Faded Glory 6: Setpeice

"Fleur." She found him on the firing range, in the process of reloading a magazine straight from a box. A weapon, presumably his rifle, lay to the Commander's side, along with a selection of pistols, all unloaded. A pair of large earmuffs lay around his neck and when she stepped in, he turned, eyes locking to her.

"Commander." Despite having been on base for almost a week, Fleur still felt uncomfortable around the man. Two images of the man exist in her mind, one calmly threatening to destroy someone's life and livelihood, the other, calm and caring both to the Dolls under his Command, and to her. Part of her couldn't help but wonder how deep that kindness ran, but as far as everything Fleur could observe told her, he truly was genuine, which meant she couldn't put off this conversation any longer.

He set the magazine down, and only then did she realize one of his eyes to be a substantially duller green than the other. A wound from the war if she had to guess. A half smirk pulled at his lips. "I'm guessing you've finally gotten around to wondering just what you signed up for." Fleur blinked, opened her mouth, closed it, and then nodded, feeling a bit silly at having her goal pointed out in such a blunt manner. "Don't feel too bad. Groza didn't think to ask me until two days ago herself, and she's been in this business almost as long as I have." Pulling the bolt back on his rifle in a final check, he turned his full attention to her.

Fleur took that as her cue. "That, and exactly what you told my parents." While she doubted she'd kept the upper hand in this conversation for long, she wanted to at least try and keep things moving in her desired direction.

He snorted, making a vague half gesture towards the rest of the base. "Your parents are a question for Groza and her squad. She said she'd assign one of them to handle it, then a bit later said they handled it." Fixing him with a look Fleur tried, and failed to find out if he was lying, her mind instead racing to try and figure out just what happened to his eye. Seeming to mistake her scrutiny for confusion, he added on, "There is a fine line before information I want and information I need, and I don't need to know what they said. Only that everything is legal and above board, and my Boss isn't overly upset with me."

Another somewhat mystery figure, the Commander's 'Boss'. It couldn't be Kryuger, a Commander answering directly to the head of the company sounded stupid in Fleur's opinion, but that provided no insight into who said 'Boss' was. "Right." Another mystery for another day. Maybe Groza or FAL would know, or she could bribe FNC with chocolate to ask.

"You'll get used to it." Arms crossing in turn the Commander chuckled in a grim sort of way. "It's a useful skill to have, doublydouble so in this line of work." Going serious again, he continued, fingers tapping into his bicep. "There are a few different things I might want you to do, much of which is going to depend on things that happen external to Sector 9 itself, so putting concrete details in front of you has proven difficult. The general gist of it is one of two things. Either being my point of contact with various people out and about, or utilizing some of your rather interesting skills from your escapades in Prague."

Fleur expected many things, but none of them were that. While it did sound more interesting than filing paperwork all day, she couldn't say that the second part made a whole lot of sense. "I don't follow."

A nod, as if he'd expected that. "Right. You're familiar with the fact that PMCs, such as Griffon do most of the actual work these days, right? At least, in the eyes of the populace?" Fleur indicated she did, earning her a brief flash of a smile. "And this is why I like you." Putting that thought aside, he kept talking as thought he had randomly dropped a compliment into the conversation. "The world of PMCs can be politely called cutthroat. G&K is in a fortunate position of having gotten out ahead of the curve and enjoying favor with the Neo-Soviet Government. While this means none of the others are going to publicly throw punches, there is more than a little under the table scheming."

He stopped, and Fleur mulled that over, stomach twisting as the implications sank in. "So you'll want me to find out about these plots? Get information about them so you can stop them?"

The Commander shrugged, expression shifting into the distance for a moment. "That's option one, although if it ever came into play it'd be far into the future. We're out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at the moment, so we escape notice from any of the nonsense." For now. But, from personal experience Fleur knew that would only last until someone went looking, or thought something looked funny. That's how she ended up here after all.

So, on to the rest of the possibilities then. "What are the other options?" Hopefully less terrifying.

