FN-49 never liked it when her teammates were quiet in the morning. Five-seveN always had something to occupy her attention, usually needling FAL, or rambling on about her various schemes, or FAL some new information to fill them in on. Sometimes, often if the demure sniper was honest, she'd wake up to them bickering. Thus, when she first woke, and no level of controlled chaos greeted her, FN-49 knew today would be a bad day.
FN-49 set to her usual morning routine, trying to pick out what had happened trying to pick out what changed. Ballista's usual stoicism gave no hints, and FAL being missing early in that day meant little, FAL was usually missing on Sector 9. Five-seveN reading a book could be considered odd, but FN-49 knew her superior enjoyed 'the finer things' which included literature. Nearly an hour passed without a word said.
"Uhm, Five-seveN?" FN-49 realized that if she wanted an answer, she would have to break the silence herself. That didn't stop her voice from breaking when she spoke. Five-seveN looked up from her book, head cocking in silent question. "Where is FAL?"
"Off with the Commander. Something about a new squad to show around, and presumably planning our next move after that." The second in command although FN-49 didn't miss the way Five-seveN's lips thinned. She wasn't happy to be kept in the dark. "What has you interested in our illustrious leader's activities? I don't think you have a chance of stealing her from Groza."
FN-49 flushed, spluttering for several moments, her embarrassment prompting the others to laugh. "No! I just…did she know?" The question tumbled out in a rush, and FN-49 shrunk back. She could see FNC look up from her magazine, and Five-seveN's halfhearted attention became complete.
The seconds dragged on. "Doubtful." Five-seveN's book snapped shut the sound uncomfortably loud. "Our esteemed leader is many things; clairvoyant is not one of them." For a statement of the obvious it came off as more disgusted than anything else.
"Don't beat yourself up." Ballista cut in, eyes opening as she stretched. "FAL's a bitch, but that's a bridge too far, even for her." Pausing in thought, the other sniper's expression turned to one of amusement. "Surprised you aren't defending this mess. Seems like the sort of plot you would approve of."
"Ballista!" FN-49 and FNC objected simultaneously. While they had long ago made peace with FAL and Five-seveN's feud and opinions about how to conduct themselves, they rarely called it out so directly.
"It's true and you both know it." Ballista refused to back down. "She's advocated for these kinds of deals before."
Five-seveN set the book down, giving FN-49 a good look at the cover. A cheap romance novel, the kind that Five-seveN didn't truly read, but used as a cover to think. "I would appreciate it if you did not suggest I would resort to making deals with the enemy to save one idiot's skin." Years had passed since Five-seveN sounded genuinely angry with one of them, and FN-49 shrank back further at the change in tone. "I may understand the reasoning but that does not mean I agree or condone it."
"He could be a bit less of a jerk." FNC broke into the conversation. "Just say 'Orders are orders', and that we don't get a say. That's what all the old army ones did." The small assault rifle user rummaged in a pocket, pulling out a chocolate bar, pulling the wrapper open with her teeth. "He's like FAL, if you stripped out all the good bits."
"And what might those good bits be." Slouching in her chair, Ballista was the very picture of high-class disinterest. FN-49 could see the amusement and intrigue in the set of her face given that FNC's insights tended to range from profound to ridiculous.
"Well," FNC stopped to chew, counting on her fingers as she did, "FAL's smart, she buys me chocolate, and she looks out for us." The other assault rifle user hummed then shrugged. "That's about it though."
"It's always chocolate with you." Ballista shook her head, although the words had no bite.
"FNC has a point. For all her bad points, FAL does look out for us." FN-49 cut in before FNC could snipe back. She didn't want another argument about food preferences today.
"FAL looks out for FAL." As expected, Five-seveN made the rebuttal.
"You've been saying that for years, but she's gone more than out of her way to take care of the rest of us when she didn't have to." Ballista retorted. "I seem to recall her threatening a particularly slimy businessman if they laid a finger on FNC or 49, to pick just one example."
"I didn't know people could turn purple." FNC grinned at the memory. FN-49 didn't remember it quite as fondly, the man and his bodyguards trying very hard to be intimidating, successfully in her books.
"Purple is unusual." Ballista admitted. "We can cite examples all day, but you cannot sit here and say that FAL doesn't care about us. That all four of us mean nothing to her." Pausing, the sniper added, tone dry, "Or that she means nothing to you."
Five-seveN hummed, smirking one of her personal smirks, picking up her book and going back to reading, earning a growl of annoyance from the other sniper.
FN-49 picked up a tablet, trying to put the long-standing disagreement from her mind. It evoked images and memories of a far less pleasant time, before she'd fought helpless battles, before she'd been pulled from burning buildings by FAL or Five-seveN.
Rolling over on her bed, FN-49 pushed those out of her mind, trying to find something interesting online to occupy herself. Something bumped her shoulder, FNC extending a second chocolate bar that she'd produced from the ether. The small AR's best attempt at a peace offering and a comfort.
