"SV-98!" PP-2000 came around the corner, before pulling up short. She didn't expect to find both the other blondes on her squad standing side by side, obviously locked in an intense conversation. At least, the half scowl on Groza's face and the surprisingly intense stare on SV-98's provided her any guesses. Stumbling a bit, she shrank back into herself again, trying to catch her momentum, already starting to leave. "I can come back if you're-"

"It's fine." Groza seemed to shed her funk in the span of the first syllable, returning to her composed, if sometimes distant expression. That seamlessly transitioned to a light smile, and a nod to PP-2000. "Our conversation can wait." From SV-98's expression the sniper didn't agree, and PP-2000 prepared to say she'd come back not wanting to be in the same area as the frustrated sniper, when Groza spun, already heading down the hall, heels clicking against the floor.

Both watched for a few seconds, SV-98's eyes narrowed on their captains retreating back. Then, with a long sigh, the sniper turned. "Right. What do you need?"

PP-2000 took a moment to collect her thoughts, and figure out a way to approach this that didn't sound like she wanted to start a fight. "Tiss says I should talk to you if I have questions about Groza."

"Right." SV-98 started walking the other direction, the implicit command to follow coming through strongly, and PP-2000 fell in step with her. Before long, they were standing in one of the storage buildings, an area that seemed just a bit too out of the way to be unintentional, but not the sort of out of the way where people were killed. Plopping herself down on a stack of wooden crates, SV-98 seemed to settle into a semi-smug amusement. "Shoot."

Now that they were alone, and the question actually put to her, words seemed hard to find. Luckily, SV-98 seemed entirely unconcerned with how long she took to ask, just watching. "We all agree that I'm probably faster on my feet than Groza." SV-98 cocked her head, but the sniper nodded. PP-2000 bit her lip, then the words came out in a rush. "So, why did Groza not send me to play bait?"

SV-98 blinked, and PP-2000 couldn't tell if she surprised the other Doll, or it was just about time for her to do so. The air felt thick, and PP-2000 broke eye contact, trying to stare a hole into the crate instead. "Right." The sniper huffed, pulling attention back to her. "Because, you have the misfortune to have gotten picked up by a dumbass who isn't as good at ignoring her programming as she thinks she is." The finality of the delivery implied that the answer was supposed to explain everything.

PP-2000 shook her head, unsure what Groza's time in the military had to do with the events of the previous day. "Sorry?"

SV-98 glared at her for a moment. "Initially, human officers led us when they started pushing out Dolls soldiers in bulk. Nobody trusted Dolls enough to think we wouldn't screw it up somehow. That's where we first met that Colonel that Groza talks about." She paused for a moment, eyes flickering with pleasure when she got an understanding gesture. "Well, it didn't take long for the Europeans to realize that you shoot the humans, the Dolls become far less threatening. And it took an equally short time for Command to realize that they were just getting people shot. So, they started putting certain Dolls into low level command rolls. Groza was in the first batch, and along with the modules that make us better at commanding, there was an update to our 'orders'." SV-98 put a bit of disdain into the word orders, and PP-2000 knew instantly what that meant. A lot of the soldier Dolls she'd met spoke of the limitations placed on them by their nature with a surprising hatred, or at least disdain. Even Groza let that slip from time to time, although she did a better job than most of hiding it. "One of those was that she would always, always, be out front, leading the attacks, the final person out of defensive positions, whatever it took. Something about the psychology of the same person fighting them day after day after day." This time, SV-98 broke eye contact, expression twisting through rage, understanding and back again. "It meant Groza died roughly six times more often than we did, although it did mean about half as many of us died on average, so in their mind, it was worth it. Replacing Groza is easy. Replacing a whole regiment is not."

PP-2000 rubbed her arms, trying to process those words. "That seems rather, uhm, cold." Nothing any other doll said came close to that level of disdain for life. More than just cold really, throwing that many lives away, synthetic, or not, sounded insane.

"Far as they were concerned, we weren't people. Still aren't." Something about SV-98's dismissive gesture conveyed the callousness of her words better than the words themselves. "Those of you made after the war, don't realize how good you got it, the freedom to choose if you get thrown into a meat grinder." PP-2000 started to speak but didn't manage to get the words out before SV-98 went on, the sniper no longer looked at her, just sort of watching the distance. "War's been over, but Groza's still got it in her head that she has to be the first one in, that if someone is going to die, it has to be her." A snort. "It's a known personality defect."

"So, what you're saying is that she risked her life because of some stupid military programming?" PP-2000 repeated, and when the other Doll nodded, she shook her head in muted disbelief. "And that isn't something that can be, well…?" She trailed off. Asking if you could remove part of a Digimind could be a touchy subject.

