The far distant chop of a helicopter sent M4 into a brief panic before she recognized the sound. The Griffon Commander had been out of contact for several hours now, long enough that that AR team leader started to feel concerned that help might not actually be coming. Even the sound of helicopters didn't completely remove that pit in her gut, as they could simply be ferrying supplies in or out of whatever position the Commander wanted to hold.
Having long since abandoned the idea of cover, M4 continued her jog down the ruins of yet another neighborhood, sweeping the skyline every few seconds, for any sign of aircraft. It didn't take long before she could pick out the rapidly approaching aircraft, and only a minute before she could visually identify it. The pilot banked, diverting slightly from the direct approach path, and M4 could pick out the forms of Dolls sitting in the back.
An overwhelming sense of relief crashed over her, the wave of loneliness finally breaking, and overwhelming any desire for caution. M4 broke into a full sprint, towards the area where they seemed to be landing. She almost tripped over a jutting piece of roadway, then did manage to stumble into a graceless roll a few moments later. The Griffon helicopter circled once, on a wide arc, before starting to descend.
The short three minutes without visual contact stretched on, before M4 rounded a corner enough to get a proper visual on them.
Despite the lack of Sangvis units in the area, the Griffon Dolls were still rushing to cover, traffic barriers and ruined cars, weapons sweeping across the approaches to their landing spot. When nothing presented an immediate threat, they seemed to relax, although M4 could see at least two guns tracking her approach, as she slowed to a jog. A different Doll waved, and M4 tentatively waved back.
Returning her attention to the Doll in front of her, M4 couldn't help a shiver. Blue eyes locked on to her, leaving her with the feeling of being judged, or at least, measured, against some invisible standard. Besides blonde hair, she couldn't pick out too many characteristics from under the uniform, plate carrier, and other equipment.
The Griffon Doll spoke first, forced to shout over the distance and idling helicopter. "M4A1?"
"Y-yes." She stumbled over the word, holding off her question until they were close enough to speak more normally. "You are with the Sector 9 Commander?"
For a second, the other Doll's expression shifted, guarded, distant, possibly even upset. M4 started to take back her question when the other Doll dipped her head. "Yes."
"Did the plan change?" She fell into step with the other Doll, watching the remaining four stay at their posts, eyes still on the outer ring.
"Sangvis is deploying from the north, the Commander wanted to pick you up as soon as possible." A shrug. "Hold off on questions until we are in the air." Her head cocked, a quick frown flashing across her face, before a head shake. "Oh. FAL."
M4 blinked a few times before realizing she was being given the woman's name. "Alright." While she'd only known FAL for thirty seconds, M4 already decided she did not want to end up on the receiving end of her anger.
"Found her?" The pilot called out as they approached.
"She found us." FAL corrected. "How far south did they set up?"
The pilot shrugged. "It'll add another ten minutes to the flight at most." The duo traded nods, before FAL let M4 clamber inside. The Doll flying caught her eye, then looked away again just as fast. FAL followed, sitting down beside M4.
As the rest of the Dolls started to clamber into the cabin, a small notification popped up in the center of M4's vision, a silent offer of Griffon network access.
For a moment, M4's panic returned with a vengeance, her mind racing to the cluster of data stored in the depths of her Neural Cloud, information that Persica made very clear no one else should be allowed to access, not even her sister. One of FAL's Dolls, much shorter than the rest, and wielding what M4 recognized as an FNC, offered her a chocolate bar and an encouraging smile.
The entire craft shuddered, engine noise rising as they took flight. M4 met FAL's eyes again, trying her best to avoid conveying her uncertainty to the Echelon leader,
while still asking the question 'can I trust your Commander completely'.
She received a cold, but affirming nod, and after a few seconds more hesitation, accepted the data connection.
Information poured in. The Echelon's callsign was Artemis, and the Doll who offered her chocolate was indeed FNC. She could all but feel the communication lines snap into place, the rather foreign feeling of being connected to anyone besides her sisters giving her the urge to squirm.
FAL held out her hand, the hologram projector in her palm, snapping to life, giving M4 her first grainy view of the man who had put so much into locating her.
"M4." His voice bounced around her head, the same as when she was talking via his Drones. "I see FAL found you without trouble."
-Faded Glory-
"SV-98." Ballista ended the stilted quiet that had filled the time between their reports.
"Yeah?" Turning to face the other sniper, SV-98 made no effort to disguise her annoyance. This entire situation put her on edge, both Ballista's frigid exterior, and the complete lack of Sangvis troops, and she wanted to go back to watching.
Ballista either did not care, or did not notice. "What is your problem with PP-2000?"
A snappy, angry retort rose to her throat, and SV-98 quashed it, the weight of Groza's gaze heavy on her shoulders. "I don't see why that is your problem?"
Ballista sat up. "PP-2000 is forgiving, perhaps more than is good for her." The other sniper pulled her rifle onto her lap, hands folding across it. "Given your sanctimonious proclamation that Groza should have left her to die, I am not." SV-98 winced. Something about the flat delivery made the words hurt more. "I repeat my question. What is your problem with her?"
