"Incoming message, it's on a Griffon channel. Working to ID." Aleksander's fingers danced over the screen, as Ian shook off the planning fugue. No additional Griffon Units in the field, and another sector would be flagged on contact, even as he turned over the options for additional contacts mentally, before coming up empty. "Frequency matches with database ID VZ-62 Skorpion, assigned to Sector 8." He tapped a few more keys, an image of the Doll in question appeared on the side of the map. "Channel isolated. Standing by to accept."

Ian blinked once, twice. Skorpion. Part of the now entirely defunct squad that included Ingram and StG44. Thought missing in action, and presumed dead, making an attempted contact suspicious all by itself. Fear of being found by Sangvis was not a reasonable explanation, given the incompatibility of transmission protocols. "Location?"

The comms officer jabbed the screen hard enough for an audible impact, shoulders hunching in time with a string of Polish curses. "Working on it. The signal's fuzzy as hell, and about half the packets are just failing outright. It's like someone's jiggled a connector loose and keeps flicking it so you get a connection then lose it again. Patching across the drones for now, but location data will need to wait."

While annoying, Ian could accept that answer. "Understood. Keep at it." Once again, he cataloged possible reasoning, from damaged comms equipment, physical impediments, or systems failure, but almost all of them suggested severe damage to Skorpion herself, and if that were the case contacting Sector 9 made little sense. Skorpion's limited profile offered equally few insights leaving him no choice but accept the contact, and run the risks associated with it.

"All internal communication is via text while this call is active." Affirmatives from both staff members, followed shortly by a pop up from Kalina indicating she'd gotten the message. "Isolate all devices, verify, then connect to the main table." Ian crossed his arms, watching his subordinate's work. They could do the job well enough without breathing down their necks and it let him muse on the other options for who might be making contact. With a crackle the hologram sprang up, filled with nothing but static, the low hiss filling the speakers, before with a snap, resolved.

Skorpion's face filled the projection, most of the synthetic flesh on her face had been burned away, leaving only a vague resemblance to the image Ian had been shown. Face twisted in a vain attempt to convey the agony of her predicament, but, given the visible injuries, she tried to put on a brave face, but the flickering light in one eye let on the true extent of the suffering. Ian's stomach turned. The results of torture were nothing new, but no one considered peeling or burning the flesh off an enemies face to be a good strategy.

"Griffon Commander." Rasping tones made the new voice sound like they were speaking through a respirator. The hologram scattered and sprayed, before resolving again, with someone entirely different in focus. Skorpion audibly yelped in pain in the background, and the clang of metal hitting metal followed.

Torture always did become his enemies, a detached part of Ian decided as he sized up the new figure. True his guess, she wore a respirator, half length sleeves, and hair messily thrown into twin tails, enough that it seemed intentional, but equally making clear that she had more important things to do that care about her physical appearance. "Sangvis Ferri Ringleader, SP65, designation 'Scarecrow." Concluding his obvious once over, Ian cocked his head, continuing the act of making a show of the entire affair. Show a calculated amount of surprise, but not enough to suggest you didn't consider the possibility. "At the risk of invoking cliché, you are not who I expected." While he wouldn't let the opposing commander know how much of a surprise her appearance was, letting her know her appearance had given him a bit of a surprise offered some glimpse into her psyche. Helian's files gave some hints but being based on old data were immediately suspect.

She did not respond, just holding his gaze for several long seconds. "You are searching for M4A1." It wasn't a question, and the hair on Ian's neck rose. "You have currently deployed all Echelons under your command into the location you identify as Sector 42 and they are proceeding to the ruins of Miusynsk." As she spoke, a drone, matching the visual pattern of the ones that had been hounding his Echelons, floated into frame, before darting out again.

"You are quite well informed." That provided an all too chilling answer to that question, and worse, Ian realized, suggested there were far more of those drones floating around than expected. He drummed his fingers into the table, holding Scarecrow's gaze.

-Faded Glory-

They'd traveled only a short distance into the woods before the message flashed up behind Groza's eyes. Her hand snapped up, signalling the halt. "Message from Aleksander. Via text?" She kept reading, a proper scowl starting to form the further she got. "Scarecrow knows location, be careful?"

"How would they know where we-?" Five-seveN started to ask, before stopping. Groza didn't see her hitting the tree, but the metallic impact told the story of frustration. "The drones. Her profile mentioned them, could she be using them to track us?"

It sounded reasonable, but Groza trade shrugs with FAL. "He doesn't say, that is the extent of the message." Another short text blurb snapped up, and from the rise in FAL's eyes, she got it as well. Groza subtly motioned for FAL to take it, turning her attention back to the area.

"Scout before-" FAL's next words vanished in the roar of FNC's rifle.

Metal sheared, Groza dove for cover, the hiss of bullets coming far too close for comfort. "SV-98! Numbers! Ots-12, suppress, right side!" Across the clearing, FAL seemed to be asking for the same, dual flashbang cracks cutting off the incoming fire for a few seconds. Pips flashed on her vision, locational information flashing in. She killed one before the return fire started.

Darting to a fresh, thicker tree, Groza caught FAL's eyes. They traded quick wordless agreement, Groza muttering now orders to her Echelon, before pressing into the dirt as best she could, occasionally leaning out to fire. As the seconds turned to minutes, the guns shooting back dropped off one by one, before falling away completely.

