"Hunter."
"Scarecrow." Hunter did not have time to deal with distractions, even from a fellow Ringleader. Dividing her focus between two other battles, stalking this newest batch of Griffon Dolls, and ensuring the prisoner stayed a prisoner.
Scarecrow seemed willfully oblivious to the displeasure, or perhaps took some satisfaction in her squirming. "Still playing with your food?" Hunter ground her teeth. Definitely taking satisfaction.
"I have one of the Anti-Rain Dolls. One of the Griffon pests is dead." It seemed best not to inform Scarecrow of her injuries. "The other Griffon pests are distracted by my forces, or withdrawing after a bloodied nose."
A long silence settled in, her counterpart seeming to expect further information before a sigh rattled through the connection. "Most." Hunter resisted the urge to snap in return. She could have dealt with fewer, but Scarecrow's cowardice left her with more problems.
"One squad remains lower down. You have interrupted my plans to deal with them." The rasp of Scarecrow's breath signaled her disinterest in the complaint. "You have yet to scare off the others?"
"That depends on their Commander." Scarecrow's version of a laugh, hollow and uneven, followed. "A pragmatist, he knows his limits, and our combined forces exceed his desire to fight." Hunter twirled one of her pistols, watching the Griffon dolls fumbling at the body of the dead. "Until they withdraw, do not underestimate them. Even trash is capable of luck."
"I am not that idiot." One of the Griffon Dolls fired at something in the dark. Bullets sparked off the concrete. "They are confused, disoriented, and afraid. I can eliminate them at my leisure."
A long pause, the sort that implied Scarecrow to be passing judgment. "Two of the ones resisting my scouts are dead." Hunter recognized the small up-turn in tone, giving the impression that her comrade found some aspect of those deaths amusing. Hunter made a note to check the memories later, curious as to what might draw such a response from Scarecrow.
"Then I assume your scouts will overwhelm the remains." Some of Hunter's units started to engage the Griffon units again, earning return fire. The blonde who seemed to lead them gave orders, and a grenade shook the room.
"Doubtful." Scarecrow gave the impression of a shrug. "To borrow a phrase from their Commander, humans are 'fundamentally irrational creatures', and Griffon Dolls are made in that image." Another batch of Dolls shifted authority from Scarecrow to Hunter. "Conclude your game. We do not wish for the enemy to become desperate."
Hunter let the connection close before grumbling to herself. Scarecrow's knowledge and assessments were hard to challenge, but the scout could be frustratingly smug, even when it was not earned. Hunter captured one of the objectives, while all Scarecrow managed was annoying Griffon.
-Faded Glory-
"KSG, watch your flank!" Desert Eagle's warning was largely superfluous, as KSG continued to twist, letting a few shots ricochet into the air. More chips of metal and ceramic flew off, one slashing across her cheek.
The slog of urban warfare never changed, as KSG sent out another wave of positioning orders. "Suomi, get RFB another live one, we need information." The precise nature of the reply didn't bear translating, but it seemed to be affirmative.
Steady automatic fire provided the backdrop to their push towards the last known contact with FNC and FN-49. Sangvis resistance continued to mount, making the losses, and injuries, even more pressing. The Commander approved the push to find the two Belgian Dolls, but KSG doubted they would be able to sustain the push for much longer.
Shifting her shields to better cover Desert Eagle forced KSG to adjust her own position for safety. They needed to wait for the rest of their respective Echelons to finish clearing the buildings along the streets, and had no choice but to hold position, but Sangvis did not make that prospect easy.
Lobbing a grenade over their heads, the smaller Doll took a few seconds to glare at KSG. "The next time you want help, I would prefer if you asked directly, instead of this roundabout nonsense."
"I can't promise anything." Knocking a few more chips off her plating, KSG sighed. She knew without looking that the smaller Doll would be glaring up at her, frustration, and rage mixing in equal measure.
"Because you are not willing to promise, or because you believe you are unable to keep a promise even if you make it." A miserable laugh rises in KSG's throat. She could picture a very different woman making that same request to a Marine Lieutenant, in a burning German street. She could also recall the grim look on that Lieutenant when he turned away. No doubt, a similar thought crossed Desert Eagle's mind.
Sympathy bubbled up in her chest, choking off any other words that might have accompanied the simple reply. "The second."
"I see." The two words cast a pall over them. KSG watches the streets, Desert Eagle's eyes steady on her back. "A trend, isn't it?"
KSG's grip tightened on her weapon, instinctive fury clawing the sympathy back. Of RFB's sisters, KSG never considered herself close to Desert Eagle. They served as mutual reminders of a past that did not need to be dredged up, and so they maintained a mutual respect and distance.
Quashing her anger, KSG kept her attention on the street. Sangvis refused to push them this time, the scouts and harassing units lurking in the shadows. It would make a convenient excuse if Desert Eagle called her out. "Would you rather be lied to?"
"Why not?" Bitterness reserved for glares and silent conversations crept to the surface. "At least you have the courtesy to look me in the eyes when you do it."
Dragging her gaze down, KSG took a deep breath. The irrational desire to punch the other Doll reared up, before being suppressed. Some of that filtered into the words that slipped past her usual composure. "And do you really think the actions of one NCO were going to change a damn thing about what happened?" More lingered at the time of her tongue, but she bit the words off.
