Ballista could tell something changed in PP-2000 when she joined the pilot in their typical spot on the roof of the command building. Their eyes met for a moment, PP-2000's narrowing before she turned away, leaving Ballista to take her usual position in silence. Stiff backed, shoulder set in an almost combative position, Ballista felt that in general The pilot's back was straight, her shoulder set more firmly than the first time they met, a positive change in the sniper's opinion, even if she had mixed feelings about having that change directed at her.
"I had an interesting conversation yesterday." Several minutes later, PP-2000 broke the silence. Ballista recognized the tone as the same as the one FAL or Five-seveN used when they wanted to say something without expressly addressing another person. The association put her on edge.
An interesting conversation likely meant that SV-98 pulled her head out and apologized. Ballista felt a sense of relief, as that meant she didn't need to figure out how to navigate the results of her own impulsiveness, and threats. Namely, throwing SV-98 out of a Helicopter. While there were a few outs to avoid actually killing the other sniper, Ballista also knew she'd have to make something convincing if pushed, if just to avoid being mocked by her teammates, and avoid damaging her own credibility.
PP-2000's eyes were boring into the side of Ballista's head, and the sniper hummed, doing her best sideways look. It wouldn't cover her thinking forever, but should buy a few seconds. "Interesting conversations are usually preferable to boring ones."
"Perhaps." If PP-2000 sounded clipped previously, she dropped all pretense, becoming positively frigid. "SV-98's terrible communication skills aside, she is at least apologetic."
"Good." Nodding, Ballista let the tension fade from her chest. Off to a good start.
PP-2000 mirrored the nod, but didn't seem as pleased as Ballista might have expected. "Yes. It is nice to know that someone on base doesn't think I'm a mindless robot." A pause, giving a gap for Ballista to speak, one the sniper knew better than to take. "She also requested that I talk you out of throwing her from a helicopter."
"Ah." Ballista knew she failed to keep her surprise off her face, and from the way PP-2000's eyes flashed with anger that it was the wrong time to fail at controlling herself. She could probably talk her way out of the situation without admitting fault, it felt like the sort of play FAL would make. "I may have impulsively lashed out."
A sigh provided the only answer.
Getting ahead of the obvious question seemed like a smart choice, or would at least give Ballista the upper hand on the following conversation. "I had no intent of actually throwing her from a helicopter."
"I'm sure you didn't." The exasperation and disgust in PP-2000's voice undercut the words with a ruthless efficiency. "I remember you suggesting I do that if she wouldn't apologize."
"I did." Wincing, Ballista weighed her options before settling on the unvarnished truth. "When we were scouting the area, I asked what her problem with you was." Pausing to find the most effective phrasing for the next part, the realization that there was no way for her to make this any better. "It's something I could sympathize with, although how she handles it, perhaps not as much."
That much at least drew a bit of amusement from PP-2000's otherwise stony features. "I believe you have made that opinion quite clear."
"I have." Ballista accepted the point with as much grace as possible. "And I may have threatened to throw her out of a helicopter if she didn't get her act together. Not my proudest moment."
A small twitch of PP-2000's lips proved the only reaction. "Consistent at least."
"Yes. Consistently imitating my illustrious leaders." Ballista slumped back into the wall. "For someone who tries very hard not to be like them, I am remarkably good at falling into their habits. I am quite aware that you are capable of taking care of your own problems." It felt best to prevent that concern even being raised.
"Mmm." PP-2000 didn't say anything else for a while, although she seemed to be cooling off. At the very least the anger faded from her eyes. "What is it with you snipers and running your mouths?" Ballista cocked her head, earning her an eye roll for her trouble. "We know how SV-98 is. You went after her without thinking. From listening to radio chatter, it seems like SRS tends to annoy MG4."
That answered the question of what PP-2000 did while waiting on station, and raised a few interesting questions. "SV-98 and I are perhaps not representative cases, being rather poorly adjusted by all accounts. I may not always get along with her, but I'm still friends with, and willing to follow FAL." And SV-98 represented a far more concerning example of that problem.
"I see." This time, when they sat in silence it felt far more comfortable, without the hanging tension, it might have been what Ballista considered normal. "Please don't do that again?" A statement and a question. Ballista turned, meeting her eyes.
"I will do my best." Ballista willed her voice and body to convey her honesty, and for a brief moment it did not seem that PP-2000 believed her, before the pilot broke into a weak smile, and nodded.
-Faded Glory-
"Where do you think M16 is?" The overwhelming silence that came with being alone with AR-15 crated on SOPMOD, and she finally broke it.
