Returning from patrol, M4 didn't know what to think, finding the Commander sitting in the mess hall, three tables pulled together and piles and piles and piles of paper surrounding him. An old-fashioned pen tapped against the table's edge in a rough beat, matching the bobbing of the man's head. AR-15 made to move past her, then froze, also unsure of how to proceed.

They'd all seen Persica lost in her work before, but Persica did everything electronically, and more importantly, that involved a lot of talking, swearing, and muttering. By contrast Blackwood made almost no sound except for the rhythmic tapping of his pen, lost in the documents before him. The very room itself felt unnatural still, all centering all around the Commander. At least until AR-15 stepped into the room with a huff.

The Commander's eyes darted up, seeing M4 and her sister, then promptly going right through them, as he returned to what he was working on. Almost no change except for a slowing in the tap of his pen. M4 followed AR-15 after a moment, milling around a bit pointlessly.

"If you're trying to be quiet, you're doing a terrible job." They both jumped when he spoke, still sifting through the piles of paper. "I've had to do this under active artillery barrage, it's easier when you aren't trying to not be distracting. Just be distracting, I'll ignore you as appropriate."

"Under artillery barrage." AR-15's tone made it clear that she did not find that believable in the least.

"Enemies don't make a habit of letting you plan in comfort. Such discomforts included artillery, airstrikes, the local sniper, this one really stupid guy with a drone, enterprising tank gunners trying to be artillery, at least one attempted naval bombardment…so on." Making a vague gesture with a sheaf of paper, the Commander carried on. "Point being, if you're making general noise, I don't even notice. It's the weird attempts to be quiet that are actually distracting."

"Right." Visibly struggling not to argue, AR-15 crossed her arms, leaning against a counter. "Why all the paper anyway? Surely something electronic is better?"

"Call me old fashioned, I prefer the feel of paper." Crumbling one for emphasis, the man lobbed it at the trash can, missing by several feet. "Paper also leaves a lot less of a trail. I need to dispose of paper, I can burn it easy. I need to trash digital data, that's a lot harder. Once it's out…there," A vague gesture, "or even just in your heads, it's out there, and I can't get rid of it short of hunting down everything with the data and smashing it to bits."

AR-15 wilted a bit, obviously not expecting that dark an answer. "Oh."

The Commander did not seem to notice, going on with an almost absent tone. "Granted, all this crap is public information, so I don't really care about getting rid of it, but habits and all that." He scowled. "Also, if I'm using paper, when it pisses me off, I can throw it. Paper's cheap, tablets…not so much." A bit of a smile tugged at his lips. "Also, it's less likely to hurt someone if I throw a wad of paper at a door, instead of a tablet."

M4 thought that sounded like an experience she didn't want. "You hit someone with a tablet?"

"Yeah." Blackwood slouched back, considering the two of them. "About brained a new guy, couple years into the war. Soviets started gearing up to invade Italy, we had the reports to prove it, and the Italians were doing jack all to prepare, despite enough warnings to choke a horse. I may have been reading this report on the heels of a lot of other terrible reports, and in a fit, chucked the tablet at the door. At precisely the same time the newest member of our unit was walking through. Just about ducked fast enough."

"Just about?" M4 didn't know if she expected that to mean it ended badly or hilariously.

"Got him right between the eyes, knocked him square on his ass." The Commander's voice turned just enough to suggest the memory amused him. "Didn't hurt him but made for one special introduction."

M4 didn't quite know how to respond, given that mental image. While she'd gotten to know the Commander better, these random flights of fanciful information, dropped onto their laps without any warning, still took her aback whenever they appeared. Clearly, it had befuddled her sister as well, as they traded a look of confusion. In the end, M4 gave up, taking her drink as moved to look over his shoulder. "Why are you researching Poland, Commander?"

"Because we're getting sold up a shit creek, and I want to know how much of its water, and how much is shit." And the levity present a moment before vanished in a snap. "Don't suppose either of you made it up that way?"

"We didn't." AR-15 took her place over his other shoulder. Most of them seemed to focus on political issues, as well as in-depth reporting on the opinion of the population about the Russian occupying force. "Why are you looking at all this anyway?"

"Give it a couple minutes, you're early." A beat, then a snort. "Or rather, I figured you'd be here about now so didn't bother letting you know that I wanted all Captains to meet."

"How the hell'd you know she'd be here?" AR-15 demanded, putting voice to M4's immediate thought.

"You two always come here immediately after a patrol." He shuffled a few papers, setting them in a new pile. "M16 goes off to your room to find her whiskey stash, and SOPMOD is immediately interested in making sure her modifications are tuned up post combat. Two of you both come down here, her," He nodded to M4, "Because she likes the walk time to cool off, and you," He nodded to AR-15, "Because you want the quiet."

