9A-91 checked her weapon for the third time. By this point she knew it qualified as a nervous tick but could not bring herself to care. Despite being involved with someone in a thoroughly risky line of work, having spent time near the frontlines of a war, and Natalya insisting, vigorously, that she learn to defend herself, 9A still did not feel comfortable with a gun in her hand. She'd never make a good soldier, but she could protect herself.
"I didn't take you for fidgeting." AR-57, meanwhile, seemed surprisingly at home. Or at least, she masked her own nervousness better, which probably shouldn't have annoyed 9A-91 nearly as much as it did.
"In case you have forgotten, I am a medical professional, not a soldier." Pushing down her own impulses, 9A-91 knew she needed to put on a façade of calm. OTs-39 looked to PP-2000 for her cues, but AR-57 and GSh-18 looked to her, and PP-2000 did not seem at home in that situation. As a pilot absolutely, but as a soldier not at all.
"What, that whole, do no harm thing?" AR-57 frowned, sticking a few extra magazines into her belt as she did. "It's not like these things are people."
"No." 9A considered how best to explain, and how much to explain at all. She deliberately kept her past a separate issue and explaining anything risked creating problems with her relationship. "I spent years working with soldiers. I am deeply familiar with the effects of events like this on the psyche. I would rather not become my own patient." Her girlfriend worked very hard to keep her from becoming that, and deliberately trying to undo that work seemed utterly stupid.
"How'd that work, being your own patient?" OTs-39 spoke up from the right. Her eyes brightened for the first time in the entire afternoon.
9A-91 caught GSh's eyes, asking the other Doll to take this question. "Badly." The medic seemed to get the message, jumping in immediately. "Humans aren't good at it, and neither are dolls. We miss obvious things and tend to overestimate ourselves."
"The peril of being based on humans. We got their failings too." 9A-91 scowled at the realization she'd thought aloud. "We can philosophize later. For now, we need to move. The Commander wants us in position as soon as possible."
That silenced the questions and focused everyone up. As they did, they passed the ragtag group of Dolls from Sector 14, in the process of gearing up to deploy. They traded a few words and nods, which 9A-91 kept back from. Her mind lingered elsewhere, even if she hated herself for it.
Intrinsically she knew that worrying about 74M didn't make a difference, and that the odds of a mission like this hurting her remained low at best. Sangvis barely registered as a threat compared to special forces work, but against several Ringleaders, the odds were very different, even with all the help.
Actual enemies could get lucky, and 9A-91 did not enjoy that prospect.
-Faded Glory-
It was about the point where they were listening to the Commander's explain what they wanted to happen, that Super SASS realized that her attempt to appear panicked probably wasn't working as well as she hoped, or maybe working against her, based on the increasingly jumpy manner of her companions.
Viewed from a distance the other Sector's Dolls all appeared very calm, given the situation. Hunkered down in two groups, the pilots, and the maintenance staff, they struck Super SASS as calm, speaking amongst each other in low tones. Her own teammates, both normal and impromptu, were in various states of panic, and Super Sass pretending to do the same.
Not wanting to deal with that, and try and avoid answering questions, Super SASS made the choice to eavesdrop a bit, just to see what the other Dolls were on about, and maybe give everyone something else to worry about. The short-range communication channels were open, and they didn't appear to be trying to keep their conversations private.
"So, who is this Natalya, and why's she gonna laugh at you?" AR-57 was bothering 9A-91, at least, as much as anyone could. Super SASS didn't think the Russian could be bothered, just moderately less unfeeling. "Cause, no offense but laughing at you seems like a bad idea."
"She is going to laugh because I once insisted that I would never find myself in a situation where I needed to know how to defend myself from anything more vigorous than a determined drunk." By Super SASS's best guess, that passed for a grumble from the dour woman. "Getting myself stuck in an actual firefight is something of an ultimate 'I told you so' that will be hidden under the yelling about putting myself in danger."
From the way the pilots, medic, and armorer perked up, that contained some new information about their companion. PP-2000 asked the question that seemed to be on all their minds. "So, she's someone who'd be worried about you going into a fight?"
"Worried, no. Annoyed, yes." From the way her jaw tightened, 9A-91 did not seem to want to volunteer more, but Super SASS could already tell there wasn't a choice in the matter. "She made sure I could take care of myself. Getting into this mess, that will probably worry her." A brief pause, as 9A-91 thought about her next words. "That she is unable to shoot the problem, that will annoy her."
"Sounds like my kind of girl." AR-57 grinned.