To Fleur's surprise a bit of the Commander's usual calm vanished, and he slouched slightly. "The other options are a bit more…let's call it off the wall. I would ask you keep this to yourself, but Sector Nine is a bit of a shitshow."

That caught Fleur by surprise. While she did think the number of soldiers on base seemed small for its size, the medium sized bunker, two low set barracks, and a few other assorted buildings appeared to be in relatively good shape from her perspective. "Really?"

"If Groza didn't go off on her little mad scheme to recruit FAL and company, we'd have one Combat team, support personnel, myself, Kalina, and a few others helpers, and that's it. With orders to patrol and defend Sector Nine that I'd struggle to defend with four or five times this many soldiers." He held up two fingers, seemingly at random. "We're short on resources overall, on average we're running with enough supplies to last a week, nothing more, nothing less. You'll probably notice that most in the contents of the mess." A third finger. "And a few other odds and ends that involve the higher level running of the base, but the short answer is that we're short staffed as well."

It didn't take much to put together what that meant. "This sector is supposed to protect against Sangvis incursions to the west, isn't it?" He cocked his head. "Why would you be so understaffed?"

"My four predecessors have suffered remarkably convenient deaths: dismemberment and coma, in no particular order, along with most of the Dolls previously stationed here. While a Doll can be repaired, and returned to fighting fit, it is substantially harder to reattach a human arm to the body and have it work properly." Fleur gulped, caught between horror at the blasé attitude, the spike in heart rate at the prospect of a Sangvis Ferri attack and a different horror at how calmly all this was said. "Granted, two of them walked into traps, the third went out on patrol and never returned. I am rather attached to my life, and have no intention of following in those footsteps, so I will in rather short order, be looking to bring in both more Dolls, and more help." A beat. "Also I really want air power, but not sure that is entirely legal."

The belated realization she'd lost control of the conversation long ago washed over Fleur. "And my role in that would be…?" She could fit into that plan in any number of ways.

"Finding support personnel and soldiers is easy. Finding people to help with logistics, and doubly, people with brains in that field, is not. For now, you are the most helpful assisting Kalina with whatever insanity she'd cooked up…and perhaps reining her in a bit." Another quick smile that vanished just as fast. "Eventually, when you're more comfortable around here, and know the logistics side of our operation, I'll probably send you into Europe to meet with some of our suppliers there. I straight up can't afford to send Kalina in most situations, and, as bad as this sounds, you're likely to get a better reception out in the West than anyone born in these parts." Stopping, he turned back towards his gun, pulling more bullets out of the box. "Any questions?"

For a while Fleur stood dumbfounded trying to process all of what she'd learned, before shaking her head. "Not really. I'll think of something if you really want."

"Nah." Pausing in his reloading, he turned back to her. "Guessing you don't know how to shoot? At least, that is my understanding from OTs-39?" Right. She'd pointed a gun at OTs during what could be generously called a 'meeting'.

Biting her lip, the teenager shook her head. "No. I've never actually fired a gun."

"It's a thing you'll need to at least have the illusion of knowing." He reached over, pulling a smaller handgun over. "Start you on something smaller, less likely to hit yourself in the face." Turning the weapon over so she could see it was unloaded he fell into a lecturing tone. "First rule of firearms. Always, without question assume a weapon is loaded, until you have personally verified it with your own two eyes. And even then, don't even point a gun at someone you don't intend to shoot."

As she accepted the small pistol, Fleur realized that, somehow, she'd be led along that entire conversation by the nose, and couldn't shake the feeling that everything had been all according to the Commanders plan.

-Faded Glory-

Ballista settled into her newly preferred position on top of the barracks. Providing an unobstructed view of the base, and if she squinted even most of the surrounding area. Her newly acquired rifle rested on her lap, a comfortable weight that also served as a reminder that FAL managed to get them back into a mess. At the thought of FAL, Ballista looked to the side, where her phone sat, unread message indicator blinking away, FAL and Five-seveN's latest bickering spilling from words into text. Past history suggested fashion sense or FAL's lack thereof or something else equally insipid. While Ballista appreciated knowing that her compatriots were in good spirits, the noise wore her down. Thus, she withdrew to the roof, settling in, or at least she planned to, before rustling of fabric and muffled cursing broke her concentration.