"You have something left, KSG." Something moved, and a massive handgun round tore through car door and body alike. The dispute vanished for a moment, both of them watching closely, until K2 called out an all clear.
"You will note that I am here, working for a Soviet PMC, and not there."
Desert Eagle didn't have a ready rebuttal for that, and they kept moving in silence. With only a single street remaining she broke the uneasy silence again. "You are a real idiot sometimes KSG."
Two grenades went off, preventing KSG from offering an immediate reply. A shot from a Jaeger impacted the ground nearby before the origin point vanished in a hail of dust and sparks. "Alfa is unlikely to let me forget it. Or your sisters."
"Just because you are told you are an idiot doesn't mean you agree you are an idiot." A fresh map of Sangvis units popped up, along with a note from RFB that things were changing so fast they couldn't trust it. "And Alfa is hardly a reliable source for anything."
"Point." KSG stomped on another of the small dog creatures. Low light made them surprisingly tricky to spot, although the glowing red in the camera lens did provide some advantages. "You are asking for a reason."
"We are not exactly an ideal choice for this. Suomi is…" An uncomfortable pause, "Herself. You never like putting RFB in combat situations of your own volition, K2 isn't cut out for urban warfare, and while we never said it, military matters stayed out of our relationship." They were next to the correct building now, KSG shielding them from incoming fire as Desert Eagle looked inside. "No movement."
"I didn't have many choices, Desert Eagle. Personal feelings aside, you are capable of carrying out the mission, and convincing your Commander to look the other way when something goes sideways." KSG dispatched new orders to the others, as they pushed into the room. Green and red dots scurried about, to begin clearing the way forward.
"I appreciate the overestimation of my abilities." Desert Eagle let her lead the way inside. "However, Suomi and I are not going to be able to keep him entirely in the dark. His job was investigating things, he can't just turn that off."
Sweeping the room, KSG let that settle for a moment. She could see both FNC and FN-49, unmoving bodies bearing enough wounds to explain what happened. "Retrieve their Cores. I'll finish coordinating the others."
Desert Eagle didn't answer, setting to the task, giving KSG a few moments to properly evaluate the situation with Groza.
"It's slow going." Groza's explanation seemed to be distracted, not that KSG blamed her for it. Hunter's games would take a toll on anyone, even in the best of circumstances.
"Understood. Update as needed." Desert Eagle returned to KSG's side, twirling her pistol. "How far is he going to dig?"
The other Doll blinked in confusion,starting to speak to them , stopping to reevaluate her reply. "Depends on your Commander's ability to be persuasive. We've already been told that our's is going to ask what is happening."
KSG did not consider that an encouraging answer. "I see." She kept the observation that this was just like old times to herself. "We worry about it later."
For the first time, a hint of amusement flashed across Desert Eagle's face. "That confident?"
"While I would trust the Commander to be persuasive over some of my existing subordinates, he does not strike me as a man who is good at actively talking someone out of a situation." A brow rose, both questioning and amused. "He is…was…an officer of some variety. Major… Captain maybe. Not the sort of person you put in charge of talking to the civvies."
Desert Eagle snorted. "I'd ask if you've ever been called a pessimist, but I'm afraid you'll start listing every Marine who you served with, and we need to make it back to the others sometime this week." The words lacked heat, as they started the push back to more friendly confines.
"They prefered me honest." Two Vespids exploded as the buckshot tore through them. "Said someone had to be, considering the brass seemed dead set on setting the record for fastest time from 'charge' to complete force destruction. Seemed to take pleasure in defying those attempts."
Desert Eagle made no attempt at a pithy comeback as they struck out into the streets again.
-Faded Glory-
"This position is defensible. Tell Nighthawk to put the skids between the green, and that it will be a live firefight." KSG's voice rose ever so slightly at the end, the smallest sign of panic from someone who seemed almost immune to surprise and panic in the limited time Ian had known her.
"Already done." Ian's eyes raced across the map. A comprehensive picture of the battlefield eluded him, thanks to the fragmented nature of the situation, and the mounting injuries and losses. Drone footage painted a grim picture of the advancing Sangvis force, with the increased clumps breaking away to charge the defensive positions. KSG and FAL proved capable of rearranging on the fly to absorb the new attacks, but attrition did not favor his forces. Were they sufficiently supplied, and in a more effective defensive position, he suspected that the four and a bit Echelons could hold out, but short of supplies and scattered, that would not be a reasonable expectation.
For a short period, the chaos of the room simply washed over Ian. Miles away from the battlefield, and with limited additional resources he could do nothing but listen to the chatter, and try to foresee any additional obstacles. The routine of sitting in a chaotic room, and processing three layers of information at once still came naturally, something that Ian didn't know quite how to feel about.
"Nighthawk to Command."
"Contact Group Five, continuing on current vector!"
"Ready for when everyone returns!"
"Nighthawk Copies."
"New contact!"
New contacts were the last thing they needed to deal with. "Lena, ignore groups one, five, and six, tighten search pattern around contact zone. Keep eyes and ears on our people at all times. We can't afford visual gaps again."
"Understood." Lena's voice did not shake, although the UAV's path did wobble slightly. "We're not looking at a clear air corridor on the way out, Commander, they'll be subject to ground fire."