SV-98's gave her a look, and another, longer sigh. "Right. You're a Drone." PP-2000 recoiled, a spike of rage flashing up, followed by shock and confusion. SV-98 pushed off the boxes, completely ignoring the effect of her words. "You ever tried to get them to take out a part of your Digimind?" Still reeling from the first statement, PP-2000 couldn't even manage a reply. "This isn't like these," SV-98 tapped her chest over her Core, "That can be removed. Things like that, we'd end up worse than Drones."

PP-2000 finally found her voice. "And what the hell does that mean?" She took a step forward, anger finally catching up with her. Being ignored, and not fitting in, she could ignore, but being called nothing more than a mindless robot went too far. Her fist clenched.

"Some idiot once asked to be taken out of a Command role." SV-98 either didn't notice or ignore her stepping closer. "She left one morning, before the attack started. By the time I made it back, she'd returned, but there wasn't much left of her, just a shambling husk. Taking those protocols out burned away parts of her neural cloud that didn't get placed." The implications sank in over the pause. "Didn't remember names, have no personality left."

"And you thought this was okay?"

"No, but it wasn't as if we had a choice." SV-98 crossed her arms, eyes meeting PP-2000's. "Unlike you newfangled Drones, we had two options, fight, or fight. We didn't get to ask to be shipped out elsewhere, or choose what we did. They threw us at the enemy, and we either died to the enemy, or they shot us in the head until we figured it out." The sniper took a breath, then another. "We died, they shoved our Clouds into a new body, they shipped us out again. I remember every single death, because they also decided that we should have constant backups, because you never know what intel someone might die to discover. You didn't even exist when I got my head caved in with a shotgun stock, or I stepped on a landmine, and in those three tenths of a second between hearing the click and waking up in the repair bay, I can remember every single thing, every single Doll that died with me." They were nose to nose now. "Groza should have let you run out there and die. At least then we'd have something in common." And, before PP-2000 could muster a retort, the sniper pushed past her, and out of the building.

For a moment, PP-2000 stood silent. Emotions continued to swirl in her chest, her vision flashing with warnings, which she ignored, her head falling back, and PP-2000 realized she'd collapsed, the concert cold beneath her and the crate rough even though her shirt.

Pathetic Doll! The snarled words bounced about her head. Couldn't manage to do anything right! PP-2000 clenched her eyes shut, hoping to block out the memorized words. Get out before I have you melted for slag!

Her legs shook as she stood, slowly making her way out of the warehouse.

She didn't make it far before someone called out to her. "2000!" Her eyes snapped to the right, surprised to find the Commander striding towards her. It took a moment to recognize the man outside of his usual habitat of his office, or the Command Room. Without the dull blue light, his eyes seemed greyer, and the small scars on his check were more obvious.

"Commander." Her voice didn't shake, but only just. If he noticed, he certainly didn't let on, and she chose to be thankful for whichever small mercy it was. "You are looking for me?"

He nodded, laid back manner already setting a very different tone . "Had a bit of an odd question for you." She motioned for him to continue when the pause went long enough to indicate he wanted an affirmative. "I made a bit of an error when planning out this little operation of ours, in that while I have helicopters, UAVs, an analyst, and at least some modicum of intelligence, I do not happen to have a pilot." PP-2000 bit the inside of her cheek to stifle her surprise. "While I could wait for someone to get shipped in from Command, that takes time I do not have, and costs money I cannot spend."

"Then I'm not sure why you are talking to me, Commander?" She made it sound like a question, enough that he should get the hint. "Perhaps one of the Belgians knows how to fly." He crossed his arms, expression turning just enough to indicate that she didn't sell him on the deflection.

"First thing I did when I got here was research everyone on base. Skills, quirks, histories, the works." He held up a finger on his left hand for each item. "Groza and 98 are ex-military, with plenty of frontline experience. Tiss spent her time in the military backlines, although she arrived late in the war, and you and 39 came from the civilian sector; 39 working security at a factory back in the homeland. Your file is sparse on the details, but a bit of poking suggested you spent some time in the commercial aviation world."

"At one point." No point in denying it, but she didn't elaborate, as his expression clearly indicated he wanted her too.

"While your file doesn't tell me much, it does mention a few details that I found worth investigating." He motioned for her to follow, and for the second time, PP-2000 found herself following someone across the base. It took a few minutes for them to be at the edge of the base, looking out into the forest, and the Commander moved to a pair of rocks that hadn't been moved, settling down on one of them.

