"Commander?" Fleur stuck her head into the command room, finding the man pacing in a circle about the tablet at its center, illuminated by the dull blue glow of the projected map. Plenty of markers in different shapes and colors littered the map, but Fleur had no clue what any of them meant. He glanced up, catching her gaze then returning to the map, continuing to circle. Fleur took a deep breath. "Kalina wanted me to tell you she'd finished that list you wanted."

Another look in her direction, motioning for her to step into the room. "Mmm." He hummed, going back to considering the map, reaching out to move a few markers, as Fleur set the tablet she'd been clutching a little tighter than expected on the table. With her task complete, she turned, trying to make her way to the door as fast as possible. "Would you be willing to humor me for a moment?" The question brought her up short.

The girl frowned at the wall, trying to think of a way out of saying yes. "Humor you about what?" Maybe she could find one of the dolls better suited to answer his question. She looked back, finding his eyes set on her with that same uncomfortable intensity that he'd put on the map.

"A rather specific, if equally insane, question." He spun the map on the table, zooming it out and shifting it for a few moments.

Well, she'd humor him, for now. "I suppose. What's the question?"

Another spin of the map, a number of the markers vanishing, and others reshuffling about the map. "I realize, of course, that this is rather outside of your wheelhouse, but you are the only other person here who has anything approaching experience with this sort of things". More dots shuffled about, and Fleur could feel her eyes glazing over before the map went still, the Command stopping opposite her, leaning on the table for a moment. "Let us suppose that you are a soldier. You have been stranded…" he tapped a spot, which lit up with a small blue pulse, "Here. You have three squad mates, no method of contacting outside help at the moment, and are, to your knowledge, almost entirely surrounded by enemy forces." More lines and dots appeared, these in red. Fleur took a moment to survey that, making the note that blue meant friend and red meant foe. He took a moment to rearrange a few icons, before looking back at her. "What do you do?"

A blithe reply, something to the effect of 'run like hell' came to mind, but she bit down on the impulse, instead trying to run through the situation as best she could. None of the Dolls to her knowledge would know anything about this, and the Commander words suggested the same thing. Why he'd be asking her opinion about something that didn't seem hypothetical she didn't know, but that sounded, as her Dad claimed the American's said 'above her paygrade'. Casting her mind back to her thought process back at home brought up a few quick questions. "What was the last thing I was trying to do? Am I just running away, or is there an objective I was trying to complete before this hypothetical went wrong?" Looking up, she caught him nodding, and got the impression of having passed some kind of exam.

Standing up the Commander crossed his arms. "Assume you, or one of your squad mates are carrying a package that needs to either be safely removed from the area," A gesture to the map, "Or destroyed to prevent the enemy from getting it." That further explained why he asked her.

She got the feeling this wasn't as hypothetical as he made it sound, giving the map another look. The small blue dot sat on a ridge, just south of a massive red blob, and with lines of red stretching to the north, east, and worming west, although not as strong there, and only a few scattered red dots to the south. "Run south." She traced a quick line down from the ridge, sticking close to a valley nearby the location he'd marked as the starting point. "You're in the forest, so you're harder to see…" She tapped a ruined village. "If you need to hide, this village is a good place to do it, ruins have a lot of places to evade pursuit, and if you have to fight, it's a good ambush point." Crossing her own arms, another thought jumped out. "Where is the base related to this?" An white dot appeared, and Fleur winced. For a human, that run would be impossible. "Oh."

"Oh?" He sounded amused, and Fleur flashed the man a quick sharp glare, which did nothing to change his expression.

Relenting she jabbed a finger at the map. "There's no way in hell you can make it to the base." The blunt words didn't seem to affect him, and she made a sweeping gesture to an area north of the white dot. "This field here, there isn't enough area to hide, you'll be spotted and swarmed by whatever is hunting you."

Another nod. "We're in agreement on all points." Again, the statement of knowledge about sneaking around. She'd ask Kalina if the logistics officer knew when she got back.

The knowledge that her amateur sneaking about in Prague put her in agreement with a veteran soldier about the chances of the hypothetical person didn't make her feel good. "If it was just me, I might try and only move a short distance and find a good hiding spot. Maybe a cave, or a ruin, or just try and slip past a patrol, and let them search farther ahead before trying to slip around them." Fleur made a few vague pokes at spots where caves or hiding spots might be. "But if there are other people it becomes harder to do."

Sighing once more the Commander nodded. "Understood." He rubbed his temples, and Fleur started to form the question before biting her tongue. Asking questions got her in trouble in the past, or rather, asking questions got her here. "Don't bite your tongue, ask the question."