"Something I need to work out for myself." Unwilling to suffer under that stare, SV-98 turned away, scanning the streets below. "You lot are vets."
"We are." Whatever Ballista expected, that hadn't been it, and SV-98 considered the slight slip of tone a victory.
"I'm going to hazard a guess they treated you like shit when they stopped having Russians to shoot, given where you ended up." A pause, but no rebuttal came. "At first, they treated us alright. Reassigned to backline positions, shuffled around to be MPs, told to hurry up and wait. A few units stayed on active duty to put down rebellions or uprisings, but after a few years, those stopped happening, and the costs of keeping an army of Dolls piled up, it changed."
"Changed?" A statement and a question rolled into one. SV-98 let her head roll back against the concrete.
"Someone got the bright idea that we should be put back into civilian model bodies when we returned from the battlefront. Something about 'people will panic less' or some other equally bullshit reason. Well, those bodies got expensive, even the mass-produced combat chassis did, as parts started to fail, and the problems we never lived long enough to have cropped up."
"Something similar happened in the West, although much earlier." Ballista confirmed, and SV-98 hummed, having already guessed that much, before continuing.
"It didn't help that half of us got shit for bodies.'' SV-98 thumped her own leg. "Groza got lucky, I still figure she 'convinced' someone in logistics to ensure she got a good one." SV-98 shook that thought off. Ballista didn't need to hear all her weird theories about her superiors' habits. "Moscow wanted to cut military spending, part of the 'reconciliation' with the West. And Dolls, with replacement parts, and mechanical failures, were an easy target."
"Cruel, but logical." Ballista's tone lost a bit of the edge, bleeding into something approaching sympathy.
"It's shit." It felt strange, agreeing with Ballista. Admitting that some part of her understood why she ended up in this position. "By that point, Dolls had been in civilian roles again for a while, and not many were looking to hire new ones. Those that were hiring specifically avoided military cast off. Rumor had it, we'd shoot you in your sleep. At least one old bastard said we were capitalist sleeper agents."
Her temporary partner snorted. "Ah yes. The average citizen."
"Yeah." In the far distance, gunfire echoed off the buildings. Too far away to see. "Before we joined Griffon, a lot of Dolls just…didn't get it. Had good lives. Never experienced the war, fighting, or even conceptualized the idea that those of us who did were treated any different. They didn't understand that, because I'd shot and killed humans in the war, people didn't want me."
Fabric rasped on the concrete, Ballista shifted positions. "Where did Groza factor into this?"
"She simply takes the abuse and moves on." A humorless chuckle, as SV-98 tried to find the kindest way to explain without her usual cutting words. "Groza is an eclectic collection of traits and talents. Most of them are something admirable, or at least, respectable, but she's also a collection of stupid opinions, including giving up herself for the good of others. That extends to taking the abuse of the populace in our stead."
Ballista nodded along. "PP-2000 suggested as such." While she never intended to dodge the question, SV-98 had to admit Ballista took her chance to bring it back around.
She also couldn't dodge the question. "I've not got my head so far up my own ass I can't admit I'm wrong." SV-98 pointedly ignored Ballista disbelief. "PP-2000 just…struck a nerve, and I…" Her throat closed around the words 'I messed up'.
Fortunately for her, Ballista didn't seem to need the additional words. The intensity of the stare increased, enough that SV-98 felt compelled to turn and try and meet Ballista's eyes. The white-haired sniper's expression gave nothing away, and SV-98 felt her sense of danger flare, fingers already creeping for her weapon, mind racing.
"If I take all of that to be true," Ballista began, words coming in a far more deliberate manner than usual, "Why did you not apologize?"
Plenty of withering comments made it to the tip of the Russian's tongue, and died. "Because I hadn't pulled my head out of my ass yet." Physiologically, SV-98 felt relatively sure she couldn't vomit, but the churning in her gut remained.
Ballista didn't let her gaze drop, before standing. She took two steps, towering over SV-98. While in theory letting her rifle hang from it's sling, only a hand on the grip meant that it wouldn't be a threat, the angle meant only a slight movement would let her put a round right through SV-98's torso. "I will take you at your word."
SV-98 didn't realize she had been holding her breath until it rushed back out.
"If you continue as you are, however," Ballista's eyes darkened, her mouth drawing into a thin line. "You will live to regret that choice."
"Right." Death threats were an unfortunate return to normalcy, and nothing that Russian found concerning. At most, Ballista would kill her in a slightly novel way, and she'd have another mark on the list of 'ways to not die a second time'.
Trying to pick out a precise emotion to describe Ballista proved impossible, but upset seemed appropriate. "I don't believe you have died by falling from a flying helicopter, SV-98."
That specific one classified as new, and SV-98's mind started working over the math, how long of a fall, the impact forces, she couldn't hold in a shudder. Falling from a helicopter classed under ways she never wanted to die. "No."
Ballista dipped her head, the last vestiges of an expression too cruel to be a smile vanishing into nothing. "Good." A switch flipped, and the older sniper relaxed, extending a hand, pulling SV-98 to her feet. "The others will be arriving soon."