"I'm aware of that." That served as a good reminder to follow up on the contingency for that problem. "Kalina, status on landing near Sevastopol?"
"If we have to." One day, Ian would investigate how she pulled that off so quickly. "I'll owe people favors, but if we need to, we can land near the city."
"Noted." Avoid that option if at all reasonable. Sector 9 had, and would have, enough problems without resorting to owing local cities favors. Still, as the window to flee tightened, Ian knew that option remained on the table. "Aleksander, get Nighthawk moving if she isn't already. And ask her if she thinks they can fly out in one trip."
"Doubtful, sir, but I'll ask." Unlike Lena, Aleksander seemed distinctly uncomfortable in the chaos. When the pings for Dolls lost popped up, Ian had seen the man flinch, adding yet another thing to follow up on at some point in the future. Whenever he got dragged into drinking with the others, or perhaps one on one.
"Commander." Kalina broke his thoughts. "Are you alright?"
"Hm?" That question seemed entirely out of place.
The logistics officer stepped closer, dropping her voice. "You've been staring and grinding your teeth almost the entire day."
"Oh." Doing his best to force calm Ian had to remind himself that Kalina didn't come from the same background, and how he projected himself would affect her just as much as anyone else. "Trying to remember something, that is all." Her eyes narrowed, a non-verbal challenge to the idea. "Just a stray thought that has been bothering me for the last few days, that's all." That made her eyes wide slightly, surprise and disbelief warring with one another, before the comm lines exploded with more information and his attention was pulled away again.
-Faded Glory-
Hunter's taunts echoed throughout the entire facility, and that final one, a demand for M4 to surrender in return for AR-15 finally compelled her to directly act. Playing on M4's meek nature would be more likely to succeed than AR-15 wanted to admit, and even if M4 gave herself up AR-15 doubted that Hunter would uphold the bargain, instead handing both of them over to Sangvis.
All the effort to set a trap, burned to the ground by Griffon and her sister barging in at the absolutely least convenient time. So instead, she had to improvise, and AR-15 did not like that in the least.
Lunging across a hallway near her cell, AR-15 drove her knife through the head of a Ripper, letting the corpse fall as she kept moving, tackling its partner to the floor, fingers digging into the network/charging port at the base of the drone's neck. She'd wanted to do this from Hunter's Neural Cloud, instead of a random peon, but there wasn't time to find the Ringleader. Diving into the network felt like jumping into a vat of oil, and the Ripper spasmed as she started to dig.
AR-15 didn't understand the intricacies, but it took a fraction of a second for the network to stabilize. Most of the information stored on the Ripper itself seemed useless, movement patterns, troop locations, a proper map of the facility, and assorted random junk. Most of that, AR-15 marked for deletion, before pushing further.
Visual warnings flared. Cautions about Sangvis viruses, firewalls, network protocol issues, and file system issues clouded her vision. AR-15's lips curled in disgust, and her victim spasmed further. "Hold still!" She slammed the Ripper down.
A few of those warnings faded away as she dug deeper, stretching out across the network, before something tried to fight back, a sharp mental shock marking the first resistance. Another node revealed the position of her sisters, hunkered down in a makeshift defense, and surrounded by Sangvis. Another mental shock.
"Shut up." AR-15 muttered, as she kept looking. Every few seconds she jumped to another node, getting another flash of the surrounding battle. She watched through the eyes of a Guard as one of Hunter's bullets struck a Doll in the hip, spotting M4 and SOPMOD in the chaos. Another showed her the streets above, Sangvis units being torn limb from limb by overhead fire, as they tried to rush down a Doll kneeling behind portable armor plating. A third lasted a split second, showing only a ruined street before the unit died. The fourth was back in the darkness above, circling the Griffon Dolls.
The press on her mind grew stronger, the warnings flaring up full force once again, threatening to overwhelm her. "I said shut up!" AR-15 didn't know the first thing about EWAR, but she knew that yelling at a computer wasn't supposed to make it work better. Yet, at her command, the warnings scattered, and the resistance to delving vanished, leaving her probing the inner workings of the network in silence.
A few seconds were devoted to assessing the situation outside. Griffon dolls were holding ground, but under the full force of a push they might well collapse. Regardless of her annoyance, AR-15 wanted to live, and without her primary weapon she couldn't fight her way out of this situation alone.
The errant thought that Sangvis needed to be weakened settled into the network, and AR-15 could watch as dozens of nodes fizzled, attacking adjacent nodes, or simply doing dark.
Sparks flashed in the Sangvis Doll's eyes, as what limited processing power the body overloaded, unable to handle the demands of AR-15's superior Neural Cloud. Letting the body smoke, AR-15 knifed it twice for good measure, before rising to her feet. She now knew where to find Hunter, and could save her dumbass sister from herself.
-Faded Glory-
"Do…do things like this normally happen?" Fighting with MG4 left SRS feeling her own performance was incredibly inadequate. She couldn't imagine being as immune to fear and shock as MG4 seemed, but the bland ignorance to near death felt like a requirement in battles like this.
"Seen worse." MG4 shifted, the only sign of potential discomfort that SRS could find. "Watch for snipers in that building." That area in question barely qualified as a building, more a pile of rubble from which the approaching Jaegers seemed to like to shoot. "We did this sort of thing."