Before either of them could protest or object, a dry voice cut in. "Who wants quiet?" Right on cue, KSG, FAL and Groza stepped into the room, all three eyes drawn to the stacks of paper. "Am I going to get another complaint from Kalina about how expensive your paper habit is?"

"What logistics doesn't know is not my problem." He waved KSG off. "And you've only gotten one complaint from her."

"Four, actually. Only one in writing." Dropping into a chair as she made her correction, KSG leveled her most impressed stare on the Commander.

"Point." The Commander shook that off again, leaning back. "So, you lot want the good news first, or the crap news first?"

"Bad first." FAL didn't let anyone else get in a word, the sharpness of her expression preventing anyone from disagreeing, not that M4 would have.

The Commander seemed to expect that. "Crap news it is." At least, that is what M4 took after from him immediately jumping into the explanation. "We're being shipped up to Poland to play a glorified police force." During the beat of pausing from breath there were a variety of reactions. KSG and FAL winced, Groza seemed to pale, AR-15 grunted, and M4 felt a stab of worry. While she couldn't place why exactly, given that Poland didn't mean much to her. "Warsaw to be specific, so the odds that anyone remembers our Russian contingent are low, but odds that someone tries to firebomb us on principle remain high."

"I wouldn't be sure of that." Even for Groza the measured, precise words were unusual. "Plenty of Polish soldiers went to ground, and despite efforts, not all were found. While I would class it as unlikely that we are recognized, I would remind you that SV-98 is not good at keeping her foot out of her mouth, and that 74M routinely wears a unit patch that makes her previous allegiance quite clear.

"That is a concern I had not considered, thank you for giving me new and exciting nightmares." In response, Groza conjured up a spine-chilling smile that once again reminded M4 that her comrades were very scary people. "With that said, we are, in theory, going to be backed up by at least one on location Echelon. Local Commander is some eastern bloc veteran, still working on details."

"In theory there's some local forces but if they are calling for backup at this level, they believe something is happening to require that much additional firepower." Unlike Groza, who reverted to a cold and aloof precision, FAL seemed to become far more emotional, an undercurrent of anger growing with every word. "On that same vein, being a Russian PMC, we are likely to be a target simply for walking in, never mind if we are used as an escalatory tool. I don't see what good news you might have to outweigh that, Commander."

Shuffling through the paperwork the Commander pulled out a tablet, flicking through screens as he spoke. "We're slated for one hell of a base upgrade. Although that is perhaps underselling it." He held it out, KSG grabbing it and reading at a surprising pace.

Information flooded the network as the white-haired Doll worked. M4 didn't understand all of it, but what she did understand was new everything, including aircraft facilities, barracks, and various other defensive measures. As she finished, KSG cocked her head to the side. "Hell of an upgrade Commander, what's the bribe?"

"Believe it or not, I didn't bribe anyone. Purportedly, we're just next on the list." While M4 didn't think the man believed his own words, the lack of additional commentary suggested that it didn't matter too much. "The other downside to this is that we are not in a position to fly out, so we get to do this the good old-fashioned way."

"Define good old fashioned." AR-15 repeated.

"I believe he means we're getting in trucks with piles of supplies and driving." Groza rolled her eyes and sighed. "PP-2000 and OTs-39 are going to be exceedingly annoyed with this."

"Yes, well, I'm hoping I can actually bribe someone to get us better helicopters out of this, so they should forgive me." M4 was pretty sure that one wasn't supposed to just say that they were trying to bribe people, but if none of the others questioned it neither would she. "If not, I'll work something out. Earn my paycheck somehow."

"How soon do they want us moving?" As expected KSG continued with the practical questions. Then, without waiting for an answer she forged ahead. "Two, maybe three days to Warsaw, provided they've got somewhere for us to barrack. At least a good bit of that drive is through hostile territory, so call it three days, maybe four days. Local supplies are going to take a while to get, so bring our own to last at least the week."

"How soon then?" Cutting across KSG's mumbling, FAL's eyes showed amusement

"Tomorrow probably. Unless he already has equipment-" A paper hit her in the face. Giving the man a look KSG uncrumpled it, skimming the words. "Tomorrow. It'll take time to get everything set, and we do need to tell other Commanders that we're moving."

"Already done." Reclining as much as the chair allowed, the Commander did nothing to hide his smugness, which only seemed to infuriate KSG. While M4 didn't understand how being competent could produce that reaction, she also knew she didn't want to be involved in that. "Now that we've got the technical details out of the way, thoughts."

"Very weird." After a short silent negotiation between the four of them, Groza went first. "We're very obviously soldiers, law enforcement or even riot control forces. None of us are trained for it, nor are we equipped to carry out those sorts of actions. At best, we're good for looking scary and extra heavy bodyguard operations."