SV-98 dusted off her pants, adjusting her gear, watching the taller Belgian turn, and start to leave. That conversation classified as deeply uncomfortable, and while she had no intention of continuing as she was, Ballista's threat only reinforced that feeling.
-Faded Glory-
"You are thinking." OTs-12 settled down at Groza's side. The secretive doll had been getting restless, after nearly an hour of waiting, and Groza was starting to sympathize with her. Outside of a brief instruction to hold position, he was tracking additional targets as well as the approaching Dolls from Sector 2.
Groza took a moment to size up the younger Doll, trying to decide just how much to reveal. "Yes. I would prefer to have a plan for what to do about this Suomi before she arrives."
OTs-12 winced. "Oh." A silence settled over them. Groza could guess at Tiss's thoughts, but didn't want to pry. "What do you think we did to her?"
Precise details about the Finnish frontlines never made it into Europe, so Groza could only guess. "If she fought in the Northern Front, then you would be better positioned to know, having been back on the homefront."
"Nobody said anything about the Northern Front." Shaking her head, Tiss crossed her arms. "Rumors said that horrible things happened, but that stayed rumors. I've never even met someone from the North." Groza hummed, pleased to have some theories confirmed, but she still had more questions than answers.
"Understood. Thank you, Tiss."
The other Doll waved a hand, expression sharp enough to forestall any comments. "The rest of us have to pull our weight around here, we can't just let you and SV do everything."
"While I appreciate the sentiments, for this, it may be better." Groza's eyes drifted to the building where the snipers had set up. "If Suomi is as Ak-Alfa and KSG describe, SV-98 and I are familiar with that." This time, Groza cut off the objection. "This is not me being stupid Tiss. Being subjected to unfiltered hatred, it gets into your head."
"And it won't get into yours? You don't have some secret ability to ignore things, Groza, I've known you long enough for that." The rebuke came at once, sharp, and with a hint of frustration.
"It will" She saw no reason to deny it. "But I have learned to endure." To the side, KSG's head tilted, her lips moving in time with a whispered conversation. Groza caught her eyes, and they traded a short nod. Soon. She'd find out how KSG knew another time. "It is possible I am being paranoid."
Tiss hummed, but didn't say anything. Her expression suggested she didn't think that to be the case. Groza pushed herself upright, leaving OTs-12 to her musing and headed for KSG. On the other side, FAL was doing the same, flanked by Five-seveN.
"-And ask her to keep her mouth shut, as a favor to me." A pause, obviously for a reply. "Yes, I know you can't control her, but I would like to think mutual respect carries some weight." From the way KSG's brow furrowed, the reply was not promising. "Understood. We'll be waiting."
"I thought we didn't have contact with them." FAL asked without prompting.
KSG rolled her shoulders, the barest hint of amusement flashing across her face. "On Griffon channels, we don't." FAL motioned for her to continue. "I have experience with Suomi and her sisters for personal more than professional reasons."
Groza could read between the lines well enough. "And that would be one of her sisters?"
"Yes." KSG rubbed the back of her right hand. "Just a precaution. One I'm never going to hear the end of."
While she could infer plenty, Groza put the question of personal connections aside for another time. "Are there any additional precautions that we should take? Anything we should avoid mentioning, or avoid doing?"
"While I could give you any number of pithy answers, the fact of the matter is that outside of avoiding mentioning whatever you Soviets did to the Finns, no, there isn't much you can do to mitigate her intense dislike." KSG seemed to realize that answer wasn't useful, shrugging apologetically, moving up to get a better view of the approach.
Groza fell in step, doing her best to avoid taking her anger out on the American. "Given that none of us actually know what happened, that should not be a concern."
With that, they settled into a companionable silence, with nothing to do but wait. The occasional cracks of gunfire died off, matching the reports from the snipers, that they didn't have any incoming hostiles.
Another fifteen minutes passed, before the new Dolls appeared, jogging across the short open space between blocks of buildings.
"Four new Dolls." SV-98's voice crackled on the comms. "IFF is friendly, no other information."
"Visual ID match Tactical Doll Suomi." A few seconds later, Ballista made the tentative identification.
"That's her." Ak-Alfa confirmed it, KSG nodding along. With that completed, the newest Echelon leader jerked her head, indicating she wanted FAL and Groza to follow her.
At a quick appraisal, Suomi was short, at least a head shorter than Groza, and the shortest of her squad by a decent margin but Groza couldn't pick out much more than that under the grime of combat and the bland Griffon uniform. They drew half a dozen paces away, weapons hanging loose across their chests, or holstered.
"KSG." Cordial, but not what Groza would have called outwardly friendly. Her eyes flickered over to Groza, then to her weapon, and the tone shifted immediately. "Comrade. I see you've avoided getting shot." Sharp, baiting. Groza ignored it, and she felt FAL stiffen.
"KSG! Alfa." One of the others in Suomi's Echelon waved, and to Groza's immense surprise, KSG's lips shifted into a genuine smile.
"RFB."