"I don't know about being AR-57's type, but you do sound fond of her." PP-2000 agreed. "And, I get the impression being annoyed that you can't shoot the problem is a common ailment amongst former soldiers, at least if Groza and SV-98 are anything to go by." The pilot paused, and Super SASS could see the amusement on her face. "Or Ballista.
"It never seems like Ballista cares that much. I get the impression she'd let someone throw Five-seveN off a bridge." OTs-39 kept checking her weapon, a very obvious nervous tick. Super SASS pegged her as the one least enjoying their impromptu assignment, but she did seem to be observant.
"She cares about them." PP-2000 shook her head, busying herself with a check of her own weapon. "Even if she thinks Five-seveN is a scatterbrained harlot, or whatever the phrasing was." The rest of the conversation, Super SASS turned out, focusing on her teammates. They were still in various states of concern, but were starting to settle down, and whisper amongst themselves. She could see the looks sent her way, but pointedly ignored them for the time being. Likewise, she ignored the whispers.
Ahead, there was some movement, apparently a message coming from the other Commanders to the Sector 9 dolls.
"Understood." 9A spoke, all but confirming they were talking to their Commander. "I would consider that a risky plan." Super Sass zeroed in, curious what she'd glean from this assumption. "My assumption would be baiting them." Another pause. "I am aware of what you are doing, yes, and I believe it is stupid." That more than anything confused Super Sass. She'd heard plenty of Dolls badmouth Commanders in private, but rarely directly to their face. Then again, none of the Sector 9 Dolls seemed normal.
-Faded Glory-
For her part, PP-2000 resigned herself to a miserable time. OTs-39 at her side wanted to panic, and PP-2000 regretted every one of her choices leading to this point. She'd set a timer at the corner of her vision, based on how long the Commander thought until shooting started. From what she could see, that estimate proved surprisingly accurate. PP-2000 could see the first few units advancing towards their position already. The Commander gave very specific orders about when to engage the enemy, and very specific timings to go with it. That part, she did not understand, but PP-2000 would place her faith in him for now. Or, perhaps, in whoever made those requests of him, as that sort or precision did not strike her as their leader's idea of a good plan.
The timer kept ticking down, and PP-2000's fingers moved on their own, pulling a grenade from her belt.
"Ten seconds." The Commander declared. The first shot would be from the snipers, then a grenade.
They barely heard the sound, as the bullet slammed through the Scout. PP-2000 took a breath, readying her throw. The grenade spiraled gently, her heart rate spiking as the explosion tore the legs from the advancing Vespids.
"Both clear." She also didn't like how patchy the radio signal was, this far out. As a pilot, not having contact with the centralized control never ended well, and PP-2000 didn't imagine it going better now. "Sector 9, stand by."
That meant they were just waiting for Sangvis to adjust and fall upon them in a violent storm. A plan that 9A-91 called stupid in bigger and more complicated words. The only saving grace seemed to be the fact that the Commanders plural were paying far closer attention to them this time. Someone, probably one of the snipers, promised to be broadcasting the battle map back, as best they could, letting the five of them eating the bulk of the attack receive more direct orders and information.
"How long?" Voice cracking, OTs-39 risked a quick look over PP-2000's shoulder before dropping back again.
"No idea." PP-2000 hated not knowing, but it was what it was, as someone once told her. "We'll know soon."
"Right." Still unsteady, OTs-39 checked her gun again. "Do you think they are okay?"
"The others?" Getting a nod in reply, PP-2000 frowned. She wanted to say yes. While she didn't know much about soldiers, she got the sense all of the ones in Sector 9 were very capable. "Yes." They would be okay, she fully believed that, but that didn't mean that PP-2000 didn't feel concerned for their wellbeing. Going up against multiple Ringleaders would not be easy, or safe, no matter how clever the plan. She'd seen the fighting just one produced, dueling three of them, with a time crunch sounded like a recipe for disaster.
-Faded Glory-
Projecting calm was not Ian's strong suit. Amongst his peers, he never needed to pretend cause for concern did not exist, merely that he felt confident in mitigation. Today, however, called for something different. Leon likely understood the nervousness, experiencing something similar during his time in the police force, but Alina's tenuous grip on calm would not endure seeing a supposedly veteran soldier pacing or twitching nervously. So, Ian forced down his natural impulses, letting his façade of calm settle in as best as possible.
They divided responsibly unevenly. Ian and Alina stood side by side, prepared to direct the battle closest to home, receiving the information feed from the Sector 14 Dolls, when the connection held. Leon meanwhile did his best to monitor the away group, although everyone thought they did not need much monitoring.