"All clear." OTs-12 declared, flanked by FNC, OTs-39, and Five-seveN stepped from the trees, muzzles still smoking. "Sixteen hostiles, Prowler and Ripper type."

Five-seveN cleared her weapon before chipping in. "They seem to be on a patrol of some sort, we should expect to encounter more."

Groza tried to open a connection back to the Commander to report they weren't going to arrive on schedule due to Sangvis patrols, only for the connection to bounce. FAL subtly shook her head, both of them tightening the grip on their weapons.

"Fan out, we're going slow. Expect more contacts." Groza ordered, falling into step with FAL as they started moving again. "

-Faded Glory-

Metal shattered, M4 driving her fist through the skull of another Ripper. Dull black liquid exploded, staining her glove as she pulled back. Letting the corpse fall, she dashed around another corner, ears straining to pick up approaching footsteps. She had fourteen rounds in her current magazine, and only three spares remaining, with the sword-wielding Ringleader still lurking.

Said Ringleader made her presence known with another crash, and shout. "Just give it up!"

Slinking down another row of crates, M4 let her subconscious processing handle assessing the shout and it's echoes to try and locate her pursuer, putting her primary focus on planning. She didn't fear the random Sangvis units surrounding the building, but she absolutely feared the Ringleader.

Footsteps. M4 froze, pressing herself against the stacks of pallets. Four sets. Slow moving, probably Guards. On the other side, she could still hear the Ringleader shouting and demanding her surrender. Close enough that M4 didn't trust opening fire to give away her position once again

The footsteps stopped. M4 tensed. There wouldn't be an option but to fight her way out, if those Guards continued moving.

Then, they started moving away. M4 waited a few moments before risking a glance around the corner. True to her guess, four Guards were slowly marching away. Doing her best to avoid making additional noise, M4 slipped across the gap, still tallying her tools.

One smoke grenade, two frags, a flashbang and her sidearm comprised the rest of her equipment. She'd have to get creative to make it out of this mess.

-Faded Glory-

Scarecrow held Ian's stare, inhuman stillness starting to become unnerving when she at last deigned to speak. "You are not as subtle as you believe you are." One of her tiny drones floated into the hologram again, the projection wavering as Skorpion's battered body and relatively low-powered field hologram system struggled to keep up with the changes. "You are currently using unmanned drones to scout the area to the north and east of the location your Dolls are in, and your helicopter will be returning to your base within the next eight minutes." In the corner of Ian's, Aleksander checked before giving a sharp nod, Ian's heart skipping a beat. Either her estimates were excellent, or her drone net extended much further than all files suggested it to be.

"Exceptionally well informed." Nodding faux appreciation, Ian took the risk of laying all his cards on the table. Either he'd gain valuable information going forwards, or catch Scarecrow by surprise. "Planting dead bodies for us to find was quite inspired, especially combined with the fake battle." With the respirator in the way, Ian found himself struggling to read her reactions, but aside from the rise and fall of her imitation breathing, there seemed to be no change. "The lack of auxiliary gear let you down, but I understand you are working with rather subpar assistants, and for a first attempt you did a commendable job." Scarecrow's eyes widened, then narrowed a tiny amount, a wonderful contrast to the rest of his command staff's panicked reactions to exchanging casual banter with an enemy officer.

"Commander, she's-" Skorpion tried to speak. Something out of frame crunched and she started coughing. Ian's lips thinned in displeasure.

Scarecrow glared past him, doubtlessly at her captive, although it turned into a glare at him, a contest of displeasure. Eventually however, Scarecrow's expression returned to careful neutrality. "My apologies, Griffon Commander, for the interruption. Let us cease this posturing." A hand came into view, holding a thin rod, which she twirled about her fingers, the closest thing Ian had seen to a nervous or pointless gesture. "M4A1 will be captured shortly. Your forces will not be able to prevent this."

Certainly confident in their success. He let his hands slide into the uniform pockets, the very picture of nonchalance. "It seems presumptuous to claim such a thing when she is not yet in your grasp, is it not?"

"This one," A contempt riddled baton gesture at Skorpion's invisible form, "has provided her location.'' Ian blinked, twice, mind already racing several miles a minute. If Skorpion knew that location, he needed to retrieve her, immediately, all other things be damned. Even if Skorpion lied to Scarecrow, knowing what lie she'd told would be important as well. Scarecrow lowered her arm, her own head tilting now. "You can consider this an offer of truce, Griffon Commander. Order your Dolls to withdraw, and I will allow them to leave unharmed." Scarecrow's eyes narrowed, three drones spinning wildly, weapons glowing. A message appeared on the table, out of view for Scarecrow.

Location found. South of objective. A coordinate string sat below the text. A short check of the GPS tracking data told him that his Echelons weren't positioned to pull off a surgical strike on that location. Something had slowed progress considerably.

Ian stepped towards the table, ostensibly to project power, but also letting him manipulate the table from out of view. Time to stall for as much information as possible while he assessed this situation. "I will infer then that you have someone else handling the capture of M4A1." Scarecrow did another trick with her baton. "Not that hard to infer, you are a reconnaissance and intelligence specialist. Frontline combat against even Dolls such as mine is not your specialty, never mind one such as M4A1." Scarecrow's drones stopped spinning, the glow of charged weapons fading away. "Granted your Drone network allows you to command large swathes of disposable troops, and operate of a much larger area, and I presume, even now, harass my own soldiers… but if you were responsible for capturing M4, I don't believe we would be talking right now at all."

