Welcome to Chapter Ten, everyone! Following his surprisingly successful counseling session, Ian finally hosts that party he wanted to host to celebrate Independence Day. Meanwhile, Helian questions the one of the wounded Dolls Station 794 rescued and learns the identity of a new VIP.

Anyways, I think I should put some more distance between 1-3 and 1-4 in terms of chapter count, so I might use this opportunity to introduce a flashback chapter after the party... or go through with something entirely different.

I hope you enjoy the chapter, guys!

Station 794 Lobby, Sector 09

Neo-Soviet Union

July 4, 2062

Commander Ian Becker

Stood at the entrance to the lobby with Kalina beside him, the Commander simply exhaled as they admired their work on the lobby, along with Springfield and G36 who were making sure everything was A-OK. The party they set up was more akin to a small cookout between neighbors instead of a large celebration, but it was more than enough for the American Commander, especially since he found himself to be a bit overwhelmed by large parties. Two medium-sized tables laid parralel to each other carried various foods and drinks, and while they weren't fancy or anything, there was a little bit of everything, from traditional Russian foods to dishes from the US. Sten had also introduced her baking skills into the mix, adding meals from England into the mix, and G36's expertise had graciously donated Deutschland's delicacies to the list.

Concerning the drinks (which got their own table), a much happier AK-47 had donated some of her vodka to the party "because it's in a Soviet's blood to share with her comrades," and accompanying it was a large bowl of fruit punch, milk (for MP5, as she was determined to "grow up" [because of course she believed in the milk = bigger breasts trope, even though I'm pretty damn sure that's false]) some nice whiskey recommended by Garage 05's driver, and basic water for those that didn't want punch or liquor.

And for a key part of Independence Day, M1911 had kept ahold of some fireworks left over from a previous celebration, and after asking Helian about them (and the party as a whole, prior to its setup), she approved of it, stating that it would take a day or more for her to get the intel she was after and that he'd never gotten a proper welcome party from the staff.

So here he was, standing by the punch bowl with his heavy trench coat and black gloves discarded, waiting for the base's staff to get to the lobby as he absentmindedly rubbed the place where AK-47 had kissed him on the cheek.

There they are, he thought to himself as first the Dolls, then the humans that survived the attack entered the lobby, no doubt curious about the party he had told them about. AK-47 herself, however, beelined to the drink table where the Commander stood at and quickly extracted a vodka bottle from the table, pouring a glass for her boss. Her entire outfit had changed from earlier, and she now wore a grey tank top with a somewhat low-cut neckline under a cropped jean jacket with a snug pair of black shorts and monochrome sneakers, a black baseball cap adorning her head as well.

Looked like the Kalashnikov family could modernize well after all.

Once he finished his silent appraisal, Ian was about to ask her why she poured him a glass, but then he remembered what he told her back in her dorm room, and held the thought.

"Thanks." he said instead, accepting the drink and consuming it. "Bottoms up."

The Commander was immediately taken aback by just how strong the Soviet Doll's drink was, and for a moment he was tempted to spit it out simply because the taste was so intense, but because he fidn't want to make his companion dissapointed with him, he swallowed it like a man and felt a burning sensation lance down his throat instead.

"Is vodka not your thing, sir?" AK-47 asked him, having noticed his discomfort.

"I normally don't drink alcoholic drinks in general, but that was a bit too strong." he replied, handing her the vodka glass back.

"Sorry about that." she apologized, drinking her own vodka straight from the bottle and having no issue about it.

Not in the mood to scorch his throat anymore, he carefully ladeled some of the punch into a new cup as he was approached by M1911, who still wore her traditional outfit. Then again, it was Independence Day, and she was an American-built Doll, so it was only natural. To his relief, though, her shoulder and torso wound had been expertly repaired, leaving no trace of her injuries.

"Hiya, Commander! Enjoying yourself?" she asked once she caught sight of him, waving happily at him with her right arm.

"I just scorched my throat with AK's vodka, so do you think I'm having fun?" he deadpanned at her, causing her to sigh at herself.

"Oh. I should have warned you, sir."

"It's fine." Ian simply told her, before downing the fruit punch. "I usually don't drink, anyways. Are you doing okay?"

"Yup! The technicians here are miracle workers!"

As she said this, she moved her right arm around in a circle to show her restored articulation before heading over to one of the food tables and fetching a buttery biscuit from it, biting into it immediately. Her expression immediatdly turned into food-induced bliss in the process, humming contendedly as she consumed the simple biscuit with her eyes closed and a cute smile on her face.

In Ian's mind, she looked completely and utterly adorable in that moment.

"You okay, Boss?" AK-47 asked, noticing his staring.

"Just saw something I liked." he replied evenly.