"Ah!" PP-2000 pulled herself up onto the roof as well, stopping to stare at Ballista in surprise. "I didn't-"

"It's fine." Ballista cut her off. As long as the SMG user kept quiet Ballista didn't mind the company. PP-2000 nodded in a slow acceptance, settling across the roof, far enough away to not be too close, but close enough to be able to talk. Ballista could appreciate that, setting her own weapon aside and leaning back. She'd been told there was no need to keep watch, they were safe enough, and the Commander claimed he 'had minions for that', a statement that Ballista privately didn't trust, and sounded like lies. Her phone vibrated gently, and she looked down. From Five-seveN, also safe to ignore for now. It'd annoy her, but Ballista didn't care about that very much.

Ballista didn't bother to keep track of time, but the better part of an hour at least passed before either of them spoke. "How long have you been with FAL?" The question came out without any prompting or context, and when Ballista turned to face her PP-2000 sat with her knees up against her chest, chin resting on them, eyes focused out into the middle distance. "Have you five always been together or…?"

Ballista cocked her head, but trying to draw any serious information from the blonde proved impossible, and it wasn't as if they were keeping secrets. "Five-seveN and FAL have been together the longest, but the five of us have been together since the war." No reason to say more. PP-2000 made a vague noise to indicate she heard but seemed to remain deep in thought, or at least, mulling over something in her head. In the end, Ballista's curiosity won out. "The reason you ask?"

For a while, PP-2000 didn't answer, just lifting her chin off her knees to stare at Ballista. "I joined them a little before they came to Griffon." PP-2000's words came slowly, not from consideration from what Ballista could see, just PP-2000 choosing to speak more slowly. "Tiss just after the war, and 39 right after me." She licked her lips, going quiet for several minutes. "I never fought…in…in the war. I don't really know Groza or SV-98, not like Tiss does, or like they know one another." Ballista's phone buzzed again. "Who's that?"

"FAL. Making sure I'm not dead." Ballista didn't need to look to know the answer. She hadn't replied to Five-seveN, so FAL would double check she wasn't dead shortly later, an interval between five and ten minutes. If she didn't reply FAL would message again in exactly five minutes, then, would not bother her again until the morning. "Why?"

PP-2000 half smiled at her, before her eyes shifted away. "If mine buzzed, I wouldn't know." Ballista opened her mouth to say that wasn't surprising, she only knew it was FAL because of…years of knowing FAL and the strange standoffish dynamic of their little squad. "Yeah." The Russian went quiet again, point made.

Ballista felt like she had to say something, but this sort of thing wasn't her strong point. She handled being standoffish and grumpy, FAL or Five-seveN handled talking and sorting out people problems. "And that's why you're here?"

A vague motion caught between assent and just a shrug. "I don't think they realize how hard it is to be around them when they get into…it's hard to describe. They just sort of…there is something there that isn't with the rest of us if that makes sense?" Ballista nodded, able to fill in enough of the blanks. "Tiss just goes crawling the internet and tunes them out. I don't know what 39 does, and I'm here." A long sigh. "They don't mean anything by it, but sometimes they forget we weren't there, we didn't experience things, that some of us aren't actually soldiers, we just joined Griffon because they treat us better than anyone else out there, and…" She huffed. "Groza tries but…" Unspoken, 'sometimes she forgets' hung between them.

Ballista's phone buzzed again, too early for FAL, too late to be Five-seveN or FNC missing the memo. She glanced down, a new number popping up.

Groza. Is PP-2000 with you?

Short and to the point, which fit the mental image Ballista had of the Russian squad leader. Ballista sent a short affirmative reply, and an inquiry as to why.

"They probably won't even notice I left, to be honest." The SMG sighed, hugging her knees tighter.

