Welcome to Chapter Nine! After the successful operation to ensure safe extraction for a group of wounded T-Dolls, Ian decides he wants to host a small celebration for not just his Echelon's success, but also Independence Day as well. However, when AK-47 is forced to relive some of her worst moments in her career and shuts herself off from everyone else, and the Commander must help her get her back to her senses.
I decided to make this chapter a party when I was thinking of the party MP5 mentioned where A-91 and AK-47 got drunk and went at it, and as it's still July 4th in the story, I wanted Station 794 to celebrate Independence Day in some form. However, I ended up writing this. Anyways, I figured that in the same way World War 3 haunts Ian, the attack on Station 794 haunts all the S794 old-timers like M1911, AK-47, and G36.
Poor Kalina suffers from both WW3 and the Station 794 attack.
I sure hope that I'm not going too fast, because a lot of fics were damaged by the authors going too fast.
Warning: I am total shit at the comfort part of hurt/comfort, so sorry if it sucks.
Station 794, Sector 09
Neo-Soviet Union
July 4, 2062
Commander Ian Becker
It was around 4:32 P.M. when Echelon One and the Doll they rescued returned to the base at last. Standing at the edge of the primary helipad east of the base, Ian watched as the Blackhawk descended nice and slow onto the helipad, the current cloudy sky and the background scenery almost mirroring the day he went to the academy two months ago. The only thing missing was M1911 trying to keep her skirt in place, he thought humorously.
Kalina seemingly took the HG's place, though, and her lack of a longcoat meant he wound up getting a much better view of what lay beneath that skirt.
As if to draw his attention elsewhere, the helicopter landed on the aging helipad with care and the door soon opened to reveal Echelon One's members getting out one by one, its members coated in red or purple fluids and worn-looking with the exception of a short little Doll with pale blonde hair in a plait down her back, blue eyes, and a rounded face. She wore a brown hat with crosshair pins in her hair, a red scarf, a white shirt with a brown vest, a short skirt, and brown boots with an FN FNC rifle on her back secured by a sling.
"Mission accomplished, Commander— agh, FUCK!" M1911 announced, raising her arm to wave— only to shout in pain and clutch a wounded, bloodied left shoulder as it undoubtedly stung at her and the repair fosm in it broke apart, the bloody gunshot below her collarbone also coming to his attention as she stumbled and nearly fell.
"You okay, 1911?!" he asked as he and Kalina joined the HG's team in trying to see her injury when they noticed her plight.
"I'm fine, it's just some minor damage, that's all." she insisted weakly, attempting to walk it off even as she started dripping blood-like coolants onto the helipad.
"This isn't just 'minor damage!'" the Commander told her. "MP5, get her to the Repair Bay, ASAP!"
"Jawohl!"
As he saw the short Doll help her leader up and start walking carefully towards the base, he was able to turn his attention elsewhere, allowing him to shift his attention to the new arrival of the returning group.
"And you must be FNC." he guessed, identifying the weapon.
"Yup! FN FNC at your service!" she said through a mouthful of chocolate, making him shake his head.
"Welcome to Station 794, FNC. I'd normally automatically assign you to Echelon One, but since it's kind of full, I'm going to try to get another Echelon put together with you in it."
"Come on, I'll show you around." Kalina then told FNC as she grabbed her by the shoulder and guided the young-looking Doll to the base, leaving him with Sten FN-49, and AK-47— who was looking much more withdrawn and beaten-down than she did on her first operation, and if he wasn't mistaken, she looked a lot like himself after he suffered a major loss— both personally and militarily— or large amounts of friendly casualties.
"AK, what's wrong?" he asked her calmly, attempting to place his hand on her shoulder.
"Nothing. I'm going to my room." the AR replied stiffly, swatting said hand away before sluggishly heading down the ramp towards the base and leaving him utterly confused and frankly a bit upset.
"How hard did she take 1911 getting hurt?" he asked himself uneasily.
"I think Miss AK may have been reminded of the attack on your base MP5 mentioned with all the carnage and Miss M1911's less-than-stellar state..." Sten told him quietly, looking a bit downcast as well. "I think it may be best for you to give her some space."
In response, he soon swore under his breath as he watched AK-47 slowly disappear into the base with a bottle of vodka in hand, preparing to drink this day away, no doubt. Despite every instinct in his body screaming for him to go and do something to alleviate her bad mood, he held off for the moment, conceding that he needed more intel before he attempted to console her.