"Wha-"

He gave her a sideways look, the impression seeming amused. "You don't think this is the first time I've sought second opinions like this?"

She shrugged. "Seems a bit weird. Isn't there something about information security or something that all you types get on about?" She swore she saw just a hint of a smile at her challenge, but it vanished.

"And have I given you any information that you didn't already know?" His eyes held her, sharp, twisting in the light flicker of the table's light. It felt much like that first meeting, over a hologram connection in Prague.

She shook her head to answer the question before forging ahead with her own. "This…this is about whatever happened yesterday, isn't it?" One brow rose, not demanding the explanation, but obviously curious how she came to that conclusion. "They weren't actually attacking the base, so they had to be searching for something right?" The searching stare continued, and Fleur squirmed. "Kalina and someone else were talking about it."

The stare continued, even telling the truth became uncomfortable in the sudden weight. "That would be a theory, yes." He tapped a few buttons, closing the map, walking over and bringing up further lights, forcing her to squint for a moment. "Other theories include the enemy is stepping up patrols in response to increasing actions in other Sectors, or the theory I'm partial to at the moment, they are simply insane." What caught Fleur's attention out of that list was that the Commander steadfastly refused to meet her eyes after bringing the lights up, instead staring at the clock high on the wall. Without any real input she just waited, knowing something else would be coming but unsure how long it would take. "Let Kalina know that I'll be briefing everyone in two hours."

"Okay." Fleur took the implied dismissal and darted from the room, before slowing to a more reasonable walk, putting together her mental list of things to ask Kalina, or anyone else who might know.

"Fleur!" She rounded a corner still absorbed in thinking, and bounced off Five-seveN, the Doll's hand snapping out to catch her before she fell. "Where are you going?"

Her head rang for a moment, the sudden change of pace taking her aback. "To talk to Kalina." Steadying herself, the woman gave Five-seveN a searching look. All of FAL's team set her on edge in various ways, but Five-seveN perhaps the most. The Doll never did anything without a reason it seemed, even if the reason was 'mess with FAL', and equally would rarely be found outside of FAL's presence which made this encounter suspicious. "Why?"

"Oh?" A shiver ran down her spine when the Doll's eyes lit up. "The Commander wants her to know when the briefing is?" Fleur nodded, trying to figure out how the other woman knew that, when she'd only just been told, and she heard nothing about it prior to that point. "Then we best get going hm?"

"We?" She set off walking towards the armory again, trying to get some control of this situation back, the Belgian falling into step with her. "Why are you tagging along exactly?"

"It's better if I'm not in the dorms at the moment." Her voice dropped, as if someone else might hear. "Things are quite tense, and while I may enjoy teasing the Captain, I prefer not to be shot by her." Five-seveN tossed her hair, the faux haughtiness giving Fleur the weird impression that she'd stepped back into school. "And someone has to make sure to pick up the slack our leaders leave behind."

That could have been either a joke or something serious. The bland tone made it hard to pick out which "Meaning what."

"If danger is lurking, someone needs to make sure our friendly logistics staff is alright." Otherwise known as, Five-seveN, although with that seemed like an excuse to avoid FAL to Fleur. "FAL and Groza both implied we should make sure that everyone is able to go out into the field if needed, and you I believe need protective gear."

Fleur's stomach did a flip. "Good to know that I'm not hallucinating that something is going on." Beside her, Five-seveN shrugged, tone light, even as the topic turned heavy.

"We'll know soon, and you shouldn't be in any danger. The Commander is exceptionally good at what he does when some people are not being ridiculous." Fleur decided that the topic shouldn't be touched, as the white-haired woman's words carried a surprising venom. Five-seveN darted ahead of her, spinning about with a grin that whipped to cheerful once again. "But enough about that! I've got a business idea for you."

The chill didn't fade, although it felt quite a bit different this time. "What kind of business idea?" She tried to keep her voice from wavering, it felt childish, but her companion didn't seem to care.

"Well, you've seen FAL and Groza right? Going around like they aren't plotting to drag each other into bed." Fleur felt a flush rise on her checks at the image of the two Dolls, tangled together, then shoved it aside, trying to work out what the angle on this was.

"They do seem to have that air to them, yes." The words were reluctant, but Fleur couldn't say she hadn't seen the same thing, or that she hadn't heard SV-98's taunting. Something about Five-SeveN's excitement worried her. "What does your boss dragging Groza into a bed have to do with me?"

Five-seveN smirked, winking. "Wanna bet on it?"

She expected a lot of things, but not that. "Huh?"

