(27/10/2056 | 20:00)
MP-448 woke to a world of smoke and fire.
The last memory in her digimind was of Grizzly's voice. The American gunslinger yelling for her team members to take cover from the terror that had rained down upon them. The five dolls each split apart and went for whatever refuge they could find. Trees, rocks, defilades in the ground. Whatever they could see as the Sangvis droids kept doing their best to shoot them in the back.
MP-448 had dove inside a large, hollowed log. The shorter handgun doll had scurried in, curling herself up as her blue shako hat flew off and stayed outside. That was when the rockets had come down. When all she could hear was explosions, and all she could feel was the shockwave that seemed to shake her entire world.
The blast had been enough to force her body into damage control mode, knocking her unconscious as her hiding place had been thrown away. When she finally woke, crawling out of the log, the sight that greeted her seemed ripped out of a human nightmare.
Treetops on fire. Smoke that choked the light out of the sky above. Night had already begun to fall, as it did so close to winter. When she tried to activate her radio, all that came back was static.
"Captain! Lieutenant?!" MP-448 called out to the forest fire, resting on her knees as she desperately scanned for something resembling familiarity. "VSK? MCX?! ANYONE?!"
Fear. Fear coursed across all of her circuits. A chill ran through her coolant that ran down along her endoskeleton. Fear that she might be alone. That she would have woken from her crash only to be boiled in this flame.
"Over here!" A voice shouted back. That was all MP-448 needed to claw herself up and sprint towards the sound. Zigging and zagging between burning brush, Sangvis corpses and the mounds of soil that had been kicked up by the explosives.
Eventually, she reached the voice.
MCX laid on the ground, a large tree branch pinning her to the ground. The Londoner struggled underneath the now grayed thing, pushing it with both hands while she did her best to shimmy out. But the acts seemed fruitless, the doll not moving an inch while in her prison.
"Chyort." MP-448 cursed, going over to grab the branch. MCX paused in her struggles, visibly relieved that someone else was still around to assist her. She waited until MP-448 took hold, both giving one another a nod before acting in tandem. MP-448 pulling the branch, MCX pushing.
Together, it moved, rolling down and off MCX's torso. MP-448 then wheeled around the side, grabbing MCX by the armpits and dragging her over against a large stone.
"Guh…" MCX exclaimed, head pounding as steam coiled out from her ears. Her own systems were still fading, internals showing damage. A blotch of red seeped through her uniform shirt, getting larger as more coolant dripped out.
MP-448 took a knee next to the injured doll, scared stiff yet again. "W-what's wrong? What's broken?"
"Bloody gut got slashed." MCX managed, reaching behind her back and pulling out one of her medical pouches. She handed it over to MP-448. "Use that… spare parts."
"I am not a field medic!" MP-448 protested as she took the pouch in hand.
"Ain't that hard, love. It's like a really… hands on puzzle." MCX assured her teammate, still grinning despite the rather painful situation she was in.
"Wh-. This is NOT the time for your jokes!" MP-448 lectured the pink haired operator.
"And rob the world of my sterling personality? C'mon, now." MCX continued chuckling at her own line before wincing as her alarms flared once again. MP-448 visibly seethed, not believing how even as she was bleeding out this maniac couldn't take ANYTHING seriously.
Still, she had to do something. Even if she had no idea what to do.
MP-448 unzipped the pouch, checking inside to see a multitude of items. Sealant foam, replacement air tanks, coolant pouches, spare metallic ribs. Everything a medical doll would need to repair a damaged chest cavity, in theory. The problem was that their team's medic was the one with the broken insides.
"...Tell me what to do." MP-448 said, going to unbutton MCX's blouse.
"Just don't get distracted by my specs, eh?" MCX cracked. MP-448 rolled her eyes, finishing up her work as MCX's front was laid bare. The large cut was now open to see, going from the base of the Brit's bra all the way down to her waist.
"Iisus Khristos…" MP-448 muttered. "What is the first step?"
"Close the hole. See that can with the flat nozzle?" MCX directed, pointing at the bottle in question. MP-448 grabbed it, giving the thing another firm twist to make sure it was on properly.
"Top to bottom, make sure it's all covered." MCX continued to explain. MP-448 nodded, sucking in her breath to steady her hands. She then pulled the trigger, letting the pinkish foam pour into gash before it depressed and hardened. After a few moments, the airy pockets were gone, a line of calkish paste filling the injury.
"Did I do it right?" MP-448 asked, shaking the bottle to see if there was any left inside.
"Seems so…" MCX observed, looking at her own system reports to see if her diagnostics registered the rupture as sealed. "Right. Take that pack of coolant, top me off."
"Top you… off?" MP-448 asked, not understanding the idiom. Instead her eyes floated down to MCX's basic white bra, her own digimind twisting into knots as she misunderstood the request. "What did I say about jokes?!"
MCX looked back at the ad hoc mechanic, perplexed. At least until she remembered she wasn't speaking with someone who was installed with the King's English as native software.
"I mean refill my coolant store." MCX clarified, grinning at her accidental wordplay.
"Oh. Um. Yes." MP-448 confirmed, cheeks still flush as she pulled out a back of the red liquid. MCX lifted a hand, popping open a small circular port at the left hand base of her neck. The handgun doll then lifted the package, squeezing the thicker red liquid in until it was completely empty.
She then let the bag fall onto the brown grass, still sitting on her knees as MCX's internal temperature began to drop back down. The taller doll grabbed her shirt, buttoning back up before redoing her neckerchief.
"Can you walk?" MCX nodded her head, finishing the tie.
"Long as I'm not sprintin', it should hold for a few hours." She answered, before nodding back towards the branch that had been holding her captive. "Grab my rifle, yeah?"
MP-448 scuttered back over to where she'd found MCX, searching for the doll's weapon until she found it resting on the dirt. She picked it up, shaking the refuse before coming back to MCX leaning up against the rock. The taller doll patted herself down, checking if there were any other broken components or missing bits.
The handgunner returned the weapon, MCX removing the magazine and clearing it before making sure it was still functioning. Temporarily satisfied, she then stepped off and waved for her remaining teammate to follow.
