M16 winced as the disjointed echoes and retorts of the first gunshots made their way across the valley. She didn't know how to feel about Griffin putting in this much effort just for her, even less about the fact it was endangering her sisters. Granted, she had ended up in a tight spot, but she'd made it out of tighter spots before, and 404's dubious help meant M16 didn't see why she couldn't survive this one.
Of course, UMP45 seemed pleased with the development. "Right on time." M16 couldn't tell if that meant right when 45 expected or right when the Commander said. She also couldn't tell which option would be preferable.
"Isn't going to be enough." Having finished sizing up the horde again, 416 made her way back. "Bunch of two-bit Griffon Dolls aren't going to destroy that many." Easy to say from a fortified position, but it did nothing about the fact they would be hard pressed to do much better.
"I'll concede she has a point." Taking a quick peek out a hole in the wall, M16 concealed a wince. The backhanded agreement prompted one of 416's newly patented glares, but that could be ignored easily enough. "Not enough bullets to go around."
45's smirk only growing told M16 all she needed to know. "You should remember there are more ways to win a fight than brute force, M16." M16 didn't fully understand the barb, but the smug satisfaction that came with it did enough to turn her gut all on its own. "It simply requires a little more creativity." Stopping to check her weapon 45 smiled, still obviously quite pleased. "This Commander is a smart one, so put your faith in him if not in me."
"Forgive me if I don't tend to trust the word of someone who'd happily slide a knife in my ribs." Predictably, that seemed to entertain the devil woman more than annoy her.
"Uh, that bunch of enemies is moving!" 9 waved a hand between them, cutting off the argument before it could continue.
"Well, that's our cue to leave." Eyes dancing with a perverse glee, 45 spun on her heel. "Have fun, you two!" She threw the final quip over her shoulder before vanishing down the hall. UMP 9 waved, then darted after her.
M16 watched the spot where the UMPs had been before spinning on her heel. "Bitch."
416 hurried to keep pace, the click of her weapon's safety surprisingly loud. "There's a saying about pots and kettles."
While perhaps antagonizing her former subordinate wasn't the best idea, as 416 was her only help, it was also surprisingly enjoyable. That, and M16 needed something to distract her. "I think I liked you better when you didn't talk back."
"Is that why you like M4 so much? Too shy to demand answers from you?" 416 sneered, taking the time to fire through one of the gaps in the walls as they kept moving. M16 watched a few Jaeger's heads pop.
"416." M16's voice dropped; all traces of humor gone. The terse comradery formed around mistrusting UMP45 vanished in an instant, an abrupt tension hanging in the air as 404's combat specialist snarled under her breath.
Thanks to their shelter's position on a hilltop, they two were able to fire down into the Sangvis horde with impunity as they moved through the building, descending to the first floor. Despite the tension, they fell into the rhythm of moving and firing. A few stray shots came in return, but in general they stayed out of any danger.
Only two elite Dolls couldn't stem the tide, and before long the enemy had made the way inside. Gunfire filled the halls, and they could only advance using grenades, and careful shooting. Even then, they were stymied only a few rooms into the first floor, pinned by gunfire from Rippers. Looking across the hallway, M16 could see anger written across 416's face, the other Doll lobbing another grenade, pulling her arm back fast as gunfire tore concrete apart.
45 broke the monotony. "Griffin's Commander reports a Ringleader is headed our way." Unusually she didn't radiate false cheer, seeming all business for the first time. "Do make sure the goods aren't damaged any more than they already are."
"Oi!" M16 took her cue to lob a grenade. The amount of gunfire returning was dying down, which was promising.
"You get all banged up, I don't get paid." Shameless, but at this point if 45 wasn't up to her usual nonsense, M16 would have been far more concerned. "Keep a good eye on her, 416."
"She can't keep her eyes off me, don't worry." M16 flashed her old teammate a quick smirk, enjoying the flush of anger on her face.
"Given your habit of up and vanishing, it seems prudent. While I'd enjoy seeing you get riddled with bullets, I prefer being able to eat." 416's snapped back.
M16 did her best to pretend to be shocked, knowing full well it wouldn't fool anyone. "And here I thought you were planning to drag me off and have your wicked way with me."
416 didn't hesitate for a second. "I'd rather 45 than you." They both stood sweeping quick fire over the remaining enemies.
"Now that's just unfair!" M16 wanted to believe that 416 said it only to get under her skin, but the tone and self-assurance left her questioning that, just a bit.
"As amusing as this is, can we perhaps hurry it along?" A new voice joined in, echoing down the hallway. Around a corner, a new figure stepped out, not one M16 recognized. She and 416 dove for cover at the same time a hail of bullets ripping up the wall where they had been.
-Faded Glory-
While Ak-Alfa wasn't the friendliest person, Skorpion couldn't say she minded her temporary partner all that much. Quiet, probably a bit grumpy, but she was a good shot, and didn't treat Skorpion like an idiot. Still, it seemed to her that someone was trying to create a sector full of nothing but military types. The Commander was a soldier, most of Groza's group were soldiers now, FAL and company were soldiers, and KSG, Alfa and MG4 were very obviously soldiers, without much of a counterbalance.
Skorpion didn't like to tell other people how to do their jobs, but she knew that putting such a random collection of soldiers together was eventually asking for trouble, and her opinion was that said trouble probably would come from the doll beside her.
"You could spend some of that thinking time shooting." Ak-Alfa had paused to reload, and Skorpion felt the sideways glare keenly. "Or talking, if that's your speed."
"Just wondering if someone is trying to create a mess." Despite the admonishment, she had to let Ak-Alfa do most of the shooting, as Skorpion knew her weapon didn't have the reach to hit any of the approaching Sangvis. That left thinking and talking and talking seemed smarter. "This many kinds of soldiers on one base are asking for trouble."
"KSG's said the same when we got assigned." Ak-Alfa let another burst fly down the hill. "That sort of thinking isn't my job. KSG handles that, MG4 and I handled the problems."
She really was a soldier, Skorpion thought. "You aren't worried being assigned to work with Russians?" The few western Soldiers that Skorpion knew had strong opinions about their Eastern counterparts and as a loudmouth it stood to reason that Alfa would too.
