All alone, StG44 sat under a hastily erected tarp to keep herself out of the rain. Thunder boomed overhead, distracting her as she worked on her knee. It was hard enough to perform jury rigging repairs on delicate equipment while holding a flashlight in her mouth, she didn't need the flashes of lightning throwing off her vision as well. Luckily enough, the wind was not blowing the rain into her workspace, otherwise she'd eventually have to deal with rust in her internal system. If only those damned humans would just let her inside. StG44 tried to hum to herself as she worked, to distract herself from the dire situation she was in. She heard a snap as she tried to patch the bullet hole in her knee from when FG42 betrayed her, swearing as she realized things got more complicated. It was bad enough that she could feel the hasty repairs on her waist scraping away with every step she took, now she needed to patch her knee back together in the middle of a rainstorm. Despite the setback, she reached into the repair kit and returned to her task.

After a few minutes, there was a satisfying click as the patch set into place. With the satisfying wave of a few tools, she felt confident that she'd repaired her knee joint. She restored power to the knee and tested the bend, settling for the new motion. While it moved like it was sticky now, over time she would get her full range of motion back. StG44 made sure the spot was clean and dry before she pulled out the skin repair patch next, threading her skin back on with a patchwork stitching. It wasn't pretty, but she couldn't tell once she pulled her stockings and boots back over it. Now if only she could fix the pain in her ass.

StG44 leaned back and took a moment to soak in the sound of the rain storm around her, with the rain pelting the top of her tarp in a cacophony of tapping. The sound masked the approach of the Nyto, who stumbled in the rain towards her. It wasn't until the half-doll groaned in pain, that StG44 sprang into action. She reached into the case that FG42 provided, pulled out her fully loaded rifle. The traitorous bitch was at least kind enough to give her back with a fully operational weapon at least. The Nyto seemed quite aware of this as well, staggering as she tried to hold up her hands. She was using her oversized scythe as a crutch, using her other hand to keep a ripped up piece of her robe on the stab wound in her stomach. She dropped to her knees, letting go of the scythe to hold her free hand up. While one of her eyes was covered in a sensor system akin to an eyepatch, the other pleaded with StG44 for help. The Nyto could only mutter for help in her maiden language, "Hilfe."

StG44 stood in the rain and kept her rifle leveled with the Nyto's head. Slowly she approached, grabbing the scythe to pull it away. The weapon was obnoxiously heavy, betraying the level of skill it took for the Nyto to use it so gracefully in combat. Still, she tossed the weapon away and grabbed the Nyto by the wrist, prompting her to lay under the tarp. While the half-doll was the enemy, StG44 understood she needed all the help she could get. "I'm going to see if there's a med kit around here." She assured the Nyto.

She didn't know the first thing about human first aid, yet here she was trying to save the life of a half human. StG44 at least hoped that it would be as simple as performing doll repairs, or at least similar to the things that she'd seen in movies. Digging through the few supply cases she could find, she found a single kit of emergency medical supplies. Proud of her stroke of good luck, she returned to the Nyto and popped open the box. "Who the hell stole the painkillers?" She remarked as she realized that she would need to perform the surgery with raw pain.

She made sure to put on some gloves, fully aware of how filthy human blood could be. StG44 began by pulling both the Nyto's hand and the cloth patch, away from the wound so she could continue. It was dirty and infected by now, but she'd have to close it up soon or the Nyto would have bigger problems than some bacteria. StG44 poured a disinfecting agent on the wound, the alcohol sizzling as it made contact with the damaged flesh. The Nyto clenched her fist as she struggled with the pain, but otherwise did not shift or move her body. The smell of cleaning solvent hit StG44, letting her know that things were as clean as they were going to get for now. With an exasperated sigh, it was time for her to begin the operation.


MP40 found it absolutely amazing how quickly human loyalties could turn on a dime. G43 had a perfect view from the bell tower of FG42 driving a knife into a defenseless human prisoner, a crime that stunned everyone in the church. The idea that one of the Brigade had been in charge of this brutal attack was bad enough, but to follow it up with the abduction and murder of someone who was supposedly safe in the church threw the people into a frothing madness. The police and Griffins had trouble restoring order when it was revealed that Kar98k had a choice to give herself up or the human dies. Suddenly, the mob's anger was given a specific direction and the Brigade was held under arrest. There was no proof of anyone else's treason beyond FG42, but the crowd had abandoned all reason. The people demanded blood for blood, and the police captain seemed more than happy to provide it for them.