"Using soldiers as riot police is not a new idea." FAL this time, entire expression going dark. "And it has almost universally backfired. Further, surely they can call upon some local force or another?" The Commander did not visibly respond, just looking to KSG.

"The list of reasons why this is stupid only compounds the longer I think about it. I can buy the idea of needing us out of the way to do a full system upgrade around here, but everything about the actual job doesn't hold up." Her shoulders straightened. "Which you aren't helping by being actually on top of things."

He didn't reply again, looking over his shoulder at M4 and AR-15. "What I don't get," M4 was more than happy to let her sister talk first, "is why you seem so remarkably okay with this. If everything they are saying is true, and this is just that weird, and a complete misuse of everyone here, you would be up in arms." M4 settled for nodding in agreement.

There was a long quiet, as the Commander looked from one to the other, obviously waiting for more. When it was obviously not forthcoming, he decided to speak. "I have my suspicions. More importantly, I have raised all the same questions you did, and got exactly the sort of useless answer we're all familiar with." Letting that sink in, he shuffled through the papers, finding a small folder. "The reason they aren't pulling in local troops is that quite a bit of policing and civil security work in the outlying occupied territory is done by Griffin, both with Human troops and Dolls. This isn't a secret but sure isn't trumpeted from the hills either."

"But why?" From M4's perspective there were hundreds of problems with that approach, and that was just the ones she instantly thought of.

"Because whenever someone pulls a gun and gets their brains turned into wallcovering, they can blame a PMC. It's a halfhearted attempt to divert attention away from the fact that many countries have long standing grudges against the Russians and are more than willing to turn those grudges into violence." From the way he spoke, the Commander very obviously had a strong opinion about that. "PMC troops then make an easy scapegoat, and are in turn easier to control than security forces. Further, the military and other forces usual devoted to things like this are currently preoccupied with other matters."

"That's why use PMC cops." FAL jumped in. "That does not explain why use us."

"That, I can only speculate, most of which is, I think, unfounded. My best guess however is that whatever is happening requires more resources than can be drawn from other areas without weakening efficacy, and with us being effectively homeless we just ended up a good pick because we have numbers and aren't going to be weakening defenses while we're away."

"Say we believe that." Groza's bearing made it clear she did not. "That doesn't address the core of FAL's point."

"Because I can't." That made Groza, and at her side even FAL looked taken aback. "For what value it has, I agree with FAL in that this is a fundamentally bad idea, and that there is something else going on here. Unfortunately, while I can get my hands on plenty of information about goings on out here in the containment sectors, getting my hands on reports of what is going on in someplace like Warsaw is harder, and we need to be moving soon, so I made the choice to shelve digging until we are on site, and can investigate ourselves." Groza tipped her head to signal her acceptance, but M4 could tell she wasn't appeased. "If I had contacts in Poland I would use them, but unsurprisingly they have a bit of a problem with us Americans at the moment so gaining contacts was out of the question."

"We investigate when we arrive." Groza's tone made it clear she'd be doing it herself if needed.

"Guess that means less talking, more moving." KSG stood, and the meeting, such as it was, scattered. As they separated, M4 could hear KSG mutter something that sounded a lot like 'I'm going to have to listen to Alfa bitching about how she wants a tank again'.

M4 realized that she didn't want to know why that was, but at the same time, some part of her told her that she should find out anyway.

-Faded Glory-

Roaring helicopter engines were a typical company for PP-2000 by this point. Logging more flying hours than any time in her life between shuffling Dolls on patrols, cargo, and just generalized scouting, meant that if she lacked confidence when flying she surely wouldn't now.

OTs-39 already returned to base, her half of a scouting flight complete, leaving PP-200 to fly on alone, well out over territory they had not previously investigated. Or more accurately assess the ability for a large convoy to move through at something approaching speed.

Then again, she was not entirely alone, with Ballista sitting in the co-pilot seat, squinting down at the ground rushing beneath them. The sniper had a better eye for the details that mattered, making her an invaluable assistant to complete the sweep fast.

"Circle that spot again." Ballista flagged a spot on the map. PP-2000 slowed, circling around to hover near the indicated area. Ballista made an irritated noise. "Passable but probably full of UXO."

"Great." PP-2000 added the map note. "Another risky one." Given that she'd probably be driving, PP-2000 didn't fancy the idea of hitting a mine or other unexploded thing. Ballista didn't reply but her expression tightened, a sure sign of her displeasure. "Worth continuing?"

"For now." Ballista took a while to come to that answer. "It doesn't look like this one took too much abuse during the fighting."

"Good enough." And they were off again, this time, lower and slower. Ballista didn't comment on anything, and before long they needed to circle back around towards the base again. PP-2000 pulled them up a bit, not interested in risking someone getting cheeky from the surface.