"For a Russian, Groza's alright." Rolling her shoulders, the old soldier settled back into her shooting position. "All three of us have been on this side for a while. Spent most of our time in Minsk before this meant we ran into plenty of vets. If there was going to be a problem, we'd have had it by now."
"Griffin doesn't tend to hire idiots." Skorpion considered how to word the next part, as it could well dig up some interesting feelings in her companion. "And they usually do a good job of keeping people who have conflicting political opinions away from one another."
"You mean if I was a chest thumping nationalist, they aren't going to put me near a Russian." Why that amused her more than anything, Skorpion could say. "Not much need for chest thumping, given how things ended up." Skorpion elected not to ask what that meant.
-Faded Glory-
FNC kept a careful eye on the mess proceedings down below. They were shooting a lot of Sangvis but it didn't seem to be slowing things down at all. That made it an excellent time to worry about other things. "Does FAL really think that her fashion sense isn't going to get someone killed?"
"Probably?" Personally, FNC didn't think FN-49 sounded very confident. "Groza might help with that. Maybe?"
"You really think getting some is going to fix FAL being useless at clothing?" FNC didn't buy that idea at all. FAL spent years learning to be useless at fashion, and a single Groza wouldn't fix that any time soon.
"It's worth a try. Everything else hasn't worked."
"Regrettably, I believe our esteemed leader is beyond fixing." Ballista's usual sharp words did not surprise either of them. FNC half expected FN-49 to try and defend FAL's ability to change, as she tended to be the most forgiving of the bunch, but the other sniper said nothing. "It is refreshing to see her happy."
"Means Five-seveN needs to pay up." Ignoring those words, FNC followed the other train of thought. While seeing FAL happy was nice, there were bigger concerns. "Or Kalina, whoever agreed they are paying."
Ballista hummed. "You may be out of luck on that front. Something about the Commander knows all."
"If you really expected her to pay you if you won, you haven't learned very well, FNC." FN-49 pointed out as she reloaded, and FNC stuck out her tongue. Even if her usual partner had a point that didn't make it sting any less.
"The reasoning skills went with her chocolate."
"Ballista!" FNC glared across the line at roughly where she knew the other sniper was. "My reasoning is just fine after a rebuild!" She turned to FN-49 for some support, before remembering that FN-49 would take Ballista's side over hers every time.
"I...well..." FN-49 fumbled with her words, and FNC threw up her hands.
"Jerks. Snipers are jerks."
"While I'm sure SV-98 will wear that accusation with glee, I imagine you have wounded SRS's pride considerably." Ballista didn't sound bothered herself, but FNC wasn't sure she could say something that would hurt Ballista. Even FAL and Five-seveN struggled with that. "And our dear FN-49 is hardly a paragon of cruelty either."
"She isn't defending me from you." FNC knew she came off as petulant, but at this point it was more engaging than shooting the oncoming hordes at the far edges of her effective range.
Just as she had that thought, a shot from a Jaeger slapped into the dirt nearby.
"Keep your heads down, hostile snipers finally woke up." KSG's warning seemed entirely unneeded to FNC, but she kept her mouth shut. FN-49 muttered an apology and shifted her position, probably already shooting back.
-Faded Glory-
For the first time since meeting her, OTs-12 felt afraid of SV-98. She never considered the sniper talkative, but as the silence dragged on, OTs-12 realized that SV-98 actually said quite a bit. Be it quiet insults, talking trash, answering questions or grumbling instructions she filled the air with a surprising number of words. Now, in her silent fury she left OTs-12 with only the sounds of gunfire for company, which the young Doll found deeply uncomfortable.
Every few seconds, OTs-12 found herself glancing at SV-98, searching for some change in the sniper's façade, but none emerged. Eyes narrow, drawn lips, and entire frame drawn taut, it would have been easy to simply label her as angry. Anger however seemed to undersell the creeping chill she exuded, and the grim precision that undercut the shooting. OTs-12 didn't know how fast as SV-98 rifle could fire, but she suspected that the Doll was finding it. Concerningly, she did not seem to be losing accuracy despite pushing her poor weapon as much further than it should have been.
"Stop gawking and shoot something." OTs-12 jumped at the sudden command.
"Right." It wasn't that she hadn't been shooting, but maybe she had been watching SV-98 a bit too much. As much as the questions burned on the tip of her tongue, OTs-12 couldn't be entirely sure that she would get stabbed, shot, or worse for asking.
"God." Or, SV-98 would realize the issue, and make her worrying pointless. "Is it really that much of a surprise?"
"You never blow up quite like that." OTs-12 shot back, carefully not looking at the other Doll. "Even when you were fighting with PP-2000 you didn't threaten to get violent."
"Forgive me, OTs-12, if I don't enjoy being reminded of the things that happened to me, and the things I did. The only people who called me that are dead or worse." Biting off every word, SV-98 fumbled her reload slightly. "Even less by some dumbfuck Private."
"What?" While OTs-12 could understand a lot of the coded language that SV-98 sometimes used to refer to the military, none of that made sense.
"Right." A grunt. "Left side, group of eight." OTs-12 swiveled, firing a quick burst that downed two of the Scouts in a hail of sparks, the others scattering. From a distance a rifle claimed another, then a second. OTs-12 waited and gunned the rest down as they appeared from behind cover. "How much do you know about various units?"
"Some." Not much, as that was never her job. Unit names didn't matter for the analysis she'd been doing.
Another grunt, a sure sign that wasn't the right answer. "Nothing useful then." Another minute passed, with nothing but shooting to fill it. "All the veterans here weren't super important. Infantry, or stuck in a tank. Look up what unit new girl was in sometimes. Then look up where they did the fighting, and then compare to-" SV-98 trailed off, seeming to stew on her words, then sighing. "Anything from 1st Guards Tank."
"That was your unit?"
"Close enough." SV-98 shot another Sangvis group. They were close enough that OTs-12 barely had to aim, and throwing grenades results in sprays of dirt and shrapnel close enough to be worrying.
OTs-12 sighed. "Did anyone ever tell you that you are really bad at explaining things?"