Looking around for whatever "something he liked" was, the blonde AR's eyes soon fell onto her leader, and she nodded in understanding— right before she got a cheeky look on her face and he knew that he regretted answering her the way he did.

"I didn't know you were into her, but I admire your taste~"

Naturally, the Commander could have sworn that some of his hairs greyed, and he was quick to deny the audacious claim before she said anything else dumb.

"Not you, too, I've already had one guy write a fucking erotica about the two of us! We aren't a thing!"

After the last syllable left his mouth AK-47's eyebrows went up to her hairline, and her expression became quite inquisitive. Only then did the Commander realize what he just revealed, a swear escaping his lips as he facepalmed.

"Wait, WHAT?!" M1911 shouted in surprise, but thanks to the rock music one of the human serviceman put on, she wasn't heard by anyone but him and AK-47. Now pretty pissed off, she quickly approached her superior and wasted no time in asking him about who had the audacity to write about him and her getting intimate.

"Whoops, I forgot to tell you about that..."

"Who needs their nuts shot off?!" the HG exclaimed.

"One of my classmates at the academy. He saw us together at some point and thought 'wow, those two look really adorable together' and wrote it on a whim."

"Where is he stationed?" she then asked, death in her eyes.

"Um, I don't think Griffin would like to lose a Commander with his skills." the dark-haired man replied, defending his classmate dsspite the latter's erotica writing streak.

"I just need to secure that heresy and burn it." the blonde growled darkly, drawing her silver pistol.

Knowing he didn't need AK-47 to hear anything else about this, he lowered his voice and whispered his response to M1911: "Well, the stubborn bastard gave it to me, so no random pervert's reading it in their private time."

"Please tell me you didn't read it."

"Only once, but it was only to see if it was good."

"And was it?"

"He's quite the talented author."

Shaking her head, the blonde holstered her pistol and got herself a cup, ladeling some fruit punch into it and drinking some of it.

"Yeah, talented at writing porn." she murmured irritably after swallowing.

After a moment, though, the blonde HG looked up to him and began to give him quite the strange look, and he couldn't help but comment on how intensely she was fixated on him.

"Is something on my face?" the Commander asked her, prompting her to reach up and touch his cheek— the same one that AK-47 had kissed.

"Is this... Sangvis coolant...?" she muttered as she drew back her hand, and when he looked back at her, her white-gloved fingers were now slightly stained purple. "How did this—"

Suddenly, the resident Slavic Doll in the base found herself fixed with a very accusatory stare from her leader.

"What did you do to him?!" she interrogated, causing the blonde AR to throw her hands up.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You were the only one of us who got covered in Sangvis fluids, so don't play coy with me!"

Only then realizing there'd been some undried "blood" on AK-47's lips when she kissed him, Ian decided to step in lest she became a casualty of what looked like M1911's jealousy.

"She just kissed my cheek as a little thank you gift, that's all." he admitted, causing his AR Doll to groan, then slide up next to him.

"Idiot!" she admonished him, and it was only then that he realized his mistake.

"You what?!" the HG hissed at her subordinate.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, there's no need to get angry, it was just a polite gesture...!" she tried to tell her, only for the HG to seize her by the folds of her jacket to stare her down angrily.

"A polite gesture you are NOT prone to making, missy!"

"Hehe, didn't know knew you had clingy jealous girl tendencies..." the Commander admitted sheepishly.

"And that is why you're an idiot...!" AK-47 told him irritably, before rounding on her leader. "Anyways, are you really thinking that I would be so shameless as to try and bed our new Boss on his second day, while I was reliving my greatest failure?!"

"Y-Yes!" M1911 screeched, and seeing that she would probably do some blue-on-blue damage soon, he finally had enough and stepped in again.

"Damn it, 1911, get ahold of yourself!" Ian cut in, bopping her on the head and making her release the blonde AR Doll. "You have no reason to be acting this way!"

"S-Sorry, sir..." M1911 sheepishly apologized, rubbing the back of her head. "It won't happen again..."

"It better not, or you won't be going onto the field for a month." he told her sternly before turning to the Doll who just got harrassed. "Sorry about that, didn't think she'd be so damned clingy."

"It's fine, you didn't know."

"Right... Anyways, you and I are gonna have a nice, long talk about that little fiasco later, got that?" he directed to M1911, who shrank a bit under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Yes, sir..."

A little bit after that "clingy jealous girl" fiasco, M1911 and the Commander now stood by the drink table with cups of fruit punch in hand, drinking them as they watched AK-47 and Kalina have a drinking battle in the middle of the lobby, a small crowd gathered aroumd the two pretty women as they competed. Sure, he was still a bit angry about her harrassing AK-47, but this wasn't the time or place for disciplinary measures to be taken.

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!" the servicemen chanted, watching the two Slavs engage in a battle of alcohol and endurance.

