Rain fell in great frigid sheets, destroying what little visibility might have been gleaned from the streetlamps as they entered Warsaw. Even squinting into the distance, Groza could only pick out the faintest of shadows based upon where the rain appeared to be splattering against a structure instead of the ground. Looking ahead, the road could hardly be considered visible, the headlights failing to penetrate more than a few dozen feet into the downpour, and splatter from impact on the road itself. Overhead street lights provided floating orbs to make the edges of the road, but even they failed to provide more visibility.
"You know, I'd say he planned this, but I don't think the Commander can control the weather. Yet." SV-98 scowled over Groza's shoulder, moving from muttering rude things to saying them. "Not that I fancy getting soaked to the wiring in minutes either. Feels a bit too much like a homecoming." Groza swallowed her laugh, knowing that SV-98 wouldn't appreciate it at the moment.
"I believe the timing is intentional." No proof existed to back up her point, but Groza felt confident in the assessment. Further, Groza could see the logic, if her speculation were correct. "Given how controversial our arrival is expected to be, using the storm and the night to hide it seems wise." SV-98 grunted but didn't argue the point. "We were told that we shouldn't expect to get rained on, despite all evidence to the contrary, so I'm sure he's up to something."
"You know how I thought he was getting better? I lied." This time, Groza didn't hide her laughter, only to get punched in the shoulder.
"I'll pass on the message." They fell into a companionable silence again, partially lacking things to say, and partly because the entire vehicle slid across the pavement when trying to brake and the sensation could not be called pleasant. Someone swore violently.
The next two turns felt far more violent as well, before they skidded to a halt in some kind of underground car park. From what Groza could see, they were the first people to visit in quite some time, dust and grime caking everything not in reach of the pouring rain. As the sounds of engines died down, Dolls started to pile out of the trucks. Flashlights attached to weapons clicked on, thin beams slicing into the gloom and only adding to the feeling that wherever they had arrived lacked any human touch for many months, or even years. Enhanced vision took care of the rest.
A flicker of movement in a corner caught Groza's attention, and in a smooth motion more than a dozen flashlights whirled. The brilliant halo outlined a white-haired Doll, and Groza only knew her to be a Doll by how she did not flinch at the bright light or otherwise react to the sudden attention. A pair of headphones hung around her neck, and a compact SMG slung over her chest, hands comfortably far enough away that none of them were going to blow holes in her chest for the surprise. A unitard and stocks rounded out her appearance, with a truly strange visual counterpoint.
From the corner of her eye, Groza saw 74M shift into a far more aggressive stance, finger curling towards the trigger on her weapon. Then, 74M relaxed slightly. Unaware of the chaos, the new Doll took a few steps, stopping at the edge of their 'group'. 74M's weapon tracked her closely, and Groza realized that her subordinate trained her weapon over the spot on the other Dolls' chest where her core would be. Before she could parse that further, the Commander stepped into view, giving the entire scene a once over with her usual calm, even if Groza could also see that his hand rested quite close to his sidearm.
When he finally spoke, his tone doubled down on that forced calm, but hard edge underneath. "And you are?"
"PP-19. Adjutant to Commander Mihkail Orlov, Warsaw." Now named, PP-19 snapped to a crisp salute. "My Commander requested I meet you here to ensure you suffered no issues arriving in the city."
"Outside of a blinding rainstorm and a few choice idiots, no, we did not." Blackwood did not relax, although mellowing out with each word, except for the scorn when referring to idiots. "You are here earlier than expected." That felt more direct than Groza might have expected, and from the way FAL and KSG shifted, they also noticed. "Am I to infer a change in situation, or merely an overabundance of caution on the part of an old soldier?"
If PP-19 took offense, she didn't show it, blinking once before speaking. "The Commander would prefer to speak with you at your earlier convenience and wished for me to convey such."
A power play, plain and simple. One Groza didn't see working, and for that matter, seemed like it would backfire horrendously.
"Given the circumstances, our earliest convenience will be at least midday tomorrow." The reply stayed at an even tone, yet conveyed a finality that could not be argued with. PP-19 didn't make any indication of noticing the rebuke. "If you wish to avoid the rain you are welcome to wait until then."
"I will return tomorrow." From the outside, it felt like watching a demented stage play, a script written by someone out to make every person in it seem too clever and prepared by half. If she were writing it, Groza would probably have scripted Blackwood shrugging, but the man himself went for a small dip of the head.
"Dismissed." And so, she left. The seconds dragged on, every Doll's hearing straining for any hint of PP-19 until they were all certain the other Doll had gone from earshot. "Jackass." The Commander's grumble shattered the silence, and, despite the likely intent, only added to the tension. "FAL, Groza, M4, KSG. Be ready to see what he wants by noon. Everyone else, for now, focus on getting set up here, and try to keep out of sight from the streets."