"Plenty." That seemed to draw something approaching a smile out of SV-98. "Groza, Ballista, PP-2000." Two grenades blew the lines apart, giving them a moment to breath. "Groza's made her peace." The unspoken implication that SV-98 had not hung in the air
OTs-12 wanted to ask what that even meant, but the need to duck behind a rock to avoid being shot took precedence, and so she filed that question away for later.
-Faded Glory-
"Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?" M16 glanced out, sizing up the Ringleader before pulling back before she could lose her head.
"Well, it seemed you weren't going to finish your little spat any time soon, and I do not have all day." The Ringleader sighed overdramatically. "There are more important things than whatever petty things you Griffin Dolls want to argue about."
M16 reloaded, keeping half an ear on the chaotic sounds of the firefight outside. The options for taking on a Ringleader with only 416 for backup were not many. While not the worst situation to be in, since 416 wasn't extremely likely to use her as a shield, it could certainly be better.
"Please don't start monologuing." 416 cut in. "I have to deal with the whole 'look at me, I have no time for this petty nonsense' act all day, don't start. The lack of it is the one thing you Sangvis have going for you."
"Go for something at least a little bit original." M16 jumped in. "Although I'd recommend ditching the giant gun. Gives people the wrong idea."
"What?" That seemed to take the Ringleader entirely off guard. M16 risked another look, finding her enemy gaping in complete confusion. "What are you even-?"
"Give it up, she's clueless." The fact M16 couldn't say if 416 was truly exasperated, or just putting on a show showed at least a little of 45's influence. Across the way, M16 watched 416's head tilt as if a thought just occurred to her. "Hey 45, could we sell M16 to this idiot, and then kill her to get double the profit?"
"Tempting, tempting." Worryingly, 45 seemed quite taken with that idea. "That might cause some friction with our new friend." The faux disappointment only rubbed the salt in further.
"Can we not talk about how to exploit me for maximum ransom?" M16 cut in. Neither other Doll answered her, but the Ringleader unloaded another burst in her general direction. "We do still have a Ringleader to deal with here!"
45 giggled, a chilling sound all on its own. Worse, 416 seemed quite willing to continue beating up on her. "I seem to recall someone once telling me she didn't need me."
"And here I thought an Elite Doll would want a chance to show us lowly common folk her superiority." Taunts were probably not her best bet for getting 416 to help, but they were fun, and M16 felt certain she could pull it off on her own. Still talking, she abandoned her position to flank their enemy. "Or is a lowly Ringleader not worth the time?" Sticking her head out, M16 took a potshot from the Ringleader's back.
"Would you-" She started to round on M16, before a flash of motion from 416 drew her attention. M16 pulled back, instinct screaming that she would be in extreme danger if she stayed exposed. The sound of a grenade detonation filled the air with smoke and dust, along with the shriek of metal tearing metal. Ducking out, M16 could see a smoking hole in the wall, along with plenty of superficial wounds to the Ringleader.
Mortal danger or not, the chance was too good to pass up. "Still can't shoot,Princess!"
"I'm not taking marksmanship lessons from a drunk!"
"Will you stop your blathering!" The Ringleader sprayed the hall with bullets in a wild arc, although it did little to silence either of them. "Griffin trash-"
"Oh, shut up!" M16 lobbed a flashbang. "I was having a perfectly good time until you showed up!"
Using the flash and confusion, 416 circled around. M16 took a few potshots, but mostly kept her head down while holding the Ringleader's attention.
As the German dropped into a crouch beside her, M16 took a quick look over her shoulder. "Ideas?" Part of her was quite curious just how much being around 45 changed 416, along with being the primary combatant on a team made up of a sleepy child, and the UMP 'sisters'. It obviously changed something in her, but M16 couldn't say exactly what that was.
416's withering glare bounced right off. "Talking her to death seems to be working so far."
"Bit slow." M16 reached over, trying to snag a grenade off her temporary partner's belt, and getting slapped on the wrist for her trouble. Holding up the limb, she rubbed the spot, doing her best to act wounded. "Hey now, I might get hurt. Damage the goods."
416's lips thinned, loading her grenade launcher more forcefully than required. "Maybe I should just hit you myself, claim that one did it."
"Please, fight amongst yourselves." The Ringleader interjected once again.
416's eyes flashed. "This isn't your concern!"
"Do us a favor, shut up and wait your turn!" M16 tacked on. "We will get around to shooting you when we are good and ready."
"Shut up, before I throw your whiskey at her." 416's hissed in M16's ear.
Turning her head so they were nose to nose, M16 threw on her best smirk. "And here I thought you couldn't make important choices without that she devil's permission."
As expected, 416's nostril flared in anger. M16 tried to back up, before realizing the only way she could go was into a fall. 416's hand flashed out, grabbing the bottle from its place in M16's gear. Giving a solid yank, the straps gave way, but not before M16 went toppling to the floor. It gave an excellent view of 416 stepping out and throwing the bottle of whiskey straight at the Ringleader.
To the Ringleader's credit, she made a valiant attempt to dodge, but having been caught off-guard, she only managed to stumble a little before the glass bottle shattered over his face. Liquid erupted but apparently not expecting the sudden unconventional attack, failed, instead getting hit square in the face with a half empty bottle of whiskey. Liquid splattered across her face and upper body, sparking a bit on contact with exposed electronics. Some of the light filtering in from a hole in the ceiling reflected off it oddly.
"Hey!" M16 scrambled to her feet, pulling 416 out of the line of fire before the Ringleader could recover.
"Weren't you the one who told me to be more decisive?" As could have been expected, 416 did not seem repentant in the least.
Any further reply was drowned by a hail of machine gun fire that forced them to retreat behind a more solid wall. Something seemed to have snapped in the Ringleader as the gunfire did not let up.
-Faded Glory-
"They just don't know when to quit!" Honey Badger was fairly sure MG4 was ignoring her, the older doll continuing to lay down fire even as Honey Badger complained. They didn't have to try all that hard to keep the Sangvis along the edge contained, which left plenty of time for mockery and complaining. "What, not going to tell me to stop underestimating them?"
"It is pointless to tell you that you are wrong when you are right. They don't know when to stop." MG4's field of fire shifted as she spoke. Honey Badger frowned out over the chaos. There did not seem to be a reason for the change, but MG4 did as MG4 did, and Honey Badger would worry about it later. She was having a good time popping Vespid heads anyway. "Hold position. You'll move soon."