Were she a human, Ian suspected Scarecrow would have sighed. "You assume correctly." Stopping, her focus drifted away for a few fractions of a second. "M4A1 is currently engaged with our units. Her avenues of escape have been eliminated and her capture is certain."

-Faded Glory-

"All hostiles eliminated." Ballista's monotone words broke the uncomfortable silence left behind after the destruction of a third patrol. The air tasted of gunsmoke and oil, dirt crunching with shattered metal.

Groza surveyed the carnage with a critical eye. Combining the firepower of two Echelons let them cut through the random patrols with a grim efficiency, but did little to speed progress. They'd escaped without injuries so far, but that couldn't last, as the fatigue of continuous fighting caught up with them. With the potential of an engagement with an enemy leader ahead, Groza felt increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

"You have a thought." FAL's voice shattered Groza's reverie, the other squad leader came to stand beside her. The other dolls were clustered together a short distance away, far enough to hear a raised voice, but equally far enough they could speak relatively privately.

It took a little while for Groza to find the correct way to phrase it. "Scarecrow seems to be doing a rather pathetic job of trying to kill us." While not looking at FAL, she could feel her tension. "We expected to be searching the ruins by this point, instead we've been caught up in a discontinuous firefight, draining resources and energy."

FAL didn't answer immediately, and Groza looked over, catching a concerned frown that vanished into realization. "Clever." Stomach sinking, Groza knew FAL reached the same conclusion. "We are searching for the same target, and if she is in the area delaying our approach is good strategy."

Groza tried to raise the base again. Another failed connection. "It's more than that. If all she wanted to do was delay us, this constant firefight is more than it needs to be."

A hum. "Wasting our resources then?"

"We've both read her combat specifications. In a straight fight with almost any Doll here, the only question would be if HQ wanted her body to study." Groza's stomach flipped at that unpleasant phrasing. "OTs-39 and PP-2000 are the only Dolls where the outcome is particularly in question and that has more to do with a lack of combat experience rather than ability." They looked towards their objective.

"If we find her…" FAL started, voice dropping even lower than usual. "We're taking her out from a distance." The air thickened, Groza finding it hard to look at her counterpart.

She swallowed. "Agreed."

A bird shrieked, then took flight, clattering off branches, making them both jump. "When this quiets down-" FAL started, then cut herself off again.

Groza sucked in a breath. "Yes." FAL hummed, turning to leave. Her fingers brushed against Groza's, and the Russian made a split-second choice, offering an open lower-level connection. FAL froze, turning to look at her. They locked eyes, Groza doing her best to keep her face blank.

-Faded Glory-

Internally, Ian found himself reluctantly impressed. Without the need to worry about morale or lives Scarecrow could quite reasonably hurl her troops at his in tens and twenties, and based on the progress made, did so to good effect. That left only a few viable paths forwards, and with every second they dwindled.

Course resolved; he addressed the thus far silent party in the conversation. "Skorpion."

She rasped out the response, the visual feed scattering before it reformed, a sure sign that some part of her body was failing. "C-Commander?"

Slouching to the right, Ian did his best to put on a calm demeanor. "Will you be able to keep this connection open while I negotiate with our friend here?" Scarecrow's brow rose, just slightly. Across the hologram, his staff jerked, and the text questioning his intent flashed up immediately, and went ignored.

"I can…I can do that." The damaged Doll trailed off with a whimper, as Scarecrow shifted in the air.

Ian dipped his head, even if Skorpion couldn't see him, it seemed polite. "You have my thanks." Attention shifting to the Ringleader, he put his hands back in his pockets. Better to forge ahead with an insane plan before something changed. "You are aware of the challenge your requests present me?"

"I am aware that humans are often hung up on concepts such as 'loyalty', 'money', and 'opinions of others." Through the respirator, Ian couldn't tell if the Ringleader was being sarcastic or not, but the statement sounded more factual than anything else.

"Indeed, fundamentally irrational creatures we are." Her baton lowered slightly, seemingly appeased by the admission of human frailty, and Ian marked that off as a useful way to 'grovel'. "My employer takes great pride in following through missions, and being quite successful…" He trailed off with a helpless shrug, hoping the message got across without the full explanation. "There are those that would argue that, even if I fail to retrieve M4A1, I should press onwards and kill you."

"I would take considerable satisfaction in watching your despair as life fades from your Dolls." She replied without the faintest hesitation.

A half shrug that left it open to the Doll to decide what Ian felt about that. "Revenge will drive humans to considerable deeds, foolish or otherwise." Without letting that linger he kept going. "However, I believe we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement."

Scarecrow didn't speak, but the lowering of her conductor's baton seemed to indicate approval and that he should continue.

"I will withdraw my forces for a period of time, contingent upon the release of Tactical Doll Skorpion." Scarecrow blinked, just once. Another text box popped up, reading 'Pressure on Artemis and Lightning decreasing'. Matching that, the number of icons surrounding them died off, falling off. "It would be safe to assume you are quite aware of the area I have been operating within."

"I do." Were she a human, Ian suspected a smirk to be forming on her lips.

"Then we can consider the area of withdrawal…" He considered for a second, "For a period of one week."

Scarecrow nodded along, before "And why should I give this one to you?"