"I've read my own file, Commander. Nothing is there that is 'worth investigating'." She'd given the answers that made up that file after all, and Griffon hadn't exactly asked many questions. Her Neural Cloud passed stability checks, she didn't have any other employment, making her an easy hire for a private corporation in need of new soldiers.

"While true, gaps in information are often revealing. And in your case, there are quite a few gaps." He regarded her, head tilted slightly to the right, shading one eye, and reminding her of an inquisitive child, instead of her superior officer. "Or, I suppose, comparative information gaps. All of them have employment records, traceable to the point they stepped into the world. While I know when you did the same, and some details in the middle, and that you joined Griffon, but beyond that, you existed in a bit of a vacuum." Breaking eye contact, he stared down into the earth for a bit. "So I asked some discrete questions, did a bit of digging. Didn't come up with much, but it did give me enough hints to find the rest."

Her chest tightened again, walls rising. "So, you know they blamed me for what happened."

"No. I know that some idiot is sitting in a jail cell because while Dolls don't have the best of rights in Russia, everyone agrees that making you work until your systems shut down is unsafe." Her eyes darted to his, coldness faded slightly to something more understanding. "Wasn't me if that's what you're thinking, he got found out a few months after you left according to the newspapers. Took a bit more doing to get some word about you, but everything I found was positive." A half smirk flashed across his face, albeit this time sharper. "So yes, PP-2000, I'm saying I need a pilot, and bluntly I'd rather have you than whatever hack Command would send."

It felt safe to try for a bit of humor. "You also can't pay whatever hack Command would send over, while I'm already on the payroll." That made him laugh, and she felt a little better.

"That is also a consideration, yes, but one that Kalina pointed out to me, not one I considered myself." The mirth died, and his eyes dropped down again. "So?"

PP-2000 considered him for a long time. It wasn't as if she couldn't do as he asked, and he asked, not ordered. That, and the way he casually admitted to digging about in their pasts set her teeth on edge. While he treated them well, better than anything else PP-2000 came across, it felt weird knowing that he could just dig into her past without any issue. That, and her confrontation with SV-98 left her jittery. "What do you think of us, Commander?"

He made no effort to answer for the first minute or two, obviously rolling the question about his mind while watching the skyline. "Guess I would need you to define 'us'. Dolls, Echelons, soldiers, civilians…there are a lot of groups contained in 'us'."

That caught her off guard, and she had to think about which answer she actually wanted. "Dolls." Civilian Dolls, but she couldn't bring herself to say that.

He nodded, flexing the fingers in his right hand as he considered. "You all seem normal enough to me." A pause. "Okay, perhaps normal is a stretch, but I've met substantially more troublesome characters than you lot." A narrowing of the eyes, PP-2000's realizing she'd been found out. "Any reason for the question?"

"N-No." She didn't catch the stammer in time, watching his expression tighten, jaw setting, and already she knew questions were coming. Panic started to form, her mind racing to try and redirect the conversation. "What exactly do you want me to fly, and where?"

While he didn't lose the desire to ask questions, he went along with her distraction. "What is easy? Old Hueys we've got in the hangars. Kalina insists they can fly, supposedly someone well before me took one out of a joyride, although he ended up quite dead in what the report called 'ill-advised expedition into occupied territory' so impaired judgement is probable. As for where I want you to drop everyone off, we're narrowing that down at the moment, based on drone footage. Nothing overly hostile if I can avoid it." PP-2000 felt some degree of relief. She'd never flown into a combat zone before. "I wouldn't ask anyone to do a hot drop on their first flight in a craft, don't give a shit who they are. That's how I get people killed. In theory I'll get you an estimated landing zone by tonight, although that is contingent upon a number of factors."

PP-2000 pushed a lock of hair back into place, thinking of what he'd told her. "And after I drop them off, I'd be on standby to pick them up again?"

The Commander nodded. "That's the idea. Afraid I can't give you anything for CAS at the moment, that whole budget thing means no rocket pods or door guns." PP-2000 started to ask what CAS meant, but bit off the question. That could wait for later.

"Alright." PP-2000 nodded, trying to muster a smile, and an uneasy silence hung between them, the question of who would leave first rising. "Do you mind if I stay here for a while?" Sitting on a rock out on her own sounded nice right about now.

"Sure." He stood. "Although I'll warn you that Ballista is looking for you." PP-2000 affirmed she heard him, and then she was alone again, the Commander's boots fading quickly into the background.

-Faded Glory-

PP-2000 didn't return to the dorm that night, instead occupying that same spot on the roof where she'd spoken to Ballista a few days before. This time, the sniper wasn't there, so PP-2000 could watch the sky on her own. She felt the absence of the other woman, but couldn't bring herself to seek out the companionship.