"Who knows." AR-15 finished reloading another magazine, and slammed it into her weapon with more force than strictly required. SOP knew that tone meant trouble, and kept her mouth firmly shut as AR-15 started firing. The chimes of lead and steel made it clear that she landed hits repeatedly. SOPMOD kept careful track, as requested, of how she did. The last echoes of gunfire were fading when AR-15 spoke again. "She'll turn up whenever she feels like it's a good idea, and she'll have some smug self satisfied reason why it was all a good plan."
SOPMOD frowned. She'd never understood the lingering animosity between those two, and asking for answers only ever made it worse. "All hits." AR-15 just grunted, reloading and returning to a firing stance.
The pattern repeated, until on the fourth round, footsteps interrupted them. SOPMOD turned first. It took her a moment to place the new arrival. Of all the Dolls on Sector 9, she underwent one of the more radical shifts out of combat gear, now wearing a black jacket, gloves and leggings thrown over a sheer white top and sleeves.
"Hi!" SOPMOD waved. She didn't know too much about the other Doll, except that she seemed to be always a bit grumpy, and she worked with KSG, who was nice to them, which made her probably alright in SOP's opinion.
"SOPMOD. AR-15." Ak-Alfa crossed her arms. "I take it they haven't released M4 from the hell that is an officers meeting yet?"
AR-15 shrugged, and SOP took that as her cue to take the lead. "Nope. What are they even talking about that takes so long?"
Ak-Alfa rolled her eyes. "Far as I can tell, just the usual crap that comes with running a military unit. We're large enough now they've probably gotten dragged into sorting out chain of command." Her arms crossed. "Or they're just talking trash about everyone else. I gave up on trying to figure out what officers gathering in large numbers meant after a while."
"Sounds like you have experience." AR-15 set down her rifle, matching the crossed arms and stiff backed expression. SOPMOD could smell the good story and leaned forwards.
"Plenty." She drawled. "Marine officers gathering usually meant we were going on the offensive. Army officers, that meant someone stuffed up down the chain. Marine and Army officers, that was when you wanted to find a friendly Marine and ask what the scuttlebutt was, before you ended up in the dirt with the Reds."
That proved to be a less interesting story than SOPMOD expected, although the intensity that Ak-Alfa conveyed with her eyes worried her.
"You make it sound like they treated you equally." AR-15 found her voice first.
"Military? Yeah." A step up. "Americans got lucky. Half the country got blown to hell, meant Dolls were pulled up in numbers to fill the gaps, but without a lot of potential replacements in the pipeline. Meant they treated us a bit better, kept us alive longer." Her lips twitched. "Can't say our way was good, but I'd take it over what the Soviets or most of Europe did."
SOPMOD gulped. "And what did they do?"
"Soviets used dolls for weight of numbers, simply batter the Poles, then the Germans until they broke. Belgians and Germans used them to make up for troop number differences. While they had it better than the Soviets they still viewed them as easier to replace than a human soldier." Ak-Alfa's lips curled in frustration.
"We're Dolls." AR-15 pointed out. "We aren't humans."
"Maybe." Ak-Alfa rolled her shoulders. "Think is, some genius made it to be human. Gave us feelings, emotions, desires, all that crap that humans bang on about making them special. I've heard of a few unlucky Dolls who come factory standard with human defects in the eyes, or the like. So don't give me that shit about us being lesser."
Even AR-15 was taken aback by the intensity. SOPMOD looked between them, before realizing that getting involved here would be a bad idea, and opted to change the topic. "Did you come looking for M4, or just to practice?"
Briefly Ak-Alfa looked over at her. SOPMOD shivered, those were very different eyes. "No, I was looking for you two. I wanted to make sure I understood something."
"What's that?" This felt like a safer topic.
"I am correct in understanding that when you two were engaged by Hunter, she," Ak-Alfa jabbed a finger at AR-15, "Told you to find help, and then ran off to play bait?"
"Everything was under control." AR-15 asserted.
"I went to find help, yeah." SOPMOD spoke over her.
Ak-Alfa groaned, shaking her head. "Right. Everything was under control. Which involved you getting captured, disarmed, and thrown in a cell that we almost didn't manage to bail you out of."
"We did though!" SOPMOD felt inclined to add on, which earned her a positively withering glare.
"We did. It got three people killed, and several more injured. In return, we barely completed the objective, killed a lot of useless trash, and one Ringleader." Ak-Alfa snorted. "Not a resounding success by any metrics."
SOPMOD frowned. She understood that idea, but it was also quite obvious from a look that AR-15 didn't agree.
"They were all brought back, and-"
"And at least one of them is questioning if this is even the job she wants to do anymore, after the experience of losing such a long period of memory." Ak-Alfa cut her off. "The other two are 'fine'," SOP could all but taste the sarcasm, "but that's more a reality of being war vets than anything else. So, congratulations, you traumatized someone for life, for the sake of a stupid plan that is likely to get you shot."