The two police dolls jogged for a while, trying to find the quickest path out of the part of the forest that had caught fire. Eventually they found a clearing line between two patches of trees, crossing the border between the blaze and safety.
MP-448 doubled over, breathing in and out as she tried to push all of the smoke out of her lungs. Meanwhile, MCX sat herself back down, groaning as she rolled her shirt back up to see if the sealant still held.
"What… what are we going to do?" MP-448 asked, fears finally catching up now that she'd stopped running. "Are we the only ones left? What about Sangvis? How are we going to make it back to the airfield?"
MCX let her shirt fall back down. "One problem at a time. First thing's first, we need to find the others."
"And what if they're gone?!"
"Then we get to the fallback point."
"Sangvis might still be out there!"
"We'll avoid'em."
"And what if no one else arrives?!"
"Then we walk back home."
"But-. But-." MP-448 stammered, her serious facade crumbling apart as the dire situation they were in wrapped its grip around her.
This was madness. Being bombed by airplanes was never supposed to be part of this job. It was never supposed to be part of any job she'd had. The entire reason she even came here was because Griffin was supposed to treat its dolls better than the Soviet Government, not let them get blown to pieces by planes!
But here she was, in the middle of nowhere, her clothes burned and scratches covering her body. And all she had was a handgun from the 1990s to try and survive.
Seeing that the small doll was losing her nerve, MCX got herself back up and came over. She leaned down, holding a finger to her own lips to quiet the panicking girl.
"I need you to follow my lead." MCX said, both of their eyes locking. "If you panic, then we really are knackered."
"...I don't know what to do." MP-448 admitted, voice small and tight. She wasn't ready for this kind of fighting, not alone.
"We'll figure it out. I promise." MCX swore. "But we'll be better off with more people. Is your scanner still working?"
The handgunner steeled herself, trying to will her mind into believing the taller doll's words. "Da. I can set it to look for friendly IFF tags."
MCX grunted, standing back up to her full height. "Good. Start scannin', we'll sweep along the fire and see if anyone else is tryin' to get out."
MP-448 did as she was told, activating her systems. Her first pulse was weak and scattered, something in the atmosphere interfering with her systems. So she tightened it, bringing the circle from a 1000 meters to 750. Another pulse went out, letting her sense the area around them. Beyond what they could see. It was still fuzzy, but it was also reliable. Enough to give them both early warning.
She then drew her weapon out, letting MCX take the lead as they began to patrol the fire's edge.
(20:48)
The duo continued to walk as the sun began to disappear, air turning crisp as the day turned to a frigid autumn night.
In the sky as they walked, MP-448 could see metallic flakes floating. Large, mushroom shaped clouds hung in the direction of where Intruder's fortress once was. The sky darkened, now letting the smog blend into the backdrop instead of outlining it.
Their perimeter patrol had amounted to nothing. No other survivors came across MP-448's scans, no other Griffin dolls were seen trying to escape the flames. Either the others had gotten out before them, or those who had remained inside had succumbed to the heat and fire.
Which left them with little options than to begin their march to the west.
Before disaster had struck, IWS had sent a ping to each doll. A point marked on their map as an overall fallback, somewhere for them to gather and regroup. If they were lucky, they were merely the final two to begin making their way towards the refuge. Luck hadn't seemed to have abandoned her yet. After all, it could be worse. She could have never found MCX.
Or the inverse could be true, MCX could have been unfortunate enough to have no one else around to save her from the fire.
"I'm sorry about what I said in the bunker. About you not taking things seriously." MP-448 called ahead to her partner. MCX remained on point, rifle at the low ready as she kept scanning for any movement. After all, even with her injury, she was far more combat capable.
MCX looked over her shoulder, cocky smirk paired with her cockney accent. "Water under the bridge, love. We've just got different styles, is all."
MP-448 hummed in agreement. "...Do you think the others survived?"
"'Course I do." MCX shot off without a moment's pause. "Grizzly's smart, scary smart. Five-Ninety can bench-press a bloody tank. VSK's got a will stronger than a grenadier guard."
MP-448 slowly nodded. "I will admit… you are nothing like any police doll I have met."
MCX shrugged, looking forward again. "Over in London, bobbies spend a lot of time with the public. When you talk to that many blokes in one day, you have to be sociable."
"I thought you were part of a counter terror unit?" MP-448 questioned.
"They loaned me out to the Armed Response teams a lot." MCX explained. "Perks of being a doll. Don't need to eat, sleep or exercise. Means they could put me to work for more hours in the day."
MP-448 huffed, some jealousy flaring at her associate's social opportunities. "The only time humans spoke with me was when they were screaming about traffic fines."
"You're from Moscow, yeah?" MCX asked. MP-448 nodded, though the operator didn't see. "What's it like over there?"
"It is a beautiful city." MP-448 said, reminiscing back to her hometown. "I was a member of the FSO. Most of my time was spent directing vehicles outside the Kremlin, though… on occasion I had the honor of guarding the Premier."
"Fancy, fancy." MCX quipped. "Take it there was a reason you packed your bags, though."
"As a Government doll, I was not allowed to leave my assigned district without express permission." MP-448 revealed, not trying to hide the resentment in her words. "Before I joined Griffin, I had never seen another city in Russia, let alone another in the Soviet Union."
"Yikes." The Brit said, a shudder coursing through her. "It was budget cuts that did me in. Met couldn't afford havin' dolls that were as high grade as me anymore, so they cut me loose."
"Would you go back?" MP-448 asked.
"If they'd take me? Yeah, prolly." MCX confirmed with a light shrug. "But I don't see that happenin' anytime soon."
MP-448 was about to question such a desire further, when the two heard a shot pop off further in the distance. It was faint, and rather distant. But the fact that it was soon joined by a crescendo of plasma charges as a response only upped the sense of urgency.
The two police dolls picked up the pace, going as fast as MCX's injury could bear.
(20:50)
All the while, on the northern edge of the woodlands, a different scene was forming. A railroad depot along a riverbed, tracks stretching to the east and west. Wooden buildings surrounded newly dug in Sangvis barriers, electric wires jumping from rooftop to rooftop. The previously abandoned grounds now covered by SF dolls, sentries and patrols rounding the area as the hostile force regrouped its strength.
But it wasn't only Sangvis within the newly built compound.