By sundown OTs-39 and OTs-12 both sent her messages, and PP-2000 deflected their questions, realizing that she'd agreed to the Commanders request without ever consulting with the members of her squad, and how that would appear to them. She already came off as the weird member of the group, and now she was volunteering for something without asking. Might as well just say she didn't want to be part of the team. Then she remembered that meant talking to SV-98, and her stomach turned.

Boots clattered on the ladder up to the roof, and her mind raced trying to decide if she could manage to hide before whoever it was managed to make it over, before realizing that would only delay the inevitable. Blonde hair flashed in the moon, before Groza pulled herself over the lip of the roof, landing on the roof with a surprisingly heavy thunk. For the short time PP-2000 knew her, the other blonde never made that much noise, despite her considerable heels, setting a strange tone.

Golden eyes swept the roof, before settling on PP-2000. Groza didn't say anything, moving slowly across the roof, motioning too fast to be deliberate, but slow enough to stand out, sitting down on a bit of roof that jutted up from the flat surface. It was then that PP-2000 realized that Groza also had a bag thrown over her shoulder, from which the assault rifle user pulled a few different things, including a folder, a tablet, and a sealed container.

She offered the folder and tablet first. "The Commander asked me to give these to you." Her words offered no judgement, and PP-2000's stomach flipped again.

PP-2000 took them both, putting the tablet aside, and flipping open the folder. Inside, there was a host of information, and as she flipped through the pages, finding multiple maps, covered in an untidy but perfectly legible scrawl, including one that declared fuckton of hostiles, avoid pls/thk, or another good for evac, bad for drop. "Thanks." PP-2000 continued flicking through, finding the final map at the end. The same untidy writing declaring I think this path works, but take a look and tell me if I've lost it. Her eyes flickered up to Groza who was still there watching with an odd expression on her face. A tension lingered in the air, but unlike earlier in the day, Groza made no move to break it, nor did she seem bothered by it, letting PP-2000 turn back to examining the map. "Why did I agree to work for a lunatic?"

"In fairness to both you, and the Commander, when you joined Griffon our Commander did not possess the proclivities of our existing one." Groza pointed out, and PP-2000 shrugged. She'd only known the previous Commander for a short time before his assassination. "What has the Commander done to convince you that he is insane?"

She flipped back across the maps, pulling out the final map, laying it down between them, letting the moonlight illuminate it. Groza leaned in for a better look, PP-2000 tapping points along the map. "He suggested a flightpath that, if you look at all of his notes on the other maps, threads a needle between almost a dozen different locations that are marked with some variant of 'ignore this', when we could easily fly roughly this path," She traced a longer path along the outside of the map, "and avoid all of the indicated danger." Groza pulled the container she'd carried with her down to the ground, setting it between two of them, and taking another longer look at the map. "It's not that the route is impossible, but if the intent is to avoid being detected…" The SMG shrugged, eyes flickering to the container, then to Groza in question.

"For you." Groza considered the map further, waiting while PP-2000 popped over the container, blinking in surprise to find pirozhki contained within. Grabbing one of the pastries and wolfing it in two bites, her eyes widened in surprise at the taste of apple, earning a smirk from Groza. "You tend to prefer sweets from what I've seen."

PP-2000 ignored Groza knowing her food preferences. "I didn't know you could bake?"

"Then we are both learning about one another." Groza returned, a statement that came the closest to expressing displeasure, and tapping the map in a few places. "Does the Commander say where he believes the target is?"

PP-2000 shook her head. "I think he'll talk to you or FAL about that part, he just says that after I drop you off, he suggests I stay around…" PP-2000 drew a circle slightly north of the marked landing site. "Here, He doesn't think you will need to leave in a hurry, at least from how I read it."

Groza hummed, letting PP-2000 eat while she considered. "And you think that making the flight there will be too risky?"

A shrug is all PP-2000 could muster up in reply. "I've never tried to fly while being shot at, especially not a helicopter…although until recently I hadn't done anything while being shot at." She bit down on the words, realizing it was verging into uncomfortable territory, opting to continue consuming food instead of talking.

Groza helpfully ignored the slip. "From what we know, Sangvis is unlikely to start opening fire on an aircraft, when going out for other missions we've flown over occupied territory in the past, so I believe we should be safe from anti-aircraft fire, if that is your concern?"

PP-2000 started to ask why Groza seemed so okay with this, before stopping. The other blonde never seemed to let on her feelings about things, but in PP-2000's experience, you could tell when Groza wasn't happy about something. And thus far nothing suggested she was, so the SMG user merely nodded. "That is one concern. The other would be, how long would you be on the ground?"