FN-49 accepted the sweets. FNC grinned at her, nodding towards their more serious companions with a roll of her eyes, voice dropping to a whisper. "Never change, huh."
FN-49 shook her head. The familiarity was comforting, in its own way, even with the undercurrent of tension. FNC, apparently convinced that 49 had been comforted, returned to her magazine.
"You know, this does give us leverage." Five-seveN spoke into the quiet, taking on a conspiratorial undertone.
Ballista came up with an intelligent reply first. "What?"
"This little disagreement." Five-seveN repeated. "The Commander knows that we're not happy with him, but he doesn't know we can't be bribed." FN-49 rolled back over, trying to project as much of her disbelief as possible. Surely, Five-seveN would have a more sophisticated plan than 'you can bribe us to be on your side'. Then again, she probably did, and just wanted to see which one of them would give her an excuse to explain it.
"And thus, you want to hint that if he gives us leave or something equally banal our opinions might change?" Ballista shifted her legs.
"Nothing so brutish. I'm sure FAL can find a way to word it properly." Five-seveN waved the concern away. "You can't tell me you don't have things you'd like to get."
FN-49 could see Ballista's mind working, trying to deny the accusation, but their fate was sealed by the giant grin on FNC's face. "I could do with replenishing my stash."
"Let's avoid telling FAL that part." Five-seveN suggested, giving FN-49 a look, and receiving a reluctant nod in agreement. She wouldn't mind being able to pick up a few things to do in her spare time, and maybe being off base for a while would calm the tensions between them.
-Faded Glory-
Without any overriding orders, PP-2000 settled for just working on the helicopter to occupy herself. Knocking off the dust and dirt, and properly inspecting the rotors took most of the morning, all on it's own, and she couldn't say exactly what she was looking for. The craft flew well enough but didn't respond as well as PP-2000 wanted. So, she wanted to try and find the problem.
"Why are you awake?" She froze, turning slowly. On the list of things PP-2000 wanted to avoid today, this ranked highly.
SV-98 moved across the hangar, although her movements lacked a lot of the usual surety, displaying a surprising level of discomfort with the situation. The blonde's eyes tracked the various bits of equipment scattered around, the haphazard results of the previous day's chaos. PP-2000 opted to ignore her, continuing to inspect the tail rotor. With the task complete, she replied, "Checking how airworthy this one is."
"It flew yesterday, didn't it?" SV-98 snapped. "And if you're flying you should-"
PP-2000 rounded, rage flaring in her chest. Maybe the long hours were catching up with her, or the reminder of someone different making those same challenges. "SV-98. Do not lecture me about what I should and should not do as a pilot."
For the first time, the sniper came up short, unsure what to make of the direct challenge. "My life relies on you being-"
"Being what?" Taking a step towards SV-98 could'nt keep her first from clenching. "Being able to fly? What do you think I did before Griffon, SV-98?"
"Flight attendant, or something like that. Maybe airport work." SV-98 shrugged, dismissive act only incensing PP-2000 further. "You're-"
"A pilot." PP-2000 cut her off. "Passenger flights, occasionally I'd fly cargo out to the worst parts of the north. I'd still be there, flying ten or twenty people into some bomb blasted waste, but someone decided that I was responsible for an accident, and pressured my…" PP-2000's expression twisted uncomfortably. "...owner, to get rid of me."
SV-98 blinked several times, confusion and surprise flashing across her features. "What?" The sniper asked, before recovering from her surprise. "You're a Doll, post war. You're not going to mess something like that up."
PP-2000 shrugged. "Some people don't care. We're Dolls, we're expendable, and easy to blame. Something went wrong in the electronics, and I made an easy scapegoat." Her chest tightened. "Something went wrong in the electronics. A human pilot would have panicked. They didn't care."
"Hmph." The sniper crossed her arms, looking off into the distance for a while, giving PP-2000 time to continue her inspections. "What's your point?"
"That I won't question how you fight, because I recognize that you are better at that than me. All I'm asking is that you extend me the same courtesy. I think I've earned that much." She didn't bother to look at the sniper as she made the offer, trying to use the task at hand to focus, to not be upset.
SV-98 didn't say anything for over five minutes. "Whatever we're doing next, it's not going to be just going in, and leaving." When she did, her tone was more speculative than angry. PP-2000 glanced at the sniper, trying to assess what that meant.
"I'm aware of that." She pulled herself up slightly, staring at the rotor blades, before huffing and dropping back down. If SV-98 was willing to talk without the insults PP-2000 would take the opportunity. "What even was all of that anyway?"
SV-98 cocked her head, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
"All…that." A gesture out of the hangar, vague, but from the way SV-98's eyes shifted, it answered the question. "I thought you were going in to kill that Ringleader, not just let her go and bring back a half dead Doll. And don't give me the Commander's nonsense."