Each of them was handcuffed, including MG34's boyfriend, and forced into a corner while the people decided how to proceed. MP40 could only watch in silence as they ignored the Commandant's return, unable to respond to her hails for assistance. As night fell and the thunderstorm outside raged, fate proved that it no longer favored the Brigade. Even the sisters kept their mouths shut, perhaps learning their lesson from the last time everyone was captured and held against their will. All they could do was wait for the inevitable verdict, and face their doom together.

The crowd had gathered in the church pews, with the police captain standing at the preacher's pulpit in front of the congregation. Overseeing the kangaroo court, he actually seemed to be enjoying the show. MP40 knew he hated the dolls, but he could at least have pretended like this wasn't what he wanted. He had almost the entire crowd in agreement that the dolls should be executed for suspected treason, when a single woman in the crowd spoke up and asked the question nobody seemed to consider; "how do we know that Griffin can't be trusted?"

The voice sounded familiar to MP40, but she couldn't recognize the face right away. Something about her long black coat, or maybe her black hair tied in twin ponytails, rang as familiar to her. The woman stood alone, the rest of the crowd in the church moving away from her to avoid association. The police captain leaned on the pulpit, as if he was trying to get a closer look at her. "Their commander clearly favors her own, and her own have traitors amongst them." His tone was matter-of-factly, as if he even believed his own words.

There was some mumbling amongst the crowd of confused agreement, as if they didn't know the dolls as anything but traitors. The woman, however, was not convinced. "Would you not look out for your own?" She asked, ignoring her dissenters amongst the crowd. "And what hard facts do we have that these particular Griffin dolls are working with Paradeus?"

It took MP40 a moment, but she soon realized exactly who was standing up for them. The way that she talked about the Brigade reminded her of someone she didn't expect to see here at this time. The police captain, ignorant of her identity, stood in front of the entire church and called her out. "Please, come up front and enlighten us on your beliefs." He offered.

She smiled and walked up to the pulpit, knowing that the captain and his pride was unknowingly snared in her trap. Placing her hands on the pulpit where so many sermons had been held, she began her verbal assault with a question. "Griffin dolls," her smile was slight, "where were all of you when this beloved priest could have disappeared?"

MP40, glad to finally speak in her defense, explained that "I was playing the piano for the choir, the sisters were busy with the boy, and G43 was in the bell tower the entire time."

"The one in the tower is the only one who didn't have eyes on her at all times," the police captain interjected.

"G43 is also the only one who fell down the stairs, how many times?" MP40 raised an eyebrow at the clumsy doll.

G43 mumbled her answer, slightly embarrassed. The woman at the pulpit took this advantage and ran with it. "Like many old churches, there's an underground section that runs quite close to the sewer system-"

"Which collapsed during the Second World War over a century ago." The captain again interrupted.

Her smile grew, uncharacteristic for her typical demeanor. "Odd that you deny their accessibility," she crossed her arms and tapped her chin, "yet in the public record, a utility company was approved by you to work in the sewer system in the immediate vicinity to the church."

"It was important utility work." He scoffed, crossing his arms as well.

"This company has been seen operating in similar locales as Paradeus," she remarked, "and they just so happened to have opened those tunnels back up."

The captain raised an eyebrow and took a step forward. "How would you know about that?" He asked with an accusatory tone. "Just who do you think you are?"

She stifled a laugh at his attempt to pull the rug out from under feet. "I am Sangvis Ferri model SP65" Scarecrow answered. There were a few gasps from the crowd as they realized just who the woman was. Without the mask, it really was difficult to tell her apart from any other doll or human.

"A doll, of course." It took a moment for the captain to register what was spoken. "Wait, what did you say your manufacturer was?"

Scarecrow stood and stared the man in the eyes, her cold and calculating gaze burning through him. "Did your handlers not inform you about me," she asked, whimsy in her voice, "or did they lie and tell you not to worry about me?"

The man took a half step back, realizing he was too close to an unfriendly military grade doll. "Why are you accusing me-" he tried to ask.

"Dare I ask who's idea it was to fortify in the church instead of the myriad of actually defensible structures?" Scarecrow seemed to invite audience participation, but continued her accusations anyway. "May I ask why the Nyto I helped Griffin capture had the tunnels and sewers mapped out as though they wanted you to hold out in the church?"

It was time for MP40 to speak up. "I was playing the piano for the choir because he took the priest into the basement." Eyes shifted around the room as the crowd began to change loyalties again.

"Did they tell you about the bomb?" Scarecrow asked coyly.

The captain's eyes widened as the crowd began to panic. "What bomb?" He asked, genuinely surprised.

"The one I disabled on my way through the underground," Scarecrow explained, "which was guarded by one of those disgusting half-dolls."