While Ballista held the evidence to the contrary, she elected to hold on revealing that for now. "Sounds like the two I'm stuck with." Ballista offered up instead, setting her phone back down. "If they get started you can't stop them, and I've seen buildings collapse and go unnoticed while they fight over what jacket looks nicer." PP-2000's lips quirked in acknowledgement and hopefully amusement at the forced humor. Ballista really being so bad at reading people, it was hard to know if she was helping or hurting at this point. Her phone buzzed again.

Tiss wants to watch a movie, and was going to ask if she wanted to come.

Ballista hummed, regarding the message for a minute to make her decision, before tossing the phone at PP-2000. The blonde caught it via reflex, staring for a while, before typing a quick reply, deleting that, typing again, two or three times before throwing the phone back. Ballista glanced at the negative response, written in a good mimicry of Ballista's short, clipped typing style, and the following reply from Groza which asked no questions, but gave the impression inferring plenty. Abruptly, Ballista understood FAL's interest in the Russian squad leader, given her experience with her own leader.

Groza's mysterious air and casual confidence in all things made it hard to pin her down, and in light of her conversation with PP-2000, and the short text exchange several more questions arose without really getting any good answers. "Is she always confusing?"

PP-2000's dry look served as an answer all on its own. "I think she does it on purpose."

"No wonder FAL likes her." That drew a smile from the SMG user, giving Ballista some hope she hadn't completely messed up the conversation, and they lapsed into a companionable silence again. Ballista let her eyes drift back into the far distance, habitually scrolling from any hit of movement. Something caught her eye, and she brought her rifle up, using the scope as a bit of an improvised set of binoculars. "I am correct there is some measure of scouting?"

"There are. And some drones. Why?" PP-2000 twisted to stare at Ballista, or at least it sure felt like she was on the back end of a lot of attention, as Ballista zeroed her scope in on the Sangvis Scout unit. Only a bit of luck caused it's metallic coating to catch the moon and draw Ballista's attention from so far away, but now that she spotted it, she could shift her focus to the left and right and pick out a few other units, also Scouts.

"Sangvis is watching us." Ballista's finger twitched towards the trigger, mentally running the calculations. The shot from this distance would be nearly impossible, doubly so as she hadn't gotten the chance to sit down and finely tune the rifle in her hands. "At least three Scout types, possibly more."

PP-2000 sat up, fabric rustling as she did so. "We were told Sector Nine didn't see a lot of SF activity…" Ballista lacked a good answer, pulling back from her scope as she shrugged. "We'll tell the Commander in the morning." Ballista nodded, already prepping out how to break that piece of news to the man. She got the feeling it would not be well received, although for no fault of theirs."

-Faded Glory-

"Ma'am." Ian Blackwood stood at attention, meeting Helian's gaze, although not without some trepidation. While his facial expression stayed carefully blank, his mind raced as he ran through everything he knew about his boss. She'd never bothered to personally appear on the hologram messages before now, just sending orders and letting someone else take the preliminary reports or passing of information. Thus, this appearance meant that either something changed, or his recent antics landed him in a pile of trouble. Given his personal track record, Ian suspected the second one.

"Commander." He couldn't confirm exactly what she'd done prior to Griffon, but it seemed likely to have either been military or paramilitary based on her bearing, knowledge, and position. "I understand the contract in Prague was completed successfully."

He nodded. "Correct." No reason to give any further information about the particulars, even as her eyes bored into him. He'd learned a long time ago that talking more strictly required only got you into trouble.

"And I am then to assume the sudden resignation of the Mayor of Prague for 'personal reasons' is merely a coincidence and unrelated to any actions undertaken by Griffon personnel in the city?" An obviously rhetorical question as well as a trap. He said nothing. She wanted more than the contents of the report, and didn't need it. At least, not if he wanted to say out of trouble. "Or, perhaps that you merely happened to find a full second squad of Tactical Dolls just out and about?"

