Retrospectively, Ian wasn't sure waiting as long as he did to give the full report on the operation to retrieve the AR team worked in his favor. While the ability to massage the facts of the situation to downplay some of the more eyebrow raising moments seemed reasonable in the moment, watching the Deputy Director's blood pressure rise in real time was not.

Then again, without a reasonable amount of sleep, Ian wasn't sure if he could have kept a blank face through the explanation of his 'bargain' with Scarecrow, and the stalking and combat that followed.

In that light, Helian's ability to stay calm never failed to impress him, as did the slow boil of her rage. As he finished speaking, she shifted her weight, fingers tightening on the tablet in her hand, pupils slightly dilated. With a proper video call, Ian could see her almost shaking from fury. "Do you make a habit of these 'unorthodox' solutions, Blackwood?" It took a surprising amount of focus to avoid flinching, and an equal amount to avoid trying to rise to the implicit challenge. He needed to appear at least somewhat contrite if he were to survive this mess.

"I do not intend to, ma'am." A partial truth, but a truth nonetheless. "My orders made it very clear that a loss of a VIP was not acceptable, and I made the best choices I could in the moment to avoid that outcome.'' Keeping to a dry, clipped tone felt best. Leaving anything for Helian to read into, or interpret would be ill advised.

"I get the feeling that intent is not the issue where you are concerned." Setting the tablet on an out of frame desk, Helian folded her arms behind her back. "You seize chances given to you, regardless of your intentions or the consequences of your actions." She paused, as if expecting Ian to interject but he knew better than to give her any more ammunition. There was enough in the report, and more if she went digging. With no forthcoming reply, she released a sharp breath. "We have policies for a reason, Blackwood."

Ian could recall a very similar call, part way through the war, a lighter haired Major with a striking resemblance to Helian explaining why his remit was changing, and why they would be acting more aggressively than before. At the time, he'd been just as uncomfortable. The fact the opposite conversation now left him squirming did not provoke the hilarity it should have.

Leaving that through for later, Ian tried to figure out the safest way to reply. Telling Helian that he deviated for a reason, and that reason was the only reason she had three living VIPs, would be factually correct, but asking for trouble. Trying to dance around the point would be equally troublesome, as there were enough half-truths and lies stacked up already, adding more would lead to the house of cards toppling eventually. As such, he elected to remain silent. Not the most advisable course of action, but it had the least repercussions.

Whether she recognized the game or not, Helian's eyes narrowed. "Unfortunately, Persica is quite pleased with your results." Ian didn't need the tone to tell him that his boss saw that as a further condemnation, and he made a note to find out just what the scientist did to annoy her at a later time.

"Given that I spent most of a day detailing how her request was poorly constructed, impossibly restrictive, and generally just one of the dumbest things I'd heard in most of a decade, I struggle to believe that." Pausing, Ian rubbed his chin, deciding to go out on a limb and admit some failing. "Further given that only three VIPs have been retrieved, without any leads on the location of the fourth."

"Persica is a remarkably forgiving woman." Helian, however, would not be, if Ian understood that undertone correctly. "According to your intelligence, Sangvis also had no leads on the remaining VIP, and as such, Persica is willing to overlook this lapse." What that suggested to Ian was that one of the VIPs he'd already rescued carried whatever Persica wanted. Another piece of information to acquire later. "That does lead to another question, Commander. What circumstances lead to the impromptu cooperation with Sector 2?"

Despite his blank expression Ian felt a bit of panic rise up. This would be the trickiest part of the entire conversation as he didn't have any indication of what information Sauer provided to Headquarters. Sticking strictly to facts felt safest. "They were present in Simferopol when we arrived. Combat was visible from the air, and long-range comms established contact. Sangvis presence in the city exceeded all estimates, making any request for them to leave the combat area untenable." It would have violated protocol at every level, and served as a petty jab at her earlier statement, one he felt justified in, at least this once.

From the twist on her face, Helian recognized the way he failed to answer the unasked question. She reached down, picking up the tablet again, skimming through something on it. Likely, searching for a reason to dig further. "Surprisingly, Sector 2 and Commander Sauer have made no inquiries into the situation, or further comments beyond the official combat report. They note the presence of unknown Dolls within the city, but list them as a part of Sector 9."

This time, Ian made no effort to conceal his surprise. Given the questions asked of him, he'd expected at least a bit of a poke up the chain of command. The man not doing so would also need to be investigated when he had a few minutes. Or he could ask KSG to ask RFB, again. "Commander Sauer contacted me during a period of downtime in the battle, and I fed him a line about military info-sec, and that grunts like us don't get told more than we need too. Claimed I didn't know anything beyond that a special ops team needed evac." Based on Suomi's comments, it seemed the man swallowed at least the general thrust of that story. "Told him I'd read him in if I learned anything new, but…" Ian shrugged. They both knew he lied, and Ian saw no reason to conceal that part from his superior.

Helian's scowl lifted, seeming to accept that they got the best possible outcome. "A lie built upon a foundation of truth." A mirthless smile darted across her eyes.

"Best option given the circumstances."

Helian's lips pursed. "I see." Consulting the tablet in her hand once more, Helian straightened. "Those do seem to be a specialty of yours, Blackwood." It did not feel wise to respond to that. "This time, they have worked in your favor." When he did not offer a reply, she went on. "I realize that you enjoy playing the game of cat and mouse with motivations and truth, but I do not."

And now they reached the crux of the matter, the point where her patience ran thin. Ian braced himself.

"We are both aware that this report," She tapped the tablet, "Is a razor-thin truth, disguising dubious choices you made in the name of 'completing the mission' and 'protecting friendlies'. It will satisfy the board, and anyone who reads it will believe you acted in the most rational way possible for the situations you were faced with."