Alina traced a finger along the map. "Enemy forces still moving." They'd picked off a few advance forces, at roughly the time Groza and FAL asked for. While he could not entirely guess the plan, Ian did have a guess as to the strategy in play, and would give them credit for both ingenuity, and speed implementation if nothing else. "Why only do that much?"
"I have two theories." Well, he had many, but they boiled down to two basic ideas, and talking would keep them both from other thoughts. "The first, is that they intend to bait Sangvis into a blind mass assault. By showing they know the scout force is coming and that not all our might is committed there, they make that victory a bigger priority."
"And the other option?" From her tone, Alina didn't buy that idea, which spoke well of her career prospects.
"If you are planning a flanking attack to take out enemy officers, and you believe they have committed every bit of their power to fighting you, what would be your reaction when that flanking force is engaged?"
"Surprise, and confusion." Alina's brow furrowed as she tried to work it through. "Maybe even panic."
Ian nodded gesturing at the map absently as he did so. "Indeed. Stop thinking rationally, panic that you missed something. It changes everything about the plan, and if you aren't given time to work out how that change happens, you are likely to make a mistake."
"But what does making them sloppy achieve? Even if they are careless, they have numbers, and firepower."
Across the way, Leon took his turn to speak up. "RFB pulled a bunch out of one of those corpses, I would wager she could get the locations of those Ringleaders, along with just about anything else a bunch of determined soldiers could need."
"Intelligence, in a situation like this, is worth infinitely more than numbers or firepower, and would contend that in general." Ian took over on the military aspect. "And those things mean nothing if Sangvis has no Ringleaders." Seeing that the younger Commander didn't get it, Ian kept going to the logical conclusion. "If I had to guess, the plan is to kill all three Ringleaders within about fifteen seconds of one another. Have a portion of the forces present engage the infantry to keep them busy, while other forces slip past and take the head off, so to speak."
Alina stared at the map for a while, then back up at them, eyes narrowed. "That feels incredibly risky."
"Risk, to borrow a quote, is a matter of perspective." No amount of effort could hide the confusion on Alina's face, although Ian knew that was coming. If anything he prompted it. "Relative to a regular battle with Sangvis, circumventing their lines and killing their leaders is risky. Compared to the frontlines of the war, it's more like a relaxing walk." Ian stopped as another thought occurred, one that he had not considered until that moment, but fit with how FAL and Groza behaved, and he suspected the plan to be more them than KSG, based upon the requests coming from them. "And, it is possible they have access to actual names of their targets, which would inform how they derive the plan, and based upon it, I would be willing to place a sizable bet that is the case."
In the wake of that explanation, his counterpart stayed silent for a long while, just staring at the map, lost in thoughts. Ian would be content to let her be so, letting his own mind wander to planning out contingencies and timings. Eventually however, Alina found her voice, softer, caught between surprise, and something Ian did not identify immediately. "You trust them a lot."
Ian's mouth opened, but no words came out, either to refute or confirm the point. Trust would be something that Ian knew he had in short supply, and even if he did trust them, claiming that, in light of how those claims bit him in the past, felt awkward. In the end, he fell back on the false truth. "FAL, Groza, and KSG as all soldiers, they've led troops in a war. They don't need me breathing down their neck. Half the job of being an officer is knowing how much oversight you need to provide." Her eyes widened, mouth opening to speak, and confirming that he'd danced the subject away from a more dangerous one. "Your bunch is all green, they need a lot more watching."
"You know that just by looking?" Of course, that would be the thing to provoke awe. Across the room, Leon snorted with repressed laughter.
"No." Ian decided to be a bit more honest on that count than usual, both for Alina's benefit, and Leon's, even if the former cop probably knew a lot already. "I am, depending on who you ask, a busybody or a slippery bastard who digs into people's pasts for information. I then use that information for various purposes, benign and nefarious."
As a true Russian, Alina could guess what those words meant. "You've done that to us?" She nodded to Leon, leaving herself merely implied.
For a moment, he debated just how far to take the revelation. "He's an East German SWAT officer, retired young after the political pressure on the police got out of hand. Signed on with a different PMC but moved to Griffin for the benefits. No wife or kids, but has four siblings who do, and helps support them." Both of them looked to Leon, getting a nod, and an eye roll for the trouble. "You are a fresh out of school rookie with no practical experience but good aptitude scores. Family from near Volgograd, parents work in government positions. Wanted you to go military, you turned them down, went PMC as a middle ground." The level of detail obviously caught her off guard, based on the open mouthed stare, which vanished into what Ian recognized as a Russian not wanting to give away more. "I will concede some things about me are accurate."