"Bet on them." Five-seveN repeated, smirk firmly in place. "Make a bit of a game out of it. There's enough people on base."

Whatever Fleur wanted to say, it didn't matter, as Kalina entered the picture. "What is this about betting?" Fleur could have sworn that Kalina teleported into the Doll's personal space, having been nowhere in sight only seconds before. "Whose betting? How much, when?" Five-seveN giggled, evidently pleased by the interest.

"That's what I want to work out."

"Which means she wants to make money off her boss getting laid." Fleur's deadpan words obviously did little to dampen the excitement, if anything that amused Kalina more.

"The Commander? Get laid?" The snort in Kalina's voice bled through easily.

Fleur rolled her eyes. "No, FAL. The one that might actually get laid." She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to get with the Commander, at least, no one she knew.

"You're the one to talk to about getting a betting pool going, and Fleur seemed like she'd enjoy the idea, so I came to you first?"

Not for the first time, Fleur could see the shift in Kalina. Her grin shrank, just a bit, eyes going slightly narrower, and in the dumb cheesy anime that her friends liked, her eyes would have turned into dollar signs for a moment. The logistics officer stepped up to the Doll, completely forgetting Fleur, the two of them staring each other down. "Sixty-forty."

That obviously wouldn't fly, even if the retort only made half sense. "Sixty-forty."

Kalina made a face, crossing her arms. "Even split." Her 'opponent' pretended to think about it, dramatically putting a finger to her lips in consideration.

Then she dipped her head to the side, winking. "Tres Bien." Fleur shivered, as the two rounded on her.

"Nope, I want no part of this." She backed up a few steps. "I want to keep my money, thanks."

"Oh, don't be grumpy." Five-seveN broke away from Kalina, throwing an arm around Fleur. "You can't tell me FAL's face when she finds out everyone is betting on her sex life won't be hilarious."

"Yes, it will be, for as long as it takes for her to decide to take that knife of hers to someone's fleshy parts."

The Belgian waved her hand, obviously unconcerned. "Let me worry about the Captain."

-Faded Glory-

She pressed her back into the tree, fingers wrapped painfully about the pistol grip of her rifle. The lower hum of motors could be heard nearby, a sound she still felt extremely uncomfortable with.

The noise passed away, the unfocused drone floating away without detecting her, but she held her breath anyway, listening for any further footsteps, or whining motors. Only when it was obvious that nothing else was following did she peel herself off the tree, unconsciously glancing over her shoulder, then shaking it off and starting to scramble up the mountain again. She didn't know exactly where she needed to go, but she knew it was south.

Her fingers crept up to her neck, the phantom pain of her artificial muscles giving way under a glove resurfacing with a vengeance, followed shortly by the panicked screams of Dolls dying as the waves of faceless drones swarmed down upon them. The desperate battle cries, and the calm, placid assertions from the Sangvis Elites that fighting was pointless, and they would get what they wanted in the end.

She grabs a branch too hard; it shatters under mechanical fingers. The sound is too loud, it echoes. She freezes for just a moment, before scrambling up the hill faster, as best she can. The memories have to wait, even as they surge back with a vengeance. She can see the faces now, STG-44, M3, Spectre M4, and others. A shake of her head sends them running as she drops down a low incline, freezing for just a moment.

-Faded Glory-

Tension clung to the group as they stepped from the briefing room, leaving the Commander behind, standing over the briefing table, doubtlessly still muttering to himself.

FAL broke the silence. "I see insanity is contagious." Her fellow team leader pulled her coat tight, and Groza looked away, recognizing the jab for what it was. "I will admit, I did not expect the laundry list of attempts to convince the client to change their mind, or to allow additional assistance however."

That felt like safer territory to comment on. "Combat search and rescue isn't a task we're suited for, unless there is something in your past I'm unaware of." FAL shook her head. "Although confirmation that we were correct is nice." She expected agreement, but FAL said nothing, and they kept walking, and the Russian steeled herself for the upcoming conversation.

"Groza." They were alone, the hallway long, both sides uncomfortably empty, even for the usually quiet base. FAL stopped, and Groza turned, finding her counterpart close. FAL's eyes lingered over her shoulder, on the lock of hair that the strange drone seared off her hair in that shot that, on reviewing the footage from SV-98's scope, if only a few fractions of an inch to the side would have taken her head clean off instead of burning the hair off her head.

Those few fractions came from a well timed shot from Ballista that seemed to knock the thing off axis by that minute degree required. Groza made the mistake of double checking that footage from the Command Room the previous day, with FAL standing right there. From that moment, FAL carried tension with her, and Groza knew this was coming. "FAL." Everything felt uncomfortably heavy.