"Commander?" M16 was the one who asked the question, even if most of them were thinking it.
He stopped, and Groza could see in real time the man having to shift gears from sparing with someone at a subtextual level and dealing with the rest of them. "While I can't deny the inevitability of people realizing we are here, advertising our presence strikes me as foolish. Until such time as we have a better idea about what is happening in this city, staying out of sight and mind is my preferred way of doing things."
A series of affirmatives followed, as everyone broke up to complete the myriad tasks that needed to be completed, mostly hauling gear, and cleaning rooms.
So, want to explain why PP-19 made you tense up? SV-98 slipped onto the network to ask the question as she started slinging gear over her shoulders.
74M took a while to speak, having moved to take up a position on watch. Merely a ghost.
A ghost. OTs-12 repeated, with all of the dubiousness such a claim warranted. What do you mean?
Once again, she took a long while to reply, and from what Groza could tell, 74M's mind was entirely elsewhere, a small part of her watching the outside world and rest distinctly focused inside. I knew someone with that same chassis.
The implication is that we do not want to know this someone. Groza had to admire the way that SV-98 made a question into a statement.
You do not. The speed of the answer told them plenty. She is everything you thought I was. That took a long time for all of them to process, and Groza could feel both PPD-40 and OTs-12 probing at the edge of her Neural Cloud for more information. Groza pushed them the memory without comment. She is not who I thought. Merely someone who did not succeed at having a chassis without baggage.
Understood. SV-98 didn't sound convinced, but Groza took the fact she also didn't seem inclined to challenge it as a success.
-Faded Glory-
In Ian's opinion the next day only slightly tempered the weather. One could see more than a few dozen feet in front of them, but a chill set in sometime overnight, leaving Ian's entire left side aching as the cold seeped through the heavy material of the officers overcoat he'd donned for the occasion. If the small winces and scowling were any indication, his Echelon leaders were not enjoying the experience either, although Ian did not consider the idea of using cold to influence a Doll.
If nothing else, it did put on an excellent display of the differences in said Echelon leaders. KSG concealed her emotions as she always did, hands buried in her pockets, shotgun slung over her back providing a grim contrast to the absolute emptiness of her expression. With crossed arms and a small frown, betrayed Groza, not that she seemed to be trying to hide her thoughts. Nor hide the at least four knives on her person. Likewise, FAL gained at least one knife, but seemed far less visibly annoyed, leaning against the wall with her jacket pulled up over her shoulders, and rifle resting beside her on the wall. From what he could tell, she was conversing silently with Groza. Rounding on the strange scene, M4 fiddled with her coat, a combination of confidence and experience truly telling.
"What exactly do you expect out of this?" FAL's silent conversation ended, and with it, all eyes turned to Ian.
The most prudent question. "Information." Taking a cue from KSG, Ian shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping for them to warm up at least a little bit. "We're at a disadvantage for both information and tasking. Without knowing what is wanted of us, we cannot determine how to proceed, either following through on expectations or subverting them."
FAL's expression twisted slightly, and while Ian couldn't see what was happening, he could guess there to be a rapid fire conversation happening between the Dolls themselves. KSG blinked, turning away, watching the entrance to the parking lot. "You haven't been faking a lack of knowledge." The realization, for that is what it seemed to be, appears to be quite bemuse at least FAL and Groza, with M4's eyes darting between them all.
"Believe it or not, I can only do so much on both short notice and limited resources. Expending those resources to get information did seem worthwhile." Ian wanted to sigh, swear, or both but any of those options felt inappropriate. "Thus, I elected to wait and gain the information here from the source where it could be assessed accordingly, as opposed to planning on shoddy knowledge." Taking a leaf from an old comrade, Ian shrugged. "If our new source of information is disappointing, we will assess from there."
Careful stares answered him, varied confusion and surprise. This time, there didn't seem to be a conversation he couldn't see, but that tidbit appeared to appease the primary question askers.
No further questions followed, and the silence that followed lacked the tension of the previous one.
A few moments later, an armored vehicle rolled in. Not quite police but obviously advertising their presence. Ian felt his blood pressure start to rise as his mind raced ahead, trying to work out just what sort of stupidity was at play.
PP-19 stepped out, eyes flickering from heavily armed Doll to heavily armed Doll, this time seeming to be a bit unsettled by the abject display of force. While Ian might have usually felt bad about dragging an unrelated Doll into an obvious power play, at the moment he couldn't bring himself to do that. If the local Commander wanted to play the game, Ian would play the game, and unfortunately for the man on the other side, this is the one game in which Ian felt confident.
"Commander." PP-19 again snapped to a salute. "If you are ready."
"At ease." Ian straightened, and PP-19 only relaxed a smidge. "And we are."
