The Maschinenpistole 40, better known as the MP40, was a submachine fielded during the Second World War roughly a hundred years before the Collapse. Fielded popularly alongside Mauser's Kar98k amongst the German army, both weapons would hit a level of notoriety that cemented them in world history for the many decades that followed. Incredibly simple to maintain and effective to use, the MP40 was an early marvel of warfare that earned its place in history. It did, as one might expect, feature several design flaws that kept it from being truly perfect. Its limited magazine size cut down on the time it was effective as well as supporting ammo feed issues, and overheating could burn your hand if held improperly.

A low tolerance for bullshit, a hidden hot temper, and always a couple of button presses away from complete disassembly. The MP40 was almost perfect.

Almost.


Baking in the hot sun, MP40s system finally managed to restart and wake her up. Immediately she was barraged by pain that threatened to launch her back into unconsciousness, her body cut and broken from her fall from the moving vehicle. While nothing was seriously broken to prevent her from moving about, she certainly would be spending time in maintenance catching an earful about avoiding unnecessary damage. She could feel parts within her scrape and whine as she forced herself onto her feet, but nothing gave way or collapsed. Still, her right ankle felt a bit stiff and would no doubt inhibit her movement. Despite everything, however, she was still alive.

Regaining her bearings, MP40 looked around for the transport van. Sitting in a smoke heap, the vehicle sat alone in the roadside ditch. It lay on one side, and probably would have crushed her had she remained hanging onto the passenger door. Staggering over, she was the only thing moving besides the dust in the wind. Fearing the worst, she checked the now open back of the van for signs of life. The locks had been blown off with the same shotgun that had blown apart their tire, allowing the bikers to retrieve the prisoner from the armored transport. During the crash, G43 had been slammed against the interior, denting the metal and knocking herself unconscious. Before resetting the doll, MP40 moved to the front and found their driver had been shot and killed before he had a chance to escape the main cabin of the vehicle. The radio had also received a blast from a shotgun, leaving her with no connection to the rest of the world.

With a sigh, MP40 leaned against the side of the overturned vehicle and considered her options. As of right now their prisoner was missing or dead, and she had no way to effectively track down the bikers. There was a rest area up ahead that should have a phone they could use, and hopefully get some assistance from either the police or Griffin. While it did require a significant deal of walking, it would be better than sitting here and waiting for the vultures to swoop in after them. The oppressive heat and sunlight was already beating down upon her, with her core already boiling hot from being so effortlessly defeated. Walking a few kilometers to a place with shade would be brutal, but she was sure she could do it.

Firstly, she needed to wake up G43. Unsecured in the back, the doll had slammed into the side of the van when it had crashed. This sent her system into a stand by mode, similar to an unconscious black out, which allowed her body to take a reasonable amount of damage without overloading its pain sensors. This was unlike when a forced electromagnetic pulse was applied, which required a hard reset to ensure complete safety. In this case, she would wake up naturally on her own once her system rebooted. Unfortunately MP40 didn't have that kind of time and opted to restart her manually. Besides, it would be a perfect opportunity to give her a quick system diagnostic as well.

While she could connect to the doll physically through a hard wire, MP40 didn't want to share such an intimate moment in their current situation. If there was anything wrong with G43, a connection between them would make it a mutual issue. Instead, MP40 climbed into the front cabin of the van and grabbed her bag, hoping to use a small computer she had for this exact purpose. Just about every doll carried one with her in case of an emergency, much like a human soldier carrying a medical kit. Luckily the device could connect remotely if the doll's system was still operating properly, meaning MP40 could do it without having to disturb the doll too much.

Repositioning G43 into a more comfortable seated position, MP40 began the wireless connection. It was only a few button presses, followed by a short wait as the computer ran through a necessary diagnostic to see if the doll was actually operational. Pulling out a water bottle, she tried to keep herself cool in this arid desert heat as she waited. It wouldn't take long, as the computer dinged while G43 stirred from the reboot. She shifted nervously, trying to take in her surroundings. "What happened?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"It's just us," MP40 sighed, shutting down the computer and placing it back into her bag, "everything went bad and now we need to get out of here."

G43 looked down, clearly disappointed in their failure. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep him safe."

Handing the water bottle to her, MP40 tried to smile to make her feel better. "We both failed."