M590 was marched through the halls of the train terminal, hands bound at her front and the muzzle of a particle rifle hovering near her spine. Echelon 5's second in command was roughed up, to say the least. A deep gash under her cheek that almost cut to the metal below. Her left eye's lens cracked in two, iris flickering in and out as her vision barely held on. Her clothes were singed, the shockwave of the rockets having lit her sleeves ablaze.
Her displeasure was written across her face. But her wardens evidently did not care.
Eventually, she was led into an empty storage room and shoved inside, the door locking behind. In the empty square space, Thompson was seen sitting against a wall. The team captain looked about as banged up as M590,with a massive gunshot wound in her knee and shards of her broken glasses puncturing her cheeks.
"You look like shit." Thompson said, wagging a finger at M590's busted face.
"And yet, somehow, I'm still prettier than you." M590 droned at the one-legged bandit.
Thompson grumbled, giving her company the stink eye as they came over. "That's funny. You're funny."
M590 took a knee, checking the damage out for herself. A clean shot through, melting the servo and rendering the leg immobile. The joint looked crudely welded together from the heat, turning the limb into a glorified peg leg. The coolant bleed had long since stopped, red streaks dried over her artificial skin.
"Didn't even know Sangvis took prisoners." M590 said under her breath, moving to sit down next to her comrade in confinement.
"It's their main way of getting intel." Thompson explained to the less seasoned tactical doll, moving to the side so M590 had room. "Capture us, probe our digiminds, pull what data they can and analyze it. It's why Griffin tends to send elite dolls behind enemy lines solo, less of a risk."
"Speaking from experience?" M590 asked.
"Yeah. When I first joined up, they had me do my own thing." Thompson admitted, pulling a glass shard out of her cheek and flicking it away. "Ain't the first time I've faced down this shithead."
"Lovely, a backstory." M590 mused blithely as she closed her eyes.
"Stuff it." Thompson growled, the gangster disliking being in a former law-woman's presence. "How'd they get you?"
M590 sighed, lacing her fingers together over her belly. "Grizzly, VSK and I were trying to find MCX and MP-Four-Eight. We got jumped, and they brought us here instead of finishing us off."
Thompson snickered at her folly. "Your luck always that shit?"
"I'm not the one with a useless leg." The shotgunner reminded, words barbed as she cracked open an eye to stare back at the source of growing annoyance. "You?"
Thompson glared back at M590's lone lemon yellow eye. "Bar went missing after the rocket strike. I made the call to look for'er instead of go for the rally point. Eventually we ran into these pricks. More of'em kept showing up, so I ran interference while the rest of my crew got the hell out of there."
M590 didn't respond at first, simply closing her eye again and mounting a smug smirk.
"What?" Thompson asked, perturbed by the expression.
"Never got a self-sacrificing vibe from you." M590 explained, teasing but pleasantly surprised.
'Pleasant' was not how Thompson felt, though. The Captain sat up, scowling down at the relaxed doll. "Excuse me? Who the fuck're you? You don't know me!"
"I've seen enough of you to know you're an asshole. Still remember when you shoved IWS out of her chair."
"Oh fuck off, you think I give a shit what some pig bitch from New York thinks of me?!" The Captain hissed, though not denying her actions against the sniper.
"Oh no, she called me a pig. I'm so hurt." M590 said, sarcasm abound.
Incensed, Thompson leaned over and grabbed M590 by the collar with both hands. "I swear, if you don't shut the fuck up, I will beat you black n'blue."
"I'm not fighting a cri-" M590 began to say, before the door to their holding cell was pushed open. Both of her eyes snapped wide, with Thompson turning to look over her shoulder to see who was interrupting her shakedown.
Flanked by two Vespids, the intruder made herself known.
The same Sangvis ringleader that Thompson had come to loathe stood before them. With the same bobbed haircut, same goulish smile, same aura that reeked of an entitled actress who thought they deserved an Academy Award. That same inhuman witch that had killed Springfield and Garand all those months ago.
"My, my. So uncivilized." Intruder mocked as the Griffin dolls decoupled from one another. "Must you play like animals in the dirt amongst one another?"
"C'mere, I'll show you how much of an animal I am." Thompson said with a snarl, trying to stand herself up. M590 leaned over, giving her almost-assailant a shoulder to use as leverage as they both rose before their new antagonist.
"What do you want, glizzy guzzler?" M590 spat at their warden.
The insult flew over the ringleader's head, her inhuman smile remaining ever prevalent. "Merely to offer one of you some… sanctuary. An intermission from this dreary purgatory you find yourselves in."
"If you don't start speakin' normally, I'll send you to Goddamn purgatory." Thompson spat, though her threat seemed rather baseless seeing as she was using an ally as a cane.
"She wants one of us to sell everyone out." M590 translated, bitter resentment boiling up.
"So one of you does listen! Wonderful." Intruder gushed, as if she was praising a pair of toddlers who'd made a drawing in pre-school. "You, I know of the vulgar one. What's your name?"
"Ellen Ripley." The shotgunner said mockingly.
"The name sounds… familiar." Intruder admitted.
"Give me a power loader and I'll refresh your databank."
The ringleader huffed, still not understanding what the girl was getting at. "Yes, well. 'Ripley', you do realize that cooperation is the best chance for your survival? Your forces are scattered. I've already captured quite a few of your comrades, which gives me a rich pool of information to comb through."
Intruder lifted her hands, gracefully gesturing at the environment that surrounded them."I don't mind a captive audience, however. It does feel nice to have more direct feedback for my performances. Truly, what is the point of an artist who has no pa-."
"Shh, shh. You hear that?" M590 asked, interrupting the ringleader's monologue. "That's the sound of all the people who care."
Intruder tilted her head, ears tuned to the sound of silence around them. Thompson snickered next to her fellow captive, meanwhile M590 kept staring up at the enemy leader with a scowl painted across her face.
As the dots finally connected in the asocial android's neural cloud, her own snarl forming as the insult on her glorious performance registered. The ringleader then spun on a heel, barking orders as she moved to leave.
"Prepare the Gauntlet for the mouthy one." She demanded. "And round up the other prisoners. Time to show them what happens to the uncooperative."