PP-19's gaze flickered across the gathered Dolls, lingering on weapons, and from her eyes, he could see her doing the mental calculations about just what he wanted to prove, and trying to decide if she would question it. In the end, she held her tongue, turning and getting out of the way as they piled into said armored vehicle.
The first few minutes were even tenser than before, PP-19's focus on driving. The others were watching the city around them, not populated with a few more people willing to brave the cold and rain.
"You are frontline troops." A stated question.
"Sangvis containment Sector 9, yes." Ian confirmed, watching her eyes in the mirror.
"I see." They turned. "What are they like? Sangvis."
"Stupid." FAL spoke first.
"Very Russian." KSG, in her way, made it a neutral statement, despite likely being an insult. "Reliant on mass assault tactics, questionable officers who don't cooperate well."
"You don't sound impressed." A probing question.
"Can't say that they managed anything I'd consider impressive." This random police Doll did not need to know about his little negotiations with Scarecrow. "Why?"
"The Commander claimed that we were receiving reinforcements from frontline troops, but I confess I did not believe him."
"Why not?" Groza challenged. "It's not unusual to use ground troops for peacekeeping." Not unusual depending on where you came from.
"Ground troops, no. Frontline combat units, yes." PP-19's hands tightened around the wheel. She seemed to want to say more, but swallowed the words at the last minute. "The Governor and Commander will be pleased to have significant reinforcements."
"What is the Governor's stance on all this?" Ian leaned back into his chair. That was one figure that he struggled to get a good read on.
"That he wants the situation resolved, immediately." That did not bode well. "He is also an arrogant self centered man who wants to retain his position." Good information even if she likely didn't mean it as such.
The following few minutes passed in a silence, as before they again pulled into an underground area once again, and Ian could watch PP-19 look quite uncomfortable as the soldiers instinctively checked corners and swept the room.
The Griffin Dolls in the city also occupied an old police precinct. Ian could immediately feel the difference just walking into the building, it lacked the underlying tensions and coiled potential, or even the innate wariness of the Dolls around them. Those Dolls watched the soldiers pass with obvious discomfort and confusion. Ian could see them looking to PP-19 for cues, and that the adjutant kept her feelings carefully controlled. The briefing room they ended up in felt more military, befitting an ex-soldier. PP-19 stepped around the table, taking her place at her superior's side.
Across that table, Mikhail Orlov stood eye to eye with Ian, broad at the shoulder, and a glance probably physically strong enough to match that appearance. A jagged scar chased down his check, a sure sign of the combat experience claimed by his file. Hidden behind his own officers overcoat, Ian couldn't tell that much more from sight alone. d
"Commander Blackwood." His voice, by contrast, came out rather nasal, a contrast that might have been amusing, if there were time for amusement.
"Commander Orlov." His own Dolls arrayed out to his sides, weapons slung over their backs. Orlov's eyes lingered there for a moment, tensing just a bit.
The tension continued to mount, and Ian knew that if someone stepped into the room they would not assume them to be on the same side. Both of them were at some fault for that, between power plays, and petty assertions of dominance. "I will assume you have read the reports."
For a split second, Ian debated not answering, and forcing the man to carry the entire conversation, but that degree of spite felt unearned, outside of petty personal reasons. "I have. While providing a detailed framing of the situation, details are sparse." Ian coked his head, holding eye contact with all the intensity he could. "Include what reason there might be for requesting support in the form of combat troops instead of additional policing forces when it seems to be an issue of public order, and not some kind of invasion."
Orlov to his credit matched Ian's stare with one of his own, before gesturing for PP-19. His adjutant stepped up, starting to pull up files, and maps on the command table. After a few seconds longer, Orlov spoke. "You are operating on the assumption that the problem is purely a policing one." Ian didn't reply, but he could feel the shift in demeanor of his subordinates at those words. "It is becoming increasingly obvious that we are seeing unrest fueled by an underground terrorist network."
PP-19 started to pull up specific reports, marking events on the map as she did so. Ian only briefly glanced down at the table letting his mind race with what he personally already knew. The logic held up to basic scrutiny, and it wasn't as if Poland didn't have a long list of historical reasons to be somewhat disagreeable when occupied. Hell, Ian could start to see the beginnings of something he himself might have done in the highlighted events. "While unsurprising, nothing here indicates that you have locations of bases, or even primary gathering points that indicate pulling in infantry is a good move." He let that linger.
"We are making progress with an investigation." Orlov brushed that concern aside. "While those investigations progress, I would prefer to have the ability to move quickly when they turn up something, as well as the additional deterrent against further unrest."
It took a conscious effort to not say something confrontational at that moment. While Ian could see the wisdom in having heavier troops if there was an explicit threat to be countered, or even an implicit one to some VIP, Orlov wasn't saying, or implying those things. Instead, he'd picked the exact phrasing to change the entire character of the conversation, both from Ian's perspective and those with him. "We are not riot police." A careful, measured statement, but Ian could hear the hard edge entering his words despite years of training.