Tactical Doll G36
Station 794 Lobby
While the others were returning from their trip, G36 dutifully swept up the dirt and dust the humans and her fellow Dolls tracked across the lobby, her expression stoic as always as she worked. Sure, she loved the humans and Dolls of Station 794 dearly, but their lack of hygiene drove her utterly mad. Hearing the lobby door open up, though, the maid Doll briefly looked up to see Kalina carefully escort an FNC Doll to the dorms, careful not to bump into her when they passed by.
Then the side door opened and M1911 stumbled through, MP5 in tow and keeping hold on her like Kalina did with the FNC— the motion prompting her to take a closer look— and promptly gasp when she noticed the crimson fluids soaking her shoulder and chest.
"We don't need any help, Frauleïn." MP5 told her as they walked by, heading towards the Repair Bay and leaving her in silence— up until the door opened again to reveal AK-47 as she slowly walked in, bottle of vodka in hand and the blood of her enemies coating her body, prompting her to go scold her for going to the bottle so quickly and not even bothering to head to the shower.
"AK, you can't be—"
"Don't fucking start." the Russian cut her off harshly, sounding like she was three steps shy of bursting into tears and looking uncharacteristically defeated even as she walked away.
That isn't normal for her, even when she's been banned from drinking... It's like when the base was destroyed all over again. G36 surmised as her (tenuous) friend walked away, everything about her indicative of someone waist-deep in negativity— and knowing AK-47, she had a pretty good idea why.
Making a mental note to talk to her fellow AR after finishing her job, G36 simply continued with her work, as it was very clear her consolance wasn't wanted.
(Journal Entry)
July 4, 2062
In the span of a few hours, I have acquired two new Dolls, got the base cleaned up, and completed my second combat mission.
The two new Dolls are FN-49, a freshly built Rifle-class I got after the first mission, and FNC, an AR-class AK-47 found in a bandits' hideout after the mission was done.
Speaking of her...
She was acting rather depressed when she got back, which is quite weird for a Doll like her, and frankly, it was almost like looking into a mirror, especially when she practically told me to fuck off and left. Sten told me she started acting this way after the mission ended due to possible PTSD from the base attack. Maybe Kalina can give me some insight.
Unnaturally dejected AK aside, Helian's sending funds to use for the base, so I won't have to deal with the base being completely ruined aside from basic functions, and the base's Springfield Doll returned today, which put the staff's morale up a bit.
Maybe I should let the staff have a celebration of sorts.
P.S. You know what? Fuck it. It's the Fourth of July anyways.
Double P.S. Not until you go talk to AK, asshole.
Kalina
Station 794 Data Room
After taking FNC to the dorm complexes, Kalina quietly descended into the Data Room with her datapad in hand, ready to transfer the mission's combat telemetry to her ancient computer, but not ready to find the Commander standing next to her workstation, absentmindedly rubbing the computer's surface with his thumb.
"Komandir, what are you doing here?" she asked gently as she set her tablet down, sitting down in her seat and looking up at her superior.
"I just wanted to ask you something." he replied casually, prompting her to nod. "You noticed how defeated AK looked when she got back, right?"
In response, she nodded again, remembering how uncharacteristicly depressed the usually-joyful drunkard was acting earlier when they got back.
"I was hoping you might clue me in on that." he added.
That made sense to her, as she knew Station 794's staff very well thanks to working there for almost a decade. Reaching for a white cord, she plugged it into her datapad, then plugged it into the computer and selected the raw combat footage for transfer to the computer.
"She acted this way for weeks after the base was attacked." she recalled quietly. "She lost many friends that day, including the majority of her teammates and many of her friends among the human staff. Among them was A-91, who was her coworker and closest friend before they both joined Griffin."
"G36 told me there was an A-91 who worked here. Was that the same one?"
"Da. Her death affected AK greatly, but I don't think this is only about her." Kalina exhaled, looking at the scrapped server that once held A-91's backup data sadly. "You see, 1911 nearly got killed there, too, and she was one of the most important people in her life. So, to see her get shot down once again after vowing she'd never let it happen, I believe it brought back some unpleasant memories— ones she would rather forget."
"Is that why she drinks so much?" the Commander then asked, the pieces clicking in her head.
"She always loved her vodka, but she certainly started drinking more after the attack, as if she wanted to drown her sorrows and forget March 29th, 2062 ever happened."
After she finished speaking, the Commander remained silent, eyes focused on the ginger as she worked on extracting the data.
"I managed to get Helian to float some money our way." he said after a prolonged silence, changing the subject from the trauma-ridden AR. After the last syllable left his mouth though, Kalina quickly looked up at her superior with a curious expression on her face.
"Does that mean I'm no longer stuck with this museum piece?" she asked hopefully.