On cue, a Jaeger popped its head up, then went falling back down after a single shot. SRS put her latest victory out of her mind, focusing on MG4's comment. "We?"
"Yes." MG4 tilted her head after the reply, as if talking into a radio. "KSG, north is weakening. Limited additional engagements. Confirm further hostiles."
"New group, two minutes." SRS could not claim to know KSG well, but their Echelon leader came off as more clipped than usual.
"Copy." Likewise, pulling feelings from MG4 was a fruitless task, although as her lips pressed together, SRS felt somewhat safe in her guess that the machine gunner didn't like the situation. "We have ninety seconds." The statement shook the former teacher from her thoughts.
"W-what?" KSG gave a longer time window than that, and their leader delivered accurate information, always.
Watching her sister's eyes darken made SRS squirm. A weight emanated from that gaze holding SRS in place and leaving her feeling both small and woefully inexperienced, before MG4 turned away again, rolling her shoulders as she did so. "Information is old, by the time it makes it through the Commander, and then KSG." Starting to reload her weapon, MG4 added, "You should fall back."
"I'm not leaving you alone." SRS snapped, the words coming harsher than she intended. "If Sangvis gets close to you-"
"Despite what Suomi claims, Sangvis isn't very Russian." The interjection carried a degree of finality, leaving SRS with the feeling that she missed some crucial step in the performance evaluation of her enemies. A brief melancholy settled over her superior, before vanishing again "Fall back to…" MG4 sent a marker. "This point. Better vantage for you to shoot from."
SRS started to rise, realizing that questioning how MG4 knew about sniping would be futile. Before she could leave, she felt compelled to ask, "Will you be okay?"
Just for a moment, a bit of genuine amusement slipped through MG4's façade. Embarrassment flooded SRS, on an instinctive level, one she did not fully understand. "One minute."
Hurriedly packing up her rifle and equipment, SRS took off at a sprint. MG4's idea made sense, the lower vantage point the older Doll used suited the heavy weapon better than a rifle. MG4 screamed capable and confident, but leaving her alone, when they were partnered up for better protection, rubbed SRS the wrong way.
From her new position, the sniper took a moment to assess the situation. Having moved to another bit of ruin, MG4 arrayed most of her equipment at her side. Spare ammunition sat to her left, while her sidearm and grenades were neatly stacked on her right. At a glance she seemed relaxed, fingers rolling along the length of her weapon's grip, cheek resting against the stock, but SRS couldn't bring herself to trust that assessment. Surely facing down a horde of Sangvis would be enough to worry anyone, and MG4 just mastered the art of putting on a facade of calm for the sake of the others?
"SRS." Hearing her name made the sniper jump, but she managed to spit out a composed acknowledgement. "Limit your fire to when I'm reloading." A network push followed, a small number populating SRS's vision. MG4's ammo count. "I'll call targets if I need them."
What little of warfare that SRS knew suggested that was a bad idea. "If you think that is best."
MG4's lips twitched in SRS's scope, another small hint of amusement. "Yes." She could see fingers steady on the grip of the weapon. "Get ready."
The first wave came into view, disorderly ranks filling the zone that MG4 designated as her target area. No markers appeared as MG4 repositioned herself. "SRS."
"Yes?"
MG4 took her time replying, seeming to choose her words with unusual care. "If KSG asks, tell her I felt it best."
"Why would-" The implication hit hard. "You are not dying, MG4!"
"Not planning too." More targets were marked, and SRS continued to engage. Halfway through the second group she realized MG4 marked them in groups to match her magazine size. "Accidents happen."
"Why would you…" It felt wrong to casually discuss the chance of death. Accepting the idea that one of them might die felt like an admission of defeat or inadequacy.
"Better be prepared, than not." Another belt emptied, and SRS found herself shooting as fast as her weapon would allow. "KSG will understand."
SRS didn't catch herself in time to moderate her tone. "This isn't about KSG!"
The next minutes of fighting passed without radio chatter. "We never expected to live." Low, deliberate, SRS strained to hear the words over the shooting. "Dolls were ordered to fight to the last. They'd try and keep network links if they could, otherwise we made arrangements that anything we wanted known, we passed on to someone we trusted, either to tell us when we came up, or to pass on that knowledge."
SRS dropped two more targets, turning those words over in her mind.
"I lived more than average. That doesn't mean I didn't die." Another pause, as MG4 continued to pick apart the Sangvis lines. "I have no intention of getting shot by some knockoff Russian." Said knockoff Russians were getting closer to her position, and she steadfastly refused to mark things for SRS to shoot. "This is about making sure KSG knows it is my choice SRS. My judgment, not yours."
"Why would-"Finally target marks appeared, and SRS rejoined the fight. They couldn't talk, SRS having to focus entirely on shooting. MG4 lobbed a few grenades, adding to the rising chaos. Still, the metal tide rolled forwards.
"Reloading."
The word barely registered. SRS shot a Ripper in the side, leaving the still living corpse to handle later. Rather than shooting for accuracy, she was shooting to kill multiple targets with each bullet. Fewer units were filling the gaps now, two Guards replaced four Rippers, or a Vespid three Rippers.