From his facial expression Orlov didn't notice the change, but PP-19 did. Her stance shifted, widening attempting to project some manner of threat. It didn't work, but he could admire the effort. Instead, the man appeared content to double down. "I am aware of that Commander, and I am not looking for riot police." Finally breaking direct eye contact, he manipulated the files pulling up footage of a protest at some kind of official speech or functioning. The police were obviously not having a good time controlling the crowd, and Griffin Dolls arrayed up much closer to the official, who didn't seem pleased with the situation. "I am looking for a show of force, to ensure that this does not escalate."
"I see." Ian knew that phrase. He'd read those same words on reports, and he knew where they went. It was a conscious effort to try and force his mind to not file the man across him in the wrong bucket, even though he knew it would be a failure. "Transfer the relevant information." He jerked his head towards KSG. "We will sort through it and determine where best to act."
"Sir." Somewhat surprisingly, PP-19 obeyed, keying in the instructions quickly. Her superior didn't look pleased by that.
"Experience tells me that deploying infantry into a near riot is asking for trouble." Ian started slowly, measuring each word against his desire to lash out, and the need to subtly plant his disagreement. "The list of possible outcomes is small, and most result in bloody streets and the same amount of rioting." A lack of flinching or even a sign of contemplation didn't help the situation. Closing that line of questioning as a surefire way to get them all into trouble so Ian pivoted. "I presume the local authorities are aware of our presence."
"They are." Orlov nodded. "All police commanders have been instructed to provide you what assistance you require, and that you are available to provide more direct assistance."
"Understood." Meaning some jackass could call them in to smack something that didn't require heavy infantry hitting it in the face, but until it happened he couldn't just tell them to choke on it. "In that case, we will assess the provided information, and coordinate our actions going forwards." Power plays were the name of the game, and so Ian spun on his heel, sweeping from the room. Scrambling footsteps followed, as PP-19 scrambled to catch up. The various milling about Dolls looked up, and to the group, immediately looked back down again.
No further words were said until they were most of the way back to the building occupied by Sector 9. PP-19's entire bearing made clear she was deeply uncomfortable being in a close space with a group of rather upset Dolls.
"PP-19." Taking pleasure in the way she jumped probably made him a bad person, but Ian rarely considered those small things.
"I-yes?" A flash of displeasure at her stutter crossed her face.
"When there is activity that needs coordination, we will reach out to you." It would be better, Ian decided, to avoid having to deal with Orlov if he could help it. "Likewise, if you need to contact me, contact KSG." His own adjutant gave a short nod. PP-19's eyes flickered between them all in the mirror, her Digimind obviously racing to try and understand all the possibilities and reasoning.
In the end, she appeared to give up. "Understood." It would be the last word spoken for the journey.
As they were walking back in, Ian held up a hand, turning to face his Echelon leaders with a more grim feeling than usual. "New standing order." They all straightened, even M4. "All operational orders, no, any order for you will come from me, and me alone." It was perhaps an over the top gesture, but Ian didn't have a better one.
While only M4 vocalized a "Huh?" the statement took them all off guard.
Ian made a point to hold each gaze for at least a few seconds before speaking. "All orders will come from me, or someone I expressly authorize only. All other orders are to be ignored or checked with me first. You are, as usual, free to otherwise act under your own cognizance outside of that, as I see no reason to not trust your judgement."
"You… seem to believe someone will try something." FAL found her words first, slow and measured. Probing for the actual intent behind what he said.
"Let us say that meeting Orlov did not assuage any of my lengthy list of concerns." And, for the first time, he took a leap. "Nor, I think, yours." Mutely, FAL shook her head, and he turned to KSG. "How long-"
"If you want a comprehensive analysis, give me two hours. If you want a preliminary one, I've seen more useful reports from raving madmen." A dry report with just enough of an edge to imply anger. "Best guess about ten percent of this is actually relevant to what they want us to do, and the rest is just garbage." Which sounded about right for intelligence reports. "Going off limited pattern analysis, I would speculate that if the locals are right we have two cells and a lot of street gangs active. Trying to parse the useful from useless is making it hard to assess for sure." Pausing, her lips turned upwards in what felt like a sarcastic smile. "If I were to design a battle plan based on this, I would recommend that we carpet bomb the city out of existence, provided I accept the base premise."
"Lovely." In the back of his mind, Ian would concede to his local counterpart at least a surety of action.
"They have engaged in usual Russian tactics against these sorts of movements." Groza picked up the thread. "The local policing forces as well."
Ian resisted the urge to say something deeply unkind, and probably just downright offensive. "Any other immediate observations?"
"His information…missing?" M4 stumbled over the last word. "He's sharing a lot of information that agrees with the idea, but could be other explanations, and obvious gaps where those explanations might be."