"You two can flirt later." Suomi snapped, and the aforementioned RFB flushed, although KSG didn't seem phazed. "You could have put a little more effort into dealing with the trash."
"No one bothered to pass along the fact that enemy concentrations in the city were increasing." The snappish reply from Ak-Alfa caught everyone off guard, until Groza recalled the insinuation that these two didn't get along. Glares were exchanged, and the Dolls in the back shifted uneasily.
"They weren't." Turning to glare back the way she came, the Finnish sub-machine gunner muttered something under her breath. "Then new orders came in." Groza knew they shouldn't have affected anything, they were receiving new orders themselves around that time.
"Nothing we did." FAL verbalized that opinion, and received a shrug in reply.
"We can argue about who is responsible for what later." KSG's declaration dragged all eyes to her. "Groza, can you link her into the network?"
Suomi's eyes snapped back, and Groza held the stare, doing her level best not to squirm under the weight of intense dislike. The experience was not new, although the intensity might have been. "I can." She pushed aside the misgivings, and extended her hand. Not strictly needed, and both of them knew it.
A brief internal war played out on Suomi's face, before she stepped forwards, grasping Groza's forearm hard enough to make her skeleton creak. The physical authentications passed. Groza met the implicit challenge, waiting a fraction longer than required to send the network credentials.
Suomi matched her for fractions, before the information flashed across her mind, including names, and statuses. Desert Eagle, K2, Suomi, and RFB, a four-person Echelon. They released the grip, and stepped back. Behind Suomi, both Desert Eagle and K2 looked uneasy.
"Er…Everyone?" M4's voice broke the standoff, waving from beside a rusted vehicle. "The Commander."
-Faded Glory-
New orders given, Ian closed the connection, leaning forwards to rest against the table. Not a slump, rather a resting lean. At least, that was what he intended to insist upon if either subordinate asked.
"Sir?" As seemed to be the formula, Lena broke the silence.
Ian saw no reason to lie, or even misdirect. "I am attempting to reconcile the conflicting details about M4A1."
"When you first spoke, she seemed assured, and confident, but now she seems to want to fade into the shadows and not speak?" The drone operator rattled off. "It's a bit unusual."
"It's not unusual, it flat doesn't make sense." Brow furrowing, he snorted. "She supposedly leads an elite black ops team. Like hell." They would eat her alive.
"She could be one hell of an actress." From his spot, Aleksander didn't sound the most convinced of his own idea. "We all agree she killed the Ringleader, could she be faking the shyness?"
"Maybe?" Lena's tone suggested she didn't buy that. "I never worked with the hush-hush types, but that seems like more acting than they could pull off." Both of them subtly shifted attention to Ian, obviously waiting.
The man shook his head. "Doubtful. Special Forces types are not prone to play acting." At least, not without purpose. "We can debate that later. Status on the two new tags?"
"Alpha remains heading north, and should rendezvous with friendly units within the hour. Beta is moving South-Southeast." Lena fiddled with a display. "Nighthawk will be back on base in twenty-five."
"Noted." Even the signals from M4's teammates didn't line up with expected behavior. Initially detected together, they started to separate at high speed almost immediately after. Thanks to the urban environment, and shadows cast from building to building, tracking them via anything but the encoded transmissions proved difficult at best, and impossible at worst. The few grainy images they managed to get revealed two dolls, not matching any Sangvis in the database. "Continue tracking them, and inform all elements when contact is expected."
Lena nodded. "Sir."
Ian went back to staring at the screen, blinking a few times as his eyes tried to swim out of focus. As it stood, they would be able to retrieve the second target, but would not be able to rescue the third before sundown. That left the unpleasant situation of needing to engage in nighttime combat or confront a massive incoming force.
"Commander. Something that occurred to me." Shoving the considerations of approach aside, Ian glanced up at Lena once again. This time she wore a pensive expression. "Did you expect that Sector 2 Echelon to be in the area?"
Internally, Ian braced for an argument. "No."
The Drone operator's eyes narrowed, taking a moment to formulate her reply, and Aleksander straightened in his seat. "Commander. You barely blinked when that report came in. While I'll give you that you're not in a position to force them to leave, that doesn't translate to having arguments lined up to convince them to help."
"It is my job to prepare for edge cases." This would be trouble to navigate and he knew it.
She shook her head. "Scarecrow's call caught you off guard. You adjusted fast, and while you came up with a stupid plan, you made up a plan, after that 'oh shit' moment. Given how we are not supposed to be getting outside help, I expected the same, here, and instead you started giving a list of arguments as to why they should help."
Ian considered his options. He doubtlessly could tie enough verbal knots to get her to drop the question, but he also knew there would need to be some kernel of truth. "I received no promises that an Echelon from Sector 2 would be present in our operational area."
Lena sighed, shaking her head as she returned her attention to his station. "You can just say, 'You aren't allowed to know'."
Ian felt a bit of amusement color his features. While not the intended result he could accept it. "I could."
"But you won't."
"I said what I said."
"And I don't suppose we get to know why?" Aleksander chimed in at last.