SV-98 shrugged, shoulders slumping. "No one knows. Groza said something about understanding but not liking it, but that can mean anything." SV-98 crossed her arms, dropping onto a crate.
"Is this a military thing?" PP-2000 wanted to frame the question as a joke, but couldn't manage to find the humor in it.
The sniper huffed, and for the first time PP-2000 could recall losing her cocky edge. "No." A beat. "Yes." Another longer silence, then the muttered admission. "I don't know."
The pilot couldn't resist the eye roll. "That isn't helpful, SV."
For longer than PP-2000 found comfortable, SV-98 just held her eyes. "Frontline combat isn't like this. They throw you at problems, get you killed, rinse, and repeat." SV-98 broke eye contact. "Bit like you Drones, except they have the decency to erase your memory first."
PP-2000 bristled, but held her tongue. The military Dolls, even before SV-98's outburst, rarely talked about what it was actually like serving in the war, at least, not in the candid terms. And that final comment, even if couched as a backhanded insult, seemed more personal to the sniper.
"We're just supposed to do what we're told. Things change, orders change, we don't ask questions." SV-98 slammed a fist into the crate, making PP-2000 jump. "They always start by saying they are prioritizing our safety. Protecting the soldiers that can fight." And eventually not prioritizing lives at all. PP-2000 wanted to argue, to say the Commander wouldn't throw them away, but the words died in her throat.
Having waited long enough, SV-98 continued. "Groza would be the one to ask about if hush-hush operations are like this. She'd have a better idea about those, and it's probably more accurate to how he thinks." SV-98 glared out of the hangar, towards the passing forms of the Commander and Kalina, trailed by five unfamiliar Dolls.
PP-2000 shivered. Just for a moment she felt sympathy for the Commander, being on the receiving end of the sniper's ire, before deciding that in this case at least, he'd earned that ire.
With a grunt, SV-98 rose to her feet, and from the way her expression twisted, it seemed their short period of camaraderie was over. "You fall asleep at the stick; I'll shoot you myself."
While PP-2000 expected vitriol, that declaration took her aback. "Uh?!"
The sniper exhaled, starting to say something else, before stopping to shake her head. "I'll accept your deal. You know how to pilot; I know how to fight. You do your job, I'll do mine, and we both leave one another alone."
If it meant she stopped getting called a mindless Drone, PP-2000 would take it, even if that seemed like a half measure. "That's fine." Hopefully it will start immediately.
Sizing her up again, SV-98 nodded, before storming out of the hangar. PP-2000 released a breath. Her previous conversations with SV-98 were uncomfortable enough but the tonal whiplash of this discussion made everything substantially worse.
"You don't have to deal with her, you know." The monotone words from Ballista were clipped, just a bit sharper than usual. PP-2000 jumped once again, rounding on the Belgian sniper, who approached with crossed arms and what PP-2000 thought was a disapproving stare.
"I don't have to like her; I just have to fly her around." PP-2000's assertion sounded weak even to her own ears, and Ballista's brow rising just slightly made it clear that the sniper didn't believe it for a moment.
"If someone started calling me a 'Drone' I would throw them out of a helicopter in mid-air." The statement was bland, and PP-2000 shivered, wondering if Ballista had actually done such a thing. Or worse, if Ballista would actually do it, if PP-2000 asked her too.
PP-2000 turned back to her work, trying to find a reasonable response. One that didn't give away that fact she felt tempted by the idea, or could be read a tacit agreement with the idea. "Please don't?"
Ballista's heels clicked against the concrete, harsh echoes filling the silence, then stopped. "She's calling you a mindless robot. Fit for nothing but following orders like some kind of lapdog." Ballista's tone slipped into anger. "Standing there and taking it isn't going to change her mind."
PP-2000 sighed. "I know." Ballista huffed. "How much did you listen in on?"
"When you asked if this is how things normally are." The Belgian sat down on the same crate as SV-98. "I'll give her credit; her assessment of the situation is accurate." Ballista crossed her legs, leaning back.
"I've been called worse than a Drone." PP-2000 hated that admission. "And I think SV-98 has too." Ballista snorted in disbelief. "You saw how she glared at the Commander."
"Doesn't excuse being a doormat. Trying to be ignored won't make her ignore you forever." PP-2000 spun, eyes wide at Ballista's accusation. "FN-49 would much prefer to hide all day, rather than deal with whatever stupid scheme FAL and Groza get her dragged into. It took her several years to work up enough of a spine to tell them to stuff it." Ballista's expression never changed, all but daring PP-2000 to disagree with the implications.
"As long as she leaves me alone, it's fine." From the way Ballista's eyes narrowed, PP-2000 knew the other Doll didn't believe that would last. "And if she doesn't-" PP-2000 stopped, considering.
"If she can't pull her head out of her ass, I'm throwing her out of a helicopter." Everything about that declaration demanded a challenge, but PP-2000 couldn't find it in herself to muster one. Ballista huffed, but as PP-2000 went back to work, she could see the amusement on the sniper's face.