FAL's eyes moved to hers, then back to the hair singed off her head. "Do you really believe that to be the only solution?"

Groza blinked, once, then twice. She'd given the situation some thought over the past hours. "I don't know." With the benefit of hindsight, she could say that they probably could have worked the drone into a trap, found another weakness, or a weakness. But, in that moment, none of those occurred to her, having been discarded as ineffective methods of fulfilling the goal of keeping everyone unharmed. It must have shown on her face, because FAL's expression briefly flashed with anger, then returned a more neutral one.

That neutrality carried over, into her question. "And if you were killed?"

Groza winced, now it was her turn to avert her eyes, voice dropping slightly. "SV-98 can lead the team until I return." Even for Dolls on the Russian frontlines, talking about dying felt wrong, even those few short hours between death and waking up again felt too long. The Belgian didn't speak for a long time, and something compelled Groza to fill the silence. "She and I have been through this before."

"Do you value your life that little?" Despite the obvious effort, FAL's voice cracked.

Groza felt the pit in her chest, and a phantom pain chased down her spine. "It would have been a painless death at least."

FAL slapped her. Groza's vision flashed with impact warnings, as she stumbled. By the time her surprise faded, and balance returned, the other AR had started walking again, leaving Groza staring at her departing back.

Groza realized she was leaning against the wall, and fell back against it, letting the metal cool her back. Sliding down into a sitting position, she turned the conversation over in her mind.

Do not allow one under your command to die if your life could save thiers.

The words from that old bastard of a Colonel rattled about, and Groza slammed her head back into the wall with enough force to make her vision dance with further warnings. She could see the man's face, scarred, burned, smirking, as she blinked back into waking to the sounds of artillery fire. SV-98's wide eyes were behind him.

Well done.

She let her mind wander, reaching out almost instinctively to SV-98 across the network. It took a moment, but her second accepted the network connection.

"FAL pissed at you for staring at her tits?" The teasing question arrived instantly.

Groza ignored the inquiry. "What was it you said to me, that first time?" The network provided the relevant information, and it took SV-98 several minutes to reply.

"I believe I asked what you were thinking, and when you stared at me blankly, I punched you in the face." All hints of teasing vanished, and the sniper seemed to expect something to be said. "And then yelled 9A when she said you didn't remember." Another, long pause.

"You did. The Colonel told me he admired your nerve, in challenging my choice."

"The colonel is what our current boss would call a son of a bitch Groza, that doesn't exactly inspire confidence."

"Before that first assault, he pulled the Dolls given command authority aside." SV-98's didn't interrupt, and Groza kept going. "He told us your lives mean than ours, and our lives meant less than every human on that base, including the twenty three prisoners, one deserter, and that reporter he hated."

She felt the confusion. "I find that hard to believe, Groza, when he told us that if the reporter gave us any grief, we were legally allowed to shoot him dead without cause."

"He held up a data chip," Her memory chip to be exact, "And told us our bodies were cheap. Our minds, our experience, that mattered." Groza rubbed her neck, feeling the concealed port they used to link to the old backup servers. "Orders were clear. Before every assault every member of our company would be backed up. We went into battle, and we, the 'officers' would die for our 'troops'."

"And you did. Faithfully, for years."

"Of course. I was nothing if not a good little soldier girl." That made her second laugh. "I realized something, SV-98."

"Oh?"

Groza let her hands fall back to the ground. "When we died. How long did we lose?"

"I believe you are usually quoted as having lost between one point seven three and three point one eight hours upon death. Records provided and average network downtime of two point four four hours for Ots-14, one point zero three for SV-98, five point seven one for 9A-91 and-"

"That's enough." Her second fell silent. "Average time between backups, for the entire division?"

"Sixteen hours exactly." Waking, and 'sleeping'. Day in, day out. "You're driving at a point here, Groza."

"When is the last time they had that security?"

-Faded Glory-

Pink hair is entirely a curse, she thinks, kneeling behind a boulder, watching the group of Vespids. So far from the objective she'd expected them to be less organized, and her eyes are drawn, just for a moment, to the south. If allowed to continue, this group would be a problem, and she huffed, already annoyed again. They'd have to be taken out, but five Vespids would take care to eliminate without bringing down the entire enemy force on her head.

Flashbangs were out, she'd used that trick already. Falling rocks weren't likely to kill, same for trees, or earth. That left physical violence, or actually shooting, which she wanted to avoid. Even suppressed the sound of a gunshot carried, and there would be other groups nearby to hear.