"I wonder who's gonna win this one..." M1911 stated, grabbing a sandwich to eat and giving Ian a second one.

"Does Kalina have a good alcohol tolerance?" he asked his subordinate as he bit into it, enjoying its taste.

"Yup. She consistently beat our old Commander out in drinking contests in the old days."

It then occured to Ian that he was woefully uninformed on his predecessor, even if he was a dead man.

"What was he like? The old Commander, I mean." he asked the Doll.

M1911 didn't speak for a moment, but when she did, she spoke softly and carefully, as if it was a sensetive subject to her. Seeing as the guy was dead, it was warranted.

"He was in the Soviet Army during the war, fighting in North Africa as an infantryman kinda like you were in Germany, where he lost his leg to British artillery. While he couldn't rejoin the army and the war ended, he ended up joining Griffin a few years later after he got a prosthetic leg. He was a bit jaded in the beginning, and he didn't like to talk that much, but he warmed up to us later on, and he was a bit like a benevolent ruler then. He kicked a lot of ass, too, and we did a lot to stabilize the region while he was around."

She then looked at G36, who was completely prepared to clean up the mess that AK-47 and Kalina were bound to make the minute it happened. The latter indeed had good tolerance like M1911 said, but she was beginning to act a little tipsy, her cheeks were rather flushed, and her speech was slurring, badly.

"He and G36 loved each other greatly, although we didn't all realize it for a good long while." she quietly added, sighing lowly. "They were gonna get married at some point, but before they could..."

The Commander knew exactly what happened next, and the mental recording of the Command Room violently exploding played through in great detail in his mind, courtesy of his vivid imagination.

"She cried so much that night. I remember trying to calm her down after it happened, but I don't think it worked too well..."

The image of the blonde HG trying to comfort a crying G36 as she clutched the body of her Commander entered the American's mind, and the thought hurt him rather deeply— he had gone through a similar experience, after all.

"Damn. I don't hold a candle to him, do I?" he muttered quietly as he watched the scene in front of him, although M1911 heard him anyways.

"You just got here. You have a lot of potential, and like I told you back in May, what you'll accomplish here will have far-reaching consequences. Heck, you might even cement yourself as Griffin's best Commander someday."

As exciting as that sounded, Ian couldn't help but feel sorry for G36 and the rest of his older subordinates, especially since the maid was reportedly in love with the previous Commander, and he figured that he should talk to her about it at some point.

"I need to talk to her about that sometime soon." he said, finishing his drink and setting the empty cup down. "It's not easy to recover from losing a loved one, I'd know that."

M1911 nodded in agreement, setting her drink down as Kalina finally gave in and passed out, earning a triumphant roar from AK-47 and a thunderous applause from the crowd upon the latter's victory with G36 immediately initiating cleanup duty in response.

He then cast his gaze to his left towards MP5, who of course had a glass of milk, and Sten, who had one of her pastries, standing at a food table and chatting away happily. It seemed as though those two had gotten along very quickly, and unlike himself, who had to spend two whole months talking to M1911 to even consider her his friend, the SMGs became fast friends over the course of only two days.

"Those two got along real fast." he told M1911 absentmindedly, catching her attention again.

"Yup." she agreed.

The rookie them cast his gaze towards the FN Dolls to his right, who had hit it off very easily, it seemed. FN-49 was simply eating a sandwich, taking cute little bites out of it and being careful not to get any crumbs on her, and FNC... was chowing down on her fifth chocolate bar while she chatted away with the shy Doll with reckless abandon.

Unbelievable... he thought, bidding his friend farewell as he approached the two of them with a brisk step.

The shyer of the two noticed him first, waving at him with a demure smile on her face while FNC said "How're ya doing?" with her chocolate in her mouth.

In all honesty, Ian was feeling much more relaxed than he had in a decade, where he had to deal with the Soviets either in combat or through outmaneuvering them, so his answer was a bit obvious.

"I haven't been able to unwind like this in eleven years." he replied honestly.

"How? You just joined Griffin!" FNC pointed out, understandably unaware of his past.

"And I was left for dead here by my own government over here after the failed attack on Moscow ten years ago, and before that, I was fighting the Soviets in Europe." the Commander told her.

"Wait, really? I didn't know..." She dipped her head down in shame, "All of a sudden, I feel really bad for making FN-49 take that chocolate from the storeroom..."

After she said that, the shy girl in question sqeaked and apologized for doing so and his eye twitched in irritation.

"You did what?" he asked the chocolate lover lowly, a slightly murderous aura emitting from him as he processed what she just let slip. But before FNC could reply, FN-49 responded to try and justify her actions.