To her credit, Alina recovered quickly, and could seize an opportunity when given to her. "Don't suppose you know what's up with Super SASS then?"
"Depends." The girl glared at him, obviously upset by the blasé retort.
"He's not going to give stuff away for free. Hear the Dolls tell it that's half the fun for him." Leon chimed in, shit eating grin making it clear he'd be milking him for his own amusement.
"It's not half the fun, and I give plenty away for free." Deliberately making the eye roll over dramatic, Ian settled back into being serious. "With a lead time of about nothing, I did not have a chance to dig into your Dolls. Knowing more about them would take both time, and quite a bit of research in the case of Super SASS." Pausing, he added the complete afterthought. "You could also try asking her."
"She's cagey about it. I've asked." The girl sighed, waving it aside. "It isn't a major problem, just something weird."
"Weird can be the first sign that it is a major problem." Leon pointed out, now fully focused on them, leaning forwards. Ian could easily place him at an interrogation instead of a battlefield command center by that alone. "At the very least, if her behavior doesn't match up it's worth keeping an eye on."
"For what it's worth, AR-57, 9A-91, and GSh-17 all agree with you that something isn't quite right, with M4, Groza, and SV-98 all adding similar comments. I don't know what it means, but you aren't alone in thinking something is weird." Ian could give her at least that much immediately.
"If we live, I'd appreciate it." Alina murmured. "Even if I feel like that is just me ending up owing you more and more favors."
Ian couldn't find any reasons that did not classify as incriminating, so he held his tongue.
-Faded Glory-
What started as small engagements with scout units slowly transformed into a proper battle. PP-2000 hated every second of it. The Commander's kept up a steady stream of information to them, orders, movements, and general updates, which helps to keep her nerves down, but nothing could quite shake them. Even less, the spike of terror every time she pulled the trigger and got only a click in return.
Dropping the empty magazine, PP-2000 ducked into cover, letting OTs-39 take her place. Across the field, 9A-91 and AR-57 traded places, the armorer firing at a Ripper that attempted to flank the pilots. PP-2000 watched more Sangvis fall, cut down by the snipers. Another data push hit, marking the next wave of targets for the snipers, and the newest arrivals in the fight.
PP-2000 lobbed a grenade, the explosion taking out three Rippers, and a Guard, only for several more Guards to push through the smoke. OTs-39 fired a burst perforating the shield of one Guard, then the other, without hitting the bodies behind. A rifle round blasted the first guard apart, as the second ducked out from the shield, firing at OTs-39, forcing her to duck.
Hold on. The Commander instructed, tension building in PP-2000's chest. Now.
Ducking out, they got a full view of the side of a formation of Sangvis units. Two Scouts fell to PP-2000's gun, then a third to OTs-39, before they were forced to duck back into cover by something from the flanks.
"This isn't going well." OTs-39 mumbled.
It's going well enough. The Commander countered. All we need to do is buy time and slow them down, and that is what we are doing.
"Maybe." OTs-39 didn't look convinced. "Even if we do, they can't get here that fast, can they?"
"I am routinely surprised by how fast a soldier on a mission can move." The Commander managed to convey some sense of encouragement with those words, even if only a small one.
"If you say so." PP-2000 pulled a fourth grenade free, lobbing it as hard as she could. The seconds crawled by, before the explosion sounded, metal audibly tearing from the shrapnel.
"Prepare to fall back to first point." The Commander told them. The map updated again, this time with Sangvis trying to move around their sides. "The snipers will cover you."
Across the way, PP-2000 could see 9A-91 mouth something rude. As the doll with the most 'military' experience among them, she found herself monitoring her for how to react, and that one, PP-2000 couldn't parse.
"What the hell are those?" Someone yelled. PP-2000 turned, watching some kind of bipedal walking come charging out of the far treeline. They covered the distance remarkably quickly, gunfire from the walkers forcing all of the Sector 9 Dolls into what cover they could find, bullets pounding the dirt all around them.
PP-2000 could hear the chatter of the snipers as they called targets, bullets cracking overhead as this new enemy got close.
"Steady." The Commander's calm made it harder to panic, if nothing else. "Ten seconds." PP-2000 decided against asking what that time was until. "Target entering view…now."
On cue, one of the strange new enemies came bounding past PP-2000's position spinning as it did to train its weapon on her.
Pure instinct brought her weapon up, the gun kicking violently as PP-2000 pulled the trigger, and didn't let go. The first bullets pinged off the walker, but as the muzzle rose, they tore the rider's torso, and then head, apart only stopping when on the heavy clunk of an empty magazine.