Ian felt himself straighten, muscles coiling for a virtual battle that he felt he'd already lost.

"We are both aware that is at best a half truth. You stretch, bend, and twist rules, protocols, and instructions, without leaving proof behind. You engineer situations to work in your favor, coach words in ways that accusing you of wrongdoing seems insane, and construct the truth to fit the narrative you need."

Ian couldn't help but wonder just where this was going. His superior was obviously leading to something, but he couldn't sort out exactly what.

"Your polite fiction will remain intact." If she thought that trap would work, Ian overestimated her. From the way her lips twitched she did not. However, there would be a price. "You and Sector 9 will remain on standby for the moment, and will not be undertaking additional combat operations, until all details of this mission are concluded." That meant the final VIP.

"Ma'am." Nothing to do but accept.

"Further, upon completion of this mission, Sector 9 will remain as a priority for missions assigned by me." Helian glared down at him, and Ian winced. She couldn't prove he did anything so she'd keep him close until she could.

He saluted. "Ma'am." There was nothing else to say, and he suspected that pattern would hold for the rest of the meeting.

Faded Glory-

A few days ago, PP-2000 couldn't imagine seeking out SV-98 on her own ever again. But she'd put this conversation off for two days, regardless of personal feelings it needed to happen. So, she'd set aside the morning to finally hash things out with the sniper. According to Kalina she left the repair bay early in the day, leaving PP-200 with the thankless task of finding the other blonde on a large, under-populated base.

"Hey!" Turning, PP-2000 found herself face to face with Honey Badger, although it took her a few seconds to make the connection. Outside of combat gear, Honey Badger defaulted to a far more risqué outfit, the short skirt and bikini top under a heavy jacket giving her a more chaotic feel. "You looking for someone?"

"SV-98." Despite the fact that Honey Badger never seemed too reliable, PP-2000 didn't see any harm in asking.

Honey Badger cocked her head, thinking. "Blonde, sniper, right?" PP-2000 nodded. "She went off that way." Pointing down towards one the far end of the base, strangely the same place where PP-2000 received the offer to pilot from the Commander. PP-2000 started on head that way when Honey Badger spoke up again. "You guys have an issue or something?"

The question brought PP-2000 up short, looking back at the other Doll and trying to keep her face blank. "Why do you ask?"

Honey Badger shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets. "It's not my business, but she kept giving you weird looks while we were flying back." While PP-2000 couldn't say that 'giving weird looks' made a good metric for how personal relationships worked, her basic impressions of Honey Badger suggested she wasn't that perceptive, even for how obvious SV-98 could be. "Not very subtle either."

"I'm-" What could PP-2000 say to evade the question? "I'm still trying to figure that out." Honey Badger winced, and they both made good time extricating themselves from the situation.

True to the directions however, SV-98 sat on a rock near the fencing at the edge of the base. PP-2000 took a few seconds to watch the other Doll. SV-98 stared out over the trees, one knee pulled up under her chin. When PP-2000 made a bit of noise, SV-98 turned her head one eye locked on to her, then the sniper returned to staring.

As she moved towards a second rock as a place to sit, PP-2000 couldn't help but think the sniper didn't look right. SV-98 always carried herself with a certain confidence, the kind that drew just enough attention for people to realize she was there, but not enough to command the respect of those around her. It fit her place as Groza's shadow, and perhaps explained some of the unapproachability that lingered over them bother. They seemed to connect on a level that none of the other Dolls did.

Now, SV-98 seemed small, and alone, stripped of both her anger and her confidence. That left behind a sense of tiredness and loss. PP-2000 sat, and SV-98 sighed, shaking her head, and tugging at one of her gloves. None of it seemed to be an act, and a strange sympathy grew in PP-2000. She wanted to be angry, to rage at an attempt to play on her sympathy, but something held her back.

"My first memory is being told that my job is to fight and die so that humans won't." SV-98 eventually broke the silence. "They handed me a rifle, told me I was to listen to 'this one', Groza, and some human whose name I don't remember." A scoff followed, ringing hollow against the earth. "Within half an hour, I was dying in the dirt, flopped uselessly on top of Groza's corpse. I came to a repair station with a new gun already in hand, and a token compliment on my success."

Even the vague allusions to the violence of the war struggled to properly register. Although PP-2000 understood the nature of that type of combat better, she couldn't imagine speaking of it so casually.

"Repeat that same cycle for years, until they pulled us back to occupation duty." Low, rough, SV-98's voice swung from melancholy and rage. "For all those years they told us we were fighting for 'our' country. That our sacrifice and death saved millions of lives." Disbelief must have showed on PP-2000's face. "Yeah. A crock of shit."

"Most of the airline workers either lost someone, or knew someone who did." PP-2000 waited for SV-98 to say something, then tentatively ventured, "If that is saving millions of lives…"

"They must have killed millions of us, so it's possible." A shrug. "We never thought about that, in the moment. There was fighting to be done, orders to be followed. Then, one day, we were reading reports about the latest counterattack in occupied Germany, and officers came in, proclaiming 'victory', and Groza and I were guarding convoys pulling back from the frontlines."

"You stayed with the military?" There would be a point to this story, PP-2000 knew, and if nothing else, it painted a stark, and painful picture of life for her fellow blondes.

A shrug. "We were transferred around, filling various 'peacekeeping' missions. Mostly standing around looking dangerous to keep the locals in line."

PP-2000 could distinctly recall it being mentioned by one of her old managers that Dolls weren't used for the peacekeeping forces. Then again, she was younger, so perhaps that policy changed prior to the recent years.