"PP-2000." Ballista broke the silence. The pilot glanced at her, surprised to find Ballista's stare being far more intense than usual.

"Yeah?" This felt like a change, somewhere along the way, that PP-2000 missed.

"Are you comfortable with me?" That felt out of left field, and it must have shown on her face. "My general manner of being is cold, off putting, and made to intimidate everyone around me. Crafted specifically to scare off people who wanted to grab a bit too much of FAL, I'm not an easy person to get used to."

"You're not worse than anyone else." PP-2000 waved a hand. "I can figure out what's going on in your head most of the time, and even if I can't, you aren't prone to flying off the handle. You're helpful, which is more than I can say for most." That made her smile a bit. "Your sisters are a bit insane though."

"My sisters are a mess." Ballista conceded that point immediately. "Both are terrible individuals in their own ways, and in return, so am I."

"At risk of saying something horrible about your family members, I don't think you are anything like either of them." PP-2000 visually checked their route, before shifting as best she could in her seat to address Ballista more directly.

"Am I not?" Ballista's eyes danced with a dark promise. "FAL will go to any length to protect us. Even Five-seveN will put us first, when things matter. Where FAL will act directly and visibly, and I don't think you can miss anything Five-seveN does, I prefer to be more circumspect."

"I would not call threatening to throw a mouthy Russian out of my helicopter circumspect, Ballista." PP-2000 kept her tone even.

"I may have been…hasty." Ballista looked away, just for a second, but enough for PP-2000 to know her point made. "And I believe that illustrates my point regardless. I am not innocent in the game of awfulness that my sisters engage in." PP-2000 didn't react to that. "And I don't just mean in general PP-2000. We're…" Ballista visually seemed to flail a bit. "Well, I don't know."

This was not where PP-2000 thought this would go. She'd not given much thought to her relationship with Ballista, outside of those playful jabs from OTs-39. From everything PP-2000 knew, Ballista was not interested in companionship outside of the platonic sort, but this conversation seemed to be trending that way. "What do you want to be?" Dealing with the various brooding snipers on base taught her that being direct worked best.

Ballista glared, which made it clear that she wanted a better answer. "You're answering questions with questions."

In my defense, you never asked a question, PP-2000 almost said but caught herself. "Because I don't know, Ballista. My life has been spent in positions where I'm intrinsically alone. Flying there is maybe one other person who's around and as a Doll that wasn't common. And there, I'm back to flying, which if you aren't coming along, is a pretty solitary activity. I enjoy having you around, but I've never put the time into thinking about it further." A pause. "Why did you start hanging around me anyway?"

Again, Ballista looked away, although this time with a bit of a flush, and appeared to mouth something, without it being caught by the headset. PP-2000 tapped her earpiece. Ballista swore in French. "You were cute, and seemed like you wouldn't be loud."

"Uh." PP-2000 didn't quite know how to respond to that.

"FAL and Five-seveN were being loud, and I didn't care to listen to any of that, nor FNC being…FNC." PP-2000 winced, willing to yield on that point easily enough. "Being cute is, I believe, self-explanatory." A bit of a smile tugged at her lips. "Normally people take that as a compliment, PP-2000, not just splutter in confusion."

Most people did not just have an unnaturally attractive woman just casually call them cute. Most people did not have a confused muddle of feelings about said woman. Most people did not have said woman threaten to throw someone out of a helicopter for them. Most people, in PP-2000's experience, were generally unremarkable, and didn't end up in half the insane situations they already had. None of that made it to PP-2000's mouth. "I, uh." She swallowed, focusing on flying for a few moments to get ahold of herself. "It's not something I've-" The words closed off.

"You've never given thought to any significant relationship." PP-2000 nodded. "That is fine." That surprised her. Ballista's lips quirked. "I haven't broached the issue before now because I suspected as much."

"And you choose to do it now because?" That part didn't line up.

"Because if we are getting shipped off to a city, it's my best chance to take you on an actual date. Provided you're alright with that." PP-2000 realized her mistake, in asking someone who was so blunt to give blunt answers.

Further, she was making a complete idiot of herself. "I think I'd like that." If nothing else, she could at least figure out that jumble of feelings that surrounded Ballista.

The sniper nodded, visibly pleased as she settled back into the seat.

-Faded Glory-

"This upgrade better come with more help." Kalina spent a lot of time grumbling, even if that grumbling was entirely well earned. That did not stop Fleur from finding it annoying. Loading up most of Sector 9's supplies and other gear in preparation for travel took forever even with multiple dolls pitching in to help, and offered the stark reminder that Fleur might have been almost a foot taller than MG4, but the small Doll was substantially stronger than she was.