-Faded Glory-
As leader of Echelon Wolf, KSG had seen plenty of things in her time at Griffon, enough that at a glance, Ian Blackwood did not classify as unusual. While he certainly made her sense of danger flare, and the Deputy Director had warned her to be careful around the man, he did not come off any different than the average Commander at a glance.
With an obvious military background, he walked with purpose, cognizant of the position of his sidearm and knife. She paid some attention to the base logistics officer rattling locations off, barracks, hanger, command building, and so the list went, but that information she already had, reviewed on the flight in. There wasn't much activity on the base, although with a short staff and only two combat teams, things moved quickly, efficiently even. It spoke well of the Commander's abilities, or at least those of his staff.
Outside of that nagging sense of danger, the Commander himself struck KSG as KSG found it hard to get a good read on the man, although she could see the tension in her new comrades as they discussed the ongoing mission. Whether that tension was with the Commander or one another she couldn't say for certain.
The other two Echelon leaders were evidently close, although the depth of that relationship proved hard to discern. KSG made a note to investigate that at a later time, when the events of the previous day were not hanging over them all, and the knowledge of what would happen the following day weighed on everyone's mind.
"She's proceeding south-southwest." The drone operator reported, panning the camera around while pinging the relative area of the map. "She'll be out of the previous search zone by the end of the day." KSG traced the path on the map, humming to herself as she thought.
"That is pushing up to the edge of Sector 9's territory, is it not?" Throughout the briefing, KSG kept her opinions to herself, so the sudden attention should not have surprised her, but she still found herself surprised by the sudden weight of eyes.
The commander made an uncertain gesture. "Less the edge of our territory and more the edge of the area we can swiftly reinforce and resupply. If we are deploying that far, we're going in on relatively limited intelligence and it is unlikely to be a quick in and out operation like those we have been executing. And we'll have to go in with enough supplies to hold down a resupply point."
KSG nodded. Sector 9 didn't have the equipment to sustain an operation of that sort at the moment, making the hesitance reasonable. "And no chance of radio contact?"
That, for the first time, drew a hint of ire from the Commander, his eyes narrowing, and a sharp exhale. "Negative. For reasons unknown she's not in our database." Filling that information away, KSG silently yielded the position of speaker to someone else.
"Would Skorpion have that data?" FAL asked after a few moments for further consideration, and watching their target dart from tree to tree.
"She likely does, but she is currently in standby while they try and patch up as much of her as we can." The Commander pulled up a different file on his personal tablet. "A few hours at least, potentially longer." He started to say something, then stopped, shaking it off with only narrowed eyes. "For now, we have at least crude contact, and we can trace her position. I doubt it will be long before Scarecrow realizes that we are trailing her target, and comes calling, but we can address that at a later time."
"True." Groza nodded, shifting on her feet, weight ending just a little closer to FAL than before.
"All we can do is wait." FAL agreed, mirroring Groza's posture. They both wanted out, and the Commander wordlessly waved them aside, leaving KSG alone with the human staff. Some unspoken conversation passed between them, and the comms officer and drone operator departed as well, leaving her completely alone with the Commander.
"Ask your questions, I know you have them." The man had watched the retreating backs with veiled amusement. He knew what they were doing, but didn't seem to mind.
KSG took her time formulating the thought, and the man seemed content to let her do so. "I will reserve my judgement." She decided, knowing full well it avoided the point of what the man said. "I will not defend your choices to my squadmates." The Commander inclined his head. She got the feeling he'd had this conversation already. "How do you intend to utilize us?"
That seemed to catch him off guard, at least if the rapid blinks and brief narrowing of his entire expression were any indication. "It depends on what I am sending you into, but your squad is more equipped for hard hitting operations than my existing ones. You are actually equipped to take a position, and hold it against heavy assault. Or clear out heavier emplacements." Leaning over the map, he zoomed in on a particular area, quickly marking off areas to take or avoid. "We're probably making contact with our target here, and if that's the case we likely need to either remove Sangvis, or hold out against an assault."
"That we can do." KSG had to give the man credit, he could read between the lines in the Griffon briefing papers. Then again, it wouldn't be that hard to realize what her team had been set up to do.
He smiled, a small degree of amusement passing about his visage before it returned to taciturn. "Anything else?"
She considered him for a while longer. "How familiar are you with other Sector Commands?"
"Not at all." The ready admission made her frown. "Any time I might have dedicated to becoming familiar with them has been absorbed into dealing with this mess." A motion at the table. "Coupled with a request from the client that we do not involve others if at all possible, and my socializing has been limited."
"I see." Well, she needed to let RFB know where she'd been transferred, and KSG could see the gap in the statement he'd made. "I will infer you are not opposed to bringing in additional help."
"If I had my way, at least one other sector would have been dragged into this from the start, and you and I would not be standing here." Closing the map, the Commander met KSG's gaze, eyes narrow. "However, our client was clear that I was not to enlist outside help."