Training saved him from cursing aloud. "Elaborate?"
Some unspoken agreement said that M4 would keep up her explanation. "Nothing actually suggests dissidence. People generally get upset if you take away their rights, oppress them, or threaten them. And people protest when they are upset." A beat. "I think?"
"Reductive, but broadly I'd agree with that assessment. And all the information provided disregarded those potential hypothesises?"
"Not disregard." M4 frowned, breaking eye contact as she thought. "More of, it acts as if they don't exist.
"Reasoning?"
"Self-evident bias?" Groza, surprisingly, offered the answer. "Having read far too many Russian military reports…"
"Orlov's military history is showing." As someone well aware his own biases were creeping into this entire situation, Ian could see that happening.
"He was infantry." Groza could not have known that for sure, but sounded entirely certain.
"Joyous." Normally taking on an idiot filled Ian with sick enjoyment because it made life easier. Today however, dealing with an idiot filled him with annoyance because trying to predict an idiot in a volatile situation proved exhausting. "What I'm gathering is that we are deeply short of information and will need to gather it ourselves."
M4's nod came slowly, but gained confidence at her assessment being backed up. FAL and Groza were sharp, confident, if perhaps angry. KSG searched his face then spoke. "We aren't going to like this, are we?"
"It's going to be quite a bit more work, yes." He glanced at Groza. "And most of it is going to start with sneaky nonsense."
"How fun." The Russian drawled. "You really know how to treat someone Commander."
"I try." That at least drew an uncomfortable laugh from that duo. "For now, we're going to stay a bit out of sight. I'm going to go find more caffeine, and then we can finish going over what we do have."
-Faded Glory-
Several hours of pouring over intelligence, reports, and news left Groza with a pounding headache.
"You fight a bear?" SV-98 threw a bottle of something at her head. The thunk as it hit the far wall said plastic. "The hell'd the local bigwig tell you?"
"It's what he didn't tell us." Groza flopped onto a piece of furniture that claimed to be a couch but felt more like a well shaped sack of rocks. "I never wanted to have a value for anything from that bastard's nonsense." SV-98 froze, and Groza watched her pithy quip die on her lips. "Double talk, manipulation and lies."
"What's he want us to do?"
"Blackwood wants information. We all agree that we don't have enough, and we're on a timeline with an uncertain ending." Luckily, or unluckily SV-98 could work most of the implications out on her own.
"You do know I'll kick your ass if you turn into Blackwood right?" The threat made a poor attempt at levity, but the attempt made her feel better. "FAL will kick your ass. Hell, I'm pretty sure that 74M will turn you into some kind of pretzel."
"I am aware." Groza waved her aside. "That doesn't make it less of a sour taste, SV-98." SV-98 nodded, settling down, and watching. Over her shoulder, Groza could see OTs-12 wanted to ask a question, but seemed to be swallowing the desire.
"I don't know why I'd be turning you into a pretzel, but if requested, I am capable." And, 74M in her usual way, offered what passed for comfort. "I would however prefer an explanation first."
"This GRU prick from the war." SV-98 spared her the need to be more detailed. "The sort of person that makes our current boss look like a saint."
"Understood." Luckily for 74M that would be enough. "Is he likely to be a problem?"
"Doubtful." Groza shook her head. "Last I knew he'd gotten a cushy posting in St. Petersburg." That had been over a year prior though. "Let Blackwood deal with that. It will be short, and I suspect unpleasant." 74M's brow rose, but she didn't ask further questions.
"For those of us who don't speak in historical references?" PPD-40 cut in. "Perhaps a few more details?"
SV-98 looked to Groza, who let her head fall back. She didn't want to think about that bit of her past, even less add more complexity to the balance of her team. The sniper wouldn't talk without Groza's permission, and Groza long ago made the choice to keep quiet when she could.
"Something I left behind." She did her best to make that statement final.
PPD's gaze weighed on her for several minutes. "As you wish. If we're going to be here for a while, you owe me a day off."
"Take up all vacation requests with the man upstairs, they aren't my job." Groza countered, which drew some tense laughter. "If you can figure it out, I suppose I can make the time."
"So what do we need to know before this briefing?" Tiss broke the tension again.
"That we're doing a whole lot of nothing for a while." Groza let that sit, decided that she needed to rest.
-Faded Glory-
"Earth to FAL?" Five-seveN waved a hand in front of their Captain's face, then snapped her fingers for emphasis, still without a response. All options short of physical violence exhausted she rounded on her teammates with a dramatic flourish.
"Fixing her is not my problem." FNC stuffed another chocolate bar in her mouth. FN-49 nodded empathically, while Ballista completely ignored her. Five-seveN huffed,unimpressed by the nonchalance of her audience.
"Do none of you think this is a problem?"