Close in, she'd have to be careful how she took them out. Disable network functions first, then ocular sensors, and make sure to ruin anything that might store data if they were found. She drew her knife, watching them continue moving forwards. She took a breath. The mission came first, everything else would have to wait.

-Faded Glory-

"I want drones in the air, search pattern, grid 73." Ian considered the map for a while. "Second pair, low altitude search, grid 62, I want all visual feeds recorded, we'll comb through them ourselves." His belief remained that they couldn't achieve what Persica wanted with the resources on hand. What he could do, however, was make the enemy do a lot of his work for him, assuming, of course, whoever was in charge of Sangvis Ferri played by the rules he assumed they did.

From the communications terminal Aleksander looked up, caught off guard by the second order. On the other side of the room, the drone operator nodded her agreement. "What exactly is the point of sending the drones to scout somewhere you made quite clear you don't believe the target is?"

He flashed a wry smile. "If we're putting craft, even something like a drone in the air, the enemy is going to catch on fast that we're doing the same as they are." He gestured to the map. "Right now, I have a massive area to search, and nowhere near enough manpower to do it, that we agree on. Thus, we need a way to limit where we look." Both nodded. "Back in the day, we did this using spy plane and satellite imagery, but those aren't options, and we don't have any real way to canvas large swathes of terrain quickly, not like the enemy does. However, I believe we can use that manpower against them." Both technicians looked more than a little confused. "If I can find the areas the enemy has abandoned, it stands to reason one of two things. Either, the targets aren't in that area, or, they are, and are hiding. In which case, they can use the distraction we create to make it somewhere safe." He tapped a few points about the sector. "Most likely points being here, here and here, but I don't believe that to be a highly likelihood event."

"Seems risky. What happens if they don't behave the way you expect them too?" Aleksander crossed his arms, not quite defiant, but obviously considering the question important.

"That is part of what we're about to find out with these drone flights." Ian rubbed a spot on his left arm. He hated the guessing game as much as anyone else, but being unwilling to risk any lives, he couldn't do much but accept the mindgames. "It's not a perfect system, but it'll have to do for now. No boots are hitting the ground until we have an idea how Sangvis is going to react."

"Understood." The orders relayed, a relative quiet settled over the three, the information stream from the in-flight drones occupying his mind. "Can't help but notice you didn't comment on yesterday."

He turned, giving the Comms officer a long look, weighing how to reply for a long while. "Comment on what?"

The man's eyes were heavy on the side of the Commander's head. "Groza's stunt."

Ian forced himself to not shrug, as not to appear callous. "Best choice for the situation she had. Direct sniper hit stood the best chance of killing the drone, and in order to land a direct sniper hit, even for Tactical Dolls, you need it to hold relatively still. In practice, that means you need a focus for it. While I don't entirely agree with the choice to do it herself, I have to trust her judgement in the field. Sitting here and second guessing my officers will give me a drinking problem and unhappy subordinates." He glanced at the tablet, the one containing everything that he could document about the drone they'd fought. No better plans occurred to him, even after hours of consideration. If they found another of those blasted things, he wanted a solution and none were presenting themselves.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course." Ian turned his attention to Aleksander, curious what the other soldier had to say.

"That sounds like a load of shit to me." The man's arms crossed. Ian gave him a flat look. "I haven't known you long, sir, but you're not the type to let something you don't like slide without at least a sideways remark. You spent all of yesterday yelling at whoever this new client is because you don't want to send our people into a deathtrap, and you let that stunt yesterday slide without any comment?" They stared one another down, and Ian tried to keep from clenching a fist "I've read your profile, you're expressly called out as treating Dolls like people, you expect me to believe you don't have a problem with any of that?"

A very different face, in a very different context flashed in his mind's eye. "You spend any time on the frontlines, Aleksander?"

Aleksander flinched. "Last year, Poland." The drone operator tried to shrink away, and Ian wanted to hit himself, already knowing where that went.

"So you didn't get to see the worst of it then." Ian turned, turned, sitting on the command table. "On either side."

"What do you mean?" Lena, the drone operator, finally spoke up.

"Early on, when the Soviets were blasting holes in our lines, and later, when the West started pushing back, they fought possessed. Every battle took on a desperate, manic state, every inch of ground desperate and important. Sometimes, that meant you took wild, insane chances. You placed your faith in your comrades in arms, and recklessly charged a Spetsnaz team with a combat knife and an empty pistol, screaming like a woman possessed, because it was the last thing they'd expect, and when you got close enough, you won." Both of them shifted uncomfortably. "For a while, watching people do things like that became the norm. And, if postwar stories from the German front are to be believed, the orders for the average Soviet Doll encouraged them to continue."