Almost on cue, a quartet of Aegis military mechs marched in from the back rooms of the church, carrying the corpse of a black robed Nyto. The Nyto was beaten bloody, her head barely recognizable after having been introduced to a hard object a few times. The crowd grew wild, demanding answers the captain did not have. All he could do was try to ask everyone to calm down.

Scarecrow, however, had different plans. "Did you really expect them to hold whatever end of the bargain they offered to you?" She asked.

The captain, trying to keep any good faith he had left from the people, tried to turn the argument onto Scarecrow. "You expect me to believe that a doll working for a rogue organization has our best interest at heart?" He asked, pretending that he wasn't afraid.

Someone in the back of the crowd spoke up and asked, "why don't we ask the doll outside?" Silence as all eyes shifted. "I watched through the window," the police sergeant that spoke shuffled his feet before he elaborated further, "the blonde one has the creepy white one at gunpoint right now. I think they're both pretty hurt."

"I love a good interrogation," Scarecrow welcomed the thought of capturing another Nyto, "bring them inside so we can get some real answers."

"Don't let that damn thing in here!" The captain's cries were ignored as the barricades were finally moved. MP40 held her breath, hoping that Kar98k was still out there with StG44. However, as the crowd began to split apart for the guests, the Commandant was nowhere to be seen. StG44 seemed to favor one of her legs as she held her gun to the Nyto's back, forcing her prisoner to walk forward to the front of the crowd. The Nyto herself was a bloody mess, her tattered robes stained varying shades of red, drying blood. There was a stab wound on her side, amateurishly sewed together and cauterized. She used her scythe as a crutch, wobbling on her mechanical feet as she still recovered from blood loss.

Unprompted, the Nyto immediately regarded the police captain. "I see that you reap the benefits that I have sowed for you." She remarked, venom on her tongue.

Scarecrow stifled a laugh as she realized that the Nyto would implicate the man for her. Clearly, the Nyto was furious that she was abandoned and wanted to poke as many holes in FG42's plot as she could. The captain, feigning ignorance now, took a step back as the Nyto approached him. "What are you talking about?"

"Do not play me for the fool," she growled at him, "look at me and see how Paradeus rewards its faithful. I would rather burn in hell than allow this charade to continue."

"This has to be some kind of a trick." He was grasping for anything now, unable to admit his own betrayal. Her unprompted verbal assault had caught him off guard, and blown his cover.

"The Defiler has taken everything from me," her voice raised, despite having an exhausted waver, "if I will be cast aside like waste and abandoned to the elements, then I'll be damned sure to drag as many of her deceivers with me!"

She got a better grip on the scythe and moved in for the kill, looking to cleave the captain in half. "Like an angel of death, I claim you as the first blood in my search for divine retribution!"

The Nyto froze in place, her electronic warfare suite lacking the same robust security that Addy's had. Scarecrow walked up to her, bemused at her state. "I think it's best to let the humans sort out their own." She chuckled to herself, shedding her trench coat as she placed her mask back on her face.

The Nyto was allowed free movement again, returning to her hunched position of weakness. Almost immediately the police captain was jumped on by his own men, handcuffed and prepared for his inevitable trial. Scarecrow turned to the crowd, ready to speak on Griffin's behalf. "Let this be a lesson to you all," she began, "you allowed this poison into your veins. It has consumed you, and now you suffer as a result. Just like how they captured this doll to use as bait, they used your own faults of hatred against you. Your homes burned so you could be used as a tool against the Doll Commander, and you're too stupid and ignorant to see what cooperation with Griffin could bring to you. Look to your dead and understand that you have no one to blame but yourselves."

StG44 shuffled over to the handcuffed Brigade, having been handed the keys to free them. "Glad to see I didn't miss much." She said as she released MP40.

Once she was unbound, MP40 rubbed her wrists and threw her arms around StG44. "It's good to have you back."

It took her a moment to fully process the gesture, but StG returned the gesture. "It's good to be back."


Scarecrow swept her arm across the desk, dumping all of its contents onto the floor. "Now that was just uncalled for." MP40 mumbled, picking through the scattered belongings that once belonged to a man.

"I doubt he needs it anymore." Scarecrow shrugged, referring to the dead priest.

MP40 shook her head and looked around the room in the back of the church. Across the hall from the access to the basement, the office used by the priest was fairly well stocked with books and curios. Many of the books were religious texts that she had no interest in, but that related to more local and down to earth topics. One book in particular was about dolls and their role in a religious society, which had caught a lot of heat for its "blasphemous" claims of treating dolls as people. Knowing his feelings, it made it even more difficult to accept that he was gone.