"I would not define in quite those terms. Groza saw an opportunity, and took advantage." Helian cocked her head, implicitly asking for more information. More talking meant more chance for opening himself up, but Ian also knew he needed to provide at least somewhat more detail than his report did now that she asked. "FAL approached Groza, Groza came to me, Kalina and I ran the budget and I told her she could go ahead with it. It didn't jeopardize the initial contract, and there was a significant argument that it aided us in doing so." Not for the reason Helian might assume but he'd leave that unsaid.

"I see." Helian pulled a tablet into frame, giving it a quick glance, likely just performative. "This also, I assume has nothing to do with the surprise deposit of several million Euros into Sectors Nine's accounts…?" Internally, Ian swore. Of course, Prague did business in Euros, and that deposit would look funny when everything Neo-Soviet was done in Rubles instead. While Kalina maintained accounts in both currencies, as buying some varieties of ammunition from Europe was much cheaper, most of their business and funding came in the local currency, so getting a surprise influx of Euros would draw attention. He added that to the list of things to make sure to account for in the future.

Inwardly he prayed a bit of honesty wouldn't get him in more trouble than he probably already was. "FAL's previous employer owed a number of debts, and their debtors enlisted out assistance."

Helian's expression betrayed nothing about her opinion, although her tone said plenty. "Griffon is not a debt collection agency."

Ian made a vague gesture. He'd done his homework and could prove that statement false, but could wait. "Nothing about the operational plan changed as a result. Merely an additional payout with no risk or investment of resources from us." Not strictly true, but also not strictly false. It did, however, align with the report he made. So, while no doubt Helian would suspect things, they both knew she couldn't prove a word of it. "I considered it a worthwhile use of time to acquire a second trained and capable combat team for a relatively reasonable investment of time and resources, given the circumstances."

"And, conveniently, it sidesteps the need to request new assets from us." An eyebrow rose, and Ian dipped his head, willing to admit freely to that part of the scheme. "When I told you that Sector Commanders were empowered to making hiring decisions, this is not quite what I had in mind." While he lacked a good grasp of Helian's tones that sounded almost impressed.

"Nor did I, ma'am, but I am not in the habit of looking gift horses in the mouth." Shifting his posture slightly, Ian made a gesture towards Sector Nine as a whole with a grimace. "I'm not a fool, I know I'm not going to get anything out of IOP at the moment. Resources are stretched thin trying to cover other, hotter sectors, and new recruits that aren't versed in combat operations are usually funneled into central Europe, not areas like this one, thanks to a lack of So, within the limits of my budget, if I want or need additional personnel, I'm going to have to find them myself."

Her scowl deepened, if only slightly, but she accepted the statement for what it was. "You are correct. You will not be receiving budget increases to match; you are aware of this."

At that, Ian allowed himself a grim smile, feeling some relief at that part of the plan not getting messed with. "Ma'am, you gave me a logistics officer who is better suited to highway robbery. I think I can manage." A sharp nod from his boss meant something good, or at least, nothing bad.

"Good." She turned, walking over to her own desk, and sitting down. Internally Ian grumbled at seeing her turn his favorite power play against him. "It is perhaps fortunate you are not good at taking hints." She pulled a different tablet to the center of her vision, she tapped the screen a few times. "We have received a rather unusual request from IOP, and more specifically 16Lab."

That caught his attention. "I wasn't aware 16Lab partook in combat operations." The words blurted out before he caught himself, although he didn't regret asking the question.

Helian shot him a look. "Typically, they do not. However, this request is specifically from them, and is both of a time sensitive, and security sensitive nature, according to the brief." Setting the tablet down, Helian folded her hands. "Mr. Kryuger personally accepted the request, and suggested Sector Nine for the mission."

The first item in that list he didn't like, the second didn't matter, the third Ian saw as reasonable, and the last made his hackles rise. Being recommended by your boss's boss tended to put one on the hot seat. "I'm listening." Details first, question later.

"How familiar are you with 16Lab and Persica?"

Letting go of a bit of his personal control, Ian wracked his memory for admitting to defeat. "Very little. They are a research entity, and that's about what I've learned by osmosis." Blinking a few times he added on, "I'm reasonably confident the name Persica has cropped up in relation to T-Dolls so there is obviously some connection there, but not much else running about to my knowledge."