"You got it." Sitting in her current spot gave plenty of time to shoot more anyway. Tossing an empty mag, she reloaded, filling the time with speaking. "What's the deal with all this moving anyway?" It wasn't as if they'd gotten close to her, so she could have stayed in any position and been just fine.
"Sangvis is stupid." MG4 paused, probably to reload. She seemed to go quiet when reloading. "They chase immediate threats."
Honey Badger couldn't resist working an insult into her question. "Instead of a pint-sized machine gunner?"
MG4 stayed quiet long enough Honey Badger wondered if she'd gone too far, before a crackle on the radio and a sheepish. "Yes."
The implication took a second to sink in. "Rude!"
"You can dodge can't you." Honey Badger wasn't sure, but that might have been the most sarcastic thing MG4 ever said.
"Hey! No using my own words against me!" A pause, as Honey Badger surveyed the area, before spotting a new group on the far edge of her range. Good shot or not, she couldn't hit them, and they slipped away into the woods. "Some of them are going after you."
"That is fine. Stay where you are." Despite the seeming threat, MG4's tone did not change.
Honey Badger did not buy that she should hold her position. There were quite a few Sangvis in that group. "You aren't really going to-"
"I can take care of myself." The other doll cut her off sharply.
Honey Badger glared up the hill. "And I can't?"
To her utter surprise a soft laugh came through the line, before MG4's voice dropped a few degrees. "Sangvis are amateurs." And that meant what exactly? As expected, MG4 didn't elaborate.
"MG4?"
A pause. "Fall back to my position. We will need to move soon."
Honey Badger took her cue, darting from tree to tree. Occasionally she'd take shots at the Sangvis units that remained, but they'd largely destroyed everything in the dip before it arrived at the treeline.
Bounding up the hill as fast as her frame allowed, Honey Badger skidded to a halt next to MG4's weapon, without an MG4 in sight. Checking the map KSG kept up for the location of the Sangvis, Honey Badger kept running. While everyone insisted that MG4 was extremely dangerous, everything she could see didn't agree. The shy, short heavy weapon user didn't strike Honey Badger as all that threatening, not when compared to KSG, or AK-Alfa. Either of those two could probably kick her ass in a fight, but it didn't seem like MG4 had that in her.
One by one, the blips started to vanish. Honey Badger vaulted a large rock, hitting the ground at a funny angle, and letting herself roll with the momentum. As she popped up, her eyes were drawn to Sangvis' bodies scattered in a loose formation about the clearing. Most were killed with single shots to the head, although a few sported more violent wounds.
"MG4!" There was no reply to her shout, either aloud or over the radio. "MG4!"
A branch snapped to the left. Honey Badger whirled, weapon rising. Sun glinted off a visor, and she fired. Three bullets, and the Vespid's head ceased to be. A few feet to the left, another Vespid stepped out, weapon raised, already glowing from the building charge. Honey Badger turned weapon rising.
Click.
She only had a few fractions of a second to process that sound. Mentally pushing through the warnings about overdriving her servo's Honey Badger kept moving, and the bolt of plasma shrieked overhead. The smell of burning hair followed behind it.
The frantic dive didn't give her a chance to roll, instead Honey Badger slammed into the dirt with a grunt, watching the Vespid turn, tracking slowly but accurately. Then, with a painful crack, the robot's torso jerked forwards. A small hand grasped the right arm spinning the thing around. The following strike was hard enough to spin the Vespid's head a good thirty degrees around, before the thing hit the dirt.
Honey Badger gasped as MG4 was revealed. Briefly, MG4's eyes drifted over her, an emotionless stare that processed Honey Badger's existence in a passing way, before she dropped down, driving her knife into the Vespid's head. The Sangvis doll spasmed once then went still. MG4 pulled her knife free, stood, and stomped on the mangled head for good measure. As she did, Honey Badger realized there was a lot of something dripping off her teammate.
"Are you-?" The words stuck in Honey Badger's throat. Fear and worry mingled into an uncomfortable soup in her chest, chasing away the pounding adrenaline.
"Fine." Her voice lost the soft edges, replaced with a grim precise tone that did not match her at all. "Our objective is complete. We are falling back." Without another words, MG4 set off back towards her weapon. Honey Badger hurried to keep up, fumbling with a new mag as she did so.
"Wait, you killed all of them?"
MG4 didn't so much as look at her. "Yes."
She packed quickly, leaving Honey Badger still gaping. "Where and how the hell did you learn that?"
"Berlin." A pause. "Because it was me, or the Russian bastard with an incendiary grenade." Honey Badger didn't catch her confusion fast enough. "We still burn to death if you get us hot enough. It's unpleasant."
Honey Badger could sort through the idea that MG4 knew what getting burned alive felt like at some point. "Isn't that sort of thing, I dunno, illegal?"
"Illegal doesn't matter when you just shot his buddy with a round design for tanks." Hearing her say things like that without any inflection just made it worse. "Hurry up. We need to move before someone else gets shot."
-Faded Glory-
M16 caught 416's eye, gesturing to a flight of stairs, ten nodding her head back to the Ringleader. The other Doll frowned, then nodded and dashed off in the direction. M16 threw another flashbang and followed it with a regular one, stolen from 416 as she'd headed off. The detonation silenced the gunfire for a few seconds, and M16 took the chance to fire a burst blindly around the corner.
A bit of gunfire followed, then fell off again. After nearly fifteen seconds of silence, M16 risked a look around the corner. Her last grenade, or maybe the gunfire had finally done some serious damage to the Ringleader. Large portions of her legs were missing, forcing her to use her weapon to prop herself upright, keeping it on a short leash.
Stepping out from cover, M16 shook her head, settling her aim. "See, this is why we didn't bother."
"Go to hell, Griffin." Intruder lurched forwards, catching herself again.
"Nah." Lowering her weapon, M16 made a bit of a show out of dismissing the Ringleader, polishing her nails on her shirt. "Might be fun to finish off that leg, hand you over to Persica. I'm sure she'd have questions for you."
"Like hell I'm going to surrender to you." A few sparks flashing as bits of her circuitry touched exposed metal. M16 could see her wanting
M16 shrugged. "Eh, was worth a shot."
