly." she quietly added. "They were gonna get married at some point, but before they could..."

Ian knew exactly what happened next, and the Command Room exploding played in his mind.

"She cried so much that night. I remember trying to calm her down after it happened, but I don't think it worked too well..."

The image of the blonde HG trying to comfort a crying G36 as she clutched the body of her Commander entered Ian's mind, and it hurt him deeply inside.

"Damn. I don't hold a candle to him, do I?" he asked.

"You just got here. You have a lot of potential, and like I told you back in May, what you'll accomplish here will have far-reaching consequences. Heck, you might even cement yourself as Griffin's best Commander someday."

As exciting as that sounded, Ian couldn't help but feel sorry for G36 and the rest of his older subordinates, especially since the maid was reportedly in love with the previous Commander.

"I need to talk to her." he said, finishing his drink. "It's not easy to recover from losing a loved one, I'd know that."

M1911 nodded in agreement, setting her drink down as Kalina finally gave in and passed out, earning a triumphant roar from AK-47 and a thunderous applause from the crowd.

He then cast his gaze towards MP5, who had a glass of milk, and Sten, who had a pastry, standing at a food table and chatting away. It seemed as though those two had gotten along very quickly, and unlike himself, who had to spend two whole months talking to M1911 to even consider her his friend, the SMGs became fast friends over the course of only two days.

"Those two got along real fast." he told M1911 absentmindedly.

"Yup." she agreed.

The rookie cast his gaze towards the FN T-Dolls, who had hit it off very easily, it seemed. FN-49 was simply eating a sandwich, taking cute little bites out of it and being careful not to get any crumbs on her, and FNC... was chowing down on her fifth chocolate bar while she chatted away with the shy T-Doll.

Unbelievable...

The shyer of the two noticed him first, waving at him with a demure smile on her face while FNC said "How're ya doing?" with her chocolate in her mouth.

In all honesty, Ian was feeling much more relaxed than he had in a decade, where he had to deal with the Russians either in combat or through outmaneuvering them. So his answer was a bit obvious.

"I haven't been able to unwind like this in eleven years." he honestly replied.

"How? You just joined Griffin!" FNC pointed out.

"And I was left for dead here by my own government over here after the failed attack on Moscow ten years ago, and before that, I was fighting the Russians in Europe."

"Wait, really? I didn't know..." She dipped her head down in shame, "All of a sudden, I feel really bad for making FN-49 take that chocolate from the storeroom..."

After she said that, the shy girl in question sqeaked and apologized for doing so and Ian's eye twitched.

"You did what?" he asked the chocolate lover, a slightly murderous aura emitting from him. But before FNC could reply, FN-49 responded.

"U-um, FNC ran out of the chocolate those bandits Sangvis killed had and needed my help to get some more, and when I asked, she told me Miss Kalina was fine with it, so I got her some chocolate from the storeroom..." the young woman answered demurely.

"FN-49, don't listen to FNC, and FNC, shame on you for misleading my troops. I assure you that Kalina did not allow you to do that."

It was a good thing the logistics officer was unconscious from a drinking battle, because she would've been pissed to learn that a Doll stole from the storeroom.

Of course, he would tell her later, but right now? The girl needed to sleep, especially after consuming so much alcohol.

He instead decided to look for AK-47, going through the party area and searching until he found the Russian, drinking and chatting with M1911 again.

"What was the Boss' squad from the war like?"

"He never told me about anyone in it, but according to him, they were a wild bunch. Kind of like an eight man Griffin Echelon."

The drunk laughed wholeheartedly, likely imagining what the ex-soldier's squad was like. Funnily enough, that was the case for Ian. Each and every one of the soldiers he was buddied up with were special in their own way, and it had been quite the honor to fight alongside them.

"That's kind of what it was like." Ian said, getting the T-Dolls' attention. "We weren't the grisly-faced hardasses the Russians had in their ranks. For the most part, we were barely of age when we enlisted or got drafted."

"Says the one who wasn't even of age when he got in." M1911 retorted, earning a laugh from AK-47.

"Right?"

"If you were a survivor of the Russian attack on the US, then you'd have done the same."

"True."

Leaving the Dolls to talk amongst themselves again, Ian briefly wondered what Helian was doing and whether or not she was fine.

Senior Officer Helianthus

Helian watched as the Ingram MAC-10 Doll Sector 09's Dolls rescued settled down in the simple metal chair in front of her, wincing a little as she shifted on the chair. Unlike most of the Dolls rescued, this one was still speech-capable, and as such, could tell her what she needed to know.

"So we're back already..." the battle-thirsty SMG murmured. "Not the slightest bit of fun the whole way back. I was bored to tears..."

