"Fockin' hell, not this again…" McRae groaned.

He thought he'd woken up, but found himself in a dimly lit room. A room from his memory, blood splatters around in exactly the places he remembered. He was dreaming (nightmaring?) again, and not a pleasant one.

Three years in a coma did weird things to one's psyche.

"Heya John~" Singsonged a female voice, one that had been tormenting him since he'd woken up from the coma.

"Why…"

"Maybe you've finally gone crazy, or maybe a part of me is inside you~"

"Or maybe this is my brain trying to cope with the bullshit you pulled." McRae glared at the figure sitting on the bed. Her nightgown was covered in blood, and she held a pistol beside her.

The woman raised her hands in the air. "Guilty as charged." She shrugged. "Still, I'm glad you're doing well, and out of that bloody place."

McRae doesn't respond, knowing she meant the SAS.

"The war's over. I've done my part."

"And yet here you are, ready to swing guns and break hearts!" She chuckled.

"Sod off."

"Heheheh. What did Price call it, 'Same shite, different place' ? Yeah, nah mate. Time's changed, it won't be the same. The fact that I'm saying this means you know it all too well." She sighed. "Just try to stay in one piece, ya nyaff. Don't need you joining me in hell too soon, aye?"

"Like you're one to tal-" before McRae could finish, the room went dark, and he found himself waking up to the real world, flying thousands of feet off the ground t in the VTOL aircraft. Conflicting emotions welled inside him, before he stubbornly squashed them down.

-x-

[John McRae]
[N/A]
[3rd September, 2055]
[Area S09, Chernivtsi Oblast, Ukraine]

"And this here is the Cafeteria!" Kalina exclaimed, waving her hand towards the cafeteria, the occupants of which glanced curiously at McRae.

After he landed and made his way to the G&K base in Sector 9, McRae was greeted by the Logistics Officer of the base. A bubbly young woman in her twenties, who was giving him a tour of the base.

"Nice place, but…aren't I supposed to get an interview?" McRae asked, still confused, and more than a little jetlagged. VTOLs did not make for smooth flights.

"Director Kryuger wanted you to take a look around the base first." Kalina shrugged. "So you can get a feel for the people and T-dolls that work here."

McRae nodded, observing the bustle of the cafeteria as people (mostly girls…?) did their thing, eating and talking.

"Right…wait, T-dolls? Where?" McRae asked.

Kalina paused, raising an eyebrow, before slowly pointing at the Cafeteria.

"They're all T-dolls? They look like...people."

"Well, they are, in a sense. We here at Griffin and Kryuger treat T-dolls like human employees!"

McRae glanced around, observing the people…er, T-dolls in the cafeteria a bit more carefully. He still couldn't tell them apart from normal humans. He slowly glanced at Kalina "…Are you a T-doll too?" He asked incredulously.

"Pfft Hahaha no! I'm human!" Kalina laughed, waving her hand. "Are you not familiar with T-dolls, Mr. McRae?"

"Please call me John. And no, I've never seen this generation of androids. I've fought a few early Sangvis models during the war." He said.

McRae never bothered to keep up with the progress in Android tech. While the US threw money at it, the UK did not have the economy during the war to bother with it. Only time he came into contact with a 'T-doll' was during the last few years of the war, and they were Gen-1 Sangvis Ferri models deployed by the Soviets. Apparently androids have come so far that they're able to emulate the human mind. McRae did not know how to feel about that, so he decided to hold judgment until he interacted with one.

"Hmm, that makes sense. Well, most of our combat personnel are made up of T-dolls while Support and Command staff are human." Kalina explained. "These T-dolls were once civilian A-dolls, which were fitted with FCCs to be able to fire a weapon."

McRae nodded in understanding. No wonder Price had told him to read up on T-dolls. He did, but mostly the basics. Weapon imprinting, their Fire Control Cores, sensors and so on.

"Anyways, that's all for now. Would you care for some food? It's almost lunchtime, and Springy's cooking is amazing!"

"Sure, why not." McRae shrugged. "Springy?"

"Springfield! She runs the cafeteria here." Kalina explained. "Also, just so you know, G&K T-dolls get their name from the firearm they use."

"Right, thanks. That's good to know." McRae nodded in appreciation. "So Miss Springfield is named after the M1903?" McRae asked.

"Yup!"