"Yup. No more 'ten hours to produce one Combat Report' bullshit for you, and the Dolls get to have real beds for once."
"That is great news! Thank you for talking to Miss Helian about it!" the ginger thanked him enthusiastically, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with joy.
"Did she not listen to any requests for funds before?" the rookie Commander asked her annoyedlu.
"She did, but since things were pretty bad on HQ's end, she could only do it one time. That's why only the Command Room's brand new."
"Alrighty then." the Commander exhaled, looking back at the door. "Okay, I need to go talk to AK before I forget to do so, so I'll see you around, Kalina."
He stood straight up, giving her a small smile before he walked over to the door, and when he went to leave, he suddenly paused.
"Oh, I'm thinking about hosting a little party to celebrate the last mission's success, so could you help me, G36, and Springfield set it up?" the dark-haired man asked. Not ordered, but simply asked, as if it was a simple favor.
"Are you sure? I've still got to process the data Echelon One brought back from the last mission." Kalina questioned. Despite her generally carefree attitude, she took her job very seriously. Even if said job involved spending ten hours slaving over a hard drive to extract precious data from them.
"I'm sure. I want to do this, it'd give me the chance to get to know you all better, and everyone else gets to wind down. Besides, I'd prefer that you do those reports with a newer computer."
Once again, she didn't like to leave work for later (partly because she wouldn't earn her salary if she did things half-assed, partly because of her good work ethic,) but if the Commander wanted her to leave it for tomorrow, then she would do so.
"Okay, I'm in. When do we start?" she asked.
"You can go get started right now, and I'll join you after I talk to AK. I'll see you later, Kalina."
The Commander finally left the room, leaving Kalina to process what just happened. After registering it all in her head, she let out a little cheer while pumping her fist and turned her old computer off, glad that she could get out of torturing herself via writing Combat Reports and ready to do something much less tedious.
She only hoped AK-47 would be in a better mood by then.
Commander Ian Becker
Station 794 Dorm Complexex
After discussing his plans and learning more about his subordinate's troubles from Kalina, Ian quickly descended down the stairs to the dorm complexes and reached the outside of Echelon One's dorm room to see M1911 and MP5 standing outside the room, somber expressions on their faces as they looked towards the American flag-imprinted manual door.
"Something wrong, you two?" he asked them, catching their attention.
"She won't let us talk to her. Keeps saying it's her fault I got shot." M1911 told him quietly, nursing her shoulder— which was cleaned up but not fully repaired.
Sounds just like me when Sarge almost got killed.
"Why's your shoulder not fixed yet?" he asked next.
"Doc's not in, but his assistants cleaned it up and fixed whatever they could."
"Noted. Don't worry about AK, I'll take care of it." the Commander told his friend, before opening the door and entering the dorm room proper.
It was just as bland as before, with only a warm light-bulbed lamp giving it any light. However, that wasn't his focus, his eyes soon landing on the objective of his little mission.
Somehow, AK-47 looked even more miserable in here than out by the helipad. The lamplight caught her face at just the perfect angle to show off her forlorn expression and how dull her eyes were even as she downed a bottle of vodka, not even bothering to remove any gear except her ammo pouches so she could slump down against the wall properly and still covered in Sangvis blood/oil from the last op she did.
"I thought I told you to go away..." she grumbled half-heartedly, not even bothering with looking at him.
"That's no way to speak to your commanding officer." he gently chided, causing the AR Doll to stiffen slightly as she realized her mistake.
"Sorry, Boss. Could you just, leave me alone for a couple of hours?" she asked quietly, still not looking at him.
"No. I want to know why you're acting this way. It's not like you to be so melancholy." the Commander told her directly.
"How do you know what I'm usually like? You've only been here for two days."
"True, but the point still remains. Kalina told me what happened on March 29th, so does this have to do with that?"
The blonde AR didn't say anything for a few moments, then she removed her arm from its place to look at her superior, allowing him to see those near-lifeless eyes in full.
"You remember when Kalina told you about my FCC issue?" she asked slowly.
"Yeah. Improper installation or something."
"So you're aware of how bad I am as a T-Doll."
"The results of the two missions I led beg to differ." the Commander commented. "Besides, I wasn't a good soldier when I first signed up, I had to do a lot of training to get there."
"But it was just those two missions that I did decently well, and Dolls shouldn't have to train like humans have to. Back then, in the old days, nobody wanted to be have me on their team, and for pretty good reason. Wasteful, inaccurate, stupid... I've been called many things throughout my career at Griffin." she told him morosely. "A-91, the old Commander, Kalina, and the Dolls of Station 794 and Sector 09 as a whole were the first ones to believe in me, and it was their support that helped me improve upon my many flaws. But in the end... I wasn't good enough to save them..."