Ian hummed. Admitting he wanted the data Skorpion possessed would suggest, not untruthfully, that he didn't intend to abandon the search for M4A1 at all. A good way to ruin this little scheme before it ever got off the ground. "Consider a gesture of good faith, and incentive for me to not default to my baser nature."

Scarecrow regarded him, head tilting slowly to the right. Either weighing the validity of his claim, or debating the value in letting him have the Doll when she could just shoot her dead. "She is of no value to you."

Well, that made his life easier. "Humans are often hung up on concepts such as 'loyalty', 'money', and 'opinions of others. You and I both agree her value is limited, but my employers would favor her return." If not pressed for time, Ian desperately wanted to press the angle of forming a good working relationship with one another, but without a good profile on Scarecrow he couldn't feel confident in making that play.

"Amusing, Commander." She declared. "Very well. You are familiar with my location."

No reason to lie. "I am."

"Your Dolls will come here. I will return this one," A gesture at Skorpion out of frame, "To them. You may recover them from this location, and we will depart." She cocked her head again, waiting for a reply.

-Faded Glory-

"Lightning, Artemis. Status." The Commander's voice shattered the enforced quiet of their slow advance. While the Sangvis attacks had fallen off, and they hadn't seen a hostile in close to fifteen minutes, neither Echelon leader could relax, instinctively screaming that the next attack was just a few seconds away.

FAL answer for them both. "Standing by." A beat, one they expected to have filled with orders, only to receive silence. "Commander?"

A deep breath. "New orders for you. Proceed to the objective. You will be recovering Tactical Doll Skorpion." The clipped delivery suggested that any questions would have to wait. "Nighthawk will meet you on location, and you will be returning to base immediately with Skorpion."

Groza and FAL traded looks. Something else was going on there, but they weren't going to pull the answer out of the Commander no matter what they did, that tone said more than the man himself ever could. As they hurried ahead, both pointedly ignoring the questioning looks from subordinates. The Commander would offer nothing else, so they could do nothing but wait.

Breaking free from the countryside and into the outskirts of an abandoned town, The Commander spoke again. "You are not to engage Sangvis Ferri units, including Ringleader Scarecrow."

"Commander…?" FAL trailed off in the question, the sound rotors filling the air, signaling the arrival of PP-2000 with their ride home. At the same time, a cluster of Sangvis units stepped into view, a distinctive figure floating at the center of the group. At her right, a Vespid unit held a mangled Tactical Doll.

Groza didn't need to look to know the others were going for weapons and struggling with their orders, bound by the instruction to not engage, while Groza raced to consider what the Commander hadn't said.

"Scarecrow will return Skorpion to your custody. As soon as Nighthawk is present, board and leave." The order continued, still clipped, although now that she was listening, Groza could hear the uneven tone, a sure sign the Commander did not enjoy this situation. Trading a look with her counterpart, then SV-98, Groza very deliberately lowered her weapon, straightening her posture, before moving towards Scarecrow.

Drawing level, they stared each other down, Scarecrow looking from one Doll to the next, twirling a baton. Dismissing them successively, Scarecrow returned her attention to the leaders. "Griffon Dolls." By unspoken agreement, FAL and Groza said nothing, and if the slow, deliberate nod from Scarecrow meant anything, that was a wise choice. "I will honor the agreement."

The Vespid stepped forwards, proffering the damaged Doll, SV-98 stepped up from the group to take her, glaring down the Vespid, which did not react, falling back to rejoin the formation. "T-thanks." Skorpion mumbled, her lips unmoving. "Gonna sleep." Her eyes closed, and SV-98 offered a quick, short nod to indicate Skorpion still lived.

The sound of a landing helicopter filled the air, the wind rising to match.

"Your Commander is most interesting." Scarecrow declared. "Inform him that we have achieved our objective." The Ringleader turned in the air, starting to float away. "When we meet again, I will give you a quick death." Then, without any visible order, she, and the rest of her cadre started to depart.

"Lovely woman." FAL murmured, and Groza failed to suppress her snort of amusement.

-Faded Glory-

The warehouse door shattered as M4 slammed into it, thin wood yielding to the impact. Rows of office cubicles stretched out before her, panels rotting away with exposure and time. A few metal husks of chairs remained, one of them faintly reflecting the sunlight from holes in the ceiling and roof. M4 hurried forwards. Above, she could hear the ceiling creak and groan under the metallic footfalls of the Sangvis units walking there. At the far end of the room, she could see a collapse, support pillars having given way, leaving only a few spindly bits holding up the ceiling. While her avenue of escape had now been cut off, she could work with this.

"You think you're clever, Griffon Doll?" The rough voice demanded, followed by a resounding crash of pallets being flung. "There's no escape for you there!"

M4 wondered if that Ringleader ever stopped talking, as she set about pulling a desk over, the makeshift shield meaning little against the energy weapons, but positioning her neatly between two pillars with an easy path to safety on either side. She settled her rifle on top, fumbling for a moment to arrange the rest of her equipment.

"Your Griffon buddies aren't even coming for you! They cut a deal, saving some worthless trash, and leaving you to die!" Another crash. Two Vespids appeared in the doorway. The first toppled in a flurry of lead and sparks, the second registered her location and died before the shell casings hit the floor. The clatter of falling bodies vanished in the thunder of additional footfalls, Sangvis descending upon her position in full.

Gunfire replied, plumes of dust following the bullets. Her Digimind hummed along, providing the locations of the Rippers.

Three rounds. The gunfire lessened. Three rounds. It stopped.