"Bloody hell, a century-and-a-half old rifle…Do they still make those?" McRae asked, boggled at the prospect of old relics being used in modern combat.

"We have the blueprints for all the firearms and ammunition our dolls use, so it's not too difficult to make more." Kalina shrugged. "But don't underestimate them, especially not the doll wielding it! Miss Springfield and some of her fellow T-dolls may use older weapons, but they're all crackshots and excellent combatants!"

"Right…"

They made their way into the cafeteria and sat down at a table. As they sat down, Springfield came and greeted them.

"Good afternoon! I am Springdfield. May I get you something, sir?"

"Afternoon. Please, no need to call me sir. I'm John McRae." McRae waved at Springfield. "I'd like a cup of tea and a sandwich, thank you."

"Right away! And you, Kalina dear?"

"A bowl of pasta, please!"

"Ofcourse!" With that, Springfield curtseyed slightly before leaving.

"...Are you sure she's a T-doll? This feels bloody surreal."

Kalina just chuckled. "You'll get used to it."

Springfield soon came around and brought them their food and drinks. McRae took a sip of the tea she brought, and felt almost all his weariness from the flight vanish.

"Sweet Jesus, this tea is brilliant." McRae gushed, as he savored each sip. It had been years since he had tea this good.

"Be it food, drink or target; Springfield never misses." Kalina quoted.

While they ate, Kalina quickly went over some details regarding G&K. Their Chain of command, Operations and their nature, Combat and Combat Echelons, some key rules and so on.

"Griffin has bases in various Sectors. Like here, in Sector 09. Each Sector base is headed by a human Commander, and is divided into multiple sub-sectors called Outposts. The larger the Sector, the more Outposts it has." Kalina explained.

McRae nodded, listening carefully. While he'd already read about these in the files Price gave him, going through it again doesn't hurt.

"Outposts are led by Captains, each leading a couple or so Echelons. The bulk of the Echelons of a Sector remain here, at the Sector's main base."

"Right, thanks for the refresher. I should probably head for the interview now. Where should I pay?"

"Ah, don't worry! This one's on the house! When you join though, it'll get deducted from your paycheck." Kalina said, waving her hand.

They made their way to the main building. The facilities were fairly large and expansive, neatly tucked along the slopes of the Carpathian. This was no small PMC, McRae realized.

" 'When' eh? That's encouraging. Thank you for your time Kalina, you were a big help. Cheerio." McRae smiled, bidding farewell to Kalina before entering the designated room for the interview process.

Apparently it was divided into multiple parts, including physical and analytical sections. While McRae was not exactly at his peak physical form, having woken up from coma less than a year ago, months of physical conditioning and therapy meant he should be able to hold his own. Besides, it couldn't be harder than Selection, right?

-x-

"Well, this is unexpected." McRae said, examining the gun in his hand.

The Heckler & Koch MP5. The preferred firearm of his predecessors, the 22nd SAS. The submachine gun they had used to make their debut in the 1980s. The MP5 had served well, earning its reputation as the right arm of counter-terror and special operations units the world over. However it was phased out in favor of intermediate caliber PDWs by the '20s.

McRae for his part did learn to use it, but never used it in combat. 9mm as a primary didn't make the cut even against decently equipped militia, let alone proper soldiers.

"The Director thought this gun to be appropriate for you." His examiner said.

"Of Course he did…" McRae sighed, before going through the motions of operating the smg. Pulling the charging handle back, inserting a new magazine, before driving the bolt home with a satisfying smack.

He was in the first stage of his interview process, which included marksmanship and combat ability. Having demonstrated the former at a range prior to this, he now stood at the starting point of a mock CQC drill.

'Just like riding a bloody bike' he reassured himself, as he took a ready stance with his gun.

"Shooter ready?"

"A-firm."

"Begin!"

AN: Important note- I updated chapter-1 with an important fact that i didn't include before. In short, McRae got badly hurt by the tail end of the war, went into a coma for three years (2052 to 2055), and had recieved an implant of nanomachines. Nothing crazy, just gen-1 nanites that can help close wounds and make him just a bit more durable.
Since Sector 09's location in the lore is quite vague (other than it being near/in the Carpathian mountains), I decided to go for Chernivtsi.
Thank you for reading through this mess, I'm still trying to find a solid direction for this story. I hope you have a good day!