So essentially, she hates herself. I have experience with that...
"And before you say anything about how it wasn't my fault," she continued, "do you know where I was when the first shells hit and the Commander was taken out? I was at the bar, drinking away like it was any other day... and after that, even though I had jumped up to defend the base like everyone else, I could barely save anyone I cared about..."
After the last syllables left her lips, AK-47 sat up and leaned on the wall, carefully turning her head away from her Commander. Before he could ask himself why, a sniffle escaped the distressed AR, and then it clicked; she was crying, and she wasn't willing to let him see her face as she did so, as if he'd call her weak for letting her emotions loose.
As if he'd rip into her for doing the same shit he'd done numerous times many years ago.
"I-I thought I had it u-under control, three months after that, b-but when I saw those wounded Dolls being carted off to the chopper, all b-bloodied up and disfigured, it reminded me of everything that happened, along with everything I couldn't save..." she finished quietly, her quiet sobs persisting despite whatever attempts to stifle them.
Ian could easily relate to her, as he had lost not only friends, but also both of his familes (paternal and adopted,) to the Third World War, and despite the fact that their fates were out of his control, he couldn't help but feel responsible for their deaths anyways— especially in a certain incident in early 2051. The thought immediately prompted him to sit down beside her and gently pull her head into his shoulder, cradling it like a parent would their child and causing his subordinate to freeze up.
"You're not the only one who's haunted, AK." Ian softly admitted, stroking her luscious, yet bloodstained hair soothingly.
"Y-you lost people to the war?" she asked him from her new place in his arms, her voice quivering from her sobbing.
"Yeah— a lot of people. I'd be lying if I told you I didn't, and frankly, everyone but the politicians did." he sourly commented with an equally-sour chuckle.
"Th-then do you blame yourself for their deaths? Do you f-feel like you'll never be good enough to protect those you care about?"
Ian though about that tidbit, remembering how angry he was when the Russians washed up on his shores, when their bombers wreaked havoc upon his people and took away those he cared most about. He remembered how terrible he felt, and how he wished he had been able to save them— before his desires had shifted to making the Soviets pay in blood, of course, but while he knew that he wasn't responsible for what happened, it didn't stop him from feeling like shit, which was why he didn't feel that he was suited for comforting anyone who was mourning. But here he was, trying to make a dejected, possibly PTSD-afflicted drunkard feel better about a crappy situation.
With that in mind, he gently placed a hand on AK-47's chin and tilted her face up to his own, allowing them to stare eye-to-eye and allowing him to make his statement.
"I was very angry at myself, I'll admit that. But... I guess I knew deep down that they wouldn't want me to blame myself for what happened." he told her, internally cringing at how cliché he sounded. "So I pressed on. I accepted that it wasn't my fault they died, and I moved on—"
"To revenge." she cut in knowingly.
"To revenge, yes, but that doesn't change the point. You, Avtomat Kalashnikova, are not responsible for your allies' deaths and injuries, and I will not allow you to think that you are. That lies on my head, as my intel was wrong yet I made to effort to make sure it was correct."
"B-But—"
"You are a wonderful person, and nothing on this Earth will change that, got that? Because there's no hard-drinking alcoholic I know who put in as much effort to improve themselves as you do, and I know for a fact that there's quite a few people counting on you."
Through her light sobs, AK-47 closed her eyes and chuckled a little, and when those sapphire eyes opened up once more, they certainly seemed at least a little brighter than before.
"Y-you know how cliché you sounded, right, Boss?" she pointed out, letting a small half-smile form on her face.
"I'm not a fucking therapist, AK..." the dark-haired Commander shot back, defending himself. "Besides, you got my point, right?"
In response, the Doll simply nodded to him, her half-smile persisting even as she looked straight into his eyes.
"Thanks, I guess I just needed someone to talk to..." the blonde AR thanked him, her voice now clearer as she leaned up and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek— leaving him confused for a moment before common sense reared its head and he remembered that kisses on the cheek weren't only romantic.
"Why didn't you want go talk to your teammates, then?" he then asked her as she broke away at last.
"I didn't want to face them any longer." she replied directly, reaching for her other bottle of vodka to offer it. "You want a drink, sir? I've still got a bottle left."
"You know what? I've decided that I'm gonna host a party in an hour or two to celebrate our latest success, so let's save the drinking for later." Ian told her, happy she was getting back to normal— for the time being.