-Faded Glory-
Despite her tough exterior, AR-57 had never actually been in a gunfight before, or anything close to matching the sheer ridiculousness of this. The revelation of a new type of Sangvis, with those highly mobile walkers, and slightly heavier weapons turned a manageable, but grim battle into a far more desperate one. Especially when those things could come charging from anywhere and they didn't get fresh data fast enough to predict anything.
"I thought we were falling back!" She fumbled with reloading her weapon, cursing her shaking hands as she did so.
"Bit hard to fall back with these walkers!" 9A-91 snapped, some portion of her cool finally fading. Unlike OTs-39, GSh-18, or likely AR-57, 9A-91's expression did not scream fear. If anything, their quietest member seemed to be the most confident, her motions practiced and smooth, not a bit of shake in her hands or aim. She sounded angry, at least, that is what AR-57 took from the raised voice, and sharp motions. "Also, where do you suggest we fall back too?"
AR-57 leaned up, spraying down a formation of Guards, only for a volley of plasma to go flying over her head, forcing her back down again. 9A-91 did have a point there, they really couldn't move back much farther. The wounded sniper group couldn't move anywhere in this situation, and they were only alive because of the extra firepower.
"Look out!" GSh's cry came not a moment too soon, and AR-57 rolled to the right, as another of those walker bastards jumped over where she'd been strafing as they did. Her return fire took the rider clean off the walker, only for another to follow, forcing AR-57 to roll to safety again. A bullet grazed her arm, hot and sharp.
9A took that one out, the body spasming as it hit the earth. "Thanks." AR-57 gasped it out, abruptly realizing just how close that had been. The Russian nodded, tersely. "Why didn't the Commander warn us?" He'd been a reliable warning for things that hadn't seen themselves to that point.
"We lost contact." Matter of fact, without visible worry, as one would expect from 9A-91. A closer look said she gripped her weapon tighter. AR-57 gulped. On their own, despite only surviving this long because of that outside help. "None of us are equipped to take over."
"Shit." The American checked her weapon, and glanced at PP-2000 and OTs-39, who were now hiding in a ditch. They didn't look to be in amazing shape, caked in dirt and mud, but the murderous look on PP-2000's face suggested they weren't about to give up.
"They know." 9A caught the look. "We just need to survive."
"We've barely been doing that." AR-57 hissed. "It's been hours already 9A, we can't keep this up." She gestured at her gear, and the empty pouches were magazines had been shortly before. "Just for the number of bullets we have left."
Perhaps, AR-57 shouldn't have been surprised when the Russian shrugged. Expression clouded by shadow, AR-57 could only pick out bits, but there was a sort of resigned determination to the way that 9A-91 reached down to pull a knife from a sheath on her thigh. The edge glinted in the fading light, before she sheathed the weapon again. Somehow, despite being a simple act, it chilled AR-57 far more deeply than any single act of violence.
"I see." Leaving 9A-91 to that, she moved further down their makeshift position again, watching for the next Sangvis attack. They'd tried flanking attacks which meant there was another heavy frontal assault coming.
Right on cue, the Scouts streamed forwards, doing the best impression of suppressing fire they could. AR-57 hit the deck, watching the next wave of walkers follow. A grenade took out one, and visibly damaged another, as the snipers did their work on more of them.
"That's my last grenade." PP-2000 reported.
A break in the covering fire followed, and then Super SASS's "We're running out of ammo."
AR-57 shot down a pair of Scouts. They were, probably, going to die. Sangvis just kept coming, and whatever the others had done, they probably couldn't arrive fast enough.
All they had to do was buy time. Buying time, when AR-57 first heard it, meant until Sangvis lost leadership and collapsed. But Sangvis wasn't collapsing. They kept coming. That meant buying time was changing. Buying time meant doing everything they could to slow Sangvis down.
9A-91's resigned expression, as she pulled her knife free, sank in. AR-57 took a shuddering breath. She'd never considered having to die before. Bullets hissed overhead, close enough to touch. AR-57 returned fire. To her left, 9A-91 ducked out, precise two rounds' bursts. On her right, GSh-18, who probably didn't know yet. Farther over, the pilots, and behind them, a bunch of wounded dolls, and their Commanders.
She lacked whatever training 9A-91 had, or even the limited battle experience of the pilot duo. But AR-57 did know that there weren't many ways for this to end. Watching 9A-91 rise to a kneeling position to fire, AR-57 could see the hilt of that knife, just visible on her leg, and the implicit promise it carried with it.
She did not have a knife, or the deep, national stubbornness of her Russian comrades. She only had a gun, and a rising sense of spite. In theory, those things would be enough ,even if AR-57 found herself wishing for some of her half-finished creations back on Sector 9.