KSG nodded along. "But, if an Echelon from another sector happened to be present in the operational area?"
"I have no control over the actions of others." The Commander replied at some length. "I am sure that Groza and FAL will inform you later, but I have maintained a fairly hands off policy in regard to my Echelon leaders using creative problem solving." Stopping there, his eyes fixed on KSG,
KSG's lips twitched, the message quite clear. "Understood." The intensity faded, and the man relaxed, and KSG decided to take a bit of a shot in the dark about the man's worries. "Informal agreements to assist on operations within the containment sectors are not uncommon, so Command is unlikely to object."
"I suspected as much." He sighed. "But, FAL is a recent recruit, and Groza has been with Griffon for a while, but lacks connections with other Sectors, so I could only work on assumptions."
That tracked with what KSG had been told about Sector 9, by RFB, and by the Deputy Director. "It is not your fault if another sector chooses to proactively lend aid when faced with massing Sangvis Units on their border." To her surprise, the Commander laughed, shaking his head.
Humor fading, the man crossed his arms. "Careful. Only certain parts of the world respond well to that."
Shrugging, KSG debated with herself before pushing ahead. "We are the only people in the room, Commander."
A slow solemn nod. "We are." He gave her a sidelong look, seeming to reevaluate something, before visibly moving on from the topic. "Any further questions? KSG shook her head, recognizing the end of the conversation. "Hit the lights when you leave."
A strange request, but KSG saw no reason to deny it. Before leaving him in darkness, KSG watched the man slouch, exhaling long and hard, a weight falling over him.
She made it all of five steps out of the room before nearly running over AK-Alfa, her second apparently on the way to look for either her, or the Commander. "Things finished with the Commander?"
Thinking back over the conversation, KSG hummed. "Yes. It was an informative discussion." Alfa tipped her head to side, eyes narrow, lips pursed, the same kind of look that she gave whenever KSG tactfully dodged questions about what RFB did to earn her wrath the previous night. "That is a discussion for later Alfa.
"Fine." Her second huffed. "Everyone is settled, the accommodations here are limited but acceptable. The others are in the mess, speaking with those already on base." Alfa paused, her voice dropping slightly. "Do you know what is happening between the other Captains? They left the gathering and seemed rather intent on some important matter."
KSG shoves her hands into her coat pockets. She didn't enjoy it when Alfa agreed with her assessments of people, even less in such detail. "I don't know, and being so recently arrived, I am not inclined to stick my nose into the business of others." Her own second rolls her eyes, muttering a disagreement that KSG tactfully ignored. "Opinions?"
"We've been shipped off to worse." A dry, useless answer on the surface, but Alfa didn't put scorn of disgust behind her words. "There is plenty of space." KSG hid her smile.
"MG4 will be pleased." That made Alfa laugh, and visibly relax as they walked. "I presume I'm walking into a veiled information gathering attempt." They stopped outside the door into the mess, KSG already able to pick out Honey Badger's voice within, excitedly recounting one story or another.
The door opened, MG4 stepped out, the demure machinegunner's scarf pulled up to cover as much of her as possible, and her eyes darted about. KSG squared her shoulders, taking the flood of noise without flinching, although she felt Alfa jerk at her side.
"Captain." A look over the shoulder told KSG all she needed about MG4's opinion of current affairs. "Your presence is requested."
"Indeed." Letting MG4 slip behind her, KSG stepped into the room, attention snapping from SRS and Honey Badger to her. Internally she couldn't help but sigh. While this was to be expected, she did not enjoy this part of ending up on a new base.
-Faded Glory-
Leaving the command room, FAL caught Groza's attention, the other Echelon leader grimacing but tipping her head in slight acceptance. FAL didn't want to have this conversation now, but she, and it seemed, Groza, recognized that they couldn't put this off forever. Thus, she wound them through the base to the rooms occupied by her Echelon. Mercifully, they were absent, likely interrogating the new arrivals, sparing her the frustration of convincing Five-seveN to leave without causing trouble.
"I am seeing parallels." Groza's forced attempt at humor did little to truly defuse the tension hanging over them both, although FAL couldn't completely hide her smile. Her counterpart dropped onto a chair, legs crossing, and, for the first time in FAL's memory, curled inwards, instead of actively projecting herself onto the room.
Start with something easy, something that didn't make both of them nervous, FAL reminded herself. Groza would likely pick up on the trick, but they both knew how to play this game. "I'm guessing you also sent yours off to interrogate our new arrivals."
Groza made a noise of vague agreement. "OTs-12 and 39 more than SV-98, she tends to be blunter than needed."
"I have wondered how she came to be your second." Perhaps this would guide the conversation more naturally, and FAL took advantage. "While her tongue is sharp, SV-98 always struck me as more of a traditional soldier, content to take her orders, and not so much the slight of hand in planning, or the more…" FAL trailed off. There was no easy way to describe it, but Groza's expression said she understood.