"U-um, FNC ran out of the chocolate those bandits Sangvis killed had and needed my help to get some more, and when I asked, she told me Miss Kalina was fine with it, so I got her some chocolate from the storeroom..." the young woman answered demurely, promoting him to take a spoon and bop FNC on the head with it, her yelp of pain ignored by the irate officer.

"FN-49, don't listen to FNC, and FNC, shame on you for misleading my troops. I assure you that Kalina did not allow you to do that."

It was a good thing the logistics officer was unconscious from a drinking battle, because she would've been pissed to learn that a Doll stole from the storeroom. Of course, he would tell her later, but right now? The girl needed to sleep, especially after consuming so much alcohol.

He instead decided to look for AK-47, going through the party area and searching around until he found the Russian Doll drinking and chatting with M1911 again, showing no signs of remembering the latter's jealous outburst. Naturally, her face was very flushed and her voice was very slurred.

"What was the Boss' squad from the war even like...?" she asked her team leader curiously.

"He never told me about anyone in it, but according to him, they were a wild bunch. Almost like an eight man Griffin Echelon."

The drunk laughed wholeheartedly, likely imagining what the ex-soldier's squad was like. Funnily enough, that was the case for Ian. Each and every one of the soldiers he was buddied up with were special in their own way, and it had been quite the honor to fight alongside them, and from the consummate professional/hardass Holland and Matheson to the carefree Jordan to the laid-back Hanover, shyguy Seth, and the team mom Sophia, every one of then stuck out in his mind, nothing but fond memories surrounding those soldiers even after a decade of separation.

"That's kind of what it felt like, now that you mentioned it." he suddenly commented, getting the Dolls' attention. "We weren't the grisly-faced hardasses the Russians had in their ranks— no, scratch that, almost everyone was a fucking jackass, but for a lot of us, we were barely of age when we enlisted or got drafted."

"Says the one who wasn't even of age when he got in." M1911 retorted without even bothering to say hello again, earning a laugh from AK-47 in response.

"Right?"

"If you were a survivor of the Valentines' Bombings, then you'd have done the same." the Commander shot back briskly.

"I'll give you that one. Anyways, what's up?"

"I was just coming to check on you two. Wouldn't want someone gettin' a bit too rough for my liking." the dark-haired veteran droned on dryly, his eyes falling onto M1911 knowingly.

"Y-Yeah, right..."

"What about you two? Doing alright?"

"Mmm, just peachy."

"Just glad I'm not being harrassed right now, hic..." AK-47 drunkenly chuckled, swaying slightly from her inebration.

"Gee, wonder why you were harrassed in the first place." he said, causing the short-haired blonde HG to cut in and change the subject.

"What about you, Commander? Doing okay?"

"Having a great time here— FNC bein' a little shit notwithstanding."

"Lemme guess: she stole chocolate from the storeroom?"

He raised an eyebrow after hearing that.

"How'd you know?"

"FNC Dolls live for chocolate." the HG Doll replied, her higher knowledge of the company and its employees making itself known. "So to think one wouldn't go so far as to steal it is utterly foolish."

"Ain't that so?"

The Doll merely nodded in response, taking a long swig of her drink alongdide AK-47, who ended up missing her target and splattering some vodka on her face.

"Pfft..." the Commander chuckled as she grumbled in irritation, wiping her face off and lamenting the lost vodka before she attempted to drink some more. "Hey, haven't you had enough of that for tonight?"

He got a drunken bird flipped at him in response as she hit the mark this time, groaning in a satisfied tone as the harsh drink reached her throat. Looking back to M1911, he saw her groan in exasperation and facepalm.

"And this is why my early mornings consist of me holding her hair up as she embraces the porcelain throne..." she muttered, removing her hand from her face.

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder of why I prefer not to get drunk."

"Guess we oughtta be glad you're not a lightweight."

"Yeah. Another thing that poor Seth had to ensure." Ian recalled with a chuckle.

"Seth... McAllister? Wasn't that the Grenadier you had in your fireteam?" the HG asked him.

"Yup. He really knew his shit when it came to navigating Yellow and Red Zones, but the son of a bitch was dense as a fucking rock. Like dear GOD, you've got a whole bunch of cute West German girls hitting on you and giving you all kinds of hints, but you don't even have an inkling of a clue what's going on?"

If there was any memory he wanted to forget that wasn't related to fighting the War, it was that one. It was August 2049, they'd just been deployed to Germany and were tasked with patrolling Bremen for East German infiltrators before they started going on patrols. While they stopped by a streetlight to keep an eye on the intersection it was next to, a group of (probably drunk) teenage girls around the younger squad members' ages bumped into them, resulting in a rather abrupt conversation as the poor Rifleman tried to ascertain if they were Stasi-hired moles or not.

That wasn't the problem, though. When he successfully deduced they were just a group of girlfriends heading back home after a day of hanging out, he decided to properly introduce Seth and himself, hoping to get back to the mission at hand before his superiors saw him slacking off, only for the drunk girls to start hitting on them, with Seth getting the lions' share of their attention.