"FAL being extremely quiet, and deep in thought?" Ballista spoke at last, slouching a little more in her seat. "Why would that be a problem?" The tone made her willful ignorance quite clear, and only served to wind up Five-seveN more.
"Because FAL never goes quiet for this long. She'll always have something to say, even if it's just insulting me!" Too late, Five-seveN realized her mistake. "Not that I want to be insulted!"
"I dunno, sounds like you miss it to me." FNC continued munching away, smirk growing all the while. "I'm sure Ballista can fill in if you really need a fix."
"I prefer not to indulge her weird fetishes." Five-seveN wilted as Ballista kept up the assault without so much as a beat of hesitation. "Even less that one."
"Which of her weird fetishes are we not indulging?" And, to complete the humiliation, FAL chose that moment to re-engage.
"None of them." A murderous glare only made FAL suspicious. "I wanted to know why you were imitating an art piece."
"Ensure I had everything straight before explaining." Something about FAL's tone cut off Five-seveN's instinctual objections. Underlying tension that didn't exist that morning. "First." Their leader's eyes cast over them, sharper, colder. This, Five-seveN realized, was the cold and ruthless leader who would do everything in service of her goals. The one who Five-seveN sought to bring out, to duel with words. For the first time, she found that the sight did not excite her. "New orders." Five-seveN straightened, that carried weight. "From the Commander. The only orders we are to accept come from Blackwood himself. Outside of orders from Blackwood, we are free to act as usual."
"Why such specificity?" Ballista sat up, eyes narrowing. "Commander thinks that someone is going to try something?"
"Doubtful." FAL shook her head. "It strikes me as an excessive precaution." Clipped, direct, a lie without any question.
"Supposing we accept that, where is this going?" Five-seveN cut off any possible arguments that Ballista would surely make.
FAL took a deep breath. "The commander will be briefing everyone shortly, but the summary is that we need information. Even M4 thinks what we've been given is suspicious, if that is informative."
"It is." A silence fell over the group.
"I rather hoped this would be quieter." Ballista, surprisingly, voiced the thought first.
"It's us. We could have guessed." FNC opined. "We're never in crazy adventures like that lot," A gesture outside, "But we're always caught up in something stupid."
"By most standards our adventures would be called crazy, it is merely an unfortunate reality that we work with people who have experienced many unique flavors of hell." FAL pointed out, a brief smile crossing her features.
"We're also getting dragged into those sorts of adventures, so we probably need to reevaluate anyways." Five-seveN added on.
"Aren't you supposed to keep us out of weird adventures?" FNC glanced towards Five-seveN. "I know you're a dummy, but you could maybe try doing some work for once."
Five-seveN could feel the pressure mounting in her head. "There is a saying about stones and glass houses that applies here."
"Hey! I do plenty of important stuff!"
"Name one important thing you've done in the last year." Ballista jumped in.
"Overwatch for 49!"
"That doesn't involve being 49's tagalong." Five-seveN clarified.
"I-uh-Hey that's not fair!" FNC flailed, both with her words and arms. FN-49 hung back, watching the abuse with what passed for amusement. "Come on, 49, help me out here?"
"Nope, you aren't hiding behind her skirts this time." Five-seveN cut in. "Come on, cough up, what's one useful thing you did?"
The sudden gleam of malice in FNC's eyes suggested that maybe she'd gone too far. "Told everyone that you're actually just a dumb bimbo." A beat. "Although by the looks of it, you like that, so maybe I should have told them something else."
Her sister's laughter only made that sting more.
-Faded Glory-
Honey Badger thought she'd seen most things relating to her teammates. One was sassy, one was lonely, one just wanted to be friends, and one just wanted them all to shut up. Who was who traded off sometimes, but the basics were pretty consistent. Today, however, showed that she had missed something.
While Honey Badger knew that she'd upset Alfa and MG4 more than a few times, from what she could recall she had never upset KSG, or even annoyed their leader. Which meant she never got to appreciate the incredible intimidation factor that came with their leader skipping over mild annoyance and reaching towards actual anger. Lips just starting to curl with anger, movements sharp to the point of violence, and just a sort of physical chill in the air.
"So, what hacked you off?" Alfa, of course, either didn't notice, or didn't care. From what Honey Badger knew, probably didn't care. "Because normally the 'radiating absolute seething hatred act' is reserved for when you walked in on someone getting busy where they weren't supposed to."
"You would know something about that, wouldn't you?" Yet another cue that something wasn't right, as KSG did not usually do snappish replies. Friendly banter, faux adversarial insults, sure, but not this.
"Hang on, what'd Alfa do?" And, despite her better judgement, Honey Badger had to ask the question. She could all but taste the gossip, and possibly a means to at least get a little bit even. "You make it sound like you walked in on her and somebody-"
"And we're not going to talk about that right now." Alfa cut her off with a glare. "We're talking about why KSG looks like she wants to remove someone's insides with a spoon."