Groza snorted. "She is not. We were assigned to the same units by happenstance during a reshuffle when new Dolls were shipped in, during the push to break the Polish lines. Our officers were callous with our lives, throwing us headlong into the enemy. SV-98 likes to quote one who remarked that having to shoot the same faceless women day and day would surely break the Polish will to fight."
FAL couldn't hide her snort. "While hindsight demonstrates the folly of that idea, I can see the logic that would lead them to it."
Groza nodded. "Every offensive began with fresh backups... by the time the guns fell silent on the attack, I could expect to die, four, five, even six times."
"Callous." FAL felt anger flare in her chest, before squashing it.
Groza doesn't physically respond, her body language now so closed off that FAL could pick out nothing. "Yes." A silence falls. "They picked those Dolls who were 'leaders' more or less at random, at the beginning. They ordered us to be the first into the fighting and thus, we were the first to die. Later, we started getting more 'privileges' as the human officer corps shrank, and they picked amongst the perceived best of us."
Biting her tongue against an instinctive reply, FAL settled down on a counter, motioning for Groza to continue.
"I learned to fight and lead by pain of death. Mine, and my soldiers." A tension seeped out of Groza, a steadfast refusal to meet FAL's eyes, never quite going still. "As the war dragged on, various officers took us under their wing. My 'mentor' fed that impulse, the command to throw myself into combat, to use my life as a shield for others, to rely on nothing but myself when in harsh situations."
FAL crossed her own legs in an effort to squash her discomfort. "I will accept all accusations of hypocrisy, but he sounds like a right bastard."
Groza tried a glare, then relented with a shake of her head. "You two would have gotten along. He always insisted that I be colder." That thought hung for most of a minute before she finished at a whisper. "That was the war."
"Yes."
Groza finally stilled, as she pulled her legs up underneath herself looking down at her hands. "After the war, we remained in the military for a time, until the expense of a wartime military caught up, and they began downsizing. As the most replaceable, Dolls went first, in particular older models such as SV-98 and I. Officially we were transferred to the military police, but that was a formality to give us a little bit of time to 'adjust'." Groza's lips quirked at some personal joke. "In a time where military veterans and civilians' dolls were flooding the mercenary market, we were at a disadvantage."
"Yes." FAL hummed. "OTs-12 and 39 were not with you?"
"No. They were assigned to my squad when we joined Griffon, but for several years SV-98 and I spent our time floating from job to job, until Griffon began to make a name for itself, and we signed on." Groza paused long enough to receive confirmation that FAL followed the story. "During that time, I spent a lot of time and energy protecting us, threatening, cajoling, or anything else that had to happen." The laugh that followed proved dark and humorless, entirely at odds with Groza's usual persona. "While the particulars changed, the situation didn't."
"Groza." FAL tried to keep her voice steady, as they finally stumbled into the heart of the matter. "This isn't the war."
For several long seconds, the Belgian wondered if Groza would argue, their eyes briefly meeting, before the Russian deflated. "I know."
A pithy retort died on FAL's lips. She expected more of a fight. "Then why?"
Again, Groza took a long time to speak, starting, and then stopping multiple times. "Who else?" She whispered; soft enough even enhanced hearing struggled to pick it up. It took seconds more for FAL to pick apart the meaning.
FAL pushed herself to her feet, closing the distance between them, slowly, measured steps. "OTs-12 or OTs-39? Or SV-98? PP-2000?" Me, she added internally.
A flicker of amusement, as if Groza knew what hadn't been said. "FAL." The Belgian didn't relent. "They all would try in their own way, yes." Groza condeed, although her eyes stayed down.
"And do you not already rely on them, trust them for dangerous tasks?" A slow, deliberate nod. "You do not have to do everything alone, Groza. We are not unfeeling automata, no matter how much the world might wish it. You should not, cannot, bear that burden alone." Hesitantly, FAL settled on the arm of the chair. "They subjected us to atrocities of all types, and used our lives as little more than an expendable resource. That does not mean they were right."
"No, it does not." Groza tried a shaky smile, but didn't reach her eyes. "But in those moments, all I remember is the pain, the fear, the resignation at being sent out to fight once again. Better I suffer than any of them."
"Then spare them from it." Perhaps an obvious suggestion, and they both knew that. "You are not alone, Groza. You have allies; myself, your squad mates, even the Commander," At least, for this purpose, went unsaid, "The new arrivals. You," FAL poked her in the chest, before dropping her hand down to cover one of Groza's, "are not fighting alone. We can find solutions to problems. Can minimize risks."
Groza tried to interrupt, but FAL kept going, determined to say her piece.