"Well, you can find the space in the budget." Lena's patience ran much thinner, even if you could tell she agreed with the sentiments. "I still don't know how you make the existing one work, so adding more people isn't exactly going to fix the problem."

Kalina huffed, but notably didn't argue about that point. "Least the Commander is planning to hop from village to village, so we don't need to bring quite as much stuff."

"Not sure if that's a good thing." Aleksander's arms crossed. "This part of Ukraine, Griffin isn't the most liked. We're just Russians with extra steps to a lot of people out there." A pause, as he chewed on his words. "We're probably not going to get grenades and the like thrown in our windows but expect a frosty reception."

"Well, that's lovely." Kalina threw up her hands in defeat, eyes going dark as she moved away. Three sets of eyes followed her out, a sort of uncomfortable quiet settling over them at the same time.

"What was that about?" Fleur found her voice first.

"Figured you'd know." Aleksander's reply took a while to form, obviously lost in thought. "Kalina's always been a bit of a mystery to us. We're not exactly secretive about the past but she's the one person who never talked about it much." Seeming to guess where that would lead, he scrambled to add. "Not that this is a bad thing to not want to talk about your life, but it does stand out."

"She's never said anything to me either. All I know is that she's some kind of magician with money." Fleur wracked her mind for anything else but came up empty. "I can try and talk to her."

"Don't bother." Lena shook her head. "She's a wartime kid, best to let it go." Fleur shrugged, but she'd accept the suggestion for the time being. Her own childhood bore fewer scars, so she'd take the words of someone else about how to handle that. "It's easy to forget considering she's about the only person on base who isn't grumpy and morose, but my bet is she's had it as bad as any of us."

"Whose had what now?" All three of them rounded on OTs-12, the least noticeable Doll of the Russian group freezing under the abrupt human scrutiny.

"A hard life." Aleksander spoke for them. Frowning, OTs-12 looked back over her shoulder.

"Miss Kalina?" Fleur nodded in response, getting a pensive hum from Tiss. "Maybe. She's always so cheerful though."

"Cheerful don't mean much." Even with her own relatively calm life prior to Griffin, told Fleur that. "Known plenty of people who seem happy on the surface but ended up being all kinds of messed up."

"Had a guy in my unit like that." Punctuating the word with a jerk of her head to the north, Lena sighed. "Didn't end well." OTs-12 picked up the unease in those words, eyes darting back in the direction of Kalina, then to them.

A hesitant repeat of the question from earlier followed. "Should we do something?"

"Not right now." The Pole shook her head, a grimace flashing across her face. "Maybe when things have cooled down a bit, but I don't see much useful coming out of bringing it up now…nor do I want to walk in on her bent over a desk."

"I swear." Fleur pinched the bridge of her nose, having just about managed to forget, only to be so rudely reminded, that it hadn't only happened once. "Five-seveN probably does it on purpose."

"She does." The surety of OTs-12's statement suggested that she knew something Fleur did not know, nor did she want to know. Without elaboration on that matter, she forged straight ahead. "The Commander wanted to know what the timeline is."

Fleur elected to say the first thing that came to mind. "Whenever he gets off his ass?" OTs-12's head cocked to the side as if listening to something, and snickers broke out from the older two as they all realized that OTs-12 probably relayed that message verbatim. "Please tell me you didn't just tell him that."

"I didn't." OTs-12 shook her head, giving Fleur exactly long enough to feel a surge of relief. "Groza did."

"Ah yes, because that's so much better." Her deadpan reply drew more laughter.

"He says that's good enough for him." OTs-12 relayed after another moment of looking into the distance. "As well pointing out he 'gets off his ass plenty', whatever that means."

"It means he's a damned liar." Lena suggested, and none of them could manage to disagree.

-Faded Glory-

Setting out in a military convoy evoked a strange set of feelings for Alfa. Some of them seemed like nostalgia, given that she'd spent a lot of time in these types of convoys. On the other hand, the lack of the bone shaking rumble of a tank engine, of IFVs racing ahead in scouting positions, or other tanks and radio chatter, just left her feeling deeply unsettled.

"Alright, why are you looking like someone kicked your puppy?" And, of course, Honey Badger would pick today to be less clueless than average, on the day when Alfa did not feel like putting up with stupid questions.

That didn't stop her from telling the truth. "Feel naked without a tank."

"Er…what?" The other doll blinked in visible confusion, as if the words were in a foreign language. "You feel…naked. Without a tank?"

"That is what I said." Alfa shrugged. "This is hostile territory. I'm rolling through hostile territory with nothing but some tin can to protect me from whatever insanity and violence the world wants to throw at me, when I could have a massive rolling death machine with a get fucked cannon on it." Honey Badger just stared at her, facial muscles twitching. "What?"