Helian nodded. "I have arranged a meeting with Persica tomorrow morning to discuss the precise details or the mission, but I will forward the information I have been given to you now, as well as a more detailed information primer on IOP and 16Lab." A few taps, and his computer chimed with the message." Helian's fingers steepled, regarding him. "This operation is likely to bring you into contact with Sangvis Ferri."

"Understood." Best not mention what Ballista and PP-2000 told him this morning, but he would take that into account. "They want us to kill something specific?"

"The details to hand are sparse, but the objective appears to be retrieval, not destruction." Helian scrolled the tablet a few times. "Last known contact with target two days prior, last known location unknown." Helian rubbed the bridge of her nose, an expression of frustration that Ian wished he could resort too. "I will let you peruse the details at your leisure, the meeting will be at 0800 local time."

"Understood." He saluted and she cut the call. The moment the holograms fizzled out, Ian's posture relaxed, and he groaned. "Ahhhhh fuck." That went roughly along the lines of how he'd expected, which was to say, poorly. Helian likely knew full well what had happened, and just played along, but the new orders coming in worried him more.

Transferring freshly delivered the mission files to a tablet, he started scrolling. As Helian said 16Lab provided very little, beyond the barebones. Search and retrieve, four targets. Time of lost contact, time of last contact, and almost nothing else. Not even a presumed last known location, but reading between the lines he guessed that could be reverse engineered by looking for major SF activity in nearby sectors.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts.

"Come in." Kalina slipped into the room, wearing her usual grin, although getting a look at him that grin faded to one of worry.

"Hey, Commander!" Kalina dropped onto the edge of his desk, despite having a perfectly serviceable chair. "What's with the look?"

"Kalina." Ian took the chance to rub his temples, trying to push away at least some of the frustration. "I don't suppose you got that extra shipment of ammo in?" A brow rose, asking the obvious question. "We're looking to see some fighting in the next few days, and I'd rather be well supplied."

"It should be arriving in an hour or so, at least, if they want to get paid for it." Kalina's eyes narrowed on him, darting to the tablet. "Just what are you expecting, Commander?"

Absolutely the question wasn't it. "Truthfully, Kalina, I just don't know. Our general area is low on SF activity so in theory there shouldn't be large amounts of combat, but if an Elite team found themselves forced to retreat…" Slumping back into the chair Ian released a bit of a huff. "But, if we trust Ballista and PP-2000, SF is keeping an eye on this base, and the moment we start moving, they'll jump either the base, or us." Tapping his fingers into the surface of the table, Ian continued to scroll the tablet. "Tomorrow is going to be unpleasant."

Kalina looked over his shoulder, frowning. "Why?"

"Have you ever tried to pry information out of someone who doesn't want to give it?" Kalina nodded. "Try that, but worse." Based on that preliminary report Ian doubted he'd get much more out of this 'Persica' even at gunpoint. "And I want that information otherwise we're going to have dead people."

AN: Hi! So, I uh, am not dead. Despite the attempts of real-life to make it happen. Fuck SC ranking. Well, that's a lie, but making SC guides did me under pretty good, never minding the ranking map after that. Also missing top 100 by literally 3 kills is a right kick in the dick. But that's enough ranting about the game, this chapter also was a kick in the dick, trying to get it right. There's a lot of framework to lay down, and trying to flesh out some other characters a bit before we dive into saving the AR team from themselves. And Scarecrow. I started this one over four times, but it's finally done, and having unfucked my life situation I should be both faster to get out updates and l100% less murdered by making guides. PS: Division Collab is fun, look forward to that.

As always, much thanks to Branded King for beta reading help, although I do not promise to keep the trend of no first-line error. Also, go read Toy Soldiers, Clearly deserves some love.

Reviews, questions, comments are always appreciated, they make me a happy writer. Also something something go read the theatre panel in two days, and watch me be bad at guessing scouting.