Silently, the drones obeyed, following their master as she left. As the door shut, M590 scoffed. She then stepped to the side, making sure that Thompson's immobile leg was upright so her companion wouldn't fall over without her support.
"Her skin's thinner than paper." Thompson said, hand going against the wall so she could remain standing.
"She's already on edge." M590 muttered, leaning back against the wall and sliding down onto her rear. "But she gave away a lot."
"How you figure?"
M590 tapped her left temple. "Used to be a state trooper, remember? Software and experience, I can read between the lines of what people say."
The gangster grumbled, posting up against the wall and looking down upon the seated doll. "Alright, supercop. What do you think's going on?"
M590 focused on the door, wondering if anyone was listening. Speaking over zener would have been nice, but for some reason she couldn't make a connection between herself and her cellmate. In fact, most of her electronics suite had been out of order. Communications, battlemap, even her own compass was acting up. As if there was a plume of electro-magnetic interference over the entire area.
So, before she spoke, M590 beckoned Thompson to come back down. The Captain chafed at such a request, knowing it'd be hell to get back up again. But it seemed that the shotgunner didn't care, M590's final 'gotcha' to throw in the face of the not-so-reformed criminal.
Thompson sat back down with some effort, giving her leg a spiteful slap as M590 began explaining.
"We'll start with what we already know and go from there." M590 explained, turning her voice box down a few octaves. "First, we already took down her intelligence officer. Second, she's sending out patrols for capture missions instead of finishing us off. Third, this little stockade of hers seems barebones from what I saw. Like she set up shop here in a rush."
"They probably retreated here after their base got blown to shit." Thompson rationalized, matching M590's volume.
"How'd she get here through all the bombs and gunfire unscathed and with a massive unit of fresh dolls if she only just pulled a retreat?" M590 pondered aloud for her conversant to process.
"So you think… she's been waiting here." Thompson concluded. "Why? Why bail on a massive fort we couldn't even break into without a bombing run?"
"Don't know. But it's the only explanation." M590 said, running some fingers over the scar on her face. "That, or she's way more dangerous than she acts."
"She's plenty dangerous, she's just absolutely fuckin' nuts." Thompson assured, knowing very well what Intruder was capable of in a scrape. "So what'd she give away?"
"That she's got plenty of our people locked up here and she has no quick way to rip data from our digiminds. Means the bitch is getting her information 'Hanoi Hilton' style." M590 explained with bitter distaste. "She's gonna try to make an example outta me. But she wouldn't risk a source of information unless she had replacements. Lots of replacements."
"...I saw HK-Thirty-Three and FMG-Nine in some of the cells. They're dolls from the other sectors." Thompson recalled, having read the full combat rosters during the Team Captain briefings. "Pretty sure I also heard one of our Russians screaming in a room where there was a lot of electricity."
"Saiga. Vespids took her when she wouldn't say anything in the last cell I was in."
"Christ." Thompson muttered. "Anyone you saw?"
M590 nodded. "Saw some other dolls too, but… no one I knew."
Thompson nodded her head, leaning forwards and jerking her leg further into its socket as she tried to get some function out of the thing. "Did you know she'd flip out when you started running your mouth?"
"Figured there were good odds for it."
"Then why'd you do it? You into gettin' slapped around? Because I knew a Kraut who got real weird with that shit." She asked. M590 bared her teeth, like a German Shepherd who'd just been slandered.
"She said 'one of us.' No matter what happened, she was planning on hurting someone." The shotgunner explained carefully, as if Thompson was a child. "You're a team leader, that means you've got a Command Protocol so you can organize everyone. Plus, I don't have experience being stuck in a prison. If anyone's going to be able to organize a breakout, it's you. Which means we need to avoid you getting more injured."
Thompson couldn't help but smile at the compliments, though she could tell that M590 was saying them despite herself. "And what if you're wrong?"
"Then we're all gonna die horribly, aren't we?" M590 said with a blithe laugh.
"Yeah. Yeah I guess we are." Thompson admitted, thinking over everything as the scheme she'd been throwing around her brain solidified itself. "...Grizzly told me that you're the strongest doll on base. Like, you can knock down a tree with a punch. That true?"
M590 nodded, eyes narrowing in suspicion at Thompson. "You're already planning something."
The gangster grinned from ear to ear. "So, I think I know where that 'gauntlet' is. And I think it might help us get out of here…"
(21:00)
By the time MCX and MP-448 reached the firefight, it was already too late. The shots had gone quiet. Instead of a glorious arrival to save the day as heroes, the pair instead found nothing but another stage of destruction and folly. Dead drones and blasted trees covered the darkened forest, night having fully encapsulated the area of operations.
It was an easy hunting ground for Sangvis, now. Few Griffin dolls were equipped for proper night fighting, the suite only standard for handgunners and elite dolls. All others were on their own, left to try and survive when they couldn't even see.
MCX and MP-448 both took cover behind a large tree, MCX remaining in cover while MP-448 scanned the area. With zener down, and the electrical interference still clogging the area, the two had to remain close if MCX wanted to see five feet in front of her. The fire roared long behind them now, and MCX was left to the mercy of her companion's close link.
MP-448 looked out towards the sound of whirring servos and sent out a pulse. Her eyes focused, looking out to see the sonar outline wrap around everything. The trees, the grass, the bushes, and the still mobile dolls. Automatically, the Sangvis units were shrouded in a red cowl. The whole view came to her.
That was when she saw BAR.
The American doll was being hauled over the shoulder of a vespid, rounds having perforated her chassis all across her flank. Despite the damage, she still resisted. Struggling against the grip of her captor, though it was effort in vain thanks to her weakened state.
She was hauled over to a waiting manticore, before another drone came and bound her to the back of the metal beast. Another went back, grabbing the weapon from the ground before going to rejoin the formation.
"Lemmie see." MCX requested in a hushed tone. MP-448 threw a glare over her shoulder, before looking back over to the clump of androids and linking the data to the local Griffin IFFs. A soft ping filled only MP-448's ears, as the data was transferred over to her partner.
But not only her.
In her captivity, BAR's eyes flashed as the data linked to her digimind. Her head turned to face where the signal had come from, eyes baring right at the handgun doll.