Tossing another empty magazine, AR-57 made the decision. She might not have those things. But, she'd never cared about having exactly what she needed before, and she wouldn't start now. If she had to beat Sangvis to death with their own guns, she would.
-Faded Glory-
9A-91 pulled her last magazine free, fumbling the reload in her haste. Time had never been on their side, but by this point they were entirely out.
The grinding, continuous attacks from all sides pushed them further and further apart, Sangvis obviously intent on removing any advantages granted by the ability to coordinate. While Super SASS and the snipers tried, 9A knew they were short on ammo, and stretched thinner and thinner, trying to cover everyone.
A Vespid jumped at her, and 9A-91 elected to simply slam the butt of her weapon into its chest letting it stumble back before shooting it in the head a single time, over anything more complicated.
They'd been fighting for two hours without any contact from the Commanders. Multiple attempts to reach them failed, and so they could only struggle against the attacks, hoping that sometime, the Sangvis units ran out. So far, they had not been that lucky.
Nor had they been so lucky as to escape injury. PP-2000 and OTs-39 were only lightly damaged, scratches, and light wounds, but AR-57 had a new, impressive looking hole in her shoulder, and 9A-91 hadn't actually seen GSh in a while.
A Guard managed to be at the right angle to deflect a shot, and 9A cursed, doing a quick count of her remaining bullets. Not enough, no matter what spin they tried to put on it. One of the snipers hit that Guard, letting 9A put a pair of bullets into the advancing Scout, then the next, and the next. By her count that left three.
Another of those damn walkers came free, her shot removed its rider. Two bullets. Her vision danced with warnings about elevated circulation rates, excess heat, and other things that 9A-91 did not have time for. Gingerly, she pulled her knife free, holding it offhand as she scanned for the next target.
Stuttering gunfire made picking out any other sounds tricky. Occasionally she could pick out the friendly shots, but most were hostile, which painted the same grim picture about the state of the others. A Brute's knife slammed down at her side as the Sangvis lunged, falling short. One shot, one left. That final bullet went into another Brute, and instinctively, 9A pulled the trigger as the third charged, only to get the dull thunk of an empty magazine, and her weapon slammed into her chest as her attacker made contact. They rolled, 9A-91 struggling to keep the twin knives out of her throat or make use of her own.
Driving a knee into her foe's side, she finally found the edge, knife driving into the Brute's temple. Unfortunately, she hadn't quite accounted for everything, and 9A-91 screamed as, in a final sputtering act, a knife ended up roughly where a human kidney would have been.
More warnings danced across her vision. That did a lot more damage, and 9A-91 decided to just leave the blade stuck in her torso, limping back to the rock she'd been using as cover, an empty rifle bouncing off her chest with every step.
"Damnit." 9A tried again, out of habit, to contact the Commanders. Static answered her, and then the gunfire peppered her general area. Doubtless, Sangvis, intent on finishing what they started.
Fingers curling around her knife, 9A-91 took a shuddering breath. Her chassis might have been intended for a lot, but this sort of abuse was probably beyond what she'd been intended for. This time, the attack was half a dozen Brutes. Sniper fire took out two, and 9A-91 ducked the attack of the first, knifing the next, using the body to tie up the one following, only to lose her footing as she tried to dive away.
The Brutes didn't waste a moment, pouncing on her weakness. Slammed onto her back, 9A-91 could only struggle against one of them, and that wouldn't stop the rest.
"9A, 9A!" Someone shouted on the radio, but she didn't have time, struggling just to keep a knife from her throat, and losing the battle second by second.
Then, without warning all resistance in her foe vanished, the body punted to her side, leaving 9A-91 staring up in the darkened sky, finally realizing just how little light remained, and just how long they had been fighting.
That view changed, filled with a concerned face, framed by white hair, and fiery anger unlike anything 9A-91 had ever seen. The local network jittered, nearly two dozen new signals hit, followed by the sounds of gunfire. 9A-91 accepted the offered hand, feeling that burning gaze sweep over her, lingering on the knife in her gut, and her other, smaller, wounds. There was worry there, anger too, anger that would not be satisfied in that moment.
"Sitrep." KSG's radio voice crackled.
"Alive." 9A-91 managed, as the others sounded off in turn. Apparently, wherever she ended up, GSh stayed unharmed, somehow. The rest of Echelon Lightning fanned out around her, then 9A was alone, watching the backs of her allies as Sangvis made a valiant attempt to counterattack, and received nothing but death for the trouble. Watching Sangvis die to single, precious shots to the head, offered more relief than it should have, given the situation.