SV-98 gave her a strange look, perhaps sensing some of her thoughts but kept talking. "For a bunch of mathematically sound, but utterly fucking bullshit reasons, they started cutting us military Dolls loose. Dumped us into IOP bodies, shoved us out the door, into the world. My first glimpse of the country I fought for."

"You were-" PP-2000 cut herself off. SV-98 said her first memory was being sent to fight, of course she was made for fighting.

"Made for the war?" Luckily the question didn't seem to upset her. "Yeah. Everyone needed soldiers, and Dolls were 'cheap', and easier to replace than humans." SV-98 started to tick off on her fingers. Poland threw anyone they could at us, including IOP bodies like this. Belgium doubled their numbers in three months with Dolls. Germans used Dolls to kill a hell of a lot of other Germans. Americans fielded the least Dolls, but that changed." There was no mistaking the bitter fury that bubbled up. "They promised lives, jobs, happiness when they cut us loose."

"Several years post war." PP-2000 couldn't imagine doing something that irresponsible. "After Dolls flooded the labor market, as everyone bought them up to replace the war dead."

"Looking back, I can see the lie. At the time, I didn't know a thing about how the world worked, and Groza didn't outwardly disbelieve them." SV-98 paused, lifting her head, from her knee stare more intensely. "You know that thing Groza does, where she goes all quiet, and doesn't quite answer your question?" PP-2000 nodded. "She did that. When I called her on it after we joined Griffon she just sighed, and told me that she wasn't sure."

PP-2000 made no effort to hide her surprise. "I would have thought you'd get a straight answer from her, given how close you are."

SV-98 shrugged. "She was a bit more fucked up back then, less open about the weirdness in her head. But I trusted her. So, we stuck together, trying to make it." Another, longer, pause, as SV-98 turned away again. Anger swept over her features, directed into the ether. "They treated us as pariahs. Dolls who died, died, and died again for them, killed, and suffered. Because we were former soldiers, former killers. Damaged, leftover bits of military programming, they said."

PP-2000's stomach flipped, and she suddenly couldn't look at SV-98. In her own small way she understood the feeling of being looked upon as broken or defective as a Doll, but all of that paled when compared to what SV-98 was describing. To be shunned by an entire country for doing what they bid you to do, was hard to comprehend.

When she finally did manage to drag her eyes back, the sniper's gaze met her, searching, and then relaxing. "If the people were bad, the Dolls were worse. They didn't know, and from my perspective didn't care. Wandering about carefree, ignorant of everything we did, and that happened to us. None of them seemed to realize that we were forgotten, treated as worse than dirt."

"And you started to resent us." That seemed to be the conclusion of this, and the eventual explanation for SV-98's actions.

A hum and a nod. "Never noticed it, until we joined up with Griffon. Groza and I are a package deal, but we didn't have anyone else, so we got assigned to you guys. First time we really dealt with Dolls who weren't vets on a day-to-day basis. At first, I could ignore all of that, the way you all were relaxed, easygoing. How none of you seemed to understand just what dying meant. Those things were normal in new recruits…" She trailed off.

PP-2000 couldn't help but think that phrasing 'they were assigned' to be somewhat odd, although it fit SV-98's more military view of the world. The thought made it easier to ignore the rest.

"I never knew what you have." SV-98 continued in a whisper, almost inaudible over background noises. "They created me to fight, and that is all I did, all I knew. When that ran out, they left us to the mercy of the people, and the people didn't want us, an ugly reminder of a war that took family and friends from them. Besides, they already had perfectly capable Dolls, ones who were created for violence, and didn't remember what it felt like to be ripped in half by the shrapnel from an AT missile." SV-98 licked her lips. "It's hard to miss something you don't know about…but watching you, 39, even Tiss, I guess...I did/."

PP-2000 didn't speak, waiting for SV-98 to continue, but it seemed the sniper finally ran out of words, steadfastly looking out into the woods. "That is less resentment and more envy." PP-2000 didn't know if she was making a statement or asking a question.

"I guess?" And it seemed neither did SV-98. "In my mind it's 'sticking my head up my ass'. "I thought I'd moved on, stuffed all that down in some deep dark hole...but fighting brought it all back, and when you asked it all just..." A pause. "It all just flooded out before I could stop it."

Given the time to think about it, PP-2000 frowned. "Why me, and not 39 or Tiss then?"

"You asked first?" SV-98 tried to smile but it came out mangled and she gave up. "You're an easier target. Quieter, more reserved, some shit obviously happened to you too, but in my head, that didn't hold up to my own misery, and instead became a way to lash out. And once I did, I'm a fucking stubborn idiot and doubled down." That point did not bear debating. "So now I'm sitting on a rock, doing a shit poor job of explaining myself instead of apologizing like I probably should be."

All told, it didn't make for the worst explanation for SV-98's actions, although it didn't make them any more acceptable.

"It's an improvement over throwing slurs at me." PP-2000 wasn't sure if she meant that as a joke or a statement, and it came out hesitantly, but hopefully conveyed her desire to take the unspoken apology in the spirit it was given.

SV-98's lips twitched. "I guess." They were quiet again. "Looking back, surprised you didn't punch me."

"I was too shocked and overwhelmed by all of it to even think about it...and even if I did, you would have done worse to me." They didn't need to mince words about that. PP-2000 would never match SV-98 in a fight.

"Fair." And again, they lapsed into silence, although with SV-98's peace said, it felt more companionable. "So, what the hell happens now?"

The absurdity of the situation could not have been understated in PP-2000's opinion, and it took all of will to not burst into manic laughter. "I don't know." Incredulity flashed over her face, and PP-2000 put her hands up. "This is a new experience for me as well."

"Great." SV-98 let her head drop back onto her knee. "Bit worthless to say it now, but I really am sorry."