"So, you let Groza do something reckless because that's what she was ordered to do in the war, and you haven't bothered to change that order?" Lena sounded aghast, and Ian snorted.

"No." He crosses his arms. "While I don't agree with her choice, I understand the logic, and from a cold command perspective, her life for the entirety of FAL's squad is acceptable." Ian allowed himself to relax a bit, trying to project at least a bit of the tiredness he felt to his subordinates. "Also, I have no doubt that she's being thoroughly chastised by her second, FAL and anyone else who decides to join in. I imagine I'll hear from FAL about it, but something like this, it's better if I don't step in." He rubbed his arm, eyes drifting into the far distance. "For better or worse, they need to come to this understanding on their own." He knew that this had little to do with something he could personally fix, and his squad commanders would have to wrestle with whatever issues it caused for themselves…at least for now.

A hiss signaled the door opening, and cut off any reply either member of his staff might have made, but both expressions told him they didn't agree at all. "Commander. Do you have a moment?" The chill in FAL's voice lingered.

A saying about facing the music came to mind. "Of course." Ian pushed off, giving his Comms officer a quick look. "Verify what's coming in and out via drones, and put the word to neighboring sectors that we're tracking a set of VIPs that may flee towards them." While he couldn't ask for help himself, he most certainly could imply help would be useful, or manufacture a situation in which he could get help.

The man offered a lazy salute. "Sir."

FAL dropped into step beside him, apparently both content to stay quiet and let him choose the destination

FAL walked beside him in silence as they headed towards the cafeteria. The click of her heels proved surprisingly loud, as he poured himself a coffee.

"I believe I owe you a story." She broke the quiet as they sat.

It took a minute for him to recall the conversation in question. "If you wish. From the reactions of your subordinates, it seemed to be an unpleasant tale, and I am not in the business of running over feelings with my curiosity." FAL shrugged, a calculated motion, intended to draw attention to her chest. Ian kept his eyes on hers, and a quick flash of amusement passed across FAL's expression.

"They dislike discussing how the military tossed us aside after the war…or how Dolls are stigmatized in many parts of Europe." Ian hummed. He understood that feeling, and settled back, content to wait. "I'm a practical woman, while I don't like it, I can understand at least some of the reasoning."

He considered how to reply to that for a while. "I was mostly Special Forces, and Dolls weren't in wide use outside of the Belgians while I was in Europe, and never made it into Africa in large numbers." He could see her filing that away, but went on anyway. "So, I admit to lacking the context leading up to things, outside of the big events. How'd they field you lot outside of Berlin."

From the twitch in her lips, Ian got the feeling she appreciated him not needling at the Berlin issue more than he had too. "At first, we were glorified police, overseeing occupied territory. Then, as the Russian's pushed into Germany, they started deploying us in limited combat roles, surgical strikes against supply depots, low altitude parachute drops, and the occasional sniping position." FAL broke eye contact, shaking her head. "My understanding from my superiors was they needed us to hold the line, but wished to conceal our role to preserve morale."

Ian could vividly recall the Italians ranting about it on the African front. "Hate to say it, but makes sense. Combine that with limited supplies of parts and replacement bodies early on, committing too many Dolls to the fight might overtax the logistical core."

The Belgian took a sip of her own drink. "And the public opinion of sending Dolls into battle was poor. The first time Dolls were sent in, the backlash came fast and direct. The people hated the idea of letting non-humans fight. Never mind that robot soldiers had been used for half the war to that point."

"Never underestimate the unwillingness of a human to change." He'd heard about the NATO use of Dolls all the way in Africa, prisoners complaining, and the Italians had what could only be called strong opinions about it. "Germans complained about it endlessly…by early '47 that tune changed."

"Even when we were in full combat rolls, orders were clear that, if we died, we likely were staying dead. Spare bodies started rare, and became rarer, even A-Doll frames, never mind custom bodies like this one." FAL motioned to herself. "By the end of things, we weren't allowed on the frontlines, kept to sniping or defensive positions. Even in early generation bodies, we were more expensive than older combat robots, and despite our great effectiveness, orders were to keep us alive."

That proclamation hung over them for a while, as he processed the information. "And then, when the war ended, and everyone needed to save money, they cut you loose, and the rest of the world said 'no thanks'?" FAL inclined her head. "Cold."