The two stared at one another. Each in disbelief. Just barely, MP-448 could make out BAR's injured visage. The older doll looked tired and desperate. Eyes sunken and cuts dug into her artificial skin.
Guilt. Guilt drowned her sense like a tidal wave. It was what made her start to step out, weapon ready.
At least, until MCX rushed behind and tackled her back into cover.
MCX's hand pressed against her mouth, the taller doll taking hold of her teammate and throwing the both of them against a nearby tree. A Jaeger's gaze's shifted, it's sickly green monogoggle glowing with suspicious malevolence as it focused in on the movement.
After a few moments, thankfully, it continued to march, cape fluttering as it went to rejoin the pack of other dolls. More soon followed, with the earth's quaking growing closer… and closer.
MP-448 held her breath, ignoring heightened internal temperature. The smaller doll pressed herself tight against the tree, letting the bark dig in past her coat and against her skin as the massive walker stomped past.
She looked up, never having seen such an artificial beast before.
The Sangvis Manticore looked like a goliath to her, a creature that had been ripped from the old myths and been grafted with the new world's designs. Each of its hoofs digging into the ground, kicking up splashes of dirt that felt as if the world itself was being thrown about.
A tree ahead of the walker was trampled, trunk being forced to slam against the forest grass under the pressure and force of the continuing mass. It didn't even seem to occur to the Manticore, simply another gnat to bat off.
Large, lumbering, unnatural and uncaring. For what was in its way, or for either Griffin doll's existence. It could crush them too, not even if given the opportunity, but by sheer coincidence.
There was no fighting such a creature. Only surviving it.
The two remained small and compact as the horde passed them, MCX's grip remaining iron, tight to make sure her teammate didn't try something stupid again. Both were still for minutes, but it felt like hours. The crunching of earth and fading whirrs being the only sound punctuating the pitch blackness that shrouded everything.
It wasn't until silence had taken its hold for some time before MCX finally let go. The British doll stood up, glaring down at her teammate. Wondering what had possessed her to try something so utterly moronic. Especially someone who she'd come to understand as fairly intelligent.
But then she remembered the bunker. How out of all of them, MP-448 had been the first to demand an exfiltration for the civilians. Even though they'd all wanted it, she was the first to act. Speaking up to the Commander, his ire be damned.
So, MCX didn't yell. This wasn't so surprising after all. Even so, It was clear from the shattered eyes and clenched hands that MP-448 knew she'd almost made a lethal mistake.
There were better uses of their energy.
"...C'mon, we need to keep going." MCX said, squatting down and offering the traumatized girl a hand. "There might be someone out there we can save."
MP-448 nodded, silently grateful for the empathy as she let herself get tugged upright. She checked her radar once more, ensuring they had a clear path before going back deeper into the dark.
(21:30)
Grizzly and VSK-94 had been waiting in their 'cell' for some time now, long after M590 had been spirited away by the guards.
The two resided in what had once been an office, a handful of desks and chairs posted against the walls with a thick layer of dust covering anything and everything. Faded maps and parchment hung off of the walls, metal sheets covered the windows to block off a possible escape route. The only source of light came from a bulb attached to the ceiling, dim and flickering.
Grizzly, seeing no real opportunities for them to take advantage of, remained seated in the tattered remains of an office chair. VSK, seeing as two of the four dolls who had been locked in here had been dragged into the darkness, was now trying to force her way out.
First, she had tried inspecting the walls. Trying to find some kind of weakness to take advantage of, possibly to chip away at the leg of a table or chair. No such luck.
Next, she tried the floor. She knew that they had been taken up a flight of stairs, perhaps they could simply force their way downwards. But after prying some carpet and wood out of the way, she was met by a line of steer reinforcements and plaster.
Now, she tried to pull at the metal that had been bolted windows. A broken off chair leg being used as an ad-hoc crowbar. But try as she might, either due to the weakness in her frame or the size of the plate, it didn't budge.
Grizzly eventually stood up, walking over to her subordinate and giving her arm a tug. Tired, VSK let herself be pulled into an empty chair. The plasma damaged that dotted her torso still left a burning smell, with holes going from her navel up to her neck.
"You need to save your strength." Grizzly insisted, sitting her up as she remained crouched next to the injured sharpshooter.
VSK seemed obstinate, the blonde cursing how her body was failing her now of all times. "We both know I'll power down eventually."
"Neither of us do, because neither of us are mechanics." Grizzly said, before slipping out a small powerbar she'd kept hidden in her coat. Other than their weapons, the drones had done an extremely poor job at searching them.
VSK grimaced, taking the ration item and peeling the wrapper back. "You don't need to be a mechanic to see my sorry state, Kaptain."
"Shut it." The detective ordered. "You die when I say you die, and I'm never telling you to do that. Got it?"
"I wish I shared your optimism." VSK droned before taking a bite. The Russian then allowed herself to relax, if only slightly. Grizzly took it as a sign that she could go to sit atop one of the desks, dust puffing out as her ass hit the wood.
Unlike VSK, Grizzly suffered minimal damage. M590 had taken it upon herself to shield the team leader from the oncoming fire, mostly at the expense of herself. So unlike either of them, she was still physically unmarred. She could think straight, move with ease and act without resistance.
Though that also put even more responsibility on her shoulders than usual.
"Do you think she's alive?" VSK asked after finishing her ration, her energy capacity spiking back up.
"If they were gonna kill us, they'd have killed us in the woods." Grizzly pointed out. "Probably interrogating her."
"For this long?"
"They're not police dolls like us, they don't know how to get information beyond beating the crap out of someone." Grizzly said, gloating a little at how brutish these Sangvis dolls seemed.
Still, she had to admit it was bothering her. Being a POW wasn't something she'd signed up for, but then again she hadn't signed up for being a soldier either. Out in the US, Griffin was billed as a 'Private Security Company.' The jobs she, and by extension M590 had been expecting, were guarding bigwigs and investigating corporate espionage.
But they were in a war now. Fighting one as best they could. Which meant she had to use her brain to figure out what the goals of this battle were, at least for Sangvis.
"VSK, if you were in their shoes, what big piece of information would you be trying to get out of us?" Grizzly asked her teammate.
"Why we are here." VSK answered promptly, as if the answer was simple.