"I know." PP-2000 sighed. She didn't really know what to think, or what to say. Sorry didn't make anything hurt less. "I don't think any of this is going to go away." SV-98 winced, but a small tilt of the head indicated her acceptance of the point. "Do you fix this?" Another nod. PP-2000 pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can't claim I'll forgive you for-" PP-200- stumbled over her words, "For that. We'll figure something out."

SV-98 didn't visibly react. "Better than I deserve."

They lapsed into a comfortable quiet, PP-2000 still working through all the implications of what she'd been told. She never disliked SV-98, and could easily sympathize with how the other Doll ended up where she did, being having slurs hurled in her face dragged up enough bad memories to leave a sour taste in her mouth.

Surprisingly, SV-98 broke the quiet. "You still piloting?"

"I know how to fly." Not how to be a soldier went unsaid. "Unless the Commander gets new pilots, I'm all you've got."

"Doubt he will. Pilots aren't cheap, and I'm pretty sure that isn't in the budget." SV-98 waved the concern aside. "Rather have flyers we know than new ones. Easier to trust them." Hearing SV-98 say something even vaguely complimentary of her felt odd, no matter the context. "You're also probably willing to talk Ballista out of throwing me out of a helicopter."

Briefly, anger flared up in PP-2000 before she quashed it. Ballista and her meddling could be handled later. Nonetheless, SV-98 went quiet, and without any reply from PP-2000 simply sat, seeming lost in thought.

"You know what's going on with 39?" The sudden subject change caught PP-2000 off guard.

"You've probably seen her more than I have in the last few days." PP-2000 pointed out, neglecting to admit she'd been making a bit of an effort to avoid the repair building. "Tiss hasn't mentioned anything when we've talked though."

"Hm." SV-98's expression twisted between frustration and concern before the tiredness from before returned in force.

"Why?"

"I've seen Dolls with that look before. Usually after the first-time shit went extremely sideways." A weight fell on SV-98's shoulders, her entire frame sagging further upon itself.

"Dying?" That phrase left enough room that PP-2000 felt compelled to clarify.

SV-98 shook her head. "Not always dying, just getting caught up in the general chaos of combat." Considering the situation once again, SV-98 sighed once again, shaking her head. "If you get a chance, talk with her. Better you than me or Groza."

Even in the context of their previous conversation the request seemed out of character. "Why?"

A bit of wry amusement appeared in SV-98's eyes. " We've fought and died so many times we're numb to the feeling. It's hard to remember that first burst of irrational fear and confusion when you wake up and are missing three hours of memories, when it happens so many times that you stop counting. "

"Oh." PP-2000 couldn't argue that point, and stood. She needed to find Ballista, and have a few words with the other sniper in her life.

Faded Glory–

"Commander?" Ian barely left the office before Five-seveN latched onto his side.

"Five-seveN." Ian would freely admit that something about her set him on edge, and this did not do anything to help that case. Her overly innocent posture and expression were betrayed by the obvious mischief and scheme in her eyes. "FNC and FN-49 recovering?" Helian's demand to speak with him immediately undercut Ian's intent to go and visit the two recovering Dolls.

"Yes." The direct response didn't help his suspicions, given how indirectly Five-seveN preferred to operate. "You escaped?"

He couldn't see any harm in using Five-seveN as a rumor delivery service. "Survived may be a more accurate term. It's been a while since I got chewed on quite that badly." The knowledge that someone at least reamed him up one side and down the other would help to close some of the rifts he'd opened, or so she hoped.

"It's been a while?" She parroted back, doing a respectable job of hiding the interest in her tone and expression, but the cadence of the words was a little too fast.

"Do you really think I've made it this far in my life without getting in hot water at least once?" Five-seveN shrugged, giving away little about her feelings. That either meant she didn't care, or they really did believe that. Both options were usable in the long term, but the second might be more useful to play into immediately. "You still taking bets if FAL and Groza are going to finally get a clue?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Commander." The innocent stare might have worked on someone else, but Ian could see the slight widening of the eyes and the way her hands tensed.

"I'm sure." Pausing in the middle of the hall, Ian crossed his arms, turning to stare down at Five-seveN. Normally he would continue this little dance, weaseling the information out of her over the course of tens of minutes, but having just walked out of the most intense examination in years, the idea of verbally sparring once again physically hurt. "What are you really after Five-seveN?"

The innocent air faded, her eyes narrowing, and features settling into the more usual conniving smirk. "A trade."

Of all the things Ian expected, a trade was not it. "And what, pray tell, are we trading?"

"You want everyone here to hate you less." A strange description of the situation, but he motioned for her to go on anyway. "And after everything that's happened, we've probably earned some time off hmm?" The beginnings of a smirk could be seen, as they got to the heart of the matter.

"Rather forthright of you." Ian allowed himself a bit of a smirk in return, curious where this was going. He could appreciate the forthrightness of the question, but the method seemed a bit roundabout.

"Perhaps." Five-seveN flipped a bit of hair over her shoulder, just a small gesture to draw his attention away from her for a moment. "It won't convince FAL, and probably will amuse Groza, but most of the others will play along."

"And they think I'm a piece of work."

Five-seveN showed no shame at all. "I'm sure you know the answer to that already, Commander." He never asked a question, but perhaps, he had.

Waving her point aside, Ian started to walk again, letting her keep pace. "You are making an awful lot of assumptions about me, Five-seveN."

"Maybe." She singsonged, before reverting to her usual self. "I am of the opinion that you are, ultimately, a reasonable person, and you want to coexist peacefully with us, and have us at least trust you not to kill everyone here for the sake of a mission."