AR-15 met the implicit challenge head on. "Everything was perfectly under control, until you lot showed up and started causing chaos."
Alfa took a deep breath. "Instead of punching you I'm going to explain the list of reasons why what you just said is stupid."
"You do that." AR-15's stepped up, and SOPMOD could already tell she'd walked into a trap.
Alfa nodded, seeming quite agreeable to that idea. "Starting from the bottom. I'll give you points, fighting a Ringleader all by your lonesome is impressive, but doing something impressive doesn't change the fact it shouldn't have had to happen." A flicker of a smile appeared on Ak-Alfa's lips, vanishing in the swirl. "Splitting your team up, for no reason, and running off to get captured, as part of a hairbrained scheme is a recipe for disaster."
"She sent me to find help!" SOPMOD offered the defense, even knowing it was a weak one.
"And why didn't she just go with you? If one of you can take a Ringleader, surely two of you would have no issues." SOPMOD snarled under her breath, but everything screamed she'd lose this argument.
"If all you are going to do is talk trash you can leave." AR-15 hissed, which didn't dissuade the white-haired Doll in the least.
Ak-Alfa rolled her eyes. "If I wanted to talk trash, I'd ask why you're running around with hair that screams 'hey, blow my brains out'."
"Bit rich coming from someone with bright white hair." AR-15 shot back, and SOPMOD could tell this was spiraling out of control.
"Even if we ignore the fact that I rode around in a tank, you really think they shipped us out in these bodies?" Gesturing to herself Ak-Alfa snorted. "Hell no. They gave us dedicated combat bodies. Meanwhile you're using a similar enough civilian body to currentGriffon deployment, which means you pissed someone off so much they made you with 'shoot me' pink hair."
Neither SOPMOD or her sister could muster a good reply to that, mostly from disbelief, at least in SOPMOD's case.
"I might not be some hyper specialized next generation, Doll." Alfa's voice was quiet, but otherwise entirely calm, lacking any edge or threat. "But I spent almost a decade fighting for my life, against an enemy that was trained and dedicated to the idea of killing me. I had to learn, or die. You think killing a few Sangvis is impressive?"
AR-15 and SOPMOD both nodded.
"They aren't." Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, Ak-Alfa huffed. "Sangvis is a bunch of third-rate tin cans with the leadership to match. They can't shoot, can't think, and die if you so much tickle them. Comparing them to military hardware is like comparing a puppy to a wolf."
"And I assume that you think that we're weak because we'd die horribly in the face of the things you've experienced?" They were face now, glaring at each other.
"Stop it!" SOPMOD pushed her way between them. AR-15 staggered from the shove, while Ak-Alfa grunted, and stood firm, staring down at her.
"SOP, stay out of this." Low, angry, AR-15's tone sent plenty of warnings going through SOPMOD's head.
Ak-Alfa's meanwhile was outright terrifying. "If she wants me to kick her ass, I'm fine with that." All the bite vanished, replaced with a bland factual certainty.
"You are not fighting." SOP asserted. She wasn't about to let someone say all that to her sister without getting involved.
"Never said I wanted to, just that I'll finish whatever she wants to start." Ak-Alfa stuck her hands in her pockets again.
"Given how you're talking you seem to want a fight." AR-15 growled.
"If I wanted a fight, you'd know." The wicked gleam of Alfa's eyes betrayed the fact she'd happily do just that. "I wouldn't bother explaining shit to you if I wanted to fight, I'd walk in, say something about how your mother slept around, and see how long it took until I found the right combination of insults to get you to try and jump me."
SOPMOD made no effort to avoid staring in abject disbelief, while AR-15 glared even harder. "Then what was the point of showing up and being mean?" Privately SOP could think of better descriptions.
Ak-Alfa shrugged. "Making sure we all understand where everyone is coming from." She pulled a small stick from her pocket. "Also, I won the draw to see which one of us got to have this talk."
"You...won?" SOPMOD cocked her head. "Who was competing?"
"Me, Five-seveN and SV-98." Still grinning, Ak-Alfa put her hand back in her pocket. "We all had the same thought, that we'd just picked up a trio, soon to be quartet of civilians who've been turned into Special Forces, and we wanted to get ahead of the problem." Pausing, Ak-Alfa actually looked just a bit sheepish. "Be glad it's me. Russians got a tongue on her, and I'm pretty sure Five-seveN would shoot your parents in front of you and convince you it's your fault."
AR-15 huffed. "Great. So, we get grilled while M4 gets to sit in some boring ass meeting?"