"We're here to kill'em and blow up their base, try again." Grizzly said.
VSK furrowed her brow, trying to discern what Sangvis would even want. Troop numbers and operational plans seemed irrelevant given how battered and scattered they were. Information about Griffin itself would be mostly useless unless Sangvis magically managed to teleport into Saint Petersburg.
"Where we're coming from, and if we have help." VSK rationalized, Grizzly nodding in agreement.
"Yeah. Plus, we didn't even know they had this second station. And she's got this joint fortified pretty hard." Grizzly pointed out.
"...She's going to attack the airfield." VSK finally figured out.
"We need to get out of here and warn Old Man Hsu." Grizzly said, right as the door swung back open. There was a flash of purple as two Sangvis drones' eyes shone out from the hallway, before M590 was chucked straight into the room.
Both of her teammates snapped up from their seats, but M590 rose under her own power. Despite the new swathe of fresh injuries, it seemed as though the doll still had energy to spare. That, or she was running on raw spite instead of battery power.
"I was starting to think they dragged you behind the shed." Grizzly as she went over to her friend, helping her over to the wall and easing her into a seat that resembled comfortable.
"Can you stop being so chill all the damn time?" M590 asked, annoyed at her Captain's constantly consistent coolness.
"You'd prefer it if I was panicking?" Grizzly asked as she double checked the locking lugs on her hand cannon.
"Yes! Honestly, yes! I'd love it if I heard you scream, it'd be a normal reaction. Which is something you never have!" M590 insisted.
"Aaaaaaa…" Grizzly 'screamed', sounding like the most amateur of actresses. "There. Better?"
"Much better." M590 assured, before the two shared a laugh.
All the while, VSK looked at them both as if they were insane. Laughing off such a gaudily scene seemed absurd to the point of psychosis, yet here these two were. Despite this impossible situation, both of them seemed to be rather calm.
"You seem disturbingly optimistic for someone who was just beaten to a pulp." VSK asked with disapproval, her thoughts becoming speech.
"Not the first time someone's beat the tar out of me." M590 dismissed, grabbing her jaw and yanking the crooked part back into place.
"She's not kidding. Saw her take a sledgehammer to the face once." Grizzly reminisced.
"Sledgehammer broke."
"So did your face."
"So did his face, eventually." M590 assured, before seeing that her little trip down memory lane was doing nothing to assure VSK of her mental faculties being in one piece. Though, she hadn't expected to be brought back here. Either thrown back to the holding cell with Thompson or left to stir all her lonesome in a dark corner.
Maybe they thought putting here back would intimidate these two, but it was clear and evident that wasn't happening.
"So-." M590 said, speaking out to both dolls. "-I found our exit."
(21:38)
Another bout of gunfire had caught MCX and MP-448's attention, like moths to a flame. Though this time, the sound of combat didn't die off on the approach.
The duo once again came across a litany of destroyed drones, though these were taken down in a less riddled manner. Singular gunshots instead of a barrage, in the center of their chest or right between the eyes. Clean and consistent, the sign of a sharpshooter.
Eventually they reached the source. Taking cover behind another tree trunk as MP-448 sent out a ping to give MCX sight in the darkness. MCX kept a hand firmly on Mp-448's shoulder, using her as a guide as well as making sure the girl didn't try something reckless again.
A firing line of Sangvis drones stood outside of what seemed to have once been a hunter's shack. Fresh holes punched through the wooden planks, some aged leather skins hanging outside on the porch while the door hung weakly off the hinges.
At the front of the Sangvis formation, a hologram shimmered. Intruder's projection was speaking to someone inside as one of her dolls crept towards the front door.
"This is your last chance to surrender, Griffin!" Intruder announced boastfully. "Don't you want to see your friends again? Aren't you tired of fighting such a futile battle?"
The answer to her query was Mosin appearing in the door frame, but not to surrender. She fired her rifle, round smashing into the head of the ripper that was acting as a projector. The drone fell over as shards of metal blew out, but the formation mechanically closed the fresh hole as they moved back together. A new ripper stood out from the wall, Intruder's projection reappearing as she released an over dramatic sigh.
"I'm already watching one of you try and fight back, do I really need to see another?" She asked.
"DO YOU THINK I'M AFRAID OF YOU, SUKA?!" Mosin hollered out at the projection, kicking the corpse of another vespid off the porch. "I'M FROM OMSK! WE USED TO STAB EACH OTHER WITH KROKODIL NEEDLES FOR FUN!"
"...She's not serious, is she?" MCX asked as the two continued to watch from their hiding spot.
"Siberia is a strange and terrifying place." MP-448 answered.
"Sounds like Birmingham." MCX joked, before pointing towards the line. "Let's slot these bastards before they kill the old woman."
MP-448 nodded, marking each target with a silhouette. She then formalized a link to Mosin, letting the riflewoman access the datastream as well. At first, Mosin seemed taken off guard, before she took a step back and dove behind cover again.
Now having a clear line of fire, MCX brought up her weapon and started blasting.
The initial volley cut down three of the unexpecting drones, their forms slouching forwards as the 5.56 hit them in their back. The rest spun around in response, particle weapons glowing purple as they reignited. But then Mosin opened fire yet again, punching a few more holes into a few more dolls.
Shots danced back and forth, laying into the Sangvis that had been left out in the open by their leader's frivolous grandstanding. Drone after drone falling down until all were wiped out, not even being able to run for cover or concealment before a bullet sent them offline.
Once the work was done, Mosin re-emerged back onto the porch, the older woman cycling her weapon open as she let the last casing fly.
"About time someone found us!" Mosin yelled as her rescuers approached what had almost been her final stand. "I've been making a racket for the past hour! We were starting to believe that no one else survived!"
"We?" MP-448 asked, stepping before the doorway and trying to look past her elder. "Is someone else inside?"
"Da, look." Mosin confirmed, turning around and out of the way to let the others step in.
The interior was smaller than it had seemed from its walls, only one big room filling the space. A woodfire oven and a paltry electric generator that had long since stopped working, along with a chipped wooden table and a rack of hunting equipment. But what really drew the dolls' eyes was who was on the bed. G36, seemingly sleeping with her rifle leaning against the frame.