"Heh. We didn't get a party for the last mission." she pointed out.
"It's also the Fourth of July." the rookie admitted, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"Oh, crap! How did I forget that?!" M1911's voice suddenly came from the dorm room's door, muffled but still audible. "How can I face my fellow Americans if I forgot our country's own anniversary?!"
"Huh. We had an audience and we didn't know..."
"IDITE K CHERTU, SUKI*!" AK-47 shot up and yelled angrily at her nosy teammates, nearly blowing Ian's eardrums out in the process.
"Ow, fuck!" he yelled, covering his ears as he looked at the irritated Doll. "That was almost as loud as artillery fire!"
"Sorry." she apologized, reaching for her gear.
I guess she's back to her old self, now. Kind of.
Watching as she replaced her bandoiler and attached her bag to her waist before standing up and grabbing her namesake rifle, it then clicked that she was still quite bloody and smelled terrible.
"Where are you going?" he asked her as she made to leave the room.
"I'm gonna go squeeze off a few rounds at the range— if you don't need help with setting up that party, of course." AK-47 added, checking her weapon's condition.
"Go ahead, but clean up first, you look like hell." the Commander told her sternly, gesturing to her oil-coated body.
"Yes, sir!"
Popping off with a quick salute, AK-47 soon opened up one of the boxes that made up her bed and drew a new outfit from it before she briskly left the room, her long hair trailing behind her like a beautiful flame. But not even a few moments later, he instantly heard her getting onto her teammates for eavesdropping, eliciting a laugh from the rookie as the wrath of the Motherland was unleashed upon the capitalist swine that eavesdropped on them. She was definitely back to herself now.
Tactical Doll AK-47
After giving her older teammates (and FNC) a mighty fine earful for eavesdropping on her, AK-47 continued on her way towards the showers to find FN-49 with a crate of ingredients in her arms, heading towards the kitchens.
Upon noticing her, the Rifle looked at her senior teammate and, noticing her improved mood, smiled demurely at her and balanced her crate on her left leg to wave at her.
"H-hello, Miss AK..." she greeted, grabbing ahold of the crate again. "You seem to be feeling better now..."
"The Boss talked some sense into me, that's all." the blonde Doll explained to her junior.
"I did see him entering the dorm complexes..."
"Did you listen in on us?" she asked interrogatively.
"N-no. I tried to stop the others, but Miss 1911 wouldn't listen to me. I think she wanted to know if you would be okay, but FNC was being nosy..."
Honestly, she had expected this; FNCs were notoriously nosy T-Dolls, to the point that she'd been trained to keep an eye and an ear out for the chocolate-vacuums.
"Well, nothing happened in there, except for the Boss trying to be a therapist." she explained to her teammate. "You helping Springfield with her stuff?"
"Y-yes, I am... Where are you going?" the Belgian asked her next, eyeing her gear.
"The Boss told me to get cleaned up and hit the range while he prepared the whole celebration thing."
"Oh, o-okay..."
"See you later, newbie."
AK-47 ended the conversation there, continuing on towards the showers without a care in the world. However, once she successfully got to them them and stripped down to use one, her mind fell onto what her Commander said to her. Despite what he said about moving on, he had sounded like he was holding his grief and trauma in, suppressing it ruthlessly so he didn't come off as weak.
Just like how she herself had been, and she suspected that it would take a while to fully move on for both of them.
M1911 had told her that the Commander sometimes felt like he had betrayed the United States by joining Griffin, and that got her thinking; how much worse did her commanding officer have it than her? Did he have nightmares of those he cared about accusing him of treason on top of being forced to watch their deaths over and over again? Or did he suffer that type of nightmare where it should have been a good dream on paper but was actually like torture?
In any case, as most T-Dolls were incapable of dreaming, the AR immediately decided that the Commander had it worse as she stepped into a shower and began to wash away every last molecule of grime and oil from the last mission.
Finally. I am total shit at writing hurt/comfort. Well, I'm good at the hurt part of it, but comfort? At least Ian's bad at it, too. Anyways, I'll do the party next, as it'll give me a chance to write some more characterization.
I've also gotten some ideas concerning the Recollection, including some flashbacks (or a separate story) set in GFL's World War 3. Either way, I'll have to create characters to staff Ian's squad in the US Army. (Edit: Girls' Frontline: The Recollection: War's first chapter is out, so go check it out.)
Oh, "IDITE K CHERTU, SUKI!" means Go to hell, bitches in Russian (actually verified translation,) but I doubt most of the other ones are too precise, since I'm using Google Translate for the foreign words and phrases.
See you in the next chapter!