SOPMOD could decide if the way Ak-Alfa's eyes turned was disappointed, sad, or just frustrated. Maybe angry. "Doubtful." The white-haired Doll turned, starting to leave. "But that's a problem for you to fix."
SOPMOD watched her go for a few seconds, before impulsively sprinting after. Catching up didn't take much effort, and if anything, it seemed like Ak-Alfa was expecting it. Cutting in front of her, SOPMOD glared up at the other doll.
That only amused her. "If you're about to ask what my problem is, I already told you."
SOPMOD shook her head. Well, she did want to know that, but that could wait. "You don't have to be that mean about it."
"That wasn't mean." SOPMOD blinked, taken aback by the bluntness of the retort. "I didn't tell your sister she's a flat chested try-hard with a complex and if she doesn't fix that, I'm going to break her legs to avoid her being a danger to everyone on base. I told her she's not good at being a team player, and that it's going to cause problems." A small quirk of the lips followed. "If she pulled her head out of her ass, she'll be fine, but until she figures that out, there's going to be problems."
"How do you know that?"
Ak-Alfa darkened, although not from anger. A weight crossed her face, and SOPMOD realized she'd asked the wrong question entirely, without any way to take it back. "Buy me a lot of drinks, and maybe I'll tell you." SOPMOD expected a smirk, but all she got was a tired sigh.
She was now well and truly out of her depth. "I don't think drinking fixes stuff. When M16 drinks she just gets stupider."
That drew a bit of a laugh from Ak-Alfa. "It doesn't. But, if I'm drunk enough, I won't remember talking about the war, and you'll get your answer, and I'll probably say something suitably stupid enough that you get an excuse to mock me, so we all come out even."
SOPMOD frowned. That didn't feel right to her. Both the way the other Doll looked at the situation, and that proposed 'trade'. Times like this, she desperately wanted an M16 around, as their oldest sister was by far the best at handling these sorts of situations. But without M16, SOPMOD could only rely on herself. "That doesn't sound like a good trade to me."
Ak-Alfa's lips twitched. "Because it isn't. Think of it as my way of saying sorry."
"Then you suck at apologizing." She blurted it out, and that earned her a proper laugh. "Hey!"
"You are not the first person to tell me that, just perhaps the most earnest." A long, very tired sigh. "You aren't going to achieve anything arguing with me SOP, go smack your sister around the ears so she pulls her head out."
SOP glared, but relented, running back to find AR-15.
-Faded Glory-
"Hiya." M4 almost jumped out of her skin when Skorpion sat down, having been so lost in thought she entirely missed the other Doll approaching. Skorpion brought food with her, sliding the plate between them in an implicit offer.
"Skorpion." M4 tried to smile, knowing that it came out weak. They hadn't found much time to talk after returning, M4 dragged away for debriefs, and Skorpion helping out with patrols and other day to day activities.
"So whatcha think?" Skorpion asked, around mouthfuls of food. "Now that you've met everybody?"
That question felt far more complicated that Skorpion perhaps intended. Having just come from a long and detail-oriented meeting involving plans and patrols, M4 felt exhausted, her head swimming with information, and still processing all of that, never mind assembling her feelings for the rest of the base. "I don't know?"
That made her temporary friend snort with amusement. "Yeah, this bunch seems to do that to people." She lowered her voice. "The Commander kinda scares me." Confusion must have shown on M4's face, considering how Skorpion elaborated. "Most Griffon Commanders would just shoot at Sangvis, instead of engaging in hostage negotiations..." She trailed off, leaving the 'over the tortured body of the hostage', unsaid. "He asked if I would be able to stay awake while he did it."
"And the others agreed with that?" That is perhaps what M4 struggled to understand the most, after all the explanations were done. That everyone else went along with the Commander's insanity. "Groza and FAL don't seem like the type to agree not to engage Sangvis, or let him negotiate to save you when they could win the fight." Both other leaders struck M4 as far more intense and forceful than the Commander, who could be intense, but generally was lower key than his subordinates.
Skorpion shrugged. "They listened, although they really weren't happy about it. I was still getting repaired but apparently there was a super-heated talk, and nobody came out of it happy. Groza seemed really upset, so I didn't ask." Skorpion stopped to eat again.
M4 hummed, taking in what Skorpion said, and comparing it to what she'd seen of the others. "Groza is rather intimidating."
That made Skorpion's head bob. "You bet. Before-" A pause, as she considered the words, then waved her hands demonstratively, "All that, I had my own squad. They were kinda weird, but we got along alright. I'm used to weird people, but a lot of the people here are just scary."
"Yeah." M4 sighed, letting herself slump further. If even Skorpion found them intimidating, M4 couldn't say she had much hope.