The Ringleader stomped into view, kicking the dead aside, brandishing her weapon, the massive, armored limb holding it preventing M4 from drawing a clear shot. "I've had about enough of you." The Ringleader twisted, drawing her sidearm. M4 threw herself away, not wanting to test the efficacy of that weapon on herself.

The thunderous boom of the weapon shook the dust loose, and M4 felt the concrete pillar reverberate, concrete chips flying, the Ringleader having managed to shift her aim much faster than M4 hopped.

The dull hiss of smoke could be heard over the second and third gunshots, shaking the pillar M4 used to protect herself. The Ringleader hadn't moved, just firing at her position, either intent on dispersing the smoke, or unwilling to get in close. M4 vaguely aimed around the pillar, firing the two rounds, letting the 'thunk' of an empty bolt ring loud and clear.

"Can't count?" The twisted amusement in her enemy's voice is palpable by this point.

Footsteps. She was coming closer. M4 tensed, counting down in her head. The cool metal in her palm provided no comfort, as she counted steps.

Leverage and surprise are more important than physical strength. M16's voice rattled about her head, her sister swirling a glass of whiskey around. You hesitate too much. AR-15's carried the subtle anger her pink-haired sibling bottled up. See! Hit it right there and the whole arm breaks! SOPMOD's violent excitement unabated by the lubricants dripping off her clawed hand.

M4 stood. "You talk too much Sangvis." The footsteps stopped.

Then, a delighted cackle. "And here I thought you couldn't talk."

M4 tried to think of what AR-15 might have said. Probably something about not wasting her breath on trash, but M4 wanted to crawl in a hole just thinking about saying that. "You seemed happy talking to yourself."

"And you've got a mouth on you." They took another step. M4 darted across the open space, watching the Ringleader's blade fall, held in a tight two-handed grip, shattering another chunk of the pillar. "Hold still, you little shit!"

Gunfire rattled from the outside, until the Ringleader barked for them to hold fire. M4's chest ached, the stress continuing to rise, as she waited for her enemy to make another move. Even so, something stuck in her mind. "You said Griffon left me behind for some trash."

"That's right." A grunt, which M4 disregarded as just a vocal displeasure, but the thundering crash, hard enough to send her stumbling forward suggested something else. "Some eyepatch wearing little shit. Scarecrow made her sing like a bird." M4 backpedaled, trying not to think about the cracking and groaning from the ceiling. "Some blond Griffon Dolls saved Scarecrow from the effort of killing her."

An eye-patch wearing Doll would be Skorpion. That meant… M4 shook that thought off. She could worry about her temporary ally later. She needed to survive this battle first. Trying to inject as much anger into her voice as she could, the AR team leader straightened. "I see." She shifted to the left; another blow sent concrete flying. They were close enough to nearly touch, doing the slow circling dance that M4 glimpsed in the trashy movies that M16 liked.

See! SOPMOD cackled, stomping on the elbow of the dead Vespid as she removed the arm. You just grab and pull! She heard the Ringleader grunt again, and M4 threw herself around the pillar.

Eyes widened in surprise, but the momentum carried her foe forwards. M4's left hand curled around the weapon at the Ringleader's hip, even as the cautionary words If I ever see you try that again- filled her mind. She released the item in her right hand, letting her rifle clatter against her body armor.

Wrenching the sword free, the Ringleader whirled, blade cutting nothing but air, as M4 kept moving, until her back was firmly against a new piece of cover, even as the crack of the flashback she had dropped filled the room. She transferred the stolen pistol to her right hand, attempting to override the locks.

Warning erupted across M4's vision, red blips calling out the security system built into the weapon. Her eyes narrowed; Electronic Warfare system directed to overcome them, but that took time.

"You little bitch!" The Ringleader roared, several impacts ringing out, the flashbang seeming to have done its work, even if they were getting closer. "Get back here!" Another crash. M4 started backing up, watching the warnings on her vision slowly fade. The blinded enemy hit the final support, and the last warnings vanished.

M4 fired. Then fired again. Then fired again.

The ringing in her ears redoubled as the massive weapon kicked, clouds of dust and concrete filling the air.

"That hurt you little shit!" M4 took another shot, the dust caving in around the projectile, centering on a large, raised metal limb.

Metal exploded and fluid flashed to steam, the Ringleader screamed in pain, still struggling forwards, even as she lost her grip on her primary weapon. "Doesn't…matter if you kill me." She rasped. "There are other ways to get to you."

M4 paused, trigger taut. It felt like a trap, but she couldn't risk not learning important information now.

A smirk grew on the Sangvis leader's face. "Hunter's closing in on your 'sisters'-"

M4's fingers clenched, almost losing her grip on the stolen weapon as it kicked. The Ringleader collapsed to the side, sparks flickering as her body tried to reconcile with the damage. Threat neutralized, M4 clipped the gun onto her rifle sling, deliberately reloading her weapon, enjoying the way the Ringleader's eyes narrowed in realization.

That did stop her from working in one final taunt. "What, don't like me talking about your sisters?" The Ringleader's mirth didn't abate, even as the twitching in her limbs grew slower. "Maybe Scarecrow will find them, I wonder if-."

Brass clattered on the floor, and the body ceased moving. M4 waited a short time, then turned, and sprinted out of the building.

Within minutes she'd slipped past the now mindless drones, and into the wastes.