"What kind of person put you in a tank?" Honey Badger looked around, seeming to seek help from anyone else, and got none of it. KSG has already zoned out, going into whatever strange zen trance a Marine went into. MG4 shrugged, and SRS of course didn't know.

"Army did. And what exactly are you implying?" As one of her crewmates used to say, that sounded like bold words from someone in visible range of a tank. If, of course, Alfa had a tank.

"She's implying that you're a verbally violent nutcase who shouldn't be allowed to drive around fifty odd tons of screw you?" KSG cracked one eye, baleful stare holding them both in place. "And in Alfa's defense, drivers don't control the guns."

"So, she could run things over with a tank, but not shoot them." This knowledge did absolutely nothing to reassure the adrenaline junkie, if the wild gestures were any indication. "How is this better?"

"She's gotten worse with age."

"I'm right here!"

"I know." KSG closed her eyes. Alfa glared at her, then returned her attention to Honey Badger, whose skeptical position did not appear to be shifting. "Tank commanders get really pissy when you decide to prove the infantry are crunchy anyway." Flipping her sister off, Alfa turned to Honey Badger again, all but daring the civilian Doll to question her.

"This doesn't answer my question." Honey Badger took a moment to compose herself. "Who. Let you. Drive a tank?"

"The US Army." Alfa repeated. "You trying to say I shouldn't be driving heavy armor?"

"I think you shouldn't be given control of something that has a giant, and I quote 'get fucked cannon'!" Honey Badger insisted. "You get on my case about being a lunatic, and you're over here going on about…whatever that means!"

"The difference between me and you, is that I carefully consider the situations I'm in, and conclude that, while I could subject my fragile body to the whims of fate, I could also just ask this dumbass from the West Coat to put a hole the size of my head in it, all without even leaving my tank. I'm pretty sure you are the sort of idiot who would charge a tank with nothing but a frag and all the confidence in the world." She glanced at KSG. "And you keep your mouth shut."

"One does what one must." MG4 spoke up, and Alfa ignored that, pointedly. "From experience, Alfa is reliable in her actual job."

Honey Badger did not look convinced at all, but swallowed her question, seemingly deciding that whatever affliction Alfa had, she didn't want to find out. Alfa considered that a victory, as it earned her at least a little bit of quiet.

-Faded Glory-

"You and Groza were in Poland, right?" OTs-12 asked the question, and SV-98 had to swallow her instinctive, and extremely rude, answer.

"I would hesitate to call our time there 'in'." Groza chose the diplomatic answer. "The locals made it very clear that our presence was neither wanted, nor appreciated."

"That is a diplomatic way of saying they went to great lengths trying to murder you." PPD's dry tone would have made it funny if SV-98 found anything about that funny. "I likewise doubt they spent any time in major cities or points of interest."

"Oh." OTs-12 deflated. "That's going to make this awkward, isn't it?"

"I'm relatively sure we won't be shot in the streets." SV-98 shrugged. "Beyond that, no, this is not going to be fun for us." Everyone looked at AK-74M, with PPD-40 and OTs-12 looking away, while SV-98 and Groza met the unimpressed gaze.

"Things that may involve me in Poland should be entirely classified, and as such it is unlikely that my presence will induce any more significant incidents. Polish resistance was largely handled by GRU or other units." She frowned. "It is possible we'll encounter Dolls familiar with me personally, but unlikely."

"How likely are we to encounter GRU units?" Groza's tone shifted, gaining a bit of an edge, with only a halfhearted shrug as her reply.

"No idea. I've been out long enough that anything I knew will have changed." Seeming to guess Groza's discomfort, she added on. "That said, I consider it unlikely. Dealing with issues in Poland was largely handed over to FSB and other internal forces." That did not amount to a good answer in SV-98's book. Getting tangled up with the 'proper' intelligence services would be just as bad as having GRU or Spetsnaz running about.

"That will have to do." Groza sighed, giving SV-98 a subtle shake of her head, they were, apparently not having that talk today. "Be careful." An order, one with more weight to it than usual, and again, SV-98 swallowed her sarcasm. One that probably needed to be passed on to the pilots, given that they weren't going to be used to the entire situation, and were least equipped to handle it.

"Do we know anything about the actual situation in Poland?" PPD-40 jumped in, seeming to want to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"Tense." SV-98 paraphrased the brief as neatly as she could. "Nobody is entirely sure how bad things are, and reports are, to quote the Commander 'sparse'. Sucker bet that he's already digging up more, but…" She trailed off with a shrug.

"According to the Commander the situation is fragile, and our deployment is intended to be a preventative measure, rather than as a true suppression force." Groza took over. "With that said, I think it's an easy guess that someone expects us to be involved if and when things go wrong."