The heavy chatter of a machine gun gave way at the same time the enemy did. MG4 didn't bother to reload her main weapon, grabbing her sidearm and engaging the last few with a pistol as SRS picked off the rest. Slowly, the sniper released a pent up breath, letting the rush and fear from combat bleed out as the dust settled.
"SRS." MG4 spoke first.
"Y-yes?" Nerves from the fighting and shooting caught up with her, and SRS stammered.
"Thank you." Rising from her prone position, the MG4 started collecting her gear. "Keep an eye out for any stragglers, we'll be falling back soon." Somehow, even that small statement from MG4 felt like a considerable achievement. As if SRS managed to make some small inroads on the other Doll's façade of coldness.
-Faded Glory-
Climbing the stairs, AR-15 pressed herself against the wall, letting the crackling gunfire wash over her. Most of the weapons were Sangvis, but on occasion, she could hear Griffon Dolls returning fire, and the barking retort of Hunter's pistols. Nothing seemed to have changed since her dive in the Sangvis network.
"Stay down!" An unfamiliar voice barked the order, as AR-15 slipped into the battle zone. Unless AR-15 missed her mark, Hunter would be circling her prey, firing into the gaps in their protection, trying to find the single exploitable weakness.
A grenade exploded, and AR-15 pressed herself against a pillar. Typical SOPMOD, hurling explosives without a hint of caution. The detonation did silence everything else on the battlefield, making it far easier. In the aftermath of the explosion an eerie silence settled in, making the approaching footsteps far easier to pick out. They lacked the efficient regularity of the Sangvis regulars, suggesting AR-15 found her prey.
A Jaeger fired in the distance, the heady snap of a particle rifle almost drowning the surprised yell from a Griffon doll. While the gunfight resumed, AR-15 watched as the flash of Hunter's pistol light the air only a short distance away.
She pounced.
Hunter caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, twisting to bring her other pistol to bear, but the shot went high. Ignoring it, AR-15 used the second flash of a muzzle to assess her foe.
Hunter sported a wound on the right shoulder, two gunshots limiting her movement but would not cripple her. Eyes darting to the glinting knife blade, Hunter made to block the strike, metal squealing as the knife sank into her forearm.
A backhanded blow caught AR-15 in the chest, knocking her to the right. Letting the moment carry her, AR-15 kept rolling. That proved a good choice as another shot hit the ground, shrapnel peppering her back. Bouncing to her feet, AR-15 kept moving, starting to circle the spot where Hunter last was.
In the background the silence returned, and AR-15 could hear Hunter matching her movements. When deprived of vision, sounds felt louder, oppressive even, but the footfalls confirmed they were matched in movements making the next step clear.
Reversing direction, AR-15 passed her knife into her left hand, counting the steps before she drove her blade to the side.
This time, she hit something important. A grunt of pain, and the hiss of air just in front of her face gave that much away. Pulling the blade free, AR-15 adjusted her aim, striking upwards. Again, she found purchase.
"Trash!" Hunter spat the word, her full weight hitting AR-15, slamming them both to the concrete. Impact warnings danced in her eyes, as she struggled to move her left arm. Hunter managed to trap her left arm, leaving little leverage for AR-15 to escape. One hand grasped her wrist, squeezing, and the other struck her across the face, making AR-15's head spin. "Do you think yourself clever, Griffon Doll?"
"Not hard-" AR-15 struggled to free her arm "When this is the quality of the enemy." Instinct said to move her head, and it paid off as a muffled thump erupted from beside her ear.
"You-" Hunter shifted, taking her weight off AR-15's torso. Seizing the chance, AR-15 twisted her body to the left, free hand coming to strike Hunter in the face. Open palmed, the blow only served to further knock Hunter back, but the surprise caused her grip to weaken, and AR-15 took full advantage, grabbing the neck of the Ringleader's jacket, and throwing her sideways with all her might. Beams of light flashed above, a sudden reminder that elsewhere on that same floor, a shootout ranged. Scattering off the dust, they gave AR-15 enough light to see the surprise and fury in Hunter's eyes as the Ringleader went sprawling. Following the movement, AR-15 followed.
Hunter started to rise, and AR-15 headbutted her back into the concrete. A sloppy punch followed, which she swatted aside. Gripping her knife tighter, AR-15 drove it down, to where she knew Hunter's throat to be. Something wet and hot sprayed up onto her hands, and Hunter's struggle redoubled. A weak slap with a handgun caught her in the side, but failed to do more than annoy.
AR-15 pulled her knife free. More flashlight beams passed overhead, catching the dripping coolant on the blade of her knife, and the wild, terrified fury of her prey. The edge of the blade caught the light on the way down. Then, the light moved away, the final inches of descent passing the pitch dark.
Glass and metal rent asunder, Hunter's spine arched, her entire body spasming as it's primary control functions overloaded. AR-15 kept applying pressure until the knife would go no deeper, and Hunter stopped moving. Pulling the weapon free, she stood, starting to walk away, before pausing, and turning back.
Picking up one of Hunter's fallen pistols, AR-15 turned the weapon over in her hand for a moment before taking aim. A brief warning popped up, and with a flick of thought the weapon accepted her authority. It felt wrong, entirely unlike her rifle, but that didn't matter.