"Just as you do not enjoy watching those you are responsible for experiencing those things; they do not enjoy seeing it happen to you. What do you think it does to them, Groza, seeing their leader throw herself recklessly into danger, even die?" A hard swallow, the words dieing on the spot. "I cannot speak for the rest, but for myself, I cannot imagine having to pull your Core from your chest, or carry your body back." FAL's voice cracked at the end. "If not for yourself, then…" FAL cut off before her tongue betrayed her even further.
Fingers tightened about her own. "I…" A long, slow exhale. "You are right." Another, shaky breath. "You are right." FAL hummed, returning the squeeze of the hand. "I can't promise miracles."
"Just an attempt is all I ask."
-Faded Glory-
When Groza and FAL joined the chaotic gathering, they found almost the entire base in the mess hall, the Commander was nowhere to be seen, but Groza couldn't say she was surprised by that. The man seemed allergic to social events of any type, and having introduced himself to the new arrivals likely withdrew to hide from further questions.
Five-seveN seemed to have drawn the new arrivals into a story of some variety, gesturing animatedly, while others chipped in from time to time. This occupied most of the attention in the room, letting them enter unnoticed, except for MG4, who sat in the corner and seemed determined to go unnoticed.
"You should probably save our new allies from your second." Groza murmured, earning a huff of annoyance from FAL. "Unless you want her to convince them that you are some kind of seductress?"
"I would prefer she did not." FAL lingered a brief second longer, before moving toward the gaggle of Dolls around Five-seveN. Groza heard her start to ask what lies her second was speaking before she stopped listening. All attention shifted to the Belgian duo, and Groza slipped around the back, towards her own second.
SV-98 sat towards the back of the room, watching the chaos with a critical eye. She made a show of sizing up Groza upon catching sight of her. "You need to hurry up and commit, otherwise someone else is going to run off with her." A glance at the verbal spar that had broken out, Five-seveN insisting that she had told no lies, even as her teammates ganged up on her.
"While FAL has many faults, that is not one of them." Groza leaned against the wall, crossing her arms to bury her discomfort. "I expected you to be in that mess, not scowling from a corner."
The sniper grunted, but didn't say anything else, her eyes turning away from the main group. Tracking her eyes, Groza couldn't help but frown as they lingered on PP-2000, who was locked in a quiet conversation with Ballista. The Belgian riflewoman seemed unusually engaged in the conversation, although Groza didn't know her well enough to gauge more. After some time, Groza put a hand on her seconds' shoulder, the physical contact prompting SV-98 to jump. "Captain."
Groza motioned towards the door, and SV-98 nodded, a sharp, military gesture. Waiting a short time to not make her own departure too suspicious, Groza followed, almost knocking over the Commander in the doorway. The man seemed engrossed by his thoughts, only vaguely accepting her apology before going to sit.
SV-98 was waiting at the end of the hallway, foot tapping impatiently. They fell into step, neither making an effort to break the silence.
"You've been around longer than me." SV-98 started with an obvious statement, but Groza felt compelled to nod. "Any of that fancy officer's information they dumped in your head include how to avoid making a complete and total ass of yourself?"
Her earlier conversation with FAL came to mind. "No, it did not."
"Damnit." A muttered curse, almost lost in the wind. "You know, when we first shipped out, I thought you knew everything?" It took some effort to avoid laughing at that assertion. "Even back then, you were calm, collected. You knew what officers were actually saying, when they gave orders like 'take the fucking hill', or 'kill them all'." A clipped, humorless laugh. "You weren't even our 'leader' then."
"There was less to interpret back then." At times, Groza still missed that simplicity. "And I suspect if you asked any of those officers, my idea of what they meant rarely aligned with what they meant. 'Take that fucking hill' usually meant 'take that hill'. The fact I wanted to do that via a slightly more advanced tactic than 'charge until they run out bullets' is an invention of my own."
An absent, dismissive nod answered her. "I learned that later." The sniper stopped, turning to look across the base. "Around the time you pulled us aside, and apologized for walking us into landmines." Groza flinched. She didn't enjoy that memory, the first of many times she'd gotten her entire group killed by her own fault. "Never understood how you could…"
"Apologize?" There were not a lot of reasons for SV-98 to bring up that particular episode, and Groz found herself struggling to draw a casual line between any of them.
"No." A pause. "Yes." Then, a helpless shrug. "Be honest about something like that. You didn't have to; we weren't going to disobey orders. You said jump, we jumped."
Groza clenched a bit. "SV, you know-"
"You aren't that type. Yeah, I know." A bit of disgust crept into SV-98's tone. "That's the problem." She spun and started walking again.
Groza skipped a step in the haste to catch up. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."
SV-98 huffed. "When people come asking me for opinions about why you did things, something has gone wrong." PP-2000 making an excuse about not needing something came to mind, and Groza's frown deepened.
"While I take the point you are attempting to make-"
"I'm quite aware I'm not a people person." That had not been what Groza intended to bring up, the heat in the words made her pause. "I'd much rather be left alone than be asked weird questions about my boss's mental state and decision-making process by someone who wouldn't have the first clue about anything I'm talking about."