And what does the blond dumbass do when faced with a group of cute girls who were very clearly tryin to flirt with him and possibly seduce him? Think they're just being really friendly to him.

Words alone weren't enough to describe how pissed he was that day.

"He was that bad?! I thought he was just kind of shy!"

"No, that motherfucker 100% thought they were just being nice! I never even had friends before I joined the Army and I was only sixteen when I deployed, yet I'm the more competent one when it comes to recognizing romantic intent!" he vented.

"What are you talking about..?" they heard AK-47 ask as she lowered her bottle of vodka.

"The Commander's teammate was apparently so dense he was getting hit on by a bunch of girls and he didn't even get a hint of what they wanted!" the HG explained, embarrassed for her commanding officer.

"Ooh, yeah, I know what you're talking about..."

"How do you even get it through to a guy like that?"

"Strip naked, pin him down and tell him nice and clear that you want him to fu—" the drunkard began to explain, only for M1911 to shout in embarassment and push her hands out, cheeks a really nice red as she shouted above the shameless Doll.

"TMI, forget I asked, please for the love of God, forget I asked!" the HG squeaked, smacking her subordinate to get her to shut up.

The Commander couldn't help but laugh his ass off at them, cupping his face amusedly as he witnessed the chaos unfolding before him. Soon though, they stopped being dramatic and turned to face him expectantly.

"Surely you're not cut from the same cloth, right...?" AK-47 inquired slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"Hell, no." he replied readily. "I at least had the benefit of having a girl as a battle buddy, so I can pick up on girls' quirks and shit."

"Umm, were you and the girl... together-together, or just friends?" M1911 asked hesitantly, causing him to sigh.

"I will neither confirm nor deny that."

"Oh um, alright..."

Like right now, you're totally jealous over not being my first lady friend.

"Hey, you wanna get the firework show on the road, Bossman?!"

Looking to his left, Ian saw a man with light brown hair and a baseball cap on his head wave him down, holding a box of fireworks in his hands.

"Sure thing, Johnson." he said, before turning to the Dolls. "Sorry, gotta go."

"It's fine, go on." M1911 told him, waving him off.

Nodding in acknowledgement and leaving the Dolls to talk amongst themselves again, Ian briefly wondered what Helian was doing and whether or not she was fine as he walked away.

Senior Officer Helianthus

Looking up from her datapad as she stood within her spacious office, Helian watched as the torn-up Ingram MAC-10 Doll Station 794's Dolls rescued walked in and settled down in the simple metal chair in front of her at the edge of her rug, wincing a little as she shifted on the chair and dripping some old coolants onto the linoleum floor as the repair foam broke apart on its own. Unlike most of the Dolls rescued, this one was still speech-capable despite being covered in gashes and holes with her sports bra and shorts being torn up as well, and as such, she could tell the senior officer what she needed to know.

"So we're back already..." the battle-thirsty SMG murmured, her lithe frame bathed in the blue light of her office's monitors. "Not the slightest bit of fun the whole way back. I was bored to tears..."

"Save it, Ingram." Helian told her, not in the mood to hear her whining. "If it hadn't been for the T-Dolls that came to your aid, then you would be dead."

Ingram laughed it off.

"It was a chance to risk my life." she replied without missing a beat. "After all, the riskier it is, the more I revel in it. Although I'm jealous those Dolls from HQ stole all the fun before I could have some."

According to the footage Commander Becker sent her, his team had performed admirably despite not being on the field in three months, and despite the presence of Doll units that weren't there the last time Griffin had scouted the area, they all got out in one piece nonetheless. Undoubtedly this Doll wanted a piece of the action, but with particles beam holes burned through her torso and scratches along her face, arms, and legs, she was in no condition to be fighting anytime soon.

"Focus, Ingram. You're one of the few survivors that are still capable of speech, and I have a few things to confirm with you." the officer ordered sternly.

"So that's why I'm not getting repaired yet..." Ingram murmured to herself in realization, before resigning to the fate of being questioned by the top brass. "But, you're the boss..."

Nodding in confirmation of that, Helian raised her datapad and began her questioning of the Doll, ready to get some real answers about the raid on Safe House 03.

"Do you remember what happened to the StG-44 and PPSh-41 of observation outpost 213?"

Ingram though long and hard about it, her face scruched up in thought in a way that would have been cute had it not been for the stitched-up scars and fresh wounds adorning her body.

"They were trying to find a new base to live in when they ran into a Sangvis called Agent. She seemed to be after something, and those two were trying to hold her off for some reason. Me and my buddies only made it out alive because we weren't her targets." she replied grimly, wincing as she shifted in her seat.