Slowly, the others filtered over to 9A-91, who realized that she was probably the most injured of the bunch, having been at the center of the fighting, and thus got the most attention. All that changed the moment actual soldiers joined in, military training, experience, and heavier weapons turning the battle in the opposite direction ,albeit still a slaughter.
GSh set to trying to patch up wounds as best she could, as the fighting slowed to a crawl, then an eerie silence took them.
"What…what do we do now?" AR-57 stumbled on the words, wide eyes drifting over the battlefield, only now seeming to take in the experience of the past few hours.
"I think we wait." PP-2000's legs gave up, and she dropped to the earth. Not that they could do anything else.
In the distance something exploded, prompting a bout of manic cackling. Everyone shifted uneasily. They all knew that to be SOPMOD, but with the slowly fading adrenaline the glee was truly unsettling.
How much time passed before the Echelon leaders filtered to them, 9A-91 didn't know, but the snipers managed to limp forwards to join them over the course of it. They cut a strange image, Groza and FAL were relaxed, in control, with the worry well hidden. Suomi looked highly upset, Vector, bored. KSG's expression proved entirely unreadable, only the crushing grip on her weapon and the way she never quite stopped moving gave away her feelings.
"When was the last time someone had contact with the Commander?" Groza asked the question first, to a lot of shrugs.
"At least a couple hours?" Super SASS ventured the guess, without much confidence. "A long time." The group traded looks, unable to muster a better timeframe than that. That information did not sit well with any of the soldiers, even if they contained their discomfort well.
"How fast can you move?" KSG this time, half her attention on them, the rest seemingly elsewhere.
"Nobody is running, if that is what you are asking." GSh's words carried a sharp cut, earning her an annoyed grunt that probably passed for an apology for the stupid question being asked. For a brief moment the American's eyes closed, doubtlessly plotting and planning. Beyond that, venturing a guess felt foolish.
"Vector, Suomi." When at last she spoke, the words carried a surprising weightiness, 9A-91 feeling her back straighten on instinct. "Get back to Sector 14." Suomi, 9A-91 did not miss, tensed, glaring ever more sharply into KSG's side.
"What?" Despite the even tone, everyone could tell that something else went on beneath the surface. An implicit challenge lived in that question, and 9A-91 knew her proverbial hackles went up as she heard it.
"Go ahead. We will catch up." KSG repeated herself.
Whatever undercurrents they'd been seeing finally boiled over. "If I didn't know better you're asking us to do all your dirty work." Suomi's words obviously bit, as KSG spun, eyes flashing, everyone else instinctively stepping back to give the argument the space it needed.
"If you are implying something, just say it, Suomi." Despite her expression and obvious fury, KSG sounded surprisingly calm to 9A-91. Either the American mastered the art of keeping herself in control at all times, or she did a good job of keeping her fury well hidden. A quick look at the expressions of the others confirmed no one else knew quite what transpired between them.
For her part, Suomi appeared to realize she'd gone too far, doing her best to become small, and non-threatening, with dubious success.
"We'll go." Vector cut in, grabbing her counterpart by the uniform, and all but dragging her away. A moment later, the Dolls of Sector 2 split off from the milling group sprinting away towards the base once again.
"What was that about?" AR-57 beat 9A-91 to the question, with perhaps more bluntness than 9A might have handled herself.
The question went entirely ignored, in favor of practical concerns, which fit with 9A-91's assessment of KSG, but obviously didn't go unnoticed, from the way the armorer's eyes narrowed. "GSh, make sure nothing is going to get worse. AR, Wolf, sweep the area again, before we move."
An uncomfortable silence lingered, everyone watching KSG with some trepidation. The American just stared at the place Suomi once stood, a small frown in place. While the combat teams completed their sweep, 9A-91 debated speaking up. But, based upon what she knew, KSG would prefer that question wait, so 9A-91 filed it away to handle later, perhaps on the flight back.
Eventually, that final sweep completed, and the Dolls involved formed a loose circle around the wounded. Looks traded between the leaders, then KSG spoke aloud once again. "Commander, do you copy?" A beat, filled by the gravely silence. What followed turned out to be a truly impressive stream of Russian vitriol, the sort that would put to shame any infantryman 9A-91knew of. "We move in five." With that declaration, their erstwhile leader moved away.
"What's her problem?" FNC, of all people, asked, as soon as KSG was out of earshot.
"If I had to guess, losing radio contact with Command is not a pleasant memory for her." FAL took her stab, but 9A-91 didn't buy that, given the intensity on display. "Either that, or Suomi's implication upset her even more than expected."