"The hell happened to her?" MCX asked as she approached the slumbering maid.
"Overheated. I found her running around, yelling." Mosin explained, the fatigue from the constant combat finally setting in. "She collapsed soon after, I had to carry her to this shack. Turns out we were being followed."
"Means they might be back." MCX postulated as MP-448 went over to the far side of the shack. "Can you get her back online?"
"Of course, she's likely vented most of her excess heat by now." Mosin assured, crouching down next to the sleeping doll and slipping her hand under her blouse as she went to fiddle with her core.
MCX was about to make a crass comment, but Mosin ended up speaking again before the words left her. "I take it you both cannot find your teams as well?"
The Brit nodded, though Mosin wasn't even facing her. "Yeah, we've been on our own since the bombing. Been tryin' to find our mates."
Mosin hummed, fiddling open the panel to G36's core and flicking the switch. "That witch was trying to capture me. I would not be surprised if your friends had suffered that fate."
"Not sure if that's better or worse than gettin' shot."
The Russian chortled, finally pulling her hand out and standing back up. "So what do we do now? Find this ringleader and kill her ourselves?"
"The Griffin codex makes it clear that all dolls must execute the last known orders before taking independent action, and never outside the parameters of the mission." MP-448 lectured her compatriots as they stood in the center of the room. "The likelihood of acting beyond our previous directive and succeeding is exceptionally slim."
Mosin gave MP-448 a blank look, honing on the shorter blonde before turning to speak to MCX. "Who the fuck is the wannabe Commissar?"
MCX sighed, mentally cursing her wound up teammate. "We're working on it."
"Can you work faster?" Mosin asked, standing up away from the bed now that G36 had begun her rebooting.
"I can't perform miracles, she's still new!" MCX shot back, pouting at the Siberian. "Besides, I don't see any of our teammates here! She listens to Grizzly more than me anyhow!"
"This situation doesn't seem to give a shit about who is experienced among us." Mosin chastised, pulling out a clip of rounds and racking her weapon open. "Just have her keep watch outside."
"I can hear you…" MP-448 reminded, never having left the room.
"What are you waiting for then!? Go keep watch!" Mosin threw over her shoulder, shoving the bolt shut and letting the stripper clip fly into a bush. "Fucking greenhorns, blyin."
MP-448 grimaced, but did as she was told. The handgunner walked back out to the porch, setting her sensors to maximum strength as she kept on the lookout for any incoming movement.
MCX followed MP-448 out with her gaze, frowning. "Bit harsh."
"She's a handgun doll, she should have done that without anyone prompting her."
"She isn't a war vet. Neither of us are." MCX laid out for the Siberian, recalling that Mosin and her team were among the unlucky dolls who'd been appropriated by their nations' armed forces when they needed more metal for the refinery. "And she had a point, we can't go runnin' off on a revenge mission."
Mosin hesitated, not wanting to give ground. But her sense overcame her pride, a small nod leaving her. "I doubt our sector adjutant could make a run that far regardless."
"We'll head for the fallback point, then." MCX decided, moving to join her partner. "And apologize before we leave, yeah? She means well."
"I can tell." Mosin assured, glaring out the window at the back of MP-448's head as the short woman kept scanning as she was told. Something about the blonde seemed oddly familiar, like another handgun doll that Mosin had come to know. Not alike in appearance at all, but very similar in stature and attitude. Albeit less draconian.
The old woman shook the idea from her head. She hadn't seen Makarov in years. If God was kind, it'd be years before she'd see her again as well.
(22:09)
Some time later, once G36 was awake again, the ragtag band of survivors started to march off towards the rendezvous point. G36 had protested vehemently against it, insisting that they keep searching. Constantly telling them that there was no way that she would retreat unless she knew her team was safe. She even began threatening to stay behind and carry on her ludicrous 'rescue efforts' on her own.
But luckily for her, she had three voices of reason in her ear. MCX pointing out that she couldn't see without help, Mosin reminding her that her chassis would almost certainly overheat again under such stress, and MP-448 suggesting that her team could have very well made it to safety on their own.
It was enough to get her to come along, but she now marched with a cloud hanging over her. Brooding and irate, dark thoughts swirling in her digimind of what she would do if any harm befell her family, friends or significant other.
Mosin paid no mind, letting the maid have her stubborn silence while she marched at the front. As an elite doll, Griffin already provided her with an enhanced night-fighting suite. Not as potent as one on a handgunner, but enough that she could see and shoot straight.
MCX and MP-448 stayed in the middle, the latter ensuring that the former's injury didn't open back up after everything they'd been through. MCX used it as fertile ground to poke, prod and mock her temporary nurse. Jokes that only made the already annoyed MP-448 angrier and angrier. But MCX didn't care, she was having fun with it.
It wasn't until Mosin told them to hit the deck that she stopped.
The first three dolls all took cover behind a small defilade as gunfire continued to rattle off right before them, a firefight having been birthed from the night. First, all they could hear was the sound. Flashes of yellow and purple as conventional firearms seemed to ambush plasma based weapons. The bursts inching closer and closer, before a puff or orange and red flared up in the distance, racing up a few trees and lighting the world back up.
From the far line, a group of rippers and dinergates could be seen stumbling as flames stuck to their chassis. They were running from… something, vaguely in the direction where the four were hiding. MP-448 readied her weapon, expecting a fight, but Mosin grabbed her arm and shook her head.
"Let them burn, rebjónok." Mosin instructed in a hushed breath. "Ammunition is a currency not to spend wastefully."
MP-448 scowled, but complied, lowering her sidearm as the burning drones eventually fell over as the heat overcame their internals. Stomping could be heard in the distance, a silhouette coming closer until the forest fire revealed a Manticore stumbling around. Purple coolant leaked from its body, a trail of oil following it as it swung back and forth.
Another burst of orange flared out from behind the beast, before it fell over with a 'THUMP' that made the earth quake.
Soon after, an unknown machine gunner hopped off of the back of the Manticore, feeling satisfied with how many bullets they had riddled the corpse with. A new group of humanoid dolls appeared, continuing to lay waste to the now disorganized Sangvis group. The hostile presence in the grove seemed to be wiped out as quickly as it had made itself known.