"What do we do now?" G43 took the water bottle and took a drink.

This entire time, MP40 couldn't help but notice how few people they had seen since leaving the safety of the city gates. While the human population was much lower than it was, it was nowhere near low enough that a major highway could be empty in the middle of the day. With no radio and no passersby, they were stuck with only one solution. "That rest station the driver mentioned shouldn't be too far away," MP40 shrugged, "maybe an hour or two of walking."

While a distance like that was clearly attainable, they'd need to keep a close eye on their water and core temperature. If one of them overheated in this oppressive heat, they were as good as dead. Regrettably, their uniforms were also not designed for such summer heat, making everything even more dangerous. Luckily they were able to solve this problem with the fiddling of a few buttons, willing to sacrifice their professional attire for comfort. But while MP40 settled for humping through the desert road with her outer uniform unbutton, G43 stuffed her shirt in her bag and prepared to march in just the undershirt of her uniform. It wasn't a terrible idea, but as the captain MP40 had to maintain some sort of presentable appearance.


Angry did not even begin to describe how MP40 had felt upon her approach to the highway rest station. The scorching sunlight had beaten down upon her for the march, forcing her and G43 to run through their water faster than anticipated. They had run out some time again, unable to sweat like a human to maintain temperature. Overheating, G43 complained for the past hour about how uncomfortable she was. MP40 did her best to ignore the whining, more so concerned with the lack of vehicles that they had seen during their walk. There was no good reason why they were so alone on this road, and it was starting to concern her. She had been thinking about who to chew out first when the rest station finally came into view and she saw a number of motorcycles parked outside.

The first thing that washed over her was surprise at recognizing the gang that had attacked them, but this quickly gave way to boiling rage. MP40 could feel her fingers strain as her hands clenched into fists, her body shaking as she tried to contain herself. G43 noticed this, and offered to find a telephone or a radio for them to use. "Maybe one of those big rig trucks has a radio." She was trying to stay calm, nervous as her captain contained red hot ferocity.

The rest station consists of a bar, restaurant, and a hostel for travelers. There was no doubt in MP40's mind that the biker gang was celebrating their successful abduction operation in the bar. Fists still clenched, she stormed her way towards the bar while G43 sighed and went to find the other rest station denizens for a telephone. Just in case, MP40 mentally counted how much ammo and supplies she had left; a full magazine loaded and ready, three more full magazines, a box of ammo to refill three more magazines, three fragmentation grenades, two flash bang grenades, a single breaching charge, and an emergency repair patch. While over prepared for what was supposed to be a simple mission, she was glad she brought so many supplies with her now.

Angry. Furious. Pissed off. Raging mad. She was everything, and she wasn't sure she could contain it much longer. Her core temperature was rising to the point that she was actually receiving cool down warnings, but she ignored them as she pushed her way into the bar. She scanned the bar room like a battle droid searching for her target, sighting the group of men huddled around a table exchange in jokes and money. One of them, sitting in the center of the group, noticed MP40 scowling at them but only smiled and carried on with the merriment. Not happy to be ignored, she stomped over to their table and kicked it with her boot to knock over their drinks and get their attention. Surprisingly, they didn't draw down on her but still gave her their full attention. "Looking for someone, cutie?" The center man asked.

"Where is he?" MP40 growled, in no mood for gang style bullshit.

"Not our problem." The man shrugged, the rest of the gang giggling.

"Where. Is. He." She spoke slowly, venom dripping off of every single word she spoke.

The man rolled his eyes. "We were hired to take him and bring him here," he explained, staying patient with the pissed off doll, "they were waiting here with a van and drove off into the desert."

"Who?"

"He looked military," the man shrugged, "but he met us here and waited for us here."

"Is that everything?" She asked, her hand gripping the strap that kept her gun slung over her shoulder.

"Guess so." The man leered at her as the gang prepared to return to their drinks. "Can't wait to watch you walk out."

A well trained human can draw a firearm in a flash, varied only by sheer dumb luck. Human reaction times, however, are not always as perfect. MP40 had the advantage as she unslung her weapon, using her various training and upgrades to her combat system as she leveled her weapon with the biker gang assembled around the table. They had not expected a doll to draw down on them, already returning to a relaxed state by the time the barrel was aimed at them. Some might criticize the 9mm ammunition she fired at them, but at this range it didn't matter. An entire magazine was emptied into the men, the same stone cold scowl etched onto MP40s face as the last empty shells landed on the floor.