Seeming to miss all of M4's inter turmoil, Skorpion carried on. "You probably know more 'bout that though, right? Your sisters seem all really hardcore, ripping off heads and stuff, so these guys seemed more relaxed compared to that, don't they?"
"Less violent maybe." M4 looked around, watching for other Dolls, but finding none so she could carry on. "Groza, FAL, or KSG just seem so much more experienced than me." M4 tried to smile again, gesturing to Skorpion. "Even you know more about being a leader than I do."
Skorpion started to say something then stopped, eye narrowing a bit. "They are a bit, yeah. I don't think comparing ourselves to them is fair. They're soldiers, leading people in a real war, we've only been doing this for a little bit."
M4 didn't find that comforting. "Maybe."
"No maybes, I'm serious." Skorpion insisted. "Groza said she doesn't think she could have done any better in my position." That drew M4 up short. "I asked her about it, while we had some downtime. If anything, she got very upset with the fact we got into that situation."
"Oh." That surprised M4. "I don't think I could ask any of them that."
"You should." Skorpion paused to think a bit. "I think if you get them talking, they aren't as scary as they look. Groza answered lots of questions I asked her, and was really polite." Now it was Skorpion's turn to look around. "And she's probably sleeping with FAL, so FAL can't be all bad?"
M4 choked on her own tongue for a moment, trying to process that information. When looking back that made sense, they were obviously close, but having Skorpion just lay it out took her completely by surprise. "I don't think that's how things work?" At least, that didn't seem right to M4.
"Sure, it is." Skorpion shot back. "STG's girl is a total stick in the mud until you get to know her then she's...well she's still a stick in the mud but she's more fun at least!" M4 did not see how that explained anything, but she nodded along, content to get that answer at a later time. "I'm serious, M4, just talk to them."
Even someone as open as Skorpion would have an easier time than she did, M4 felt. Just being around the other three was intimidating enough, before factoring in the Commander. "Maybe." M4 mumbled.
"Hey." Skorpion leaned over and punched her in the shoulder. "Where's the M4 that killed Executioner all by herself?" M4 blinked in confusion. "Out there, you're super badass, fight a Ringleader all by yourself, killing tons of Sangvis like nothing, and now you're hiding?"
"I've never..." M4 trailed off, and Skorpion's expression softened. "I'm supposed to be the leader of the AR team, but I can barely handle other people, let alone my sisters."
"Nobody is comfortable being in charge at first." Skorpion's voice softened. "Ingram scared the crap out of me at first, STG being a total clean freak was a nightmare." Looking around, Skorpion added, "PP-2000 used to be on Groza's team, but now she's the pilot." Raising her voice, a little, the eye patch wearing doll shrugged. "Nothing works out perfectly, we just learn and figure it out."
Right on cue, AR-15 and SOPMOD came into the room, one looking positively enraged, the other bouncing with some emotion M4 couldn't readily identify. They caught sight of her, and Skorpion, with AR-15 all but dragging SOPMOD over.
"M4!" SOPMOD grinned, before it turned into a scowl. Skorpion shot her a sympathetic look before slipping away, leaving M4 to deal with the fallout of whatever had happened while she was away.
-Faded Glory-
Ian rubbed his temples. Finishing the paperwork resulting from the operation to rescue the new Dolls took more out of him than he wanted to admit, if he thought headaches resulting from the battles were intense this proved completely different. The massive influx of equipment only complicated it further, thanks to the genius idea that military requisition forms were not thorough enough.
Thanks to the privacy of his office, Ian felt tempted to collapse into the desk, and take a few minutes for himself. The only thing tempering that desire was the knowledge that any Echelon leader could wander in, or Kalina or Fleur, and explaining why their otherwise composed boss was bashing his face into a hardwood desk would be tricky. Glancing at his monitor, and the angry list of emails and messages piling up only served to push him closer to accepting the inevitable.
Before that could become an issue, a new message arrived, marked urgent. A glance at the sender made him do a double take. "The hell does she want?" The contents of the message were less than helpful, a request to talk at his earliest convenience, which was not in any way or form urgent. Firing off a quick reply, Ian started to put the request out of mind when the reply arrived. "Good grief."
Pushing some of the paper off to the side, Ian accepted an incoming call, watching the hologram crackle to life, revealing a scene of a room that looked more like a college dorm than a professional's lab. Empty paper coffee cups and food wrappers scattered the desk, and the background didn't show any signs of better organization. With a creak, Persica's chair slid into view, the researcher herself sitting cross-legged with a faded coffee mug in hand.