"Why is it always the ones with pink hair who act insane?" MP-448 asked from her hidey-hole, focusing still on the white and blue emblazoned doll who'd been riding the walker like a horse.
"I'm right here, y'know." MCX complained.
"That was why I said it out loud." MP-448 replied, ignoring the tongue-wag that her comrade tossed back over.
Mosin, sitting in the middle, had her eyes glaze over the bickering teammates. "I cannot tell if you two are arguing or flirting at this point."
MP-448 groaned, sinking deeper into the dirt. "Maybe I should have stayed in the fire."
"There's a new one you're free to jump into at any time." MCX spat, her volume heightening as her own annoyance at her ward's constant complaining reached a fever pitch.
It was loud enough to draw attention to them, at least. Soon after a volley of rounds smacked the dirt near their heads. All three of them dove deeper into cover, with G36 making herself even smaller behind her tree.
Mosin gave both of the former law enforcers a glare that could kill, meanwhile words began to flow towards them as the third party began to encroach. Something about what they said made Mosin's ears perk up, and her frown grow even more grave.
"That's not Russian, is it?" MCX asked.
"Nyet. It's Hebrew. Just our luck." Mosin cursed, before she pulled herself up and stepped on the berm.
"OI, MUDAK!" Mosin yelled at the shooters, seemingly fearless as the other three cowered in cover. "Do we look like Sangvis to you?!"
An answer was shouted back, with the machine-gunner directing two of her group to make her their way over at the screaming Russian. Slowly, the other three poked their heads out, watching the two new arrivals. Both looked similar, carrying similar weapons and having similar facial structures. The main differences were their colors and hair.
The one on the left wore a head of blue hair, a set of white bunny like headphones cradling her head. A white and blue collared leotard snuggly wrapped around her, black leggings coming down to a pair of heeled shoes.
The one on the right was clad in white and dark gray, flowers adorning her cream colored hair and a white and blue shawl wrapping around her arms. A dark gray coat, dark gray skirt and black boots rounded out her ensemble.
"Mosin?" The blue one said, speaking up first as they finally approached. "We thought you were among the dead."
"It will take more than rockets and Sangvis to end me." Mosin replied curtly, looking past the pair and at the short girl in the distance. She seemed to be yelling at another member of their team, a pigtailed sub-machine gun wielder.
"I take it Uzi used her petrol bombs without permission again?" Mosin asked as the white-haired girl moved past them. She approached MCX, helping the Brit up as it seemed the dive to the earth had reopened her wound.
The blue one smiled nervously. "She was trying to help."
"She was, and still is, an idiot." Mosin said tactlessly, before waving for the others to come closer. "Everyone, this is Tar-Twenty-One. The Baroness of Tel Aviv."
"You're still using that nickname?" TAR-21 asked with unveiled disapproval.
"And I will continue to do so as long as you act like some kind of wealthy heiress." Mosin assured with a cheeky grin, before waving her buttstock at the other Israeli doll. "Who's she?"
"My designation is X-Ninety-Five, Miss Mosin." X95 reported, not looking up as she focused on patching the hole in MCX's stomach in a more permanent manner.
"Can you shoot?" Mosin asked, wondering if she was the one who'd sent that reckless spray their way.
"I prefer to do my medical work." She assured.
"A pacifist, wonderful." Mosin said with dread, taking X95's lack of resistance as confirmation. She then looked back out towards the rest of the team, only spotting three more dolls that were making their way over to their position.
"I don't see Jericho anywhere." Mosin observed.
TAR pursed her lips, seemingly wanting to say something before she brought herself back. "That's a topic for another time."
Mosin hummed, but took the hint, her gaze on the midget with the machine gun. "So you're stuck helping the bulldog on your own?"
"Negev my friend, not a pet."
"No one wants her as a pet, she'd chew their head."
TAR sighed, moving to not stand in between Mosin and Negev as the latter got within earshot. "Just… be civil."
"But of course, Baroness." Mosin said in what she seemed to think was a high class accent, before focusing her gaze on the subject of her distaste.
Negev was in fact shorter than one would expect for a doll using a weapon as large as her's. A little under five foot, the Captain's nationality was beyond dispute. Her coat, skirt and tassels were emblazoned with the colors and emblems of the Israeli state. Even her pink hair was adorned with a blue and white star of David, along with a bright red bow. Her posture was confident, with a calculating and conniving smile ever present.
She was as unnerving as she was good at her job, and Negev was very good at her job. Unfortunately for most, the woman was aware of and proud of both facts.
"You're here to rescue us, right?" MP-448 asked, accepting the canteen of water from X95 gladly before chugging the electrolyte fluid.
"Maybe. Or maybe we're barrier troops sent to hunt down deserters." Negev suggested, causing the handgun doll to spray out her drink and start to stammer loudly.
"G-griffin doesn't use barrier troops!" MP-448 insisted, turning to Mosin for assurance. "We don't, right?!"
Mosin glared at the Israeli, cradling her bolt-action rifle with both hands. "Stop scaring the new blood, Negev. We don't need a repeat of what happened in Warsaw."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Soveh." Negev dismissed, turning as TAR-21 called for her and leaving the conversation without any other word. Mosin rolled her eyes, just about done with all the craziness that had happened today.
"...What happened in Warsaw?" MP-448 asked, curious and afraid.
"I'll tell you when you're older." Mosin promised, stepping off to follow the ravager's path.
"Wh-." MP-448 said, growing indignant as she shoved the empty canteen into X95's chest. "I'm eighteen!"
"How old are you in human years again?" MCX chirped from the side.
The small handgunner twitched, damned to being the punchline yet again. "I hate all of you so, so much…"
Be that as it may, rescue was rescue. At least now, especially after the destruction they had wreaked before her, MP-448 felt more confident that they would make it to the rendezvous point. After everything that had happened this horrible night, seeing someone being able to finally take down those lumbering Manticores nearly single handedly filled her with hope. Something that had been absent until now.
Maybe there, even more of their sector was waiting. Maybe there they'd have a plan, or even a stable connection to their base.
Maybe. But they had to still make it so they would find out.
A/N: One last chapter for this arc. One last bit of crazy before things get calm again. Hopefully out by mid February.
o/