A three round burst followed. The Ringleader's head crumpled inwards, a streak of metal and silicon spraying from her chin, torso spasming as the bullets did their work. Her body pitched forwards, smashing into the concrete with a grind of metal. M16 looked up, eyeing 416's kneeling form through the hole in the ceiling.
"Nice view."
Red crept up 416's checks. "Fuck you." Dropping down she landed across from M16, kicking the body of their kill a good kick.
"Buy me a new bottle of Jack and we'll talk."
"What, not good enough for you to fuck sober?" 416 flipped her hair back into place, not quite managing to push the flush from her face.
"Gotta do something to put up with your voice." Without the veneer of combat, the barbs started to gain some heat, and M16 tried to pull it back. "Besides, thought you moved on with your life, got yourself a kid and everything."
That may have been too far, as 416 lunged, taking a swing with the butt of her rifle. M16 dodged to the side, letting 416 careen past her.
Her former subordinate let out a surprised grunt as she hit the wall, and M16 followed behind, pinning her there. She went to speak, but 416 tried to headbutt her with the limited leverage available. M16 leaned back safely, but 416 didn't let up, using the decreased pressure to worm her way around, before M16 pinned her to the wall again.
"Not bad, Princess." M16 meant it that time. 416's eyes said she didn't care about that, only not being good enough. "Guess you do have to pull your weight when stuck with those two, don't you?"
"I'd appreciate if you didn't break my combat specialist, M16." UMP45 stepped from the shadows, half smile clear as day. "She's done such a good job keeping you alive after all."
-Faded Glory-
M4 signaled for her sisters to move up as she provided cover, breath caught in her throat. They were approaching the point to meet M16, and for the last several minutes had been traveling through a field of carnage. Damaged Sangvis littered the hillside and forests, killed by precision fire from the building ahead. Those few that remained mobile suffered grisly ends at the hands of SOPMOD, the blonde taking even more manic glee than usual in the killing. It left behind a sort of eerie quiet, punctuated by gunfire in the distance, and the crunch of footsteps.
Out of an abundance of caution, M4 stuck to the policy of moving slowly, checking every tree and corner, advancing in sequence. Inside the building the bodies continued, although they were thinned considerably. Taking her turn to advance, M4 moved up, checking the corner, and doing a double take when she did so. AR-15 mirrored her, pulling back with wide, confused eyes.
Slowly, M4 rose, stepping around the corner, sweeping the hallway with her weapon before focusing on the feature that first caught her attention.
Amidst bullet casings, bullet craters, and leaking coolant, M16 sat atop a nearly comically oversized gun, illuminated by a hole in the ceiling above. Large blast craters from grenades were visible on the walls and ceiling, suggesting a sizable duel had gone on in this hall, an idea supported by the dead Ringleader behind her. Three bullet holes were visible on top of her head, making it obvious how that duel ended.
"Hey!" M16 waved, grin forming on her face as she looked from one to the other.
"M16!" SOPMOD passed M4, tackling M16 splashing into the fluid and brass on the floor. "You're okay!" Then she drew back, still sitting on their sister's chest, pointing at the body to the side. "Hey! How come you got to kill a Ringleader too?"
"I had some help." Waving that question aside, M16 looked to M4 and AR-15, then her attention snapped back to SOPMOD. "Wait, what do you mean too?"
"M4 and STAR got to kill Ringleaders all by themselves." Finally letting M16 stand, SOPMOD crossed her arms in an exaggerated pout. M4 could read the question in M16's eyes as she turned.
To her right AR-15 shrugged. "Yeah."
M4 nodded, finding it hard to assemble the right collection of words.
Taking a breath, M16 sighed, and shook her head. "While I'm sure I'll love that story, it can wait. You should probably let the Commander know that we're all here, it sounded like he wasn't keen on sticking around." Slinging her weapon over her shoulder, M16 glared over her shoulder. "Our 'help' already left, so no reason to stick around when Sangvis reinforcements will be coming.
M4 nodded, then opened the connection to KSG. "KSG. We found M16."
"Status?"
"She's fine. There's another dead Ringleader." M16 glanced at M16, hoping there would be a name, but all she got was a shrug. "No name."
"Copy." A long pause, in which KSG likely spent her time relaying that information to the Commander. "Fall back and link up with MG4 and Honey Badger ASAP. Sangvis isn't much without a Ringleader, but numbers are still dangerous, and those two kicked some sort of hornet's nest." Despite the instruction KSG didn't sound that concerned for either Doll's safety.
"Understood." M4 waited a beat then let the line close.
"Not the Commander directly?" M16 took a minute to try and wring the coolant out of her shirt, before giving up.
"It's not." M4 pulled up the map, considering how best to move back. The two friendly Dolls had moved and seemed to still be moving. "KSG is in charge in the field, she'll let the Commander know."
M16 rubbed her neck, adjusting her weapon case, as she did. "Bit unusual for Griffin isn't it?"
"This Commander is a weird one." While M4 wanted to admonish STAR for her words, her sister spoke the truth.
"Weird, huh." M16 looked to M4.
Stopping in her planning of the route back M4 could only shrug helplessly. "Everyone here is a bit unique?" That felt nicer than calling them weird. "Both extremely serious, and very…" M4 fished for the words, before choosing to borrow some instead. "According to Skorpion there are a lot of soldiers."
"Soldiers?" That seemed to make sense to M16 at least. "Yeah, soldier types can be tough. The Commander one?"
"Apparently." STAR loaded a fresh mag. "Not sure he acts like it."
"They aren't sure." M4 felt it best to clarify. "Just that he was military something or another."
M16 laughed, shaking her head as she did. M4 didn't think there was much funny about that, but she wouldn't ask too many questions. "Sounds like we found ourselves a real fun bunch then."
"Fun. Right." AR-15's deadpan tone made her personal feelings quite clear.
"I like them!" SOPMOD volunteered.
"They've been nice to me." M4 bit her lip to hide the hollow feeling in her chest.
-Faded Glory
The mocking laughter of Nate Meadows echoes in KSG's head as she finished her mental tally of the battlefield. It only got worse as she started filling in the parts that she kept only for herself, a lamentation of the need for heavier weapons, the need to strangle MG4 for her antics, and a lamentation about the illegality of air support. Those wouldn't make it into the official reports, but they might have amused both her former superior and her current one.