So PPSh-41 and StG-44 were likely KIA. That left vz.61 Skorpion as the only Doll from 213 who had been in contact with them.

"So this means Vz.61 Skorpion is the only one who's still missing. You two are close, aren't you?"

The Doll nodded simply, as if the fact was as obvious as the sky being blue. In any case, this was good news for the officer.

"Do you know her whereabouts?" she pressed on, hoping that her luck would continue to hold as she typed the intel onto her datapad.

Ingram shrugged in response, instantly crushing those hopes she'd had with the gesture.

"Sorry, but I wasn't on the frontline back then, so I don't know for sure if she got killed."

The dark-haired Doll then leaned forwards, resting her forearm on her thigh and looking up at her as if she was making a point to her.

"However... if she's still alive, then she'll probably have left some clues behind for you to find. That gal can be pretty sharp when it counts." she commented matter-of-factly.

"Understood..." the grey-haired woman told her in response, before lowering her datapad. "That's all I needed from you. Go get repaired. I'm sure your friends are waiting for you."

Thankful for the permission to get her injuries fixed up and the pain stopped, Ingram grasped the edges of the seat and stood up to leave the room. She didn't immediately leave though, looking up at the Senior Officer to ask her something.

"Will we be able to have our vengeance... for Skorpion and the others?"

Helian paused, trying to come up with a reply that would satisfy the bloodthirsty android before her, before deciding she needed to get patched up before all the coolants drained from her body.

"Hurry up and get patched up, Ingram." she said instead, before pausing to add onto that sentence. "But to answer your question... you'll get your chance at revenge, I'm sure of it."

The Doll grinned maliciously, and Helian could have sworn her acid green eye was glowing in the blue lighting of the room, said light glinting off her teeth.

"Understood. I can't wait." she told her, her predatory growl unmistakable as she headed to the door properly, limping along the way.

Grabbing ahold of the door, the Doll wrenched it open and left the room to get repaired like her teammates, leaving Helian to process her testimony in her head. If Skorpion was indeed alive, then she certainly would've left clues to her whereabouts so friendly forces could find her. But if she had any useful intel on her Neural Cloud, then Sangvis may have been looking for her as well— and if her previous intel was correct, this absolutely could not happen.

Station 794 was certainly getting a lot of work this time around.

Tactical Doll M1911

Station 794 Courtyards

Leaned down to get beter access to their fuses, M1911 carefully lit the red, white, and blue fireworks that were stuck in the ground using AK-47's bullet-shaped lighter, which the drunk-off-her-ass Doll had let her borrow, and quickly ran towards where the Commander stood on the grass, now wearing the Modular Scalable Vest over his white shirt with his service rifle hanging off of its sling. When she asked him why he donned the armor, he matter-of-factly stated that as a frontline base, there was a chance that a hostile patrol would pass by their base, especially at night.

"Better to be safe than sorry." he had told her.

As the fuses burned down, the red firework shot off into the air first with a pronounced whizzing sound, climbing high into the night sky with great speed until it spontaneously detonated, bathing the grassy area in its red light and creating a loud bang in the process. Its fellow fireworks did the same, adding the American flag's other colors to the mix with the detonations and completing the iconic trio. More waves of multi-colored fireworks went off as well, having been lit by MP5 and Sten, adding to the spectacle before them as the Ukrainian sky was blessed with the colors of the Stars and Stripes.

Good thing her hearing modules could be set to tone down sounds like gunfire or explosions, because her fireworks were quite loud and would probably causing hearing damage to those who weren't prepared.

"This kinda reminds me of home." the Commander remarked lightly as the multicolored lights flickered across his face, a small smile on his lips as he spoke. "I remember my dad taking me and my family to the local firework shows every year when we were younger, and my sister absolutely adored them. It's a shame they're all gone, now."

As the last words left his mouth, he gaze drooped down to his feet down at his feet and his shoulders slumped in regret, prompting the Doll to place her hand on his shoulder in a comforting way she'd perfected a long time ago.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir." M1911 told him truthfully, prompting him to look into her eyes and smile softly to her.

"It's okay." he replied, placing his own hand on hers. "I made peace with it years ago, but thank you for caring anyways."

"You're welcome, sir." the blonde girl replied, her artificial heart fluttering lightly at the hand-to-hand contact before she averted her gaze, suddenly remebering her outburst towards AK-47. "Listen, about earlier..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I got mad like that, sir. There was no reason for it, and it was honestly childish of me to react so negatively..."

"Yeah, it was, but at the very least you realize that too." the Commander intoned. "In any case, you shouldn't have had any reason to do that, because I didn't join Griffin to fall in love, I did it to escape the purges."

She nodded in agreement, although he could faintly see a hint of sadness in her eyes that betrayed her actual thoughts on his statement.