"And so, you appointed yourself as the person to extend an offer of trust in return for time off." This didn't feel like a FAL or Groza plan, and Ian was entirely sure KSG wouldn't pull something like this. Likewise, the rest of the Dolls were either too direct to try this route, or too reserved to try this route. "What do you get out of this?"

"A woman must have some secrets, Commander." Fluttering her lashes prompted Ian to fix her with a more deadpan stare. "I can't want some bonding time with my teammates?"

"Do your teammates want bonding time with you?" A shrug. "How's this? Tell me the truth, and I'll consider it."

Her eyes narrowed, obviously weighing the merits. "For my part, I merely want some time to relax, and perhaps acquire a new coat." A pause. "Also, I will never pass on a chance to mock my esteemed leader for her fashion sense."

"I see." Ian rubbed his eyes. Today, he decided, absolutely sucked. "I'll consider it."

-Faded glory-

"Hey, Commander!" Kalina greeted him almost immediately upon stepping into the warehouse, waving from over a stack of newly arrived ammo crates. Further in, Fleur stuck her head out from a door.

"Kalina. Fleur." Ian looked over the half-inventoried pallets, containing bullets, supplies, and the other odds and ends that a paramilitary unit needed to function. "Do I want to ask how much this sets us back?"

"Less than we got paid." Kalina tapped a set of boxes, waving his concern aside. "I'm not sure why we're getting shipped some of these cartridges, but it's apparently on Miss. Persica's orders."

"Is she now." Ian glanced at some of the markers. .300 Blackout stood out as a rather expensive loading for eastern Europe, along with .40, a caliber he couldn't really find anyone on the base even using. At least ST AR-15 could use .300 Blackout. "I'll make sure to inquire when we talk again."

Kalina's eyes narrowed, and Ian reminded himself that Kalina could pick up on things surprisingly accurately even when he thought he was being subtle. "Actually talk, or are you going to yell at her for getting you into trouble?"

Part of Ian wanted to play at being offended just to see how long he could manage to string her along. Most of him was too tired for such a game, after spending hours getting harangued by Helian, for things that both were, and were not his fault, and then getting jumped by Five-seveN of all Dolls right after. That left a reasonable response. "Actually talk. I am capable of reasonable conversations, Kalina."

Her eyes remained narrow, but her expression lost most of its edge. "I'll add that to the list of things I'll believe when I see, Commander."

"Capable and good are very different metrics." An unsound counter argument but Ian wasn't trying to win, if anything he'd rather he 'lost' this little exchange. "I'm capable, but I will generally defer to people who are good at things. It's why I have every intent of leaving you to handle all of this." Giving an expansive gesture to the warehouse for emphasis, Ian hoped it would cement the genuine honesty of the words.

The small compliment appeared to dissolve the rest of Kalina's concerns, her usual bubbly smile breaking out once again. "Thanks, Commander."

Dipping his head to reinforce the point, it seemed like a good time to dig for the information he actually wanted. "On that same vein, you know the cities around here better than me, any particular one you like or dislike more?"

"Commander?" Two voices mingled together, both confused and concerned.

"Five-seveN raised a good point, that everyone deserves some time off after this." The shock faded, Kalina's eyes narrowing with thought, while Fleur crossed her arms, obviously not as convinced of his pure intentions. "You know this area, so figured you'd either know someplace that isn't likely to collapse from the chaos of three squads of Dolls, or that you want to suffer from the chaos of those same Dolls.

"That is cold, Commander." Fleur said it, but he could see the same thought in Kalina's eyes.

"I firmly believe in making the best use of the resources available to me, military, intelligence and economic." Ian shrugged. He'd been tempted to ask if Kalina wanted to economically ruin someone, but that might have sent the wrong message. "Also, I'm not terribly familiar with this part of Ukraine, or it's cities, and if I'm attempting to give off the impression that I'm attempting to cajole someone into not having as many personal issues with me via material goods, I prefer to succeed."

Both young women stared at him in disbelief, the complete shock almost enough to make Ian laugh. "I don't think admitting to bribery is how bribery works."

"When Five-seveN makes it clear the entire thing is bribery, I'm pretty sure that is exactly how bribery works." Some variation of this conversation seemed to repeat every few years of his life, and it never failed to entertain. "That and it's hardly a crime to bribe someone with something I'm already planning on doing."

"Yeah, you're a soldier not a lawyer, that's for damn sure." Fleur rolled her eyes as only a teenager could, while Kalina just shook her head. The Logistics officer seemed more immune to Ian's antics than Fleur, but that didn't mean she entirely approved, based on her expression.

"I didn't go to law school for a reason." Ian's lips twitched upwards at an old memory. "Had a friend who did, spent hundred grand to become a lawyer and got drafted into the Navy at bargain basement pay, last I checked sucker was still seventy grand in the hole ten years out." That drew appreciative winces from the pair. "This is why you don't go work on a boat. You get cold, wet, and pay to match."

"Pretty sure you Americans didn't get to choose where you were drafted." Not Kalina's most subtle probe for information, but Ian would let it pass unchallenged.

He could only shrug. "Enlisted well before they started drafting, so I never dealt with it, and you still got tracked for Spec Ops voluntarily, so the real bitter folks never made it to my neck of the woods." Two nods. "That, and I highly doubt some disillusioned Private was going to come over and give me what for about being drafted into the infantry instead of his life's dream of being a flyboy or some nonsense."

"Maybe." Fleur's tone made clear how unconvinced she was. "You come down here for anything else, or just to collect accomplices?"

"I believe there is a saying about pots and kettles that applies here." In a different situation, Ian would have expected to get flipped off instead of the pointed glare she sent his way. "But I did want to check in on you two, make sure things were going smoothly, and you didn't need anything, now that all of the chaos had died down."