"Something is bothering you." SRS looked up from her scope, brow furrowed with concern.
Being read that easily didn't sit easily with KSG but she brushed that aside, SRS doubtless having an advantage from her time as a teacher. "Not bothering me. Just realizing that I'm going to have some explaining to do whenever I run into an old superior." She huffed. "And that he's giving me hell for sitting here and planning instead of getting out there and doing it."
SRS sat up fully, not having any threats that needed monitoring. "That doesn't sound like you."
"It's not." KSG braced for the inevitable follow up question.
"Then why would he-?"
Given how often she gave this answer, KSG figured she should start writing it down. "Because over ten years, I planned less, and he planned more, and somewhere between us, we managed to not get our whole platoon shot." The oversimplification bordered on offensive, but a battlefield was no place for the full answer, nor did KSG think SRS ready to hear the gory details. Her 'youngest' sibling didn't shy away from learning about the past but she always seemed uncomfortable with the more personal details.
A slow smile crept across SRS's face. "You sound fond of him."
"Meadows?" SRS nodded. KSG shrugged. "As fond as one can be of a terminally insane Marine Lieutenant."
"I don't believe the insanity is very terminal if he is still alive." The sniper made no effort to hide her laugh.
"Yes, I wasn't very good at letting him die." KSG's couldn't help but upturn her lips. "Frankly, training a Lieutenant is hard, and even if he was a pain in my ass, I wasn't about to let all the effort I put into him to waste."
"You make him sound more like a pet than a superior." A joke reached the tip of her tongue before KSG stopped, reminding herself that SRS would not in any way understand, and that she could not adequately explain. "KSG?"
"About said something stupid." That seemed to catch the sniper by surprise, her eyes drifting across KSG's features, obviously pursuing some deeper reasoning. "I am capable of performing foot in mouth, indeed I do so quite often." Pointedly ignoring the disbelief in SRS's eyes, KSG went on. "If you pooled the unit, I suspect most of them would have told you that Meadows was my pet Lieutenant, or that I was his pet reasonable authority figure, depending on the day and what sort of nonsense we'd gotten up to at any given time."
SRS crossed her arms. "Isn't that usually referred to as 'good cop, bad cop'?"
"I believe there is a phrase about potatoes that applies." KSG waved that aside. "Explaining Meadows is tricky. Absolutely crazy bastard, but a good leader." She checked the situation on the ground again. Things were progressing well, and their ride was almost back. "And, he's going to give me hell for this."
"Because you...ended up in charge here?"
"Yes." KSG took some private pleasure in watching SRS's face twist in confusion. Even if the former teacher didn't fully understand, she usually could try and form a guess, but this seemed to have stumped her.
"I don't see why he would make fun of you for that?" Turning back to her weapon, SRS let the question hang in the air.
KSG mulled on the answer for a while. "Not a story for an ongoing battlefield." KSG put her full attention into giving out a batch of new orders, pulling the line back to a tight perimeter on the landing point. SRS kept watching, firing at a few stragglers.
"Then you can tell me later." The sniper declared when KSG's focus returned to the fight.
"Awful confident I'm willing to play along." She did her best to sound serious, even if the words were entirely joking.
"MG4 agreed to talk about her past, and you are far less secretive than her, so it stands to reason that if I asked you would." SRS's retort carried the flawless logic that KSG would have expected. "And rumor has it Alfa is trading stories for drunken antics, so someone needs to keep her in line."
With a long-suffering sigh, KSG rose to her feet. "Damn you for being right." SRS giggled, and returned her focus to shooting as the sound of an approaching helicopter cut the evening.
-Faded Glory-
"Missions successful, with no major injuries." The report felt self-evident, based on the addition of a new tracker to the list, but Ian took some comfort in the formal procedures. A series of heavy exhales filled the room, a palpable relief swirling about the room. "M16 retrieved, unharmed. Additionally, confirming the elimination of Sangvis Ringleader, designation unknown." KSG's voice crackled as the connection waned.
"Understood. Full details can wait for a debrief." He'd let the battlefield data run through the database to ID the killed Ringleader, or perhaps reach out to UMP45. She seemed like she'd know. "PP-2000, ETA?"
"Another half an hour at least." The pilot replied after a few seconds of consideration. "I'm taking it slow." No doubt to show OTs-39 how things worked.
"Understood." A muffled electrical snap cut the line, cutting off a question that Ian didn't care to hear.
Ian turned away from the table. "I'm making the executive decision that we are taking a few days off from bullshit after that Helo is on the ground."
"Until HQ calls and says they have an emergency again." Lena's words were barbed but without much heat. They all knew how the game worked at this point.
"Better be a damn good emergency." And he meant a damn good emergency. There had been enough excitement for a year, and Ian needed to get a handle on problems closer to home. Too many stopgap measures, and not enough solutions were floating around. "I'm in deep enough shit with this lot that I'm not inclined to make it worse without some other sucker to pin the blame on." He also needed to sleep, but he wasn't about to admit that to anyone else.
"You still owe us that drink." Lena's eyes gleamed, and behind her Aleksander nodded his agreement.
"I suppose I do." While he'd never admit it, Ian had honestly forgotten about that dealing. With a short nod to his staff, Ian made way through the corridors, back to his office.
Truthfully, he half expected to find a request to talk from Persica waiting. Mercifully his inbox lacked any major issues and could thus be ignored for a few days at the least. All but collapsing into his chair, Ian pulled the paperwork over, starting on the basics of the report, before letting the pen drop. The full report would need KSG and the AR team at least, and frankly paperwork of this sort seemed like the sort of thing KSG would excel at. Or, if nothing else, he could spread the suffering, and try out the 'delegating' thing that everyone always raved about.
Slumping back in the chair, Ian sighed, eyes closing. For such a short time, his life had become entirely too chaotic, and the nagging voice that deeply regretted giving into Kryuger's badgering started to rear its head again, alongside the throbbing in the left side of his head.
The chime of a new message shattered those thoughts, as that was not his Griffin inbox, but his personal one. Opening one eye and setting his phone on the desk, Ian scowled at the subject line. A pit started to form in his stomach, and he sat up, pushing down the tiredness and whirling thoughts.