A man seated at a table behind her tried to move to grab her from behind, but she spun around and swung her weapon like a club. The metal butt of her gun slammed into the man's head, sending him to the ground as she grabbed a glass bottle by the neck and smashed it against a table edge. Using the jagged glass as an impromptu blade, she swung and hit a woman trying to maneuver around her. MP40 drove the shattered glass weapon into the woman's stomach, slicing it across in a fatal slash. Another attacker down, MP40 overturned a table for cover as the bartender popped from behind the bar with a shotgun. Birdshot embedded itself in the hardwood of the table, signaling for her to finish her reload procedure quickly. Ready to go, MP40 poked around the edge of the table as the bartender fired again and missed. She rewarded this poor attack with a display of her own accuracy, blood splattering across the lineup of various alcohols.

Across the bar, a group of people had also turned over their tables for cover, trying to lay down suppressive fire to keep her contained. Noticing that some of them were trying to maneuver while she stayed pinned, MP40 realized that she needed to maintain the advantage. Reaching into her bag, she produced another magazine and a frag grenade. Pulling the pin, she didn't even need to look where she was aiming as she tossed the grenade across the barroom. Someone screamed before the grenade exploded, launching shrapnel across the bar like a fiery porcupine. Taking aim over her cover again, MP40 fired at a person standing in the entrance to the bar.

The bullet narrowly missed G43, who stood in the door in absolute shock. The shot had only missed her because of pure dumb luck, MP40s targeting system fully intending to shoot her. "You shot at me." G43 stumbled over her words, fear laced in her voice.

With those words, MP40 realized what had just happened. The bikers, despite having attacked her, were very open with their job and probably would have been more open had she approached in a friendlier manner. The man that tried to attack her from behind wanted to restrain her, not brawl. The woman she disemboweled was simply trying to escape. The bartender was trembling with fear and couldn't properly aim their self defense shotgun. The people hiding on the other side of the bar were trying to defend themselves from her onslaught, covering a mother as she tried to help her child escape. Blood pooled around the bar as she surveyed her handiwork in disgust.

MP40 dropped her gun, staring in absolute horror at her hands. Blood was splatter into her sleeves, staining her skin. Breathing heavily, she realized that something inside her had fundamentally changed. By the principles of her programming alone, she never should have been able to fire upon or attack anyone in this bar. Many of these humans were not registered as active threats, yet she slaughtered them like animals. It wasn't until she had recognized G43 by accident that she had stopped carving a bloody swatch across these people. Her system had bugged out, her anger and rage taking over and making her see enemies where there were none. For a short time she had become a bloodthirsty monster, just like the beasts from Sangvis Ferri.

She needed help, but did she deserve it? How deep did this problem go, how ingrained was it in her neural cloud? Was she always like this, or was this a recent development? How long has she been a murderer waiting? Taking a step forward, MP40 reached a hand out to G43, pleading with her for help. "43, I-" she stammered, struggling for words.

G43 took a step back, her hands going for the rifle slung over her shoulder. She was terrified, fearing for her own life like the humans were. She couldn't trust her captain anymore, and MP40 couldn't blame her. "S-stand down." She was shaking as she spoke,

"Please, I can-" MP40 took another step forward, not trusting herself to be alone.

"Stay back!" G43 shouldered her rifle, aiming for MP40. Finger on the trigger, she probably meant to arrest her.

"I won't resist-"

Once again, the sound of a weapon firing echoed throughout the bloodied bar. MP40 wasn't sure if it was the impact of the bullet, or the surprise that sent her falling to the ground. Staring at the ceiling, she realized that this is what she deserved. G43 had registered as enough of a threat to no longer perceive this as an act of friendly fire. The doll saw the monster she was and defended herself, artificial blood now mixing with genuine human blood. The only thing that MP40 felt was disappointment that the shot hit her in the shoulder and not the head. G43 retched at her actions, her confliction causing a physical reaction. "I think I'm going to be sick." She groaned as she turned to leave.

MP40, still staring up at the ceiling, looked at nothing in particular as she gazed. "I think I am too." She spoke to herself.