"I'm fine." Kalina already returned to counting crates, pausing to give him a thumbs up. "If you're not-bribing people, we could use a proper engineer. I know the basics, but I'm not really qualified for any of that."

"I can put out feelers, but it might be a while." Finding a capable engineer already made his list of priorities, but having the confirmation of the need was good. Made the request slightly more palatable to the budgeting people.

"That's fine." Kalina vanished further into the warehouse as she kept tallying, waving as she did.

Turning, Ian took a longer look at Fleur. He didn't need any of his training to know that Fleur didn't feel as comfortable with the situation and preceding events. Despite her earlier barbed words, Fleur's jaw was set, and her posture closed. Nodding to the side, Ian started moving out of the warehouse, and she followed into the quieter areas towards the back of Sector 9.

"I have an Aunt." She started without warning, after standing for several minutes. "Drone pilot." From her expression Fleur needed to get something off her chest. "The only thing she ever said about the war was that 'I knew I needed to stop when I stopped feeling bad about the poor bastards I was bombing, and I stopped caring about the poor bastards I was supposed to be saving'." Distance made war impersonal, and that also made it hard to remain grounded. Ian understood that well, a grimace worming past his exhausted control. "I never got it."

"Ah." Perhaps forgetting that for all of her other tendencies, Fleur was still a teenager, and did not experience the things that many of the others on base proved a bit of Helian's point.

"They got lucky, didn't they?" Ian could not deny that, dipping his head in agreement. "It feels selfish, to be glad it's Dolls, and not-." She stopped, fishing for a way to say humans.

"It's an understandable feeling." Fleur shot him a sharp look, but Ian held his ground. "Not wanting to be in a position where your life is in danger is a normal thing to feel. Doubly so when someone has tried to murder you over relatively petty crimes."

Her shoulders stiffened, arms crossing. "Not sure they were petty, considering he hired you to come after me."

"They hired Griffon; Sector 9 just drew the short straw." Ian corrected her without much heat. "And you grew up in the post war, where everyone understands that we committed terrible crimes, slaughtering millions and millions of people for no effective result." Soviet power in Europe notwithstanding, but this was not the time to talk about geopolitical nuances. "You've come up in a time when Dolls are nigh ubiquitous. Both as soldiers, and civilian helpers, in dangerous positions. They take high risk jobs so you or I don't have too."

"After all, if they die, they can just come back." She parroted the words with no small scorn. "I was helping Kalina when OTs-39 came too. She was afraid, horrified..." Fleur trailed off. "It doesn't feel right, knowing that they're being asked to die, over and over, if they wake up to that."

"And now you understand why they were so upset with me when I refused to let them help Ingram." Fleur's eyes widened, then narrowed further. "And I think, part of why my argument that I wanted to preserve their lives went over as poorly as it did."

"I see." She rubbed at her shoulder, trying to hug herself. A familiar motion from soldiers returning for the first day or days of combat, and the horror finally setting in.

Unfortunately, he couldn't offer much comfort, jaded, and embittered as he was. "You are an idealist, Fleur. You're driven by a desire to right the wrongs you see in the world, even if you don't entirely know how." Reluctantly, she nodded, small amounts of tension fading from her expression. "And this is your first time running into one of these messy situations where your idealistic desires and the reality of conflict on the ground?"

"Yeah." No training required to read the confusion in her expression.

"There isn't anything wrong with you." It felt like the simplest place to start, and the least uncomfortable for them both. "You are human, and being selfish is a part of that, no matter how we may wish it not to be. Wanting to be away from life threatening danger, and glad that someone else is experiencing it instead of you is a normal thing to experience."

"But using them-"

Ian cut her off. "Using Dolls to fight our battles isn't right? Treating their lives as expendable?" She nodded. "Soldiers fight battles so the rest don't have too. And, for the most part, they signed up to be soldiers. They knew what they were getting in too, and that choice is one each person must make for themselves." Another, slower, nod. "And at what point did we treat their lives as expendable?"

"We didn't." A low whisper. "That didn't help 39, or FNC or FN-49."

"Death is..." Ian frowned, trying to find a good way to broach the topic. "An uncomfortable reality of war, and combat. I, and everyone here, can do the best they can to mitigate the casualties, but if two military units clash, casualties are likely." He could cite hundreds of examples, but examples weren't needed, just reassurance. "All we can do, as officers is try and reduce those losses. The best intelligence and leadership is still vulnerable to random chance, to blind spots, or sudden, new enemies we've never seen before."

Her face twisted, an ugly, disquieted expression. Caught in a valley between understanding and distaste, Fleur evidently didn't know where to fall, and Ian didn't know what to say that would make any of it better.

"Likewise, blaming ourselves for things outside our control is worthless in this context. We do what we can to control the factors we can control, and when we can't, we have to accept and adapt." Her eyes darted up, meeting Ian's stare with a wobbly one of her own. "It isn't an easy balance to strike, and I am not going to pretend I am a good role model for it, nor am I going to pretend to have answers. These are things you have to come to terms with, even if only from the edges." Ian stopped, chewing on how much to say going forwards. "I am always willing to talk, but I imagine that some of the others are more helpful than I am."

"No. This helped." Fleur stumbled over the words. "I... thanks."

"Course." He put a hand on her shoulder, before pulling back and turning to leave. Fleur obviously needed time to think, without him. "Do me a solid and give Kalina crap for being a gold digger for me? I'd do it myself, but I have more places to be."

"You just want someone else to get yelled at by her." Fleur managed a weak grin in return, but the feeble attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work.

"You can tell her it's from me, if that makes you feel better." Ian offered, and this time, she did flip him off.