"Hence why the others don't like it. Five-seveN mostly dislikes my lack of reaction as she also understands the logic." FAL sipped at her drink, collecting her thoughts. "We made do as private security for a while, before floating around Germany, doing various odd jobs, usually bodyguards for hire, but eventually those dried up. Only so many rich and powerful people need bodyguards, and only so many of them are willing to hire Dolls." She paused for a while longer. "Even those hiring Dolls in the civilian sector didn't tend to like hiring dolls with military history."

He hummed, swirling his drink, scowling unhappily into his coffee. "Private security wouldn't have lasted you long in Germany. They pushed Dolls out of the field as fast as they could, and when they didn't have a chance, brought them in for purpose, not hiring off the street." Considering further, he downed his remaining coffee in one long drink. "Labor market could not be called 'friendly' to Dolls out on their own, even years after the war." FAL just watched him, seeming to treat that as more of a musing than a statement. "With the pressure from the Union, you'd have been pushed out of Germany, if not by sentiment, by reality."

"Yes." FAL flicked her hair out of the way, once again pointedly not looking in his direction. "Four years out from the war, and we were drifting without a home more often than not. When we first traveled to Prague, the Union held more sway over the Czech's, but shortly after, the regime changed," Here, FAL gave him a significant look, "Which opened up options for us, as the laws changed to align more with the Neo-Soviets. The restrictions lessened, and with that came a chance for us. Perhaps not a good chance, but…" Her words trailed into her cup, and Ian said nothing. "I didn't realize just how different the opinion of Dolls could be, and how different the circumstances would be. The Soviet soldiers treated us…expendably." The word passed her lips as a curse.

Ian shrugged. "This is my first time being in a position to deal with Dolls directly, having bounced around Germany, France, then making my way to this part of the world, so I can only go on the stories of vets."

FAL cocked her head. "And what did they have to say?"

"Backs up your implications. The East could throw quintuple it's manpower in non-human troops at a single target, while the West rapidly ran down the number of advanced Dolls, and quickly resorted to older autonomous tech, and jury-rigged A-Doll bodies." With a snort, Ian stood to refill his coffee. "A buddy told me he once shot the same doll, six days in a row. Hear him tell it, right between the eyes, time after time, and she'd be there the next day charging the defenses once again." He rubbed the back of his hand, before forcibly stopping himself, taking the filled cup up again. "Not sure the entire story is true, but enough others tell the same that I know the core elements are." When he turned around, FAL was standing, eyes narrowed. "Based on rumors, and hearsay, Soviet Dolls could be 'dead' for as little as three or four hours before returning to the field." He felt some amusement. "If we had a budget to speak of, I could reasonably replace someone's body just about as fast. The biggest slowdown is downloading your mindmaps off the servers."

That seemed to spark something in her, FAL's arms crossing. "Commander." With a sharp nod of the head, she spun, and when he didn't comment, vanished at a brisk walk.

Ian shook his head in amusement, continuing to nurse the coffee.

-Faded Glory-

Her fist hit the metal with enough force to crumble it, the Jaeger's body tumbling chaotically down the cliffside. She didn't agree one bit with this plan, they were better when fighting together, not alone and scattered about. The Jaeger hit a rise in the dirt and came to a rest with a thunk. She considered scavenging it for some parts, before giving the corpse one final glare, and turning to leave.

"Useless trash." She'd already made a note of that one who choked M4 and killed all the Griffon Dolls, someone to keep an eye out for. Glancing at the sky, she stopped, and frowned. She'd probably gone far enough this way, and it was time to change directions again. As would killing that Sangvis, they'd know she was in the area.

Maybe she'd head south, towards that Griffin Base too, see if she could find them, let them know M4 was coming.

-Faded Glory-

"Hey, 2000!" OTs-39's exclamation shattered the calm in the room. The blonde SMG looked up from her position slumped over the card table, trying to keep her mind off things. "Look at this." And, unceremoniously, a phone was shoved into her face. PP-2000 wondered why someone programmed them to be able to have headaches.

"39, I can't see anything if the phone is three inches from my nose." The image took a few minutes to resolve itself, showing a headline about a factory in Volgograd. "A robotics factory back home?" She wracked her mind for information about Volgograd, but came up mostly blank, having never been anywhere near the city. She'd flown past it a few times, but never set foot inside.

"Yeah." OTs-39 spun the phone back. "They just got a big contract." PP-2000 hoped that the other doll got the question from the stare, and it seemed she did. "I used to work there."

OTs-12 looked up from a book, attention piqued, but not yet speaking, once again leaving PP-2000 to be the person asking the questions, like usual. "And you still track what happens to them?"