"For search and rescue, at least six or seven hours, if the Commander wants to make a surgical strike, one or two." A pause as Groza grabbed one of her own pastries, chewing slowly. "I'm guessing time in the air could be an issue?"

"Three or four hours at the most."

Groza nodded. "Then I suggest you talk to the Commander early, he's usually awake before sunrise." PP-2000 blinked in surprise. "My expertise is in infantry, not in airborne, 2000. The Commander will listen if you tell him he's being an idiot, for all his faults the man takes advice surprisingly well, and you are the expert in the field, and all three of us agree that deferring to your judgement is wise." A pause, as if she wanted to say more, but nothing else followed, leaving a heavy silence. All three meant her, FAL and the Commander, if PP-2000 had to guess. With her piece said, Groza started to leave, before stopping again. She stood for several minutes, until it finally became uncomfortable.

"Groza?"

"Nothing." Groza shook her head. "Merely ruminating on personal faults."

And on that cryptic note, she vanished over the lip of the roof, leaving PP-2000 alone with her questions.

-Faded Glory-

Climbing into the cockpit of an aircraft after so long felt surprisingly nostalgic. Her part of the briefing concluded early; she'd slipped out to complete her little habitual rituals before a flight. True to Groza's word, the Commander had been awake in the predawn hours, and listened to her explanation of the issue, and after only a few moments of consideration, suggesting that she complete a short recon pass, return to be to refuel them head back out again.

Kalina and Fleur had helped her fuel the helicopter, before vanishing to get the rest of the Dolls ready to leave. PP-2000 had tucked her SMG under the pilot seat, checked her spare mags were in place on her web-gear, and done one final circle of the aircraft. It would need some maintenance after this mission, but that could wait. The mount points for weapons systems were present, as she settled into the pilot's seat. Giving the empty seat beside her an uncomfortable glance, she settled the flight helmet onto her head. It felt good, the small weight pressing down, the pads settling about her ears.

The radio crackled, as she started the final preflight checks. "Command to Nighthawk. Confirm status?" Aleksander's voice came over, gruff but professional.

PP-2000 flicked a few switches, the craft shuddering as the engines started to turn, her eyes holding tight on the instruments. "Final checks complete, preparing for takeoff."

A brief pause, likely as the information was relayed. "Understood. Commander wants wheels up in five minutes."

As he said the words, both Echelons emerged from the nearby door. Dressed in combat fatigues, plate carriers, and body armor, it took PP-2000 a minute to actively recognize them, and at a distance she could only do so via weapons carried. They piled into the helicopter without much fanfare.

She pushed the throttle slightly forwards, feeling the

The radio popped twice, the Commander's voice taking over. "All squads, sound off."

A beat, and in the reflection of the glass, PP-2000 saw Groza receive three nods. "Lightning, standing by." Her gaze met SV-98's in the reflection and PP-2000 looked elsewhere quickly.

FAL got a series of affirmative gestures before speaking. "Artemis standing by."

"Nighthawk, all checks complete, we are ready for takeoff."

"Copy." Several seconds passed, her hand hovering over the throttle, her eyes flashing with information as the Commander pushed objective and routing updates to the network. "Nighthawk, you are clear for takeoff, proceed to marked location Alpha-Tango."

It lacked any of the useful information that an actual air traffic control would provide, but PP-2000 already knew she'd have that problem and preloaded her displays with what she needed. "Understood." The movements came easily, the aircraft shuddering as she pushed the engine power, and the skids began to scrape along the runway before breaking free, rising in the air.

The internal radio crackled with chatter, PP-2000 tuning out the minor conversation between her passengers. There wasn't much wind, as she angled north, keeping half an eye on the ground below.

Snippets of conversation flowed to her, FNC complaining about a lack of chocolate, OTs-12 suggesting that she could get the small Belgian some, FAL and Groza talking about search patterns, and Five-seveN teasing Ballista about something, but largely she could fly in peace.

Trees sped by, and sooner than she could have liked, indicated came into view.

PP-2000 took a minute longer than needed to break the silence. "Approaching landing point. Visual inspection is clear."

Affirmatives trailed back from her passengers, then the Commander. "Understood, Nighthawk. Continue as planned."

The helicopter responded smoothly, performing a single, slow circle of the clearing, as PP-2000 shed altitude, before completing the descent.

AN: Almost reasonable update schedule, what is this? One better, the next chapter is almost entirely written, so that is coming Soon. Please join me in lampooning Branded for condoning PP-2000 abuse, she did not deserve this.

We'll be off on the grand 'acquire M4 and company adventure' starting next chapter, and hopefully I can keep it enjoyable.

Reviews, comments, critiques are always appreciated.