Ian hummed. This wouldn't be over, but he could handle it later. They were professional.
-Faded Glory-
"I think RFB is going to throttle you." Alfa offered no preamble to the question, presented on a private comm. It presented a welcome change from the monotony of clearing the city, filled with the muted bang of gunfire inside buildings, and the crunch of Sangvis' parts under her boots. Most of the other Dolls had fanned into the buildings, taking on the messy task of clearing the Sangvis patrols and ambushers, leaving only a few with KSG to mind the street.
"Doubtful." KSG risked a glance at the Doll they had been assigned to rescue. They were kneeling behind a pair of crashed cars, now long since turned to rust. M4 seemed entirely focused on the task at hand, peering up over the lip their cover presented, and clutching tightly at her weapon. Catching KSG's stare, they locked eyes, and M4 made a quiet 'eep', breaking eye contact.
"Doubtful." Through the Comm, KSG could hear the crunch of a Sangvis unit getting hit with a weapon stock. Overhead rifle rounds cracked, the quiet mutterings of eliminated targets matching the marks on the tactical map. "Explain why that is doubtful, KSG, she has been muttering about you being 'insufferable' and 'obsessed with being all professional'."
"She's not including profanities, or suggestions she has known my mother in ways that are thoroughly inappropriate." New markers appeared on the map, sprinting from alleyways further down and rushing the street at large. "Brutes. MG4, left. Badger, right." Behind her, M4 tensed.
KSG waited, timing her rise to when the enemy had to slow to deal with breaks in the road. Gunfire erupted from either side as she stood, planting a shot in the Brute's chest. Smaller pops followed, M4 removing the final straggler. KSG watched the body twitch for a few seconds, before lowering her weapon.
The Commander broke the quiet. "Status."
"Wolf. Street clear."
"Artemis, building clear."
"Lightning, building clear."
"Suomi, clear."
"Understood." A crackle, and muffled voices. "Be advised, Sangvis appears to be moving a large force in your direction. Someone kicked a hornet's nest, you are going to get caught up in it."
"Understood." A chorus of voices, then the rush of static as the connection closed.
"What does that mean?" M4 didn't ask over the radio, and KSG could sigh.
"It means we're about to have company, and a lot of it." She switched to comms. "Thoughts?"
"The street is a poor choice of battlefield." Unsurprisingly, Groza started off. "We may be more capable, but numerical advantages cannot be ignored."
And, just as KSG predicted, FAL spoke next. "None of the buildings we have cleared offer good defensive positions." A spot pinged on KSG's mental map. "This one might work."
"Old hotel. Plenty of rooms for Sangvis to hide in." Suomi seemed caught between a rebuke and an idea. "Although, plenty of rooms for us to fight from. Good view of the intersection."
KSG eyes the building in question, thumbing fresh shells into her weapon as she considered. "If there is something we can use for suitable cover."
"Some counters, furniture, maybe some debris." M4 rattled off, squinting at the room in question, eyes straining. "I don't see any Sangvis?" When KSG turned to look at her, M4 held her ground.
Taking that as confidence relayed the information. "M4 says no visible hostiles, counters and debris. Enough, we could make some barricades."
Suomi was the first to reply, with a surprising level of delight tinging her words. "Worst comes to worst, we can go room to room." No one objected, the line crackling providing an uncomfortable companion.
"Right." KSG bit her check as she considered. "Suomi, take your squad and sweep the building. Alfa, Badger with them." Affirmatives followed.
"We will handle overwatch." FAL seemed to pick up that KSG really did not want to start giving orders to people she'd barely known.
"And I will join you momentarily." Whether Groza realized or not, her confirmation settled things.
"Understood." KSG let the matter drop.
"Why does Suomi sound so…" M4 treid to find a word, before giving up with a shrug.
"Excited by the idea of room to room combat?" A nod. "She's used to that. And Sangvis is technically a Russian entity, which makes it better."
"Oh." The frown on the other Doll's face made it clear she didn't like that explanation, but whatever questions she might have had would wait. Something obviously weighed on her, but KSG didn't have time to muse on that.
The crunch of boots, as Groza's Echelon and the rest of KSG's subordinates arrived. She traded nods with the Russian leader, before they set out, towards the occasional pinpricks of gunfire.
-Faded Glory-
"You know that Suomi is pissed at you?" RFB asked, during a moment of downtime. Having cleared the building of hostiles, the four Echelons leaders plus M4 had convened and concluded they would be best off using the hotel as a point from which to engage the approaching Sangvis forces.
"Yes." KSG did her best to convey nonchalance in her shrug. "If she wants to say something, she can do it in person."
"Maybe." RFB nudged her in the shoulder, and KSG turned, one brow rising. "Do you like them?"
"Sector 9?" A nod. "I have been on base less than a week. No point in forming judgements."
RFB pouted. "Lame. You aren't really gonna tell me you don't have any opinions."
Rolling her eyes, KSG crossed her arms. "I try and reserve judgments until I have something useful to work with. Ask me again later in the week."
"Will do." Despite herself KSG couldn't help but smile a bit. RFB's constant energy was surprisingly infectious. "Found anything fun?"