-Faded Glory-

"Just come in, both of you." Both Echelon leaders jumped before stepping into the Commander's office. The lights were dim, and although they had no trouble seeing, Groza found it odd, but on the scale of strange choices her superior made, sitting in a dim room hardly registered. "How is Skorpion?"

"In considerable pain. She gave Kalina the information and entered standby until her injuries could be addressed." Groza reported, tracking the Commander's slow nod, and the fact that his eyes remained closed throughout her reply.

"Good. I confess that I would be more than a little annoyed if I went to all this trouble only for her to die." Eyes opening, they caught the dim blue light of the computer monitor, the slowly rotating Griffon and Kryuger logo almost visible in the reflection. "Am I correct in guessing this conversation is in fact with everyone on base?"

Across the network she could feel the surprise from the others, although Groza couldn't say she felt the same. Upon reflection, she realized the Commander had likely made these sorts of decisions in the past, frequently, and FAL's recounting of her conversation with him only reinforced that idea. "You would be."

From what she could tell he was neither pleased or annoyed by the confirmation, just nodding in acceptance. "That is fine." However, he volunteered nothing further, even as the clamor of surprised voices echoed about Groza's ears.

"What gave it away?" FAL broke the silence.

Picking out the Commander's reactions could be tricky, but Groza suspected the downturn in his eyes to be discomfort. "While neither of you like it, you both can understand why I made the choice I made." He looked to Groza. "Even if you do not like the choice, or being on the receiving end of its effects." Reluctantly, Groza could concede that yes, she understood the desire to alleviate risk, even if she disagreed with his methods. "However your subordinates are not inclined to such opinions, by happenstance or deliberate action on your part." He paused, then went on. "Also they would not be the first to bully an officer into sneaking a transmitter into a meeting with me."

FAL sat forwards, the tension rising in her shoulders with every word. "That implies a pattern in your actions."

The Commander shook his head. "I don't enjoy leaving people to die for the good of the mission, but it is something I have done in the past." The man didn't elaborate, going silent, head lolling back, eyes closing. "Would I have preferred to save Ingram? Absolutely. But do I believe that she could be saved without killing all of you? No." Her background chorus transformed into angry screaming.

"To paraphrase SV-98, 'That's bullshit'." Groza's fist clenched to hold onto her feelings. "And while I am personally and painfully aware of the necessity of sacrifices in conflict, that does not mean I have to approve."

That prompted a bit of amusement to enter his tone. "I would not expect you too, nor would you be the first to, perhaps rightly, accuse me of being cold." Straightening in the chair, he fixed Groza with a long stare. "I will however stand by my word. I am not in the business of trading the lives of my subordinates for potential gains." While the dim light made it hard to pick up the subtle cues Groza had been taught to use to detect falsehood, the intensity and directness suggested he was not lying. "Being alive to continue fighting is more valuable to our superiors than dying for some information. The majority of you have military training and combat experience, and all of you have useful talents. Almost certainly killing you, and jeopardizing everything, to save someone who was likely to die anyway is a fool's errand."

The angry chorus of voices had died down, replaced by direct grim questions, about hypotheticals. Groza leaned back, letting FAL take over, as she sorted her feelings. "For the sake of argument, you speak as if Groza's echelon acting would not have insured Ingram's survival." That silenced the mental chorus, obviously waiting. During the walk to the office, FAL suggested that they would likely need to indulge the hypotheticals, but Groza had hoped to avoid that. Getting into the waters of 'what if' never boded well in her experience.

For his part, the Commander took the suggestion in stride. "Indulge me, if you would, in a question. Let us suppose that I did not order Groza to stand down. For the sake of our little hypothetical, let us even suppose that SV-98 takes out the drone in a single hit. Sangvis reinforcements descend upon that area, and you fight them off. Given the battle damage she sustained, would Ingram have survived that battle?" They traded looks, alongside confused mental messages. "I am not laying a verbal trap, the question is genuine, both of you are more experienced in what Dolls can and cannot survive."

Groza shrugged, while FAL answered verbally, "She could have, but it is not assured. A military grade body can sustain quite a bit more damage than a civilian one, but most Dolls are not still equipped with military hardware these days."

"I see." He took a moment to consider that knowledge, before going on. "And I'm correct that her Core's status would have been equally imperiled, and thus the chances of a different outcome low?" Again, they both nodded. "And, for those of you who fought, how likely do you really find that sequence of events?" Another, longer, giving plenty of time for the other Dolls to chime in. Groza almost felt the displeasure through the network link, then the flat acceptance from SV-98, and a more reluctant acceptance from the others. "We can sit around for hours on end, debating hypotheticals, and applying hindsight to the situation, but given the information in my possession at that moment, and the distribution of forces, I will stand by my choice as the safest for all parties involved. Given how close to killing either Groza or PP-2000 one of those drones came, I am equally disinclined to risk engagement."

FAL hummed. "I see."

"Callous as it may sound, Ingram dying risked the least." He paused again, obviously weighing the words carefully. "Given our lack of manpower, materiel, and information, I need to act in a way that preserves any of those things, and rescuing Ingram would not do that."

SV-98 seemed ready to spit in fury. "You can just say you don't value the lives of those under your command." Groza decided not to raise that point.

FAL caught her eye. They got an answer, even if the rest of the group didn't like it, and it confirmed what they already knew. "And today?"