"What is the difference between me, and Meadows?" A question that, from the looks, only Alfa understood. MG4's might have known the name but not the context, from her expression.
"He's good at people, you're good at thinking." A quick, and easy answer, even if it felt lacking in detail. In other words, the kind of answer that Honey Badger expected . "He got better at thinking, you got better at people, but you still suck, and if you're to be believed, he still sucks." Alfa let that set for a moment, before voicing the question for the rest of them. "What the hell does that have to do with this?"
KSG huffed, visibly upset by that answer. "The other reason."
"Uh, your dumbass complex about doing questionable things in the name of efficiency?" This time, even Alfa seemed confused, turning to the group. "MG4?"
"I believe that is what she is referring to, although without context it is hard to identify why this matters." MG4 offered up.
A deep breath, as KSG seemed to pull herself together, or at least collect herself enough. "I am attempting to convince myself that I am reading too much into something due to that prediction, and I cannot shake the feeling that I am not." Honey Badger frowned.
Honey Badger dramatically sighed. "For those of us who don't speak in doubletalk and aren't familiar with this 'Meadows' guy?"
"Meadows was my platoon Lieutenant during the war." With her more obvious fury abated, KSG settled back into what Honey Badger considered 'normal'. "Reminds me of you, thinking about it." Honey Badger suspected that to not be a compliment, even if she decided to take it as one. "And the rest will take longer to explain than we currently have."
"What do you mean?" SRS spoke up before Honey Badger could, but that question seemed obvious.
"That if I'm going to explain how, exactly, I'm screwed up in the head, we need to go and find enough booze to kill some very large animal so I can make the attempt at forget the experience, as well as have the time for me to get distracted repeatedly ranting about things that don't matter in the vain hope I can distract you with war stories instead of my issues." For anyone else, that would have been an insane statement. From KSG it somehow felt entirely reasonable, and the question of how a Doll could get so drunk they forget didn't bear asking. "And, frankly I don't think you want to hear that anyway."
"I dunno, you piss drunk sounds pretty funny." Of course, that didn't change the basic facts of the situation.
"It is, at least until you get reminded that her chassis means that she's way stronger than you." Alfa winced, rubbing her shoulder, doubtlessly remembering some phantom incident from her past. "And she's surprisingly fast."
"I also blew out every servo in my arm and got the ass chewing of a lifetime." KSG shot back. "Apparently I was supposed to just break your face the normal way."
"I think I prefer your way." Alfa muttered, looking away, even as MG4 laughed quietly, and Honey Badger got to see a new side of Alfa, that did know what fear and humiliation were.
"So, someone tell me there is a video of this, because whatever this is, it sounds hilarious." Deciding that reading the room, even if the better part of valor, was boring, Honey Badger put the question out, looking towards MG4, who just shrugged.
Alfa, with reluctance, answered. "I mean, probably, but you're gonna have to find the right Marine to get it, and last I knew they were all back stateside." A beat. "I am not helping you find it."
"I admit, you have me curious." SRS joined in, far more intimidated by the death glare she got than Honey Badger had been. "Unlike Honey Badger I am not going to use this to abuse you."
"The problem here is that if I threaten her, it seems reasonable, but if I threaten to shove your face up the wrong end, it just feels mean." Alfa's grumbling only made Honey Badger laugh, and even drew a brief smile out of KSG, as well as chasing off the last remnants of the fury from before, so Honey Badger took it as a win.
-Faded Glory-
The upside to occupying an old police precinct was that it gave them a number of large rooms that could be used for meetings, without crowding quite so much. The entirety of Sector 9, human and Doll, piled into the room, all eyes fixed on Ian, who had been sitting and waiting for their arrival. Since returning from the meeting with Orlov, he'd vanished into a spare room, intent on digging into the information provided himself. In those four hours, nobody saw him, unless you passed that room, only to hear muffled cursing and suggestions of hatred.
"Quiet." And, without hesitation all noise ceased, matching the intensity of the gaze sweeping them in equal measure. That went on for a few seconds, before Ian took a deep breath, and decided to start easy. "M4, good catch on the holes in information." Said Doll squeaked, flushing with surprise under the attention. Stepping past it quickly, he went on. "I will make the assumption at least a high-level overview of this situation based upon our meeting with the locals." A series of nods went about the room. "Fantastic. Bad news first. We are sitting in the center of a potential powder keg of a city. While I don't agree with all of Orlov's assessments, we agree on the point that there is a great deal of resentment and frustration in this city." Pausing to let that sink in, Ian added on, "I don't imagine that part is a surprise."
"Be more surprising if there weren't." Lena chimed in from the side.