"Save it, Ingram." Helian told her, not in the mood to hear her whining. "If it hadn't been for the T-Dolls that came to your aid, then you would be dead."

Ingram laughed it off.

"It was a chance to risk my life." she replied. "After all, the riskier it is, the more I revel in it. Although I'm jealous those Dolls from HQ stole all the fun before I could have some."

According to the footage Commander Becker sent her, his team had performed admirably despite not being on the field in three months, and despite the presence of Doll units that weren't there the last time Griffin had scouted the area, they all got out in one piece nonetheless. Undoubtedly this Doll wanted a piece of the action, but with holes burned through her torso and scratches along her face, arms, and legs, she was in no condition to fight.

"Focus, Ingram. You're one of the few survivors that are still capable of speech, and I have a few things to confirm with you."

"So that's why I'm not getting repaired yet." Ingram said. "But you're the boss."

"Do you remember what happened to the StG-44 and PPSh-41 of observation outpost 213?"

Ingram though long and hard about it.

"They were trying to find a new base to live in when they ran into a Sangvis called Agent. She seemed to be after something, and those two were trying to hold her off for some reason. Me and my buddies only made it out alive because we weren't her targets."

So PPSh-41 and StG-44 were likely KIA. That left vz.61 Skorpion.

"VZ.61 Skorpion is the only one who's still missing. You two are close, aren't you?"

The Doll nodded.

"Do you know her whereabouts?"

Ingram shrugged in response.

"Sorry, but I wasn't on the frontline back then. However... if she's still alive, then she'll probably have left some clues behind. That gal can be pretty sharp when it counts."

"Understood..." Helian said. "That's all I needed from you. Go get repaired. I'm sure your friends are waiting for you."

Ingram stood up to leave, looking up at the Senior Officer to ask her something.

"Will we be able to have our vengeance... for Skorpion and the others?"

Helian paused, trying to come up with a reply.

"Hurry up and get patched up, Ingram." she said instead. "But to answer your question... you'll get your chance at revenge."

The Doll grinned maliciously, and Helian could have sworn her left eye was glowing.

"Understood. I can't wait."

The Doll left the room to get repaired like her teammates, leaving Helian to process her testimony. If Skorpion was indeed alive, then she would've left clues to her whereabouts so friendly forces could find her. But if she had any useful intel on her neural cloud, then Sangvis may have been looking for her as well.

Sector 09 was certainly getting a lot of work this time around.

Tactical Doll M1911

M1911 carefully lit the red, white, and blue fireworks that were stuck in the ground using AK-47's bullet-shaped lighter, which the drunk had let her borrow, and quickly ran towards where the Commander stood, now in a ballistic vest with his service rifle hanging off of a sling. When she asked him why he donned the armor, he stated that as a frontline base, there was a chance that a hostile patrol would pass by their base, especially at night.

"Better to be safe than sorry." he had said.

The firework flew into the air with a whizzing sound, climbing high into the sky until it detonated, bathing the grassy area in red light. Its fellows did the same, adding the American flag's other colors to the mix and completing the trio. More waves of fireworks went off as well, having been lit by MP5 and Sten, adding to the spectacle.

Good thing her hearing modules toned down sounds like gunfire or explosions, because her fireworks were rather loud.

"This kinda reminds me of home." the Commander remarked. "I remember my dad taking me and my family to the local firework shows when we were younger. It's a shame they're all gone, now."

He looked down at his feet and his shoulders slumped in regret, prompting the T-Doll to place her hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir." M1911 said, prompting him to look into her eyes.

"It's okay." he replied, placing his own hand on hers. "I made peace with it years ago, but thank you for caring."

Before she could say anything else, two Sangvis Dolls, Ripper-class, emerged from the trees, damaged slightly and heading towards the base at a steady pace. The Americans both groaned in response, brandishing their weapons and vaulting over the concrete wall behind them. The other T-Dolls outside either went back inside or followed suit and took cover.

"Wanna shoot 'em?" the Commander asked.

"Yup. Left, or right?"

"Right. Wait for them to get closer so you don't miss."

The blonde stayed where she was, allowing the Rippers to approach the fireworks' launching points and crouch down, taking a look at the slight burns on the ground from them.

"They're just throwing a party." the left one said, standing up.

"For what reason...?" the right one asked.

"I dunno. Let's ask them."

"Now."

The whispered signal was all the Doll needed to hear before she emerged from cover and put two rounds from each pistol into the left one's chest while the Commander fired about ten tounds into his target, two of them hitting the head while MP5, who had been outside as well, fired a burst at M1911's target.