To Groza's immense surprise, all the previous confidence vanished, the man collapsing. "Yes. I assume you noticed what Scarecrow was doing."

"Stalling for time." Groza answered after a while. "I think we both remember using, or having such tactics used against us in the war." She caught FAL's nod from the corner of her eye.

The Commander didn't smile, but the twitch of his lips suggested he approved. "We have that in common. In my particular case during the battle of Tripoli, someone got the, well not bright idea but it was an effective one, to leave a few companies out to slow down the Russian advance." The measured phrasing, and a surprising bit of loathing packed into the word 'someone' left Groza wondering if the Commander really didn't know who gave the order. "Not enough to half the advance, just slow them, make the leadership cautious. Pick and poke at them, show the intelligence wasn't quite there." He sighed, shaking his head. "She did the same, throwing wave after wave of patrols at you, stalling for time. And then, to ensure I didn't catch on, used our newly rescued friend to contact me, keeping me busy with verbal sparring and promises of grizzly deaths for you."

Neither of them stopped the quick intake of surprise. An ambitious, but effective plan.

"That seems unusually advanced for Sangvis Ferri, does it not?" FAL mused. "I realize that the idea that they faked a battle already suggests all information about them to be suspect, but to go so far as to negotiate and engage in stalling tactics…"

The Commander gestured in a vague sense with his right hand, before wincing. "I do not believe all Ringleaders would be quite as willing as Scarecrow to engage in such dealings, as I suspect her choice to do so was largely motivated by self-preservation."

"Meaning?" FAL crossed her arms.

"If you found her with her forces scattered to the winds, we all agree that she would be nothing but a corpse." A chorus of mental agreements preceded the nods. "Scarecrow claimed, and I believe her, that she extracted the location of our target from Skorpion, and that an associate of hers was closing in on M4. According to Scarecrow on both the call and to you, they already captured M4, although I am not convinced of that."

Groza sucked in a breath. "But if Sangvis had done so, we would need to move to recover her as quickly as possible." A quick, grim smile crossed his face. "And to do that, we needed Skorpion's information."

"And we are still here talking because you are that certain Scarecrow's claim is false." While starting to relax, Groza could see the tension clinging to FAL.

"That, as well as a desire to wait for additional forces before potentially storming an enemy strongpoint." He paused, then barked out a mirthless laugh. "Also we have allowed some of these issues to fester long enough, and before we dive into a more complex operation where I may be required to directly issue battlefield commands I would prefer to resolve as many as possible." The man trailed off, rubbing at his eyes. "Intelligence gathering needed to be completed, and so it goes. Provided that our employer doesn't have some new bullshit up her sleeve, we'll be sortieing by noon."

"I cannot help but notice you are not confident in the idea of no new complications." Groza couldn't miss the frustrated, bitter tone.

The Commander cocked his head to the side, expression going entirely blank. "You did not hear it from me, but the Commander of Sector 9 has a rather negative opinion of our employer." Groza wanted to laugh, but a combination of the out of character statement, and the delivery killed the sound in her throat. "However, enough rumor mongering. Give me your impressions of Scarecrow."

-Faded Glory-

M4 rose from her position against a tree, stiff and sore from a shortened night sleep, straining for any further sounds that did not belong in nature. She'd only been able to sneak a few hours of fitful rest, in between extending her flight.

Her duel with the Ringleader seemed to prompt no additional pursuit but M4 kept running until her body demanded rest and energy. Starting to assemble the few bits of gear she removed, M4 began the preparations for fleeing again. The final step involved giving her weapons a check, including the stolen handgun. She couldn't bring herself to discard the thing, but carrying it still felt wrong. Shaking that thought off, she completed the inspection, satisfied that if another fight occurred, she could still defend herself.

Without the mindless task to occupy herself with, M4's mind turned to the status of her siblings, the knowing worry in her gut rising once again. The Ringleader implied they had not yet found her siblings, so she felt confident that they were safe for the short term, but the worry refused to abate.

Unbidden, the mocking taunt drifted to the front of her mind. Your Griffon buddies aren't even coming for you! Some eyepatch wearing little shit. Scarecrow made her sing like a bird.

Her chest twisted. Another person she'd sent to die. Worse than death, by the sound of it. Even though she'd assumed some degree of Command over the other Doll, they were too far away for M4 to even hope to get an inkling of her status, making it impossible to guess if the taunt was just a taunt, or a truthful statement.

"Keep moving." M16's advice continued to bounce around her mind, that she needed to always be moving, never let the enemy catch up, and getting ever closer to the protective screen of Griffon's soldiers. Except, M4 had seen no evidence of a Griffon presence beyond Skorpion and the Griffon dolls present at the safehouse.

Rising to her feet, M4 looked to the rising sun, stopping to squint at something that flashed across her vision. Focusing, and letting her Digimind handle the digital enhancement, M4 couldn't prevent the gasp.

The UAV banked wide, staring it's turn towards the south once again, and M4 scrambled in her equipment desperate for something, anything reflective, or at least that would signal her presence, all while trying to track the tiny object through the air. Without anything handy she could only try and catch the fading sunlight on the scope of her rifle.

At first, she couldn't tell for certain if the operator saw her, but on the third or fourth attempt the craft wiggled, slowing in the air, staring at another longer bank. Another flash, and another wiggle. She tried waving. The craft repeated the action.