Groza did her best not to mutter curses, as everything fell into place. PP-2000's sudden acceptance of the Commander's need for a pilot, the subtle tension between the other two blondes, and the way they ignored one another outside of that. While the full details of any conversation between PP-2000 and SV-98 would remain between them, Groza could make a few guesses about how it went, and what could have been done differently. Those would only provoke her second more, and in many ways, Groza knew they were pointless. "You don't feel that explanation went well."
At that, SV-98 stiffened, shoving her hands into her pockets, a sure sign that the point had been understanding. They kept walking in the quiet, Groza still assessing, SV-98 seeming to stew. "I handled it badly."
Groza nodded, accepting SV-98's understanding.
"I know it." Another pause. "But…" A pause.
This time, taking a stab in the dark felt appropriate. "How to handle the fallout."
SV-98. "It is not the sort of thing you can just take back."
Groza considered the varied meanings of that sentence, before putting those things aside. "Did you mean any of it?"
The silence lasted long enough to become uncomfortable. "Not really." SV-98 sighed heavily. "Just…let some things get out of hand. Ran my mouth." A believable situation, and result.
"And?" While she could believe that is what happened, Groza could not really comment on any of it.
SV-98 scowled, not looking at her. "Can you just hit me and be done with it?"
Groza sighed. "No." Her second grunted.
The sniper rolled her eyes. "And you're not going to just twist me into a verbal pretzel to get the answer?" A long pause. "You already fucking know." SV-98 slumped. "Just say it."
"I am not a mind reader, SV-98, I don't know what exactly came out of your mouth." Groza tried to keep her voice level, even as her frustration started to mount.
"Told her you should have let her die." SV-98 muttered, then rushed on with a bit more of her usual snark. "I may have mentioned that you're a dumbass who thinks it's her job to die instead of us."
"Ah." That appeared to be a theme in Groza's conversations today. SV-98 was leaving some things out of course, but it was a start.
"Groza." A plea and a demand rolled into one.
"What do you want me to tell you, SV-98?" Groza exhaled heavily. "You are mature enough to know you need to apologize at the least. And that I am not going to fight your battles for you." While SV-98 made a halfhearted gesture to indicate agreement, she didn't argue the point. "Do you believe it?"
SV-98 started to speak, then stopped. "Believe what?" Her tone shifted in the direction of guardedness.
"Believe what you told PP-2000?" Groza left the repeat question a bit open, both curious to see how SV-98 responded, and what insight it might give into what her second was hiding. SV-98 tended to run her mouth, and in general Groza didn't mind. She'd tolerated worse, but whatever had gone on, it was worse than her usual prodding about Groza's bedroom habits, or leadership.
The silence dragged on, long enough to confirm some of Groza's suspicions, before SV-98 gave in. "No." A grudging, disgusted admission, and that is what caught Groza's attention. The self disgust.
"If you believe an apology is not enough, and you do not intend to stand by your words, what is it you intend to do?" Experience told her that leading SV-98 to conclusions by the nose would be the best.
"I don't know." SV-98 rubbed her upper arms, giving Groza a sideways look.
That was, in the end, what this was about. "You can't hide behind me forever, SV-98." A grunt. "You can't cling to the past forever." The abject hypocrisy of the words was not lost on her. "And you can't expect to fix all problems immediately. You might be spending a while working on it."
SV-98 shot her a disbelieving look. "Speaking from experience?"
"You don't change ingrained habits overnight." Groza accepted the jab, intended or not. "And you don't change anything if you don't want that change." SV-98 made to open her mouth. "By your own words, SV-98 this is the sort of problem you let me handle." A nod. "And that, in some ways, is what you wanted from this conversation, for me to say 'I'll handle it'."
SV-98 didn't answer, but the way she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat gave Groza the answer.
Groza considered for a while, watching the sun start to set. "If you want me to solve it, I could." A hand came up to forestall the next question. "Think about what that means, SV-98." Spinning on her heel, Groza started to leave, before stopping. "And SV."
"What?"
"Honesty is usually a good first step." Groza doubted SV-98 needed much prompting, but she would need some.
Her peace said, Groza continued back towards the interior of the base. Hopefully she could catch the new arrivals for a bit of conversation, before the others drove them away, although Groza had to admit she wasn't the most hopeful about that. One could only take so much of Five-seveN before needing a break.
AN: Holy hell, this got entirely out of hand. What started as a plan to weave plot and character arcs into one chapter quickly turned into a full on chapter by itself. I blame Groza, who ended up dominating the screen time, and to be fair, the plot advancement, because rescuing the AR team has more moving parts than I originally planned for, so it made more sense to double down on the character moments. Also these idiots are fun, so why not?
Apparently Branded isn't out for my blood, according to him this wasn't a bear to edit...although he also commented 'Chocolate is life. Chocolate is love', which has me concerned for other reasons.
As always, questions, comments, and concerns are always appreciated.