"And even if I did, I'm not sure that I'm ready to get into that kind of relationship anytime soon." he continued.

"Last one not go well...?" she guessed, and although she was right, it wasn't for the reason she may have been thinking.

"Ended in a burst of 5.45."

In response to the harsh admission, the Doll's face hardened for a moment, obviously displeased that yet another part of his life had been taken from him by the Soviets, then she sighed harshly.

"What haven't the Soviets taken from you at this point?" she muttered under her breath.

"To be honest, I don't know." Ian told her pointedly, looking up to the sky again. "At least they didn't take my new lease on life too."

Before she could say anything else, two Sangvis Dolls, Ripper-class, emerged from the trees, damaged slightly and heading towards the base at a somewhat slow pace, yet with a bit of a limp to their steps that revealed undeniable leg damage. The Americans both groaned in response upon seeing them, brandishing their weapons and vaulting over the concrete wall behind them before the Sangvis Dolls noticed them. The other Griffin Dolls outside either went back inside or followed suit and took cover, waiting for a firefight to unfold.

"Wanna shoot 'em, or let 'em pass?" the Commander asked his ally, performing a brass check.

"Shoot the fuckers. Left, or right?"

"Right. Wait for them to get closer so you don't miss."

The blonde stayed where she was, allowing the Rippers to approach the fireworks' launching points and crouch down, taking a look at the slight burns on the ground from them.

"They're just throwing a party." the left one said, standing up and showing off the bloody hole in the fleshy part of her left leg and shoulder.

"For what reason...?" the right one asked as she looked around, visor cracked and a section of her torso's false skin ripped away to reveal the machinery within.

"I dunno. Let's ask them."

"Now."

The whispered signal was all the Doll needed to hear before she emerged from cover and put two rounds from each pistol into the left one's chest while the Commander fired about ten tounds into his target, two of them hitting the head while MP5, who had been outside as well, fired a burst at M1911's target to clean up the kill, both bodies hitting the ground like discarded puppets.

After confirming that there weren't any more Sangvis in the area, the two mercs got up and carefully left their cover, slow, deliberate steps carrying them across the grass as they reached the destroyed Rippers and crouched beside them, the HG Doll next to him drawing a knife to cut the enemy Dolls open.

"You think we should take their guns?" the Commander asked, grabbing one of the Rippers' SMGs by the stock.

"Nah. They have locks on them that prevent humans or Griffin Dolls from using them. The eggheads from IOP would love to have them for research purposes, though." she replied as she cut away the skin layer under a Ripper's arm and reached into the hole, extracting a small black module from it.

"Got it. Let's check these for trackers and put them somewhere safe until we can get them shipped to IOP. Maybe scrap the bodies for parts." he said as he pulled his own knife out and opened the Ripper next to him up, revealing an intricate system of machine parts splattered with oils and damaged by 5.56 bullets.

"Eh, sounds like a plan."

"Wonder who hit 'em, though..." he said as he found and grabbed the same black module M1911 did, pulling it out and pocketing it once he confirmed it was still intact.

"5.45 rounds, looks like 7N6." she told him, pulling out an old rifle bullet from one of the bullet holes in her Doll.

"Soviet Army, then." he guessed, intimately familiar with Russia's so-called poison bullet. "Thought they didn't operate out here."

"They occasionally run ops in the deeper Sectors before handing them off to us to deal with 'em, and sometimes something really important comes up that PMCs just won't cut it, so they send spec-ops Doll squads to take care of it."

"Explains where we get our intel."

As they finished their impromptu autopsies of the Sangvis Dolls, they heard rapid footsteps behind them and turned atound rapidly to find G36, FN-49, and FNC running up towards them, weapons in hand and ready for a fight.

"It's fine, we got 'em." the Commander said before the maid could say anything. "First time I used my rifle in years."

"You did?"

"Hey, I'm not some damsel in distress! Do you know how many Sangvis I killed in the War?!"

M1911 was sure that he wasn't some kind of "Sangvis Reaper," but based on the archived combat footage he shared with them, he was rather skilled (or just lucky) against the androids, and by his admission his company had been crucial in securing numerous victories for the US, as small as they were. Of course, larger victories were attained by everyone who had been deployed to Europe (mainly artillery and what air support they had left,) but he had done a lot for a grunt.

"In two years' time, you scrapped about 37 Sangvis Dolls and attained about 54 confirmed kills on human soldiers, along with three friendly fires, before going MIA and ending up here."

G36's eyebrows went up like AK-47's had when she had heard the Commander let slip the whole "classmate from the academy wrote an erotica involving her" thing. She still wanted to kill the pervert who wrote it, though.

"Friendly fire, sir?" she asked flatly.