M4 stood, staring around for a moment. She'd taken her rest in a small clearing, but from the glance at the terrain from an earlier hill she knew there to be a large clearing further south. She pointed at the drone, then at herself, then to the south, before starting to move in the direction.

-Faded Glory-

"You have something to say." Helian gave up on not glaring at her superior, given his understanding of her displeasure. While the statement could be considered factual, broaching the topic of someone that Kryuger personally brought into the company seemed tricky. Worse, Helian's brief investigations into Ian Blackwood turned up large volumes of conflicting information, and very little to actually attest to his character.

At times like this, Helian defaulted to the blunt solution, directly stating the problems such a thing forming the basis of her relationship with Kryuger, and she saw no reason to abandon those principles now. "I don't appreciate information about my subordinates being kept from me, in particular those with classified military backgrounds." She dropped the folder containing the information on Ian Blackwood on the desk. It barely made any noise, and Helian jabbed it with a finger. "I appreciate being given the ability to head off personnel problems before they happen, and this man has been nothing but."

A hint of a smile could be seen before it vanished behind Kryuger's usual bland expression. "I assume you are not referring to the solution he found for the problem of manpower in Sector 9."

Helian shook her head. "No. While I did not expect it, and I am entirely certain he is lying about the exact reasoning, I have no overt objections to that. I am referring to the eventual fallout from this request of Persica's, as well as an incomplete picture of the man himself." As she started outlining the situation in Sector 9, and the status of Persica's request, Helian kept a careful eye on Kryuger's reactions. He nodded in the right places, and frowned slightly a few times, but nothing about her description of the situation seemed to surprise her superior.

As her explanation concluded, Kryuger leaned back in his chair, seeming to be lost in thought. Helian stood, content to wait for her boss to finish his mental assessment. "While I agree that Blackwood's actions will be a hard sell with the other sector Commanders, I do not believe he is as upset as you believe about the incomplete nature of his orders, and any ire he feels is unlikely to be directed at you." Of all the responses Helian prepared a rebuttal for, that one seemed the least likely while preparing for this conversation.

Few people would say something like that with such surety, given the situation. Guessing at the reactions of others to deception and lies could be tricky at the best of times, and Kryuger always preferred to hedge his bets on such things. "You know him on a personal level." Kryuger didn't answer immediately, just holding her eyes. Helian shifted on her feet, doing her best to avoid being cowed, but as the moments ticked by she struggled to hold her ground.

Eventually the man relented, turning in his chair to watch the skyline. "Given what you have found, do you really believe he would have agreed to a position if I did not?" Helian firmed her stance, letting that serve as the answer. Kryuger sighed, relenting. "After the war, we briefly encountered one another several times, and I cannot prove we were on the opposite side of any given battlefield, we spent a good deal of time in the right places for that to be the case." Trailing off, he sighed. "Blackwood had implied knowledge that does not match with official records. He's congratulated me for medals that were never publicly announced, he's commented on events well away from any official record of his unit in surprising detail, and is unreasonably accepting of lacking information." His lips twisted, as if remembering something distasteful.

Helian mulled on that revelation for a moment. "I do not see why Blackwood would be any less likely to take deceit lightly, even if he has a history with the less than documented side of the war. If anything, that should predispose him to taking deception and misinformation poorly."

Kryuger hummed, standing. "By this point, Blackwood will have figured out that Persica has a plan behind the scenes. He is not going to see our failure to reveal that to him as anything out of the ordinary, he is trained to recognize those things on his own. If anything, he expects such behavior." Crossing his arms, the man continued after a few seconds of thought. "He will do his own research and investigation, and unless age has mellowed him considerably, Blackwood dislikes Persica more than you."

Helian couldn't help a snort of agreement. "In the one conversation I've seen between them, I got the impression she annoyed him." The memory of Blackwood's thorough explanation of the insanity of Persica's request did not fail to make her smile. "Regardless of his opinions about being deceived, the other Commanders are not going to like his methods."

Kryuger turned to face Helian again. "Because he is willing to sacrifice for the good of the mission."

Now it was Helian's turn, to cross her arms in mild annoyance. "While the majority of Sector Commanders are from a military background, there are more than a few idealists amongst them, and even the others will see his actions as cold." Helian glanced at the files again. "And if half the reports of Sangvis activity are true, we will need unity."

And, at once, the man deflated, returning to a merely human stature and burden. "Ian Blackwood is exactly where I want him in that situation."

Helian's breath hissed out. "I am not sure I find that reassuring."

"I do not say it to reassure you." Turning back to her, Kryuger shook his head. "On to other business: has Carter responded to our request to expand operations in the North, or does he persist in dragging his feet?"


AN: Hey hey hey. New chapter, and uh, it's a long one.

I know I promised update frequency a while back, but when I got into editing this chapter, I got halfway through editing Ian's conversation with Scarecrow, and realized that my first draft plot to be mostly lame, and made Scarecrow out as a bit of an idiot, and I had a much more interesting plot on my hands instead, so I had to rewritten the majority of the story, along with adding in a few scenes here and there. Upside is, double length update.

Also, please pour one out for Branded King having to edit this monster. Also for having to deal with my shit, and telling him I'd have it done four or five different times.

Questions, comments, concerns are all appreciated.

I can't promise a new update in a timely fashion, as the next chapter is going to be another long one. I will tell you that it likely to include the following: I too love hearing this psychotic murder dog scream about how she's going to make statues out of the limbs of her enemies- ClearlyInvsible, 2021