Two shots rang out.
Right on cue, the flashlights zeroed back in, giving just enough light to see Hunter's chest caved in, black and blue liquids pooling underneath.
Giving the corpse a final, spiteful glare, AR-15 turned away. She needed to find her sisters, even if the sight of the lifeless Ringleader did prove an enjoyable one.
-Faded Glory-
The strange events kept coming. Even as FAL drew a bead on her next target, she could see the Sangvis unit jerk as if slapped across the head. Before she could fire, a bolt of plasma tore the Guard in half, courtesy of a 'friendly' Jaeger.
It started small, one or two units at a time losing cohesion and attacking one another. Now, every other unit turned on their fellows, and without warning most simply ceased to press the attack. Most stood aimless, otherwise fired at any movement. FAL couldn't say she understood what was happening, she could not refuse the help, especially when vision was rapidly fading, and the still cooling corpses made it hard to track which heat signatures were living and which were already expired.
"Landing point remains good." From FAL's left, KSG kept up the steady stream of information and orders. "Situation on the ground is cooling off temporarily, but may flare up again without warning. Lightning reports VIP has been located, we are standing by for evac."
After a suitable period of silence, FAL spoke up. "Groza found her?" News about the Russian team arrived infrequently, the distance underground and heavy concrete and steel in the way made connections spotty.
"Seems our VIP got tired of being a VIP, and did something about her situation." KSG glanced in her direction, but before returning her attention to the battlefield. "Groza has a visual, but there are still live hostiles down there, so things are a bit slow."
"Would explain the sudden change in behavior." Nodding to the exterior, FAL did her own mental check, in preparation for departure. Supplies for everyone were running short, and she hadn't missed KSG not reloading one of her magazine tubes. "We're cutting it close on the flight out."
"Depends on where the Commander stationed our ride." Concern edged its way past the neutral tone, just enough to send a shiver down FAL's spine. Part of her justification for putting KSG in charge of the entire group was the seeming unflappable nature of the shotgunner. "Update to RoE. Do not fire unless fired upon." Hearing KSG speak aloud and also in her mind was a strange feeling, as the dichotomy between the two proved surprisingly strong, with the mental voice sharp but collected, and the verbal statement feeling tired, and worn down.
"KSG." Sharp eyes turned to her. Internally FAL couldn't help comparing the stare to Groza's, and the Commanders. Where the other two were more searching, KSG conveyed a sense of assessment, as if she were matching FAL to a list of known information and traits. "What did you do after the war?"
A faint look of amusement crossed KSG's face, eyes flashing to the exhausted Dolls sitting behind them, checking weapons and ammo. FAL replied with a tight smile, willing to concede that it wasn't the most sophisticated ploy or distraction. That appeared to appease KSG who leaned back, raising her voice enough for it to carry. "Floated here and there in Western Europe. Went back to civilian work, doing my old job." FAL motioned for KSG to elaborate, prompting a small huff from the other Doll. "Analytics. Doll processing, analysis."
That fit, although it left FAL with more questions than it answered. "Surprised you would leave that behind. Analytics is an endless field."
"Work only lasts as long as the money does." A flash of proper anger leapt up, burning brief and bright, only to be snuffed out before the next words came. "One of the higher ups left before things folded. Recommended me to Griffon when they started hiring." FAL expected a shrug, a gesture of impotence, but all she got was a long stare into the distance.
FAL elected to take a risk on the question she knew several others would be thinking. "Why would Griffon be willing to bring in former American combat Dolls, especially at a time when they were just getting their feet under them?"
A long pause, giving FAL the distinct impression she'd asked a question with more layers than expected. "Above my pay grade." Despite a heated glare, KSG did not elaborate.
That left FAL with continued direct questioning. "I struggle to believe you do not have at least a speculative reason."
"Speculating in my position is not recommended." FAL made a note to hunt down KSG's service records when they returned to base. Veterans were cagey, but KSG took it a step further. "But my personal guess remains a need for manpower that didn't ask questions…and as a Doll…"
"I see." Following KSG's eyes, FAL could see the blinking light that marked their ticket home, along with flashes of plasma fire from the ground. It seemed that they wouldn't make it out without further fighting.
-Faded Glory-
Groza hated the quiet. Sangvis probing attacks vanished several minutes prior, allowing them to finally start moving again, albeit slowly. Further hampering their movements, she had to support SV-98, and OTs-12 and Skorpion were unreasonably cautious after OTs-39's death.
"Can't believe I got fucking shot." While SV-98's increasingly profanity laden stream of vitriol could be amusing, it also grew annoying after a while. Groza put little blame for the wound at SV-98's feet, Hunter's circling ambushes made it impossible for someone to not be wounded eventually. "I'm going to-" Tuning her out, Groza focused on shuffling forwards, while M4 and SOPMOD led the way toward the area they'd heard Hunter's pistols firing from.
"AR-15!" SOPMOD saw something the rest of them couldn't, her excited cry preceding an equally enthusiastic tackle. A shout of surprise followed along with the sounds of bodies hitting the floor, although no sounds of a struggle.
"SOP." A pause, long enough that the following words weren't rude, but short enough to convey annoyance. "Can you get off me?"