Keying in a terse reply, he only had to wait a few seconds before the reply came, along with an open call.
For a brief moment Ian contemplating letting it go unanswered. His finger hung over the button, before with a sigh, he accepted. "Captain." Voice only, no visual, and not a voice that he recognized. Male, younger, probably early twenties.
"I'm not a Captain anymore." Ian paused, taking in the other details. A secure line was not a good start, even if it made sense. He knew an attempt to control the call when he heard one, and decided to go on the offensive to stop them from even trying. "And I see regs mean nothing."
"Cut the shit, Blackwood." A woman's voice, one Ian placed immediately. While she came across as tired, that didn't mean much. She'd always been tired, and if things were the same as when he left, she'd always be tired. "You know full well-"
There was no chance he'd let that thought finish. "I do not know. I left. Departed. Retired. Took on a new adventure." Making no effort to disguise his rising ire, Ian leaned forwards. "I do not recall leaving a 'call in card of emergency' letter on file. In fact, I distinctly recall leaving a do not contact message."
"We know that, sir." The female voice again, doubtlessly hoping that Ian would fill the void. He did not see a reason to play that game and held his tongue. "The new Major would skin us if-"
But if she handed him an easy in, Ian would happily take it. "Then, explain to me why the-"
"You see things differently, sir. You remember." Rushed out, as if she wanted to say her bit before he built up the head of steam to stop her.
Ian's chest tightened, a flush of raw unfiltered anger hitting in a wave, cresting with his intake of breath and falling on the exhale. Then, it flooded in once again, hardening with every word that followed. "Get to the point, Captain." All pretense of amiability gone, his finger hovering over the terminate connection button, shaking with a formidable cocktail of emotions.
"Do you remember a Mr. Malyshev?" The first, unknown voice spoke up, a cocky sort of confidence there. The bastard knew he'd been given an opening.
And, predictably, they drove right off a cliff with it. "Vividly."
A new, recognizable male voice jumped in, taking a more cautious tone, perhaps understanding the dangerous waters. "Might you have a few minutes to speak with him again?" If not for the likely open video connection Ian would have allowed himself to openly gape in disbelief. While he would give them guts, and stupidity, those were not valuable traits in the intelligence world. Just asking that question could land people in a lot of trouble, before considering the fact that it galvanized the frigid wrath coursing through Ian.
"I'm afraid my wife is likely to have my head." Despite sounding like a code phrase, it was an unvarnished truth. "And she's already got enough reasons to take my head off, without adding in a sudden trip to Volgograd." Hopefully that would get the message across clear enough. If not, Ian would become more direct.
"Understood, sir." The woman took over again, tone firm. For his benefit, as much as her idiot subordinates, more the likely. She knew they'd made a mistake, and likely wanted to ensure that he didn't pursue any more action as a result. Ian forced himself to relax as a silence dragged on. Holding on to anger would only make the rest of this talk worse. "That bad?"
Once again, the frustration and anger flared up, and despite the previous sentiment, Ian let it have the reigns. "I haven't talked to her in nigh on four months, went and signed on with a merry band of misfits led by a former Soviet intelligence officer, on top of my usual act of making a complete ass of myself. You tell me!" Bitterness served his purpose, even if he didn't intend to harness it.
"We don't-" The unknown man tried to protest.
Slamming a hand onto his desk Ian cut the man off. "If you are seriously about to tell me you haven't kept tabs on me, then I need to ask what kind of absolute dipshit you think I am." Taking a steadying breath in a vain attempt to keep from yelling, the Commander went on. "I am aware of a great deal of classified information, and I am working on the other side of the border for an entity with very close connections to Moscow. Do not try and play coy about the fact that you know when I eat, breathe, piss, and sleep."
"I-"
"Don't." Ian cut the man off again, no longer interested in playing with the man. He did not care for rote excuses and lies.
"Shut up before you make this worse." The woman's voice returned, replacing exhaustion with anger. "Sorry, sir."
"Told you, I'm not a Captain anymore." Collapsing back into his chair, Ian crossed his arms, still glaring at the device. "Word of advice to you boys, next time you want to call, whoever you are, listen to the nice lady with the good ideas?"
Mystery man couldn't resist. "I'm the-"
"I don't give a shit who you are, you're clearly incapable of doing the job you've been given." Several sharp gasps came across the line. "I'm going to guess it was your idea to try and talk me into this, even if she'll try and say it wasn't. Some new hotshots, heard all about this Blackwood guy, thought 'hey, shit's going sideways again, let's try and recruit him back, he knows people, and stuff, and it'd be a great help!'?"
"And if it was?"
Glaring down at the screen, Ian took his time wording the reply. "Then I sure as shit hope whoever the Major in charge over there now is asks for your clearance and shows you the door."
"We tried." the female voice again.
"I know." He did, even if the desire to keep yelling remained. "When this line closes, remind me that one of all the things I've done, and see if he still thinks this was a good idea, then drag his ass in front of the man in charge."
"Sir!" Several voices this time. How cute. It took Ian back, and that made the bile rise in his throat.
Further insults and taunts were not worth the effort, and he ended the call.
Only then did Ian take a few seconds to assess his physical state. His heart raced, trying to shatter his ribs from within, adding to the roar of blood in his ears, and the persistent need to do something, anything with his hands. The air tasted like chalk, and the walls were too much.
Without a conscious thought he was outside, lukewarm night air providing no comfort, even the breeze lacked any relief. High above a thin layer of clouds blotted out some of the moon and stars but left enough to see.
"Damn them." Ian knew that whatever they told him, none of the people who served under him fought hard enough to stop that call from happening. They knew that if they put the seeds there, he'd start thinking, and all they needed was for him to think. A tactic he used frequently himself turned around on him in a frustrating reversal that the former soldier knew would work.
Ian meant every word, that he'd left, resigned, quit, whatever word you wanted to use, for good. Sure, he'd done some interesting work since then, but nothing like his days with the military. Yet even just the simple questions, and the hidden implications, were enough to send his mind spinning.
A traitorous part of his mind jabbed back, asking how it felt being on the other end of such manipulations. A second, equally dark corner chimed in that he'd gotten exactly what he wanted, in the end. Bile rose in his throat, buoyed by guilt and disgust as the number of dead rang behind his ears.