"Well, there's this new party pack out, but that's kinda boring with just us." RFB let her rifle hang from it's sling, counting off on her fingers. "Maybe something Retro." A teasing grin formed. "There has to be some kind of shooter you aren't good at."
"If it exists, I have no doubt you'll find it." Across the room, Alfa caught her eye, her second, flashing up five fingers. "I would say we could talk your sisters into something, but I suspect that is a bad idea at the moment."
"K2 might, for the right game." KSG hummed, and RFB went quiet. "Hey."
"Mm?" KSG shook herself, realizing that she'd been slipping out of attentiveness.
"When this is done, I'm stealing you." The direct declaration made KSG balk. "You owe me a date." The contrast between RFB's visible pout and laughing eyes was too much, and KSG failed to contain a bark of laughter, her girlfriend crossing her arms in faux outrage. "Hey!"
Collecting herself, KSG still found herself chuckling a bit. "I think I can manage that." Her lips twitched. "I've heard something about twisting the Commander's arm about giving us some time off when this is over."
"It's a date." RFB clapped her hands, before glancing side to side, and pulling KSG into an awkward hug, around the tangle of gear and guns. "Winner pays for dinner!" And before KSG could mount an effective retort, RFB dashed up the stairs towards her squad.
"A date?" Turning, KSG fixed Five-seveN with a hard stare. She had yet to figure out FAL's second, but she did know the perky Doll set her on edge. "I don't suppose you could offer the Captain tips to figuring that out?"
KSG blinked once, then twice. "No." As expected, Five-seveN pouted, but seemed to take the blunt refusal at face value. "I don't think I want to step in between those two." Five-seveN delivered a sage nod.
"Smart." Five-seveN waved, also moving up the stairs, leaving KSG to survey the lobby and try and put these new tidbits of information out of her mind.
-Faded Glory-
"Visual contact." SV-98 called it out first, followed shortly by the other snipers. "At least two companies." The lobby filled with curses, as the implications of those numbers sank in.
While the hotel lobby meant plenty of material to use to make things to hide behind, and equally, made for an effective kill box, it also meant they would be fighting for quite a while, just to wear down the numbers. Skorpion finished setting her grenades in easy reach, hands shaking. OTs-39 bit her lip, huddling closer to Groza.
"Permission to engage?" Ballista's question didn't waver, and seemed to calm the more uncertain members in the lobby. KSG chambered a shell, checking the attachment of her plating.
"Granted." KSG and Groza's voices mixed with FAL's over the radio. Everyone tensed, then the rifle shots sounded. They couldn't yet see the Sangvis forces, but the networked information feed provided a near constant string of updates. Someone whimpered. M4 drew her sidearm, checking that it was loaded.
"Incoming fire." FN-49's whisper struggled to rise above the sounds of gunfire. KSG let the low-level chatter fade, focusing on the command level instructions.
M4 spotted them first. "Scouts!"
The floating machines led the Sangvis group, already scattering as those posted in the windows started firing down. Behind them, Guards shifted so their shields provided cover from higher elevations, as the Sangvis behind them started firing upwards.
Most rounds pinged off the shields, although periodically a Guard's head would shatter, only to be replaced by another. The frequency of these events died down, as Sangvis troops came into range.
A collective breath went out when FAL spoke. "Whenever you are ready." On the map, the street was flooded, Sangvis almost to the front of the building.
"Understood." All eyes were on KSG. MG4's jaw set. Groza nodded. OTs-12 gulped. M4 tried to smile. "Weapons free."
Dolls scrambled into firing positions, and for a brief moment, the Sangvis forces buckled. With all attention on the upstairs, the first bursts were able to cut through even the heavier armor of the Guards, sending Doll parts and bodies flying. The second burst had less effect, some Guards dropping their shields, and the lighter rounds pinging harmlessly off.
Return fire started haphazardly, most going high although some bolts of plasma seared the floor, but as KSG watched, it started to gain cohesion. Somewhere a shout of surprise filtered across the comms.
"Grenade!" Taking the cue to duck, KSG counted the seconds as Skorpion lobbed the first explosive into the mass of bodies outside. Another grenade came from the opposite side. Groza popped up briefly firing, before ducking as bullets marched along the wall beside her.
The detonations added to the chaotic noise, the shrieks of metal tearing littering the sporadic gunfire. KSG checked upwards again, firing without aiming. A Ripper's arm tore off, the Doll spasming until another bullet finished it. Bullets pinged off the barricades, then KSG's shields.
OTs-39 screamed in pain, audible even over the shooting. Another grenade lobbed out, and as KSG ducked, she could see the pale SMG's left arm hanging entirely limp, blue fluid spewing from the wound. Groza dropped her weapon, moving to check on her teammate. KSG stood to her full height, letting all attention fall to her for a few seconds.
Vespids and Rippers locked on to the movement, leaving KSG no option but endure the continuous pummeling. Heat started to bleed through the plating before the impacts died off in a hail of machinegun fire.