"By involved, you mean shooting." OTs-12's voice wavered. Groza held her eyes, and SV-98 was glad that she wasn't the idiot saying dumb things for once. "They can't really think that's a good idea?"

"Good ideas aren't important. Population compliance is." 74M's words cut despite their softness. "Sometimes, that is enforced quietly. Sometimes, it is very loud." Her eyes drifted to her shoulder, and the patch sitting there, and she did not speak further.

"74M is correct." That same edge lingered in Groza's words. "In this case, I suspect the solution will be loud, direct, and, shall we say, irreversible." SV-98 could read between those lines, doing her best to hide the shiver that ran down her spine. "If 74M is right and this is an FSB or local issue, then we will make it out clean."

"If I'm not?" 74M's words were soft, staring down Groza with more intensity than SV-98 could recall seeing before. Some silent exchange took place that SV-98 decided she wouldn't interpret even if she could. "We agree."

"I don't think I like you agreeing." Tiss tried to sound joking but fell rather flat. "I shouldn't like that, should I?"

"No." PPD-40 shook her head. "And we're going to leave that topic alone, before they manage to become even more morose than usual, and this entire trip becomes a never-ending cycle of one or the other them moaning and plotting, and whatever else they feel like doing."

SV-98 grunted, not willing to admit that PPD had a point. "If you're so wise, what do you plan to do?"

"For now, I rather wanted to enjoy the quiet, perhaps consider what we might do with the time we'll have to do things that aren't spending our time sitting around being grumpy, and miserable." Their newest member shrugged. "Not thought that far ahead."

"Figures." The sniper let her head knock against the back of the seat. "Never had the chance to pretend to be a tourist. Could be fun." A feigned smile crossed her face.

"You thought hurrying up and waiting was boring, try hurrying up and watching." 74M's dry words carried some small bit of humor. "Or worse, hurrying up and waiting."

"You just said the same thing twice." Helpfully, Tiss asked the question for SV-98.

"For a soldier, to hurry up and wait refers to the basic act of command telling us to rush to a point with as much haste as possible, then, getting there, and being told to wait for orders." SV-98 didn't quite see where else that could be going, beyond that military context. "It is usually accompanied by much complaining and cursing. "

"You probably went somewhere as a tourist." Not quite a question from 74M, but enough of a question to get Tiss to nod. "And by extension, hurried to get somewhere and then spent time writing." Another nod. "Same idea, but waiting as a soldier at least lets you complain."

"It is the sacred right of the infantry, according to our western friends." SV-98 never quite understood all the strangeness that came with them, or perhaps just with the Americans. They sometimes were exactly the same, but on the other hand they were utterly insane. Even more than usual for those who survived a war, and its aftermath.

PPD sighed. "Sometimes, I am very glad that I never ended up with you insane people."

"What, afraid to get your boots dirty?" SV-98 couldn't resist the jab.

"Have you tried to find anything actually fashionable that survives on a battlefield?" Came the immediate counter.

"What about me screams 'fashion' or anything resembling such?" SV-98 pointed a finger at Groza. "That's her thing, I prefer to keep to practical things."

"And by practical, she means that things are not allowed to get in the way of her general sense of being a grouch and scaring the daylights out of anyone in her vicinity." Apparently, Groza saw the chance to lighten the mood and took it. Or maybe ruin her image of SV-98 as a 'grouch'. "I have attempted to fix the problem, and every attempt has been an objective failure."

"When you can explain to me why boots that cost more than I made in six months are better than mine, I'll consider it." Despite knowing it was a trap, SV-98 also wanted to see what kind of trap. Or maybe she considered playing along with Groza's antics acceptable.

"Comfort."

"Aesthetics."

"Longevity."

"Happiness?"

"I'm perfectly comfortable in what I'm wearing now. Aesthetics is a fancy way of saying I want to look extra stupid when I get shot. I'll concede that paying more means things last longer." The sniper counted off on her fingers, doing her best to keep a straight face. "Oh, and happiness is a myth." Shock, confusion, and disgusted amusement were a good enough set of reactions. "And don't you start about that 'I'll understand some day' nonsense. Again."

"Would you rather I told you so later?" Smile tugging at her lips, Groza crossed her legs, settling into her 'I'm in charge and everyone knows it' pose.

"Yes?" She really would, given that it was far more direct and less stupid than this weird double talk they were all up too. A sigh of exasperation was her only answer. "Look, I don't question your weird hobbies, don't question mine."

"There is a line about protesting too much that applies here." Tiss got herself flipped off for her trouble.

-Faded Glory-

"Hey, M4. Persica say anything about this?" M16 asked the question without warning, but something about how she said it caught AR-15's attention.