-Faded Glory-

"Good?" RFB nudged KSG in the side, eyes narrowing when her girlfriend didn't immediately reply. After another few minutes she tried again. This time, KSG jerked, just a bit. "Hey."

"You need something?" While KSG's eyes were locked to her, RFB could tell she was focused elsewhere.

"You are spacing out." RFB pointed it out gently. Never ask what KSG was remembering, just remind her she was in the present, and let her sort it out herself.

"Less spacing out, more thinking." RFB set her console on her lap, openly frowning up at her girlfriend. Saying KSG and thinking went together was to understate the point. RFB could count on one hand the number of times she knew KSG wasn't thinking about something across years of knowing her.

Then again, KSG did sometimes claim she was thinking when spacing out, so some careful prodding to find the truth might still be required. "Thinking awful hard then."

A wan smile flickered over KSG's features, then vanished just as fast as it appeared. "Yes." RFB waited, knowing that when KSG finished sorting her thoughts she would elaborate. "What is your opinion of Blackwood?"

That brought RFB up short. She'd ignore the fact that KSG referred to the man by name instead of calling him Commander for the moment. She'd never thought about that too much, having only heard the man speak. "He seems kinda weird." She tried to make the tone questioning, hoping it would lead KSG into an explanation, but all she got was a small raise of the eyebrow, which meant her girlfriend wanted elaboration. "He's quiet, and intense when you look at him, but I don't think he likes people watching." RFB scratched her chin. "Does that make any sense?"

"It does." KSG nodded, but didn't continue, which meant she was still fishing for something.

"He's an American so Desert Eagle doesn't trust him…" RFB trailed off. "Well, she said that you said that he's good at his job but bad at people." KSG nodded. "Seems about right. Apparently, our Commander listens to her, ish, or something like that. Suomi said that those two talked and worked things out."

"Surprising."

RFB shrugged. "It's not that hard to convince the Commander of things, we do it all the time." An arch look followed, and KSG didn't even have the decency to look sheepish, despite both of them knowing exactly what RFB meant. RFB slapped her on the shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder if you really do eat crayons or something." KSG rolled her eyes. "I'm serious. You're all smart, and analytical, and you can make my head spin when you start talking, but you're also a complete doofus."

KSG tilted her head, as if considering the point, lips curling in the start of a smile. "Well, I do keep you around to keep my head from going too far up my ass."

"I thought that's because I was cute." Putting on a performative pout, RFB internally cheered. Getting KSG out of her funks could be tricky and doing it this fast could always be called a victory.

KSG made a show of thinking it over. "That is a nice side benefit, I admit." They were silent for a few minutes, RFB picking her console back up and swung her legs over KSG's lap, before flopping fully onto the couch. She started her game back up, letting the silence return. "What about you, RFB?"

"Huh?" She looked up, squirming a bit under KSG's suddenly intense gaze.

"How are you holding up?" KSG rephased her question, shifting just enough to face RFB directly. "Having been on actual combat deployment for a bit now."

"I get why you said it's boring as shit." RFB shrugged, pausing the game and setting it on her lap again. "Sector 2 doesn't have anything exciting happen. Sometimes we go out, punch Sangvis in the face, then go home. Mostly, we're sitting around waiting or doing patrols" Pausing she quickly minimized her existing game cycling through the library. "I did get Suomi to try that new Doom-clone I was telling you about. TMP even joined us one-night, super fun." Hopefully KSG would take the hint.

KSG shook her head. "I think for the moment I shouldn't intrude on your bonding time with Suomi." RFB could see the point, but she always tried to bridge the strange gaps between her girlfriend and sisters when she could. KSG and Suomi always got along in that they could try barbs without feeling bad, but they weren't close. "Right now, it's best if I don't keep digging the knife on her problems with me in. And you know she values spending time with just you."

"Suomi doesn't have that many problems with you." RFB knew that for a fact. "She doesn't hold this against you too much." KSG's lips thinned, obviously wanting to interject. "She doesn't." RFB repeated, and KSG relented. "She's probably more upset with me for talking her into it, than with you."

"I will take your word for that." Again, KSG's mind seemed to be elsewhere, seeming to look through RFB, before her focus snapped back again. "And that whole mess?" A vague nod to the outside, referring to the chaos from the past week.

"I'd rather not do that ever again." Any other words felt worthless. She knew none of what they experienced that day held a candle to what KSG or Desert Eagle did in the war, but having huddled on a rooftop under continuous fire with dwindling ammunition, RFB could appreciate the panic in KSG's eyes when she woke late at night, and the grim weight that the white-haired Doll carried on her shoulders on bad days. "Doing that, every day…" KSG put a hand over hers. Her eyes were dark with understanding, and RFB interlaced their fingers. The physical contact helped to chase back the remembered fear and panic.

"You don't have to talk about it." KSG's words were measured, taking a softer tone. "I just…" At once it hit RFB, why KSG had been distant earlier in the day.

"I'll be okay, KSG." RFB gave her hand a squeeze. Just for a moment, KSG's eyes darted down to their entwined fingers, as if to remind herself that the moment was real before her eyes met RFB's again. Unlike her girlfriend, RFB couldn't will her emotions into her eyes, leaving her with words and expressions, which both felt woefully inadequate to convey trust or love.

Relief washed over KSG, her shoulders dropping back, head dipping just a fraction of an inch, as a faint, honest smile tugged at her lips. It brightened every part of her face, chasing away the shadow and worries, leaving a tired sort of happiness in its place. "Thank you, RFB."

Pulling her down into a kiss, RFB wrapped her arms about her girlfriend, pulling her down onto the couch. KSG didn't protest, and as RFB started her game again, she could feel KSG's breathing level out as she drifted to sleep.