Taking one final shot, KSG ducked back into cover again. Groza was still shooting but she could see OTs-39 clutching her arm.
"Reloading!" MG4 barked, and KSG switched magazine tubes, timing her rise with the others laying down another wave of fire, and the rhythm of combat returned. Rippers died, shot shattering torso and limb alike.
Another grenade joined the hail of bullets. A chunk of Vespid ricocheted off KSG's armor. MG4 finished reloading. M4 threw a Grenade into the street beyond. For all that effort, Sangvis kept pressing, now having pushed into the building. For a moment, they were held there, dead but not yet fallen bodies absorbing bullet upon bullet.
Skorpion made a pained noise as the exchange of fire resumed, but there was no time for anyone to check on her. Bullets pounded the structure around her, the impacts on her armor plating strong enough to justle her now. Outside, the howl of Striker guns filled the air. KSG started to rise, and the heat of a Vespid's plasma shot singed her hair.
Her next shot threw a Ripper into the line of fire of a Vespid. Skorpion bounced a Grenade off the ceiling. A shot scored across her shoulder, her armor not rising fast enough. Chips flew off the plates with every hit now. MG4's belt ran empty, and she switched to her pistol.
The first Sangvis to try and scale the makeshift barricades received two rounds to the head then KSG shot another.
"New contact!" SRS screamed, the words distant to KSG, caught in the process of throwing back a Guard then firing into its chest. Three shells left. Her mental tallies of her ally's ammo count proved equally unfavorable.
"Last one!" The final grenade threw up oil and lubricant, along with tearing Sangvis apart, and KSG realized she'd forgotten to breathe, as the Sangvis attack resumed. A bullet sheered the corner off one of her shields.
"Unknown contact!" FN-49 affirmed the call. "Signal unclear! IFF is…Sangvis?'' Outside a grenade went off, then another. "Attacking Sangvis!" The roar of Striker guns dimmed.
"Empty!" KSG pulled her shield up, and the SMG bullets rained down, forcing her to keep her limbs close, as she fumbled for her sidearm.
"Out!" MG4 produced a knife, her eyes flashing. At her side, Groza and OTs-12 fired semi-blind unable to pop up and aim. Both sported visible injuries.
Manic laughter rose over the sounds of fighting. Something hit KSG's shield, the force spinning her around and over. Metal sheared, the sound drowning everything else out. KSG braced for pain, bringing her pistol up, only to find her vision clear of hostiles.
"Captain! Captain!" SRS's voice joined the rattling in her ears. "New contact, ID keeps changing from Sangvis to Griffon and back! They're tearing apart Sangvis troops, but-"
"New hostile!" SV-98, on the open channel. "Blonde, Griffon type, Sangvis ID!"
"Holy shit!" KSG didn't know who shouted, focusing on standing, catching her breath.
The few remaining Sangivs forces were falling, leaving the street to clear, as KSG tentatively stepped out battered protection still between any hostile and her. The instinct to be at the forefront still ingrained.
With an unobstructed view of the street, KSG came up short. The new arrival, clad all in black, drove a completely mechanical arm into the skull of a Vespid, metal scrapping, sparks flying as circuitry and metal rubbed together. Sporting a vicious grin, she ripped her hand back out, the fist closed around a wad of electronics.
"Hehehehe." Too late, KSG realized she hadn't imagined the manic cackling, and that it was coming from the Doll before her. Soaked in the results of her kills, and wearing a delighted smile, she continued to gun down the few Sangvis stragglers, until only one remained, a Vespid that had somehow lost its weapon.
"Is she friendly?" Suomi asked the question.
"No clue, her username is all messed up."
"She destroyed the Strikers that were pinning us." FN-49's voice cracked.
Her Captain's did not. "She could be corrupted. Killing everything in sight."
The new Doll stopped laughing, bright smile staying in place as she addressed her prey. "Hrmm...I can't rip out your nails, maybe I should tear you apart, one wire at a time." The words seemed to be for her benefit, as if it made the choice easier.
"Permission to engage?" Several of the Dolls asked the question, and KSG realized Alfa was one of them, her second now at her side, weapon trained.
"Wait!" A single shot rang out, the Vespid falling, eliminated. "SOPMOD!" The M4 was beside her, waving.
Recognition and delight bloomed on the other Doll's face. "M4!"
"She's…friendly?" Alfa made no effort to hide her incredulity.
"She's my sister!" M4's voice ran thick with understandable panic. "You aren't shooting her!"
"Right." Groza managed to reply first. "Everyone stand down." More of a question than a command, in KSG's opinion. "Take stock of our situation, and we can adjust from there."
-Faded Glory-
Suomi stood beside her, surveying the carnage they had wrought. KSG's chest twisted. These things weren't supposed to be familiar, or comfortable. KSG kicked that thought aside, to focus on the now. "I appreciate this."
A huff. "Not enough to stop doing it."
"I've only done it twice."
"Twice too many, and with-" A sharp nod at the Russians in the group.
KSG felt her jaw set hard. "And none of them fought there. If anything, Desert Eagle has more cause to go after them than you, as I understand things."