"I don't think she'd care all that much about Suomi." That part, 9A-91 would agree with Groza on, but something about this time screamed a history and not a polite one. "She seems to treat Suomi's antics as mere annoyance."
"While true, you can't tell me she hadn't been getting more and more wound up as this op went." FAL countered. Groza didn't seem to dispute that detail. "And at least part of it seems to go along with Suomi's occasional jabs.
"Could be that she doesn't like putting RFB in danger." PP-2000, of all of them, tossed out the idea. Several agreeing nods followed that, and while 9A-91 knew it made sense, she didn't think that was the answer.
"Whatever the reason, I think we would prefer to be done speculating before she gets back." 9A pointed out, which silenced the topic for the time being. Once again, a silence fell over them, slowly breaking to low conversations, and GSh's surprisingly grim mutterings. While she seemed entirely confident all of them would be okay she also seemed quite upset by it all. 9A-91 kept her focus on other things. Trying to work out just how annoyed KSG was, checking if anyone else seemed bothered, ignoring the pain in her, well everywhere, and deciding just how upset Natalya was.
Then again, at a glance, how upset probably didn't quite cover it. While most of the others couldn't tell, 9A-91 knew that the emotions swirling beneath that blank façade were not good ones. M16 leaned over and said something to her, too soft to hear.
Someone nudged her in her uninjured side. Turning, 9A-91 did her best not to snap at Super SASS, the smaller Doll seeming apologetic. "Miss 9A?"
"Yes?" She sounded gruffer than intended.
"Who's the Doll that saved you?" The question surely was an innocent one. Based on what 9A knew, Super SASS had not met 74M during the rescue. That, of course, did not matter.
"74M." She did not want to deal with this. She did not have the energy to deal with this. Not right now.
"Thanks!" SASS chirped, bouncing off, oblivious to the lethal glare piercing her back.
-Faded Glory-
Returning to the base, Groza could have cut the lingering tension without a knife. Suomi and Vector confirmed that the Commanders were fine, with an apparent spiking in the signal interference being the issue, which held up as solid reasoning but did not please Groza in the least. Only after they crossed onto the confirmed friendly territory did the protective circle around their pilots, base staff, and Sector 14's dolls break. M4 volunteered to take the first patrol and watch around the base, on the grounds that her group didn't need to pick up more supplies, and no one bothered to argue with that logic.
Groza and FAL followed KSG to the Command room. It made for an odd scene, three Commanders, and five Dolls, with Suomi and Super SASS already there. While the other two looked relieved, Groza found with some surprise that their Commander looked just as high strung as when they deployed that morning.
Looking them up and down, his shoulders dropped just a fraction, and a small, albeit genuine to Groza's eyes, smile, formed. "Good work." No questions, just the simple statement. Groza caught FAL's eye, doing her best to convey surprise, and receiving the same in return. "I would prefer to debrief later, but we are dead to the world at the moment, so I'm afraid we need do so now."
"Three Ringleaders eliminated." KSG spoke first. "Scarecrow, Hunter, and Executioner. Significant additional number of drones destroyed as a result."
"No additional information on motive or overall plan discovered." Suomi took over. "RFB has already uploaded what information she did find, but according to her it's all junk."
"I'd trust her judgment on that." Sector 2's Commander nodded to Suomi. "It does seem like we are out of the woods for now."
"So, we hope." Sector 14's Commander did not look so sure, instead, just seeming tired, and overwrought. Which probably passed for the truth, from what Groza could tell.
Their Commander huffed, and, just a moment, a great weight settled on him, then vanished again. "I don't see them trying anything. They've expended their forces, and we have none. At best, they'll throw a few random bits of trash at us, but I would guess they are spent."
"You also wouldn't have guessed they'd pull a feint." Alina challenged, which took Groza aback. He hadn't seen that coming? "Unless you are about to tell us that you are doing something like estimating how many they deployed to each place and have a guess at how many they deployed total."
"Yes?" Blackwood didn't seem to bothered by that, and both other Commanders looked to the assembled Dolls, trying to work out if the statement was serious. "Of all the things you choose to question that is it?" He turned to Groza and company for help, none of them seeming to want to step into his defense. To his credit, the Commander seemed to realize he'd earned it, and, outside of an obviously over dramatic sigh, let it pass.
AN: Some day, I'll write a gunfight that doesn't turn into CQC, but that day it not today. In the meanwhile, you can have the non-soldiers having to suffer instead.
Nothing else fancy to go with this on, but just that the next chapter might take a while to get out, as my next few weeks are going to be busy.