After confirming that there weren't any more Sangvis, they left cover and inspected the bodies, with M1911 destroying their Cores after pulling their memory units out.

"You think we should take their guns?" the Commander asked, grabbing one of the Rippers' SMGs by the stock.

"Nah. They have locks on them that prevent humans or Griffin Dolls from using them. The eggheads from IOP would love to have them for research purposes, though."

"Got it. Let's check these for trackers and put them somewhere safe until we can get them shipped to IOP. Maybe scrap the bodies for parts."

"Eh, sounds like a plan." the HG said.

G36 and the Belgians ran outside, weapons out and ready to fight.

"It's fine, we got 'em." the Commander said before the maid could say anything. "First time I used my rifle in years."

"You did?"

"Hey, I'm not some damsel in distress! Do you know how many Sangvis I killed in the war?!"

M1911 was sure that he wasn't some kind of Sangvis Reaper, but he was rather skilled against the androids, and he and his squad had been crucial in securing victories for the US, as small as they were. Of course, larger victories were attained by everyone who had been deployed to Europe, but he had done a lot for a grunt.

"In a years' time, you scrapped about 37 Sangvis Dolls and attained about 54 confirmed kills, along with two accidental friendly fires, before going MIA and ending up here."

G36's eyebrows went up like AK-47's had when she had heard the Commander let slip the whole "classmate from the academy wrote an erotica involving her" thing. She still wanted to kill the pervert who wrote it, though.

"Friendly fire, sir?" she asked.

"Accidental. The first one had turned out to be a nutjob who went nuts and started killing our own people as well as civilians. The second one wasn't hurt, thank God that body armor exists, but he lost an MRE he was saving up to a round I fired. I think he's still pissed at me for it if he's alive."

"I see. Get back inside, sir. There may be more Sangvis nearby."

"Yeah, yeah. Shame that the firework show was crashed." the young man lamented, standing up to head back inside.

M1911 followed suit, eyes scanning the environment for more hostiles. After confirming the lack of hostile presence, she headed inside as well.

Commander Ian Becker

Ian groaned as he remembered his few friendly fire incidents, which had earned him the nickname "Caboose," a character from "Red vs Blue" who had a bad habit of teamkilling, from the soldiers that weren't in his squad. And as much as he liked Caboose, he hated being called it because of his friendly fires.

At least his Dolls had the courtesy to not do that to him.

"G36, get this cleaned up, please." he asked as he passed by the party area, which was cluttered with used dishes and empty vodka bottles from the drinking contest.

"Yes, sir." she said, rallying the cleaning crew to clean the mess up while Ian headed to his bedroom.

Ian entered his bedroom and shut the door, sitting down at his desk and pulling his journal out, ready to add another entry when his mind fell on the two Sangvis stragglers, their worn-down states reminding him of M1895 and P38, Echelon 2's missing HGs, somehow.

"They're likely dead by now, but I gotta find them." he said under his breath, not only talking about the HG Dolls, but also his missing squad.

He then decided to send a small search party out for them the next day.

Journal Entry

July 4, 2062

Turns out, I was able to celebrate Independence Day after all. It was a small party, but I was able to unwind for the first time in eleven years, and M1911 had some fireworks left over from a past celebration.

Concerning my predecessor, he was an infantryman for the Russians in North Africa, like I was in Europe. He joined Griffin after the war ended, being assigned to Sector 09 around the beginning of the Griffin/Sangvis conflict, although he was a bit out-of-place around Sector 09's staff. He warmed up to them later on, and according to M1911, had an intimate relationship with G36. His death affected G36 greatly, but ten bucks says she's putting up a front.

Two Sangvis Rippers attempted to crash the party, but me and M1911 scrapped them rather easily.

And finally, I just remembered that there are two missing T-Dolls that I need to find (as well as my old squad). I'll set up a search party to find them tomorrow, and I think it'd be best if I went along, since I can actually harm any bandits we might run into.

Anyways, I need to get to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow.

Fucking finally. I had a good bit of trouble writing this, especially because of the whole party bit, because now that I look at it closely, throwing a party just two days after arriving at the base seems a bit dumb. I also feel that Ian's getting used to the base's staff a little too fast, which was an issue I had in older stories. My only explanation is that he was starved of social contact for ten years, and that he decided to indulge in it as soon as he could.

Anyways, the friendly fire bit was done as I felt that I needed to give him something unique, and so he had something not ideal on his record (because people have to fuck up somehow.)

I also feel like I'm progressing the story too fast in terms of plot points getting revealed too fast, and I kind of want to do a story in the Recollection set in WW3, but I feel like that would ruin Recollection: Beginning through spoilers.

Anyways, I'll see you all in the next chapter!