A shrug. "A Russian is a Russian is a Russian."
KSG bit her tongue, the instinctive, 'and a bigot is a bigot' wouldn't change anything, even if it would make her feel better. Dimly she recognized some signs of eavesdropping, based on the flinches from the crowd. "You knew what I was doing. You could have refused, I'm sure someone else would have taken the assignment."
Suomi fixed KSG with her best glare. It might have worked better if KSG didn't have most of a foot on her in height. "You think I'm going to pass up a chance to watch one of them get shot? Unlikely." KSG arched a brow, and Suomi turned away with a huff1. "Also, RFB would have never let me hear the end of it, leaving you out to dry."
"Right." FAL trooped down the stairs with her squad. "Even so. Thanks. And tell Erwin as well."
"Sure." A nod. "I'm curious if I should also tell him to stop asking questions about what you are really doing?"
KSG made no effort to hide her wince. "Yes, that is for the best. Will he actually listen?"
"K2 or Deagle can find a way." Suomi waved that concern off. "Let's find out what this new weirdo is about."
-Faded Glory-
FAL's teammates joined her in the hallway, taking the chance to assess how they came out. Ballista and Five-seveN were largely unscathed, except for the expected light injuries from shrapnel and near misses. FNC was missing a finger on her right hand, along with a chunk of the grip on her weapon, while FN-49 didn't have any obvious wounds, but she seemed a bit uncomfortable nonetheless.
Ballista had the first comment, something that set FAL on edge. "She may be an annoying little shit, but I'll give SV-98 some credit, she can shoot." A few forced chuckles accompanied that remark, before they became serious again. "We got lucky."
"Yes." FAL saw no reason to dispute the point, and when no one had additional thoughts, led them down the stairs.
The main floor had been all but annihilated by the gunfire and grenades. Makeshift barricades riddled with holes or melted to slag; the front wall torn apart by the same. Off to one side, OTs-39 and K2 were having shattered elbows patched back together, and a few other injuries were being seen too.
FAL took a quick search of the Dolls, before locating Groza speaking with SV-98 off to one side. The Russian team leader caught her eyes, and they traded nods of understanding. KSG and Suomi were engaged in a hushed conversation, and M4 and the mad blonde Doll were standing in the streets.
"Patch up anything you need to." FAL instructed. "Five-seveN."
They others moved away, leaving them standing side by side. "We should have had a better plan." The razor's edge of an accusation.
"And what would you have had us do." As always, FAL found herself curious what reply her second might have. They didn't do this dance often, but Five-seveN always made it interesting when they did.
Her second exhaled, seeming to concede the point. "If they had this much firepower running around the city-."
FAL cut in. "I am aware." Five-seveN held her gaze. "This is not the Commander's fault, Five-seveN." The other Doll's lips thinned. "Given the situation, you cannot reasonably find fault in his actions. He informed us of changing battlefield conditions, and allowed us to make our best judgements on how to proceed. This is not a significant change in how the man has acted to this point."
Oddly that seemed to strengthen Five-seveN's resolve. "No, but perhaps how we react to his information should change."
"That is something we can assess when we return to base." FAL did her best to leave no room for argument, but the concession was enough for Five-seveN to back down.
Seemingly at the same time, the Sector 9 Echelon leaders finished their conversations. Suomi broke off to speak to the rest of her own team, and the three of them stepped out into the street, where the two VIP dolls were conversing. Even now, watching the ID tracker fluctuate between hostile and friendly on the newest arrival made FAL's finger twitch for a weapon.
"So." KSG started off. "You are?"
"M4 SOPMOD II." FAL shuddered. There were only minute differences between the manic grin that she wore in combat, and the friendly smile now on her face. "You can call me SOP, my sisters do."
"I see." KSG seemed to stumble, obviously taken aback by the friendly demeanor.
FAL had given some thought to how to proceed with this part, and had a few questions ready. "Were you traveling with anyone else?"
"Yup! AR-15." SOPMOD bobbed her head. "But we got attacked by some grumpy Ringleader, and she told me to come find help, and she'd draw them away."
FAL and Groza traded a frustrated look. "I see. Do you have any method of contacting her?"
"We could try." M4 took up the thread. "If she is running from a Ringleader AR-15 might not be able to respond."
"She'll be fine!" SOPMOD waved her mechanical hand, at the same time, pulling a small communication device from a pocket, and passing it to M4.
M4 fiddled with a few dials, before the air filled with static. "M4A1 to AR-15." Static answered her. "M4 to AR-15." More static. "AR-15!"
The device continued to spray static into the air, then clicked silent.
AN: M4 and SOPMOD acquired. Despite the AR team rescue feeling like an albatross on the story's neck, I've been having a surprising bit of fun with this final stretch of collecting the first three. Possibly because SOPMOD+Violence is an absolutely wonderful pairing, and you cannot convince me otherwise.
No promises on the speed of the next update, as I am fairly sure it's going to run long as well. Or will get split in two. Given how much longer this ran, I'm not entirely confident we'll finish up the next Chapter given the plans.
Questions, comments, etc, are always appreciated.