Nobody would be arguing that point. "Now, that is where concrete conclusions end, and speculation begins." Several looks of surprise greeted that statement. "For those of you from the military the idea of intelligence being useless is probably well established, but for those outside of it, one of the earliest maxims that formed on the battlefield is that belief that intelligence is wrong, and not very trustworthy."
"So, you're trying to say that whatever we've been told is wrong?" SRS half asked, half stated.
Ian wobbled his hand. "I'm not sure I'd say that it's wrong. More that it is not a full picture or lacks the right perspective on the situation. All people have biases, and those biases tend to appear at the worst of times, such as hunting alleged terrorists. And, when the information we are given is prone to such biases in a situation as suspect as this one, I am not interested in betting your lives, or mine on it. Even less when us merely existing stands to alter the situation quite a bit."
"You mean that, if these hypothetical dissident groups see a bunch of troops moving into the city they might get desperate." Five-seveN shifted into a more comfortable position. "And desperate people do unpredictable things."
"Precisely." With the greater amount of space, Ian desperately wanted to pace. He settled for drumming fingers against the desktop instead. "As a result, I don't intend to advertise that we're military for the moment." When questions were immediately thrown out, he kept going. "If you're out and about, keep sidearms or knives hidden, don't carry rifles publicly, and generally, try and pretend that we're just a bunch of weirdos who occupied a police precinct." His lips quirked. "Albeit perhaps don't advertise too much weirdness."
"And this translates too?" KSG's look said that she thought he was rambling.
In fairness, he probably had been. "This translates to an admittedly unusual course of action, but the only one I can find to be reasonable in the circumstances. I need all of you to simply gather information. Be out and about in the city. See what is happening. What are the rumors, the rumblings, the vibe amongst the citizens." The peak of vague instructions, but he could give no more specific ones. "I think it's obvious to say they aren't happy, but we need to know why. Who is leading those ideas, where they are spawned from."
"And I would remind you that none of us are intelligence specialists." FAL cut him off.
Ian nodded in acceptance of the point. "I am aware of that. However, we are who we have, and while I know all of you, how you think, act, and believe, I cannot say the same for any other power in the city." A way to say that he didn't trust any of the others, and that seemed to make it across to the assembled Dolls and staff.
"So, what, you just want us to go, have a good time?" SV-98 stared at him, face blank. "There has to be a catch there."
"No catch." He shook his head. "While you are doing that, I will be trying to poke and prod what resources I can to gather what information I can as well. If we go diving into this, or following some insane request without context, we're likely to kick off some kind of mess that will set this whole damn city on fire." His lips quirked. "As a rule, I prefer to remain unshot."
-Faded Glory-
"Care to repeat that?"
A pause, as the woman seemed to collect herself. "Griffin and Kryuger have called for reinforcements. They received several squads of elite soldiers."
"You're telling me we've got multiple hit squads in the city." The other woman hissed. "How the hell did you miss that?"
"Griffin is not an asset typically assessed, and they traveled both swiftly, and quietly." A bit of a rebuke crept into the tone. "We are led to believe whoever is in command of this unit is a veteran operative. Restrain your actions until you can assess them more accurately."
"Soviet?"
"As an employee of Griffin that is likely. We are working to confirm." The woman set a drive on the desk between them. "This is what we know so far."
"If they are frontline troops, we're going to need more than intel." She swiped the drive. "Troops are one thing, but tactical Dolls are a whole different issue. You can put half a mag into one of those metal monsters and they'll just keep coming."
"Our support in such a situation is limited." Again the rebuke. "My superiors are already suspicious of this operation as it is. My contact with you is already considered a dubious operation and if I am exposed, they will cut me off and leave me to the tender mercy of the FSB." The atmosphere changed subtly then. "If your handling of this new threat looks to jeopardize my position, I will likewise leave you to the tender mercies of whatever monster has just walked into this city. Are we understood?"
Tension clung to the air. "Yes. We are."
"Good." The foreigner stood, dusting off her pants, and striding from the room, leaving the other woman sitting, and stewing, in silence.
She knew that her contact spoke sense. Directly engaging this unknown force would lead only to trouble. That did not, however, mean that she needed to avoid them entirely, or that they could not prepare.
Pulling a sheet of paper to her side, she started to draft the plan to have any of the Griffin Dolls tailed, and information gathered. Tactical Dolls were a mighty force, and the local ones were smart enough to travel in groups. Doubtless cautions as such by that Soviet officer, but these new arrivals likely did not get the same cautions and they might have a chance to take one or two out early, before making their move.
Failing that, perhaps they could bandy information for weapons and supplies. As much as it galled her pride to be reliant on a foreign power, they shared the mutual goal of sending the Russians to a fiery death, and that made for unlikely allies at the best of times. Her lips drew in a grim line. When this was all done, and her country hers again, perhaps there would be some price paid, but today would not be that day.