"No." Immediately answering didn't seem right for M4, but AR-15 pushed that aside. Letting the weird subtext around the base get to her wouldn't do anyone any good. "She didn't mention anything about this." A pause, letting AR-15 realize that she was missing something deeply important to the question. M4 didn't speak much about her conversations with Persica, even less this most recent one. Well, she talked with everyone except AR-15 herself, which was annoying.

"Why?" SOPMOD beat anyone else to the question. "Did you do something for her there before?"

"Nah." M16 waved that away. "Never been that far north. Just…" A frown. "I dunno. Something feels wrong. And not any of the nonsense about rebels, and whatever. Just a weird feeling." M4 caught AR-15's eye, sharing the doubt. None of that made the faintest lick of sense.

"You sure you aren't losing it?" AR-15 crossed her arms. "Raving about 'feelings' isn't usually a sign of mental stability."

One eye gave her a feeble glare. "When have my feelings been wrong?"

"The correctness of your feelings is directly related to your drunkness, and not in the way you think." She probably should have felt bad. But, M16 asked, and AR-15 wouldn't start pulling her punches now. "And normally when you describe a feeling it also usually comes with an explanation of what caused it."

"Yeah, well this time, all I've got is that something just isn't right." Her older sister threw up her hands. "We're not cops, we're something else…" M16 trailed off, shaking her head. "If Persica hasn't said anything, it's probably nothing." Her eye brightened. "And look at the bright side, we'll be in a big city, which means downtime isn't going to be staring at walls."

"And do what instead." AR-15 continued her deadpan stare. "And if you say find a bar-"

"We could?" M16 tried, wilting under a pair of withering glares. "Come on, have some fun."

"No thanks." AR-15 shook her head.

"But you could meet new people. Find new friends." SOPMOD joined in, bouncing in her seat.

"Remember SOP, STAR doesn't want friends." And immediately her refusal to play along with M16's games came back to haunt her. In a vain attempt to say some dignity, AR-15 didn't retort. "And doesn't even deny it."

"All that would do is make you more insufferable."

"STAR!" SOP could do a passable job of sounding upset. It did make her feel somewhat bad, but AR-15 stuck to her statement.

"It's fine, SOP." M16 waved the objection aside. "I'm serious though, you can actually just go and do things that sound fun." Her eyes flickered to M4. "Maybe convince M4 to go paintballing or something again, there's plenty of stuff to do."

"Just stay away from FAL." M4's sudden interjection felt out of place. "She'll try and drag you off shopping." That felt specific to AR-15, in the way of personal experience.

It did however raise an important question. "Groza or KSG didn't rescue you?"

"I'd guess KSG knew better, and Groza's going along with it." M16 laughed under her breath. "That or KSG played dumb." M4 didn't comment, eyes drifting into the distance.

They lapsed in a bit of a quiet again, before a mental information packet all but slapped AR-15 in the face. Labeled as sent by the collective group of SV-98, Afla, and Five-seveN she didn't see what it had to do with her, even after perusing the contents. Most of it amounted to a large compilation of all the things they all agreed didn't make sense, with weird addendums. Then, at the bottom, Ak-Alfa added a note.

I'm not my sister, I can't keep all this shit straight in my head. Putting it here so we can compare notes, and if needed beat those idiots about the ears to get things done. That made a bit more sense, although it still didn't quite make sense to AR-15.

Beneath that was a note from SV-98. Pretty sure all of them know this. Or is there a point here. A pause. Or, are you trying to find the things they missed?

It took almost a full three minutes for Alfa to reply. I'm making sure we all know what we're getting into, since nothing says they talk, share this stuff, or even consciously think about it.

Meaning? AR-15 joined in.

Meaning, just because KSG knows it, doesn't mean FAL knows it, because KSG doesn't think it's important. A pause, as Alfa waited for someone to speak up. And it's our job to keep these idiots out of trouble. That was not her job as far as AR-15 was concerned, but Alfa didn't say things without a reason, and if nothing else, the other Dolls did have a small point. Also, they've got bigger things to worry about. Better for us to handle the small stuff.

Small stuff. AR-15 repeated. Just the small matter of you writing an entire briefing on all the logical inconsistencies in our orders, and SV-98's dissertation on I don't even know what.

It's math. I think. Five-seveN sounded more serious than AR-15 could ever remember. This is our way of ensuring that we come out of this alive. Before AR-15 could ask the question the Belgian went on. Buried in SV-98's thesis is the conclusion that the odds of all the ways she thinks this can go wrong, and most of them include corpses.

AR-15 took a few seconds to process that, before starting to add her own thoughts, mostly centering on M16's comments, and weirdness. She didn't like these people, but she didn't want them dead, and she absolutely could not allow M4 to die.

AN: And we're off to Poland! I don't promise a new update in a hurry, life has decided to be on fire for the next two months.

Usual thanks to Branded for his assistance cleaning up the mess produced by a very tired me.