"Persica." Ian gave the scene a more thorough, and potentially judgmental once over, before returning his attention to the researcher. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I can't just call to say hello?" She tried for a lopsided smirk, the contrast between the bags under her eyes, and the expression impressive.
"In my line of work, 'Hello' is a precursor to 'I want something', and it usually pays to skip the dancing and get to the point." Ian tracked the narrowing of her eyes, the slight tightening of the hand around her mug, and suppressed a desire to frown. She didn't enjoy the veiled accusation, nor did it appear that she had any ulterior plan. Or perhaps she didn't enjoy being found out.
"Sounds like a lousy line of work."
Ian waved the concern aside. "Everyone knows where everyone stands. So, I ask again, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
A bit of mischief flashed behind her eyes. "Again, I can't just call to say hello?" Ian crossed his own arms, waiting until she relented. "Fine. How are they doing?"
"Your three special operators?" Glancing at the report on his desk, Ian hummed. Persica's interest seemed more than a professional one, and she's apparently put in a good word for him. "They're holding up. Been keeping to themselves, and haven't caused me any trouble."
Relief filled her eyes, and her voice. "Good to hear."
"Mhm." Tapping a finger against the desk, Ian considered how to broach the topic. "When reviewing my equipment intake for the month, I can't help but notice that I've been shipped ammo and gear that would only fit for your bunch."
"Good that made it." Persica brightened. That confirmed she'd done it, but that left the question of why.
"Explain?" He'd let the question lead her to where he wanted.
"You didn't have the supplies to account for them in your usual shipment, did you?" Despite the tiredness and the atmosphere, there was no denying the shrewdness of that look.
"We didn't." Ian stilled his fingers. "However, I find it rather odd that someone so attached to a group of Dolls would willingly cede them to a Griffon Commander. Even more so, given their nature as attached to you in specific." Or the Commander being him.
"You seem more able to use their talents than I am, Ian Blackwood." The flicker of amusement in her eyes set him on edge. "And they need experience with the world outside of those things I can expose them too."
While this conversation didn't help finish the paperwork, it did prove volumes of useful information. "You sound like a parent."
"Those four are extremely important to me, Commander." Persica used a sip of coffee to hide the dip of her head. "And you seem well equipped to look after them."
"This, if you are curious, is why I say that no one calls to say hello." Casually leaning back in his chair, Ian steepled his fingers. "Because that sounds like you want something from me." Her eyes flashed with anger.
"I am merely stating facts." She set her mug down with perhaps more force than required. "You are an old soldier who learned caution during the war. You've seen the world, and you are better positioned to protect those four than most other officers." Her eyes twinkled. "Havier says you come recommended by Kryuger himself."
"Havier Wetkin? Forgive me, I sincerely doubt that man has the time to spend gossiping about the latest washed-out soldier Kryuger swindled." Persica only shrugged. "Have you bothered to run this by anyone up the food chain from me, or are you just sticking four new Dolls on my base, and expecting me to somehow handle the logistical side of all this on my own."
"Helian will figure it out." Persica waved her hand, shifting in her chair. That seemed to naturally lead her into a different thought. "You really annoyed her; you know."
"I'm aware."
"Usually, you have to tell her you don't want a second date before she's that upset." That seemed like a detail he did not want to know, or need to know. It set a few to many gears turning, gears Ian knew needed to stop before he got well and truly ahead of himself. "Annoying her is a skill."
"One I regret being good at, given how getting along with your boss is usually required for job security." There didn't seem to be a link between all of these things, and Ian's estimation of Perisica was forced to change again.
"Maybe." Persica seemed to muse on something, then frowning. "Slippery bastard." Ian let a brow rise. "I wanted to thank you, and now we're talking about something else."
"Giving me a nearly full squad of special forces and bankrolling the supply of that squad is plenty of thanks." That felt like a better answer than saying he was bad at being thanks, even more for something like that. "And any thanks are currently premature, given that I haven't found the last member of the group."
"Call it a vote of confidence in your abilities then." Perisca shot back. "And M16 is the most capable of them, she'll be fine." Picking her coffee back up, Persica shrugged. "I'll let you work, Commander. We'll talk again."
"Right." Ian terminated the call, staring at the space where her hologram previously sat. "I cannot help but feel I lost that conversation." Nothing answered, as expected.
-Faded Glory-
OTs-39 kicked a rock, watching it bounce a few feet across the dirt in small puffs. Everything felt just a little bit off since waking up. Maybe the way they looked at her, something caught between pity and regret. Or perhaps it was the complete emptiness at the back of her mind gnawing away at every moment. Worse, Groza and SV-98 didn't seem to realize why either of those things might have bothered her.