-Faded Glory-

Ian knew he made for a sorry sight, sitting alone in the mess hall, swirling a drink without any intent to do more than that. Drinking never made him feel better, if anything it made him feel worse, but he made a few exceptions. Yet, sitting there with the drink poured, it felt hollow.

Most ghosts of his past: comrades left to die, hard choices, and broken promises moved on, becoming a regret that never truly vanished. Being separated by time and distance, those regrets became impersonal, lurking in between memories and events, never quite making it to the surface. An order and its cost were easier to come to grips with than looking a man in the eyes, and promising him that a series of coordinated strikes across Europe would cut off the Russian response to the uprising he organized, knowing full well that every analysis said that wouldn't be the case.

Swirling his drink again, Ian sighed. They'd made a point to never interact with those contacts on a name basis, always working in code names, on the theory it kept people from becoming emotionally compromised, or information leaking. Seemed smart at the time, but not knowing names didn't make those faces any less vivid, young, idealistic, full of rage and fear, placing in impossible faith in the voice on the other side of a garbled audio connection. An impossible faith that voice never intended to deliver upon.

Footsteps at the door snapped Ian from his thoughts, head whipping around to lock on the new arrival. There weren't many options, the other human staff were long asleep, and the Dolls were either asleep or on patrol, and he'd left most of the lights off, so even if someone were up and wandering, they were unlikely to be drawn into the room.

Long silver hair and gold eyes left only one option for who his surprise visitor was, MG4 freezing at the edge of the light. Their eyes met a question flashing there, before Ian turned away, returning to staring into his drink. The clock ticked on, too slow to mark the seconds, but too fast to be anything else. With measured steps MG4 entered his field of view, making herself some variety of drink. No sudden movements, nothing sharp or even remotely threatening. He appreciated the gesture, unconscious as it might have been.

Finishing her task, MG4 sat down across from him, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. Her scarf still covered the lower part of her face, and Ian briefly wondered how she intended to drink something without moving it.

For a time, they sat in silence, neither making much eye contact, pointedly ignoring the lingering specters. Ian set down the glass, folding his hands on the table, fingers instinctively moving to fiddle with his ring. A phone sat heavy in his pocket, another thing he should be doing, instead of sitting and wallowing in memory.

MG4's eyes tracked the movement, and he caught the subtle surprise, which she tried to hide behind a small sip of her drink. While the question lingered, he knew she wouldn't ask.

Ian pulled the ring off, turning it over. "It's been three months since I talked to her." The words spilled out, a rush to get past the guilt. "It's…not that uncommon. We're both busy, government work for her, and whatever the hell you want to call this."

A twitch of the lips betrayed her slight amusement, hidden immediately behind another sip. Her eyes shone with open curiosity, and Ian found himself talking before really thinking about the words.

"We met working. A struggling government employee, struggling to serve a post war country, and a soldier struggling to remember there wasn't a war anymore. We told each other pretty lies, about how those things didn't matter, but she's still working, and I'm still playing at a war that's never left."

"It never leaves." A whisper, curiosity giving way to sympathy and understanding in MG4's gaze.

"No, it doesn't." Still turning the ring over in his fingers, Ian shook his head. Simple metal band, it felt far heavier than it should have. "But she did make it bearable, when you remember nothing but the screams of the dying and soon to be dying." Glass creaked as MG4's grip tightened on her glass. "I never managed to stumble my way out, and they kept demanding more of her, and by the time I started sleeping with a pistol under my pillow again we were already drifting apart."

MG4 didn't offer him pity, her expression twisting into a pale grimace. He suspected her old comrades told her similar stories.

"Germany was good to me." That took MG4 aback, lips parting in surprise, closing. Her file said she fought for the West, and as expected that tidbit caught her attention. "Gave me a job, a place to settle. A focus. A woman foolish enough to marry me." One who deserved better than three months of silence from him.

For the first time, she asked a question. "Why leave?"

"I…" That answer took a while to form. "It just slipped away, little by little. Remove a few grains of sand from a beach, and you still have a beach. But a million…" Not quite the truth, but close enough.

"Not Germany. Being a soldier." So soft, he almost missed it, against the ticking clock, and the rustle of fabric.

Because he could only regret so much. Spin so many lies, kill so many fools. "Had my fill of it. Not to mention," He held up his left watching it shake, just slightly, before tapping at his discolored eye. "Little bits of damage to a human add up."

"Right." MG4 looked down into her cup, then pulled her scarf back up over her mouth.

"My tour ended, and I stayed in Europe." At the time, he never thought it through, simply wanting to be done and out. "Didn't have a plan, I just wanted to stop." MG4 nodded, understanding dancing in his expression. "Wandered a bit, before stumbling into West Germany."

Slipping his ring back on, he gave MG4 a few seconds to interject, but she stayed quiet, just watching, and slowly sipping at her coffee.

"I miss it." A weight settled over them both, myriad meanings of those three words dueling in the air between them. A terrible admission, no matter which answer won.

"Yes." And it all came crashing down. "But I want to stop."

His lips went dry. "Yes."

The clock ticked onwards, a cruel companion to their vigil.


AN: Tada! New chapter. I very nearly named this 'Blackwood Has a Terrible Day' but the scope branched out to more than just Blackwood, so that name got scrapped. In either case, we're going to have some serious downtime, and get to know everyone a little better, including our 'charming' Commander.

No promises when the next update will come out, but this was written much faster than previous chapters. As always provide all sympathies to Branded King, who I dropped this on entirely out of nowhere, with about 3k more words than I originally promises, and is "only tolerating this shit cause it's fluff"

As always, reviews, questions, and comments are always appreciated!