Turning her attention to Scarecrow, MP40 made a note to grab some of the more collectible books if they managed to survive. The only other people in the office with her and Scarecrow were the Nyto, and a police sergeant. "It's time for you two to make yourselves useful to me." Scarecrow sat at the desk and locked her fingers together.

The Nyto spoke first. "There are at least two more of the radiation bombs in the town."

The sergeant was immediately floored at her statement. "Those are dirty bombs?"

The Nyto nodded, as if it was casual information for her to share. "Once detonated, the small yield explosion will release a massive burst of collapse fluid based radiation. Our holy work was to claim the survivors so that they may join Paradeus in unity."

"So as the human ranks crumble," Scarecrow surmised, "your own ranks swell in number."

"They were collecting a lot of prisoners." MP40 pointed out. Depending on how much radiation is released, it's also possible that most dolls and other machines would be damaged or destroyed as well. Everyone had a vested interest in preventing the explosions.

"Even the dead may find service in Father's blessed machines." The Nyto tried her best to keep her preaching down, but it wasn't easy to break old habits.

"How do we stop the bombs?" The sergeant asked.

The Nyto cleared her throat. "They can only be triggered manually."

"How does that help us?" MP40 pressed.

"The code was originally meant to be disseminated to me upon sunrise." The Nyto held her head in shame. "I'm afraid that the Defiler will have to settle for those lesser beings instead."

"That gives us a few hours to track down the bombs and deactivate them." MP exchanged a glance with Scarecrow before continuing, "if we send out two individual teams, we should be able to track them both down."

"While they may have exhausted their artillery capabilities," the Nyto interjected with more information, "Father's blessed machines now stand vigil over the bombs, as well as the lesser worms that dare consider themselves my equal."

"How many more of those black Nyto's are there?" Scarecrow asked.

The answer was short and straight to the point. "Three, the third is no doubt overseeing the siege in my absence."

Scarecrow leaned back in the chair, contemplating the next course of action. "If Griffin can manage to reach one of the bombs, I can certainly lead my troops to the other," she explained, tracing her fingers through the air as if she were moving pieces across an imaginary game board, "our bloodied friend here can eliminate the third Nyto in defense and the enemy would be effectively decapitated."

"With my command stolen from me, the Defiler's troops would be unable to take any further action." The Nyto smiled as she imagined the look on FG42's face.

The police sergeant waved his arms, "do you trust her to hold up her end?"

"I barely trust Scarecrow," MP40 shrugged, "but we're not in a position to be picky anymore."

The sergeant sighed as he realized he didn't have much of a choice. "Do you think we can still use those tunnels to get everyone out of here?" He asked, worried about what few people were left.

"Of course," Scarecrow said, "if you can navigate them, then you can easily escape."

The Nyto held up a hand, "but if those bombs go off, divine wind shall carry the radiation far and wide."


The church was abuzz with activity while everyone prepared to move out, turning the holy place into a circus of motion. The only being in the entire church that didn't have somewhere to be was the Nyto, who had a moment to sit and watch as everything went down. People gave her a wide berth, afraid that she might decide to turn and swing her scythe. Due to this, she had more than enough time to devote to her thoughts. She couldn't remember Father's face, or even what he sounded like, but she could remember the things he said about her. Despite all the work he put into her, as well as all the things he took out of her, she was imperfect. Her time before her rebirth was gone, replaced by her short mistake of a life. She was a failure, undeserving of a name. No matter how hard she would try, she was never good enough for hem

She sighed, sitting alone on a church pew. She knew that somewhere, one of Scarecrow's drones was watching her. Nobody trusted her, just as Father didn't love her. Reaching for one of the church bibles, she once again searched for meaning through prayer. She began with a few of the hymns, muttering them under breath. There were so many, each one dealing with a separate topic of faith. It was not as free form with its beliefs and messages like she was used to. The flexibility of Paradeus and its cult was a trap, filling constituents with whatever they needed to make them loyal. The civilians became rebels, the infected became soldiers, and the dead became machines. She was a major part of it, one of Father's angels meant to give to the broken so that they may take whatever Paradeus wanted. "Angel." She whispered.

She flipped through the book, and dwelled upon the section about the Angel of death. She had called herself that, a fitting name for one so glorious as herself to bring destruction upon the unworthy. Father, as well as her fortunate sisters, would never allow her to have a name for her impossible failures. Even now, as she has dedicated herself to aiding Griffin to stop the Defiler, she risked her life in the name of treason. Considering how many of her sisters had met with death for lesser crimes, she would certainly be made an example of. She had fallen so far in such little time, that she was almost free from the shackles of Paradeus. In defiance, she decided it was time for her to take a name for herself and decide her own future. She was now a fallen angel, she was now Lucifer. "I am Angel." She said, consecrating her new future.