Generally, OTs-39 didn't feel the same isolation that PP-2000 did when dealing with the other Dolls, but on that point alone, it seemed to be growing rather than shrinking. The fact it came on the heels of PP-2000 mending things with SV-98 provided some measure of black comedy.
The only one who seemed to take note of her internal struggle was Tiss. Hanging back at OTs-39's side, and giving her an occasional nudge, the other light-haired doll doing her best to keep OTs-39 from falling on her face.
"Groza!" Eventually, something seemed to boil over, OTs-12 raising her voice to draw Groza's attention. The blonde turned, visible confusion as to the question. "We'll go check that way." OTs-12 gestured in a general direction without any intention behind it.
Groza dipped her head. "Check in at five-minute intervals." And, before OTs-39 could object she'd been dragged off by OTs-12.
"Wait-Tiss!" They'd made it a good distance before OTs-39 managed to wiggle her way free.
OTs-12 turned, letting her rifle thump against her body armor. "Something is bugging you."
"Yes." Denial didn't seem worth it. "I'm..." OTs-39 hummed. "I don't remember what happened." That felt like the best point to start. The safest, easiest place.
Tiss kicked a rock, watching it skip off a tree with enough force to send bits of bark flying. "Probably best. Groza and SV-98 make it sound like remembering dying isn't pleasant."
"No." OTs-39 shook her head. "I don't remember the evening. Any of it. I remember doing a last-minute backup before PP-2000 flew off, but I don't remember anything after that. One minute it was evening, in the ruins, and the next I'm waking up in the repair bay."
That brought OTs-12 up short. "Oh." Several attempts to say something started and stalled, leaving her to repeat herself. "Oh."
"I've never..." OTs-39 stumbled. "I've never lost memories like that. You've all told me what happened, but..." Being told and remembering the situation felt very different, and some part of OTs-39 knew that they weren't telling her the truth, or at least, all of it. "It isn't the same."
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Tiss didn't seem to have a good reply to that. Instead, she sighed, looking away, seeming be mulling over what to say
"How do they..." OTs-39 flailed for the words. "How is everyone okay with not remembering entire parts of their lives?"
"The ones who've been soldiers don't even notice. And for them, I think not remembering the fighting is better." OTs-12 continued staring off into the treeline. "Most of the times I've died it, I've not lost much, and from what I've seen of my body after I don't think I'd want to remember. But those were short periods, not over a day."
"I don't want to not know what happened to me." OTs-39 whispered. "It's part of who I am, and not knowing those things it's..." She fished for the words, but nothing came. "If I can forget that what else can I forget, Tiss?"
"As long as it's backed up, you can't lose anything." OTs-12's words rang hollow, on account of the fact that she'd been backed up, but still lost most of a day.
"Maybe." She sighed, and they were quiet again. "I don't...I'm used to being at risk of getting hurt, there's always a chance someone starts trouble. Being killed, forgetting hours, or days..." OTs-39 shivered. "I don't know if I want to risk that."
"I'm not the best person to talk to about that." After a while Tiss found her voice again. "Combat duty is something I'm okay with, but you were probably promised something more lowkey." It wasn't really a question, but OTs-39 nodded anyway. Managing a weak smile, OTs-12 admitted, "I'm not really the right person to talk about any of this."
OTs-39 hummed, knowing what the implication was. "PP-2000 has her own problems, Tiss."
OTs-12 shook her head. "She patched things up with 98. They're talking to each other again. And PP-2000 is the only person here whose got any experience with figuring out how okay she is with being shot at daily."
"Maybe." OTs-39 sighed. "Didn't the Commander ask her to fly for us, instead of her approaching him?"
"It isn't about what the Commander asked her, it's about her agreeing with the idea." Tiss came off as much more insistent. "Talk to her, she'll probably have something smart to say, or at least she can help you find something else." OTs-39 must have looked at her strangely. "2000 spent most time working out in the world and hopping around jobs, so if you want to leave or find another job, she'd be able to help, or point you in the right direction."
"Right." OTs-39 hummed. "I'll think about it."
-Faded Glory-
FAL pretended to listen to Five-seveN's explanation of her little scheme to get them some time off, privately unconvinced that her second actually influenced anything. It felt like an easy move for the Commander, and letting Five-seveN think she caused it would double as easy points with everyone else on base. Still, she would let Five-seveN believe she achieved a victory, as regardless of the reasoning or influence, they would benefit from the goal.
While keeping up the illusion of listening, FAL ran her eyes over the rest of her team. Ballista seemed unusually content, sitting and staring out a window with her traditional blank expression. FNC and FN-49 were arguing about something but seemed to be in good spirits. The news they would be getting some time out in the city served to effectively alleviate FNC's despondence about the loss of her candy stash in the ruins. FN-49 did not seem to blame her helper for their death, which removed the other primary concern FAL had in the aftermath of the combat operation.