"Mostly accidental. The first one doesn't count, 'cause the guy was a nutjob who snapped and started killing our own people as well as civilians, and he ambushed our platoon. The second one happened in Poznań, Poland but the guy wasn't hurt, thank God that body armor exists, but he lost an MRE he was saving up to a round I fired into his bag, so if he's alive he's probably still pissed. Third one was trying to uh, force himself on a lady in an occupied town, and I wasn't gonna let that slide."

The maid nodded in response, seemingly satisfied with his answers

"I see. I recommemd you get back inside, sir. There may be more Sangvis nearby."

"Yeah, yeah. Shame that the firework show was crashed." the young man lamented, standing up to head back inside— but not before he withdrew the memory unit from his pocket and handed it to the German. "Take this and those SF bodies to the Repair Bay."

M1911 followed suit, eyes scanning the environment for more hostiles as she donated her captured memory unit and gave it to G36. After confirming the lack of hostile presence in the area, she turned tail and headed inside as well, her feet carrying her across the grass and concrete as she locked eyes with the Commander briefly.

Only for him to break eye contact in an instant, leaving her somewhat confused as she followed him inside.

Commander Ian Becker

As he walked through the now-quiet lobby of Station 794, the veteran soldier groaned in irritation as he remembered the few friendly fire incidents on his mostly-clean record, which had earned him the nickname "Caboose," a character from "Red vs Blue" who had a bad habit of teamkilling, from the soldiers that weren't in his squad. And as much as he liked Caboose, he hated being called it because of friendly fires.

At least his Dolls had the courtesy to not do that to him.

"G36, get this cleaned up, please." he asked as he passed by the party area, which was cluttered with used dishes and empty vodka bottles from the drinking contest as well as a concerning number of passed out drunks.

"Yes, sir." the maid Doll complied, rallying the cleaning crew to clean the mess up and restore the base to a better state while he headed to his bedroom, ducking through the halls as the cleanup crew fetched their supplies and beelining towards his quarters with a need to reach them ASAP.

And after going through those confusing as fuck halls again, Ian found the door to his bedroom and opened the door, dismissing his bed for the moment and beelining towards his desk, slipping into his chair and withdrawing his journal and a pencil, laying the journal open on the first empty page.

Right before he put pencil to paper though, he started thinking back to the events of the party, back to those two damaged Rippers as they wandered aimlessly and without purpose, back to those days traversing vast forests and old battlefields in an attempt to keep the New Soviet Ground Forces off his trail.

Then he remembered what Kalina had told him about P38 and M1895, two older Dolls who survived the 794 attack that went missing on a scouting mission, and were now likely stranded and fighting to survive like the men and women he'd spent years in muddy trenches and dilapidated buildings fighting and bleeding with.

Then all of a sudden, a day free of operations into hostile territory was the last thing on his mind.

"They're likely dead by now, but I gotta find them— all of them." he declared under his breath, not only talking about the HG Dolls, but also his missing squad— or what was left of his old squad.

With a new goal in mind and something to fill his journal out with, he began to write his thoughts down with haste

Journal Entry

July 4, 2062

Turns out, I was able to celebrate Independence Day after all. It was a small party, but I was able to unwind for the first time in eleven years, and M1911 had some fireworks left over from a past celebration. Concerning AK, she's much happier than before I went and talked to her, and apparently M1911 got jealous when she learned that AK kissed my cheek as thanks for improving her mood. Makes me wonder how she really feels about me.

Two Sangvis Rippers attempted to crash the party, but me and M1911 scrapped them rather easily, and we were able to pull their memory units and do a crude autopsy on them. Turns out, they got into a fight with NSGF troops and barely escaped it, because 1911 pulled 7N6 rounds from their bodies and last I checked, PMCs go for different 5.45 rounds most of the time.

And finally, I just remembered that there are two missing T-Dolls that I need to find (as well as my old squad). I'll set up a search party to find them tomorrow, and I think it'd be best if I went along, since I can actually harm any bandits we might run into (although now that I've written this it kinda sounds dumb 'cause I can just give them proper authorization.)

Anyways, I need to get to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow.

Fucking finally. I had a good bit of trouble writing this, especially because of the whole party bit, because now that I look at it closely, throwing a party just two days after arriving at the base seems a bit dumb. I also feel that Ian's getting used to the base's staff a little too fast, which was an issue I had in older stories. My only explanation is that he was starved of social contact for ten years, and that he decided to indulge in it as soon as he could.

Anyways, the friendly fire bit was done as I felt that I needed to give him something unique, and so he had something not ideal on his record (because people have to fuck up somehow.)

I also feel like I'm progressing the story too fast in terms of plot points getting revealed too fast, and I kind of want to do a story in the Recollection set in WW3, but I feel like that would ruin Recollection: Beginning through spoilers.

Anyways, I'll see you all in the next chapter!