39 nodded, her expression flickering in surprise. "You two don't wonder about what's happening to places you were before Griffin?" She looked at OTs-12, who made a vague gesture that meant she didn't.

"Nothing to worry about." PP-2000 mumbled it, and she saw OTs-12 open her mouth to ask. "And it's better left that way." Her eyes drifted between them, hoping the other two Dolls would leave it well enough alone.

Tiss released a slow sigh, breaking the fragile tension. "Spy agencies don't tend to like people poking back into their affairs, 39." PP-2000's opened her mouth to ask, then immediately thought better of that question. She never dealt with the military much, but she could remember being warned against asking questions of them frequently. "Not the government." Which could have meant anything as far as PP-2000 knew, including that the assault rifle user did actually work for the government, and lied, or equally likely from what she knew of OTs-12, that she just spaced on the name of the agency and didn't want to say it.

OTs-39 still looked rather uncomfortable, but plowed ahead anyway. "I did security work, keeping out thieves, throwing out thieves, making sure that anyone upset about things had somewhere else to be." She smiled a bit, down at her phone, obviously looking back on that time fondly. "I didn't want to come to Griffin, you know. I enjoyed my job, I liked the people."

OTs-12 stood, moving to the table, sitting down opposite PP-2000. "They pushed you to join." It wasn't a question, and 2000 could see the gears turning. "If they're getting a government contract, they're obviously not doing badly for money…Moscow leaning on them to get rid of you?" A beat, as she thought that through. "That wouldn't make sense. Local pressure?"

39 gave her a sharp look, and PP-2000 winced, before speaking up to try and prevent the brewing storm. "Tiss. Lay off."

"Huh?" OTs-12 blinked, eyes darting between them, obviously not seeing the issue. "It's just an honest question, it seems weird that 39 ends up here? It's not like me, where Groza came and recruited me, or the new girls, who we, er, somewhat co-opted to our side."

PP-2000 sighed, putting her head down on the table again, finding it the easiest way to avoid OTs-12's questioning eyes. "And she doesn't want to talk about it." OTs-12 sounded like she shrugged, from the rustle of cloth. Yet again, PP-2000 felt that gulf widening between her and her teammates. "You fought in the war."

"Huh?" Both Dolls were caught off guard by the question

PP-2000 sighed again. "Tiss. You fought, yes or no."

"No, I spent my time in the backlines, but Dolls and soldiers talk." Tiss didn't put knives in her words, instead, she closed off, and PP-2000 sighed a third time. "Why."

PP-2000 took a while to answer, feeling very "Why did Groza run out there, instead of sending me?"

A snort. "Because Groza's an idiot." A blink. "She's trying too hard, to do too many things." Another pause, the other assault rifle user starting and abandoning several sentences. "If you want answers about Groza, ask SV, she knows her better than I do."

"Well, SV-98 is out there, and you are here, and you've been here this whole time." PP-2000 retorted. Tiss hummed, and the SMG sighed again. She got the feeling the other two members of the squad were staring over her head. "Just say something to me if you want to say it."

OTs-39 "Where'd you go the other night? When SV-98 and Groza were arguing about 'who punched that Polishman' in '48?"

"Where I usually go."

"Roof." Tiss, without any judgement.

"Yes." A beat. "Ballista is nice. Quiet." That drew a laugh from both her companions, and the quiet returned.

PP-2000 let her eyes close for the time being, content to wait for more information.

-Faded Glory-

She sat in the half-collapsed house, wishing for a drink. This whole mission had gone to hell and back again. A simple retrieve the data and get out, turned into a flight for their lives, and the whole team scattered across the northern end of Sector 9. Worse, the local Commander probably didn't know they were there, and so she'd have to wait for M4 to find him to get any major help. Or, she could run all the way to the next sector over, but that had other problems.

Stretching, she picked up her rifle. Time to move again, SF probably already figured out they'd lost the search party in this area, and thus time to move.

In the distance, she could hear gunfire, a steady automatic chatter, punctuated with the occasional louder retort, moving her direction. That presented a chance that was hard to turn down, and reshouldering the weapon case she started moving.


AN: Hey, an almost speedy update, what's this?

Jokes aside, this chapter's only taken this long because it's long as hell by my standards, which is a serious whoops and you should not get used too, because if it happens again I'm liable to get hunted down by an angry Branded with a quasi-lethal implement. Either way, we're off on the grand adventure of rescuing an M4A1, a duel with the 2nd best SF, and generally the ball of plot is rolling.

Standard Review/comment/concern message here, I'll probably update my FE fic after this, so it might be a while, as I'm dragging those updates out by force of will and spite atm