"Sure!" Another yelp, and in the dusty beam of flashlights, Groza got her first proper look at AR-15, as SOPMOD pulled her to her feet. Pink hair, cold features, she didn't much resemble M4 or SOPMOD, although Groza knew that didn't mean much. Her left hand kept a white knuckle grip on a knife, while a massive pistol occupied her other hand, a sort of trophy that told Groza enough about what happened to Hunter.
"M4." Ignoring Groza and the others, AR-15 turned to her team leader. "You weren't considering Hunter's dumbass offer where you?" Groza could pick the accusation from that question without any trouble. The massive difference between that impression of M4, and the idea of M4 as someone who killed a Sangvis Ringleader in closer combat only grew.
"N-no." M4 stumbled over her words, and AR-15 huffed. Groza did not care to unpack the underlying meaning of the gesture, now, or possibly ever. "R-right! AR-15, this is Groza, and her Echelon."
That shifted attention to them, AR-15 holding each Doll's gaze for a fraction of a second. Long enough to become uncomfortable, at least for OTs-12 and Skorpion, based on how they shifted. "Thanks."
Groza ignored most of the affirmative replies, trying to put her finger on the exact emotion that AR-15 stoked in her. As SV-98 was saying 'Sure', it hit her. Recognition. Of what, Groza couldn't say, as she knew for a fact they never met. Perhaps it was how AR-15 carried herself, or the way she seemed to size all of them up without speaking. Shaking that thought off, she dipped her head. "It is good to see you in one piece."
"You killed that shithead Ringleader?" SV-98 jumped right to the point, skipping over pleasantries with her usual tact.
"I did." AR-15 cocked her head. "Why? Did you want another go?"
"Oooh!" Luckily for SV-98, SOPMOD cut in, still excitedly bouncing around AR-15, then darting over to M4, and back again. "Is that where you got that?" She pointed at the pistol in AR-15's hand, and received a slow nod in return. "Then you match with M4.
"Huh?" That finally stumped AR-15, a series of rapid-fire blinks emphasizing the confusion.
"You killed Hunter, and took her gun. M4 killed Executioner with her gun." SOPMOD cackled, before calming. A pensive frown crossed her face. "Maybe I could-?"
"You are not going off to fight a Ringleader by yourself." Three voices overlapped, AR-15, M4, and Groza pausing to trade surprised looks with one another.
"We need to get back to the surface, and leave." Groza offered her explanation first.
"Fighting Ringleaders isn't fun, SOPMOD." This M4 sounded far more likely to be able to fight a Ringleader and win, which seemed to bring SOPMOD up a bit short. "They aren't regular Sangvis."
"She's right." AR-15 jerked her head in M4's direction, before turning to Groza. "And do you have a plan to get out of here?"
"The helicopter that brought us in is standing by to pick everyone up as soon as we found you."
"Groza. Ride is inbound." Right on cue, KSG spoke into her ears. "You'll be coming up into a gunfight, new Sangvis are arriving."
She must have stiffed, as SV-98 inquired in a low voice, "Captain? Something happen?" The others were busy debating with SOPMOD about killing Ringleaders, leaving Groza and her second a moment of pseudo privacy.
Groza kept her voice low. "Fighting kicked up again."
"Joy." SV-98 shifted her weight, grimacing in pain. "Never thought I'd sympathize with the enemy." Groza shot her a look, doing her best to convey the desire to drop SV-98 straight on her shattered hip. "Getting pinned down, no chance to run, overwhelming force bearing down?" A grim smile flashed across SV-98's face, before fading into disgust. "Krakow."
It did resemble assault on Krakow, although most of the assaults on cities in Poland turned to that at some point. "Point." She raised her voice, cutting across the conversation. "M4. We need to get moving."
"Did something happen?" Worry and fear danced in the other Dolls eyes.
"No, but our ride home is arriving soon. The Sangvis reinforcements are getting close enough to start engaging the others on the surface, so we need to hurry.
"Great." AR-15 huffed, accepting the spare rifle from Skorpoin. It must have been hers, given how she handled the weapon. Eyes locking on Groza, she asked, "You're in charge here?"
"I am this Echelon's leader, yes." Groza started to turn around. "KSG has field command. Connection to the Commander himself is spotty this far down."
"Good enough." AR-15 set her jaw, nodding as she fell into step with M4.
-Faded Glory-
"Nighthawk," The commander's radio connection was shakier than usual, "Be advised, you are landing in active combat."
"R-right." PP-2000 cursed her stammer in the moment. The warning didn't need to be given, plasma trails chased her the entire way over the ruins. None were close enough to hit, and based on what PP-2000 knew, wouldn't do damage if they did, but the low level fireworks show, combined with the low flight altitude and dark conditions brought the lethal reality of the situation much closer to home. Ahead, the flashes of tracers and plasma were concentrated around the area marked for landing, as Sangvis pushed to overrun them before her arrival.
"Nighthawk to Wolf, landing immediately." PP-2000 started her descent, gripping the controls with both hands to try and avoid minimizing the effect of her shaking hands. Almost immediately a fresh wave of weapons fire erupted, plasma arcing over the blades of the Helicopter as Sangvis started to transition to targeting it.
SV-98 and OTs-12 were the first into the crew compartment, the sniper all but carried by Tiss, her legs seeming to be non-functional. A bullet ricocheted off the roof, sparks flying, shrapnel filling the air, cutting a bit of PP-2000's hair.
PP-2000's fingers drummed against the controls to try and calm her nerves. Her single experience with combat did not compare to this, sitting and waiting while being bombarded by infantry fire. The network map showed the tight concentration of blue around her, while red blips appeared everywhere else. One or two vanished at a time as someone fired into the darkness, but the number of friendly forces firing back pales when compared to the number of hostiles firing in. A glance told the story, as most of the Sector 9 Dolls appeared to be entirely out of ammunition.
As the last few Dolls started to climb in, PP-2000 turned her attention back to preparing for takeoff, until a series of bright purple streaks caught her attention. A glance back revealed two of the rescued Dolls firing the unusual weapons into the darkness. KSG, FAL, and Groza scrambled inside under that cover, as yet more bullets and energy weapons fire riddled the area.
"Go!" KSG's command was entirely pointless, as PP-2000 skipped most of the more sensible checks, instead pushing them airborne as fast as the ancient helicopter would allow for. Tracers continued to spike downwards as they gained height, although the tracking of the situation ceased almost immediately. Likewise the volume of Sangvis trying to shoot them started to wane, allowing PP-2000 to start to relax.
Bits of radio chatter finally started to filter through, as the flying required less attention. "All clear." KSG's voice broke the news as they leveled off at altitude, and the tension in the cabin bled away little by little.
"2000." SV-98 opened a private comm, as they started to bank towards the base. PP-2000 left the channel open, opting to focus on the instruments in front of her. Altitude good, speed alright, no obvious damage, all other checks came back green. To PP-2000's surprise, SV-98 didn't press the issue, letting her work.
"What do you need, 98?" Politeness mandated she couldn't ignore the sniper forever. And, as long as SV-98 really did want to just talk, PP-2000 could manage that.
"How bad was the flight?"
That felt like an almost friendly question, and PP-2000 resisted the urge to turn and stare. Even so, it didn't seem like a verbal trap, leaving PP-2000 safe enough giving the honest answer. "Unlike you, Sangvis can't shoot." SV-98 tried to laugh, but the network connection garbled after only a few seconds with a noise of abject pain. Letting SV-98 recover,PP-2000 decided to risk asking the question on her mind. She'd been informed they would be missing a few Dolls on the flight back, but not about SV-98's injuries. "What happened?"
"Bitch shot me." PP-2000 rolled her eyes at the obvious answer, but held her tongue. "Got unlucky. She knew the terrain, used it against us."
A blast of orange illuminated the left side of the helicopter for a brief moment, and PP-2000 stiffened.
"Fucking Jaegers. Keep going straight." Despite their differences, hearing SV-98 treat the threat with nothing more than dull annoyance undercut PP-2000's rising panic immediately. "Takes a good few seconds to recharge those rifles, you'll be out of range before they can shoot again."
"How do you…" PP-2000 changed heading slightly, before cutting herself off. It made sense that SV-98 would know her enemy equivalent, at least a little bit.
"Math is easy if you know the variables." A simple statement of fact, lacking any measure of smugness or condescension. Instead, a sense of exhaustion and defeat radiated from the words, and the next ones only reinforced it. "They replaced us with Jaegers for a while. Learned the specs."
Several minutes of silence followed, PP-2000 flying in silence, keeping half an ear on the chatter behind her, but most seemed to be focused on other things, so she could talk with SV-98 in peace.
Again, the sniper broke the silence. "2000."
"Yes?"
"When this shit is over. Can we talk? Actually talk, not me screaming at you, and getting up on my bullshit."
A sudden bout of self-awareness from SV-98 felt out of place, and PP-2000's felt her suspicions rise. "What brought this on?"
A long silence. "You flew out here. Flew in low."
"Yes?"
"That…" SV-98 chewed on her words. "I've made enough of an ass of myself, PP-2000." That went without saying. "For stupid reasons."
"I see." Before she could say more, the Commander broke in.
"Nighthawk, status."
"Nighthawk still flying. Inbound, ETA thirty minutes."
"Copy Nighthawk, ETA thirty minutes." He sounded relieved, and the channel crackled, opening up to the entire group. "Sector 9. Operation complete."
AN: So, uh, I might have named the file for this 'FUCK IT'S DONE' for a reason. I started writing it Jan 24th, then a combination of DR, a new job, and IRL events sorta ate into my writing/editing time for a good while, so this took a seriously hot second to edit…and cut down to size.
With at least most of the AR team back together, we're moving towards wrapping up the first major arc of the story, which raises a question. It's taken well over 100k words to get this far, and will be another at least 30-40k to finish things up completely. With that in mind, knowing how much longer this still will end up going as the plot spirals outwards, I'm faced with either splitting this story up into major 'arcs' or just roll everything together into one mammoth creation. Not sure what I want to do, but if anyone feels strongly about it, feel free to give me a shout.
As always, pour one out for Branded King, as he managed to pull this into something readable, as well as live in fear of getting handed a 11k long draft for almost 2 weeks.
As always, reviews, comments, and concerns are always appreciated. I'll be taking at least a short break from writing because this chapter drained me, ngl. We'll be hitting up some chill fluff for a bit when I make it back.