For her part, FAL couldn't decide how to feel. A return to the violent chaos of street fighting did not sit well, but at the same time, kneeling in a pile of rubble and suppressing hostile forces never left her, and even if she didn't enjoy it, FAL couldn't deny that the current situation of being in Sector 9 was preferable to her previous work.
As she watched, Groza's team drifted into the room, trading patrol duties with the American unit. SV-98 and PP-2000 seemed to have repaired their relationship in whatever capacity, although there did seem to be a bit of lingering tension. OTs-12 and 39 were locked in conversation, while Groza stayed in the back, seeming to assess her own team, and from the way her expression shifted from relief to concern, seemed to find something wanting.
That once over complete, Groza continued to sweep the room, catching FAL's eyes with one of her usual piercing stares. For a moment her eyes flashed to Five-seveN, taking in the situation. Then, squaring her shoulders, Groza moved across the room with a surprising sense of purpose.
Her approach caught Five-seveN's attention, FAL's second turning with a curious look. "You mind if I borrow your Captain?" The tone made it clear the question was a formality.
FAL pushed herself up, further driving the point home. "Not at all."
Five-seveN's eyes flashed between them, a smile spreading across her face. "Don't do anything I wouldn't, Captain." And then she flounced off, before FAL could point out that Five-seveN would do anything she found fun or useful.
"I'm not sure which one of us has the bigger problem." A laugh lingered beneath Groza's wonders, and tugged at FAL's lips in turn.
"Different kinds of problems, I think." SV-98 couldn't pull off any of Five-seveN's schemes, but she would absolutely get into her own sorts of trouble. "As bothersome as she is, I can't say I'd want to be rid of her."
"Likewise." A fond glance at SV-98 broke Groza's usual façade before she shifted again. "This is probably not the place." Even with the low chatter, anyone could listen in if they wanted, and if they were going to talk, FAL suspected it would be personal in nature.
Gesturing for Groza to lead, FAL couldn't say she guessed they would end up in the dorm used by Groza's team. A surprisingly spartan affair, given the civilian nature of several of the other Dolls. Otherwise appointed the same as her own Echelons' quarters, with a small kitchenette, and a retrofitted for living.
For at least a minute, they just stared at each other, Groza taking a chair, and FAL settling against the countertop. The light gave Groza's eyes a slight shadow, and her every motion screamed control and confidence, just as it did when they first met.
After the thought struck her, FAL could help but compare the situation to that first meeting, and in turn assess how her impression evolved.
In Prague, Groza reminded FAL of herself. Cold, aloof, and always plotting in the background. Perhaps less of FAL's admittedly rough edges, but that same willingness to creatively solve a problem presented, and take care of her own. She recognized an equal in those golden eyes, a sharp mind and wit, but also someone who experienced the suffering of the war, and didn't come out the other side intact.
Now, she saw all of those same things, but also a very different set of scars. Where FAL knew she became detached from her own sacrifices, seeing them as a required evil to achieve the end goal, Groza seemed to regard them as a requirement, or perhaps an obligation of her position. It cast a grim shadow over an otherwise admirable personality trait, and some day, FAL did intend to find the explanation, beyond just what Groza revealed.
"You have that look about you." Light amusement did little to detract from Groza's intense stare, or the demanding nature of her presence.
"That look?" FAL parroted, making no effort to hide her confusion.
Groza hummed, leaning back, hands folding on her lap. She looked the part of a woman walking someone into a trap, or at least, with her conversation partner right where she wanted her. "When we first met, when you first walked into the room, and realized who, and what, I was, there was a brief moment where you transitioned smoothly between seductive and calculating. You did a good job of hiding it, but your eyes made it very clear that you were assessing me, picking me apart in your mind, instead of planning to get me in bed." The crinkle at the edge of her eyes provided the best cue as to the fact Groza found that more amusing than worrying, as most people would.
"You were a rather unexpected variable." This time, Groza let herself laugh, and FAL matched it with a small smile of her own. The humor lessened the weight in the room.
"That is one way to put it." Groza shook her head. "Looking back, it is strange to think we ended up in this situation, given who everything began."
"You certainly made an impression." FAL could feel the temptation to settle into that early paradigm, pretending to seduce Groza, and Groza playing along to keep up the illusion they were just meeting for the expected arrangement. "You made no secret of your scheming then, so I find it interesting that you are trying to do it now."
For a second, a wry expression took her lips, then Groza stowed it. "We both know the other is always up to something." FAL raised a hand in mute acceptance of the point. In their own way, they always planned