"Just keep running." A bark of sharp, pointless laughter left, feeling foreign even to him. "Turning into my old man. Ain't that a thought." Ian looked back, over the squat buildings that played home to the twenty or so people under his command. Twenty lives in his hands once again. A majority of them holding a deeply negative opinion of him. Another sobering thought to add to an ever-growing list of sobering thoughts.
"Commander?" Spinning on his heel, Ian found himself staring down at MG4. Lost in thought apparently, he entirely missed the helicopter landing, and the dolls dismounting. Still clad in combat fatigues, and thus lacking her jacket and scarf, MG4 looked even smaller than usually, even if her aura of calm radiated much further.
"Thinking." Her eyes told him that answer would be sufficient. There were dozens of pithy, easier answers, but something compelled him to give a more honest one. If nothing else, the solemn Doll kept her silence well, and that was enough. "Do you keep in contact with anyone from your old unit?"
"A few." She held her question as to how that answered her question, before working out the answer on her own. "Bad memories?"
"Yes." A truth, if a lacking one. Yet, he couldn't explain the long and complicated dance that lead to him leaving, how it all became too much, in the end. But MG4 stood in the hell that he only watched so she would understand the sentiments. "They want me back."
"Thinking of accepting?" No judgement, only a soft question. His mind shot back to their previous conversation, and a grim smile played about Ian's lips.
"Told them to fuck off."
He should have known that would draw a laugh from her. "Yet?"
This time, he had an ready answer. "Merely indulging in the time-honored tradition of recrimination and self-flagellation." MG4's eyes narrowed. "I am a fish, hooked by many fishermen. They all pull on the lines, desperate to reel me in for themselves. It seems with every day, there are more hooks." Visible confusion told him she did not understand. "I left to get away from that feeling, MG4. I will never escape, but I can at least be tied to fewer masters."
"Special forces." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. The whole base knew it, and he never denied that basic truth. "Officer?"
Now that would be a good way to gauge the situation. Ian turned away from MG4, looking up into the sky. "What's KSG's best guess?"
The silence suggested she glared a hold into the side of his head for the trouble. "KSG has determined that you were a Green Beret, Captain. Something about 'he's not very Marine', and 'sure as hell isn't a flyboy or Navy'." That made it Ian's turn to laugh, a harsh barking one that transformed into a cough as his dry throat finally caught up with him.
"That sister of yours is too sharp for her own good."
MG4's hummed, the rustle of cloth drawing his eyes for a moment. She seemed pleased that he saw that, hands tucked into pockets. "Alfa is convinced you were higher than Captain for some reason, but KSG insists the data and actions back up your ranking capping out there." Now that made him curious. "Don't make me tell you things you know Commander." Ah, she'd shared some of her speculations with her team then.
"Fair enough." They were quiet again. The weight on his chest grew, and Ian sighed. "It's the new recruits."
MG4 sucked in a sharp breath. "Recruits a bit like Badger?"
While not quite a fitting comparison, it was a closer match than Ian expected her to have. "Not quite. Honey Badger is a gung-ho idiot with delusions of her own durability. These are gung-ho idiots who don't know the impact of their own actions." Gungho Idiots who only saw a grizzled, experienced vet they didn't have to train or brief on how things worked. "Well, same idea. Different line of work."
Nodding along, MG4 broke eye contact. "It's hard to make them understand."
"All but impossible." He's tried enough to know that for certain. "They're new, recruited after the war, reading the reports that give this bland, factual tale of what happened, and thus they struggle to grasp why some of us ended up how we did." Ian shook his head. "I vaguely remember a line from something I read, however long ago. Hell, if I know where it came from. 'We were soldiers'. Seemed very poetic at the time."
"It implies that we stop." MG4 whispered, and the invisible weight spread to her as well. "I just hope we can impress that on Badger and SRS." His eyes asked the question, and MG4 picked up this time. "There have been questions about our lives. And why we tell them to do things. Combine that with 74M being known to Groza and SV-98 and there is a feeling that they are on the outside of some great well of knowledge."
"A unique form of team bonding." Even in his position they'd swapped stories with new recruits.
"I'm not sure about team bonding. Alfa apparently owes SOPMOD drunken stories, and OTs-12 seemed to have questions, so it all ran together." MG4 rubbed her upper arms. She did not seem entirely comfortable with that situation, but he could tell she thought it best.
"I'll sit in, if someone passes along the time." While a spur of the moment choice, Ian knew it was the right one. MG4 opened her mouth and cut off the obvious question. "Not all of my life is classified."
That wasn't of course the reason she fixed him with a lethal glare. In all likelihood she wanted to call him out for lying as easily as breathing, to question what value such an act even had. "I'm sure you'll know when Commander."
Even if he could figure it out that way, he knew just showing up, because he knew things, would not make a good impression. "I'm trying, MG4."
Her eyes flickered with something between disgust and mirth. "Either of my sisters would tell you that you're putting in a shit effort."
The distinction stood out. "What would you say?"
MG4 shrugged, looking back up at the sky again. "A…cousin, I guess, recognized your surname while we were talking." Not a complete surprise. She glanced at him. "There is a woman sharing your last name who is widely respected, even by old soldiers." It figured that she would be the one to dig that up.
"Never went to any length to hide it." While her figuring it out was not a surprise, her being the first was. Then again, he didn't advertise his relationship to the West Germans all that much.
"True." She huffed. "I find it rather odd that she'd marry you." That stung. Ian might have agreed with MG4, but having it thrown out so casually still bit deep. Turning away the Doll started to leave, before stopping. "Maybe give us a hint of that reason, Commander."
Before he could reply, she kept walking, quickly passing out of earshot, leaving Ian stand alone in the moonlight. Shaking his head, he spoke into the darkness. "I'll bear that in mind."
AN: Congratulations, you caught an M16! The gang's all back together now, so away we ride, into greener pastures.
As always a major thanks to Branded, who still turned this behemoth around in a day, despite getting handed about 20% more chapter than normal, and with about 30% more errors than normal, because I don't even know.
As always comments, questions and concerns are always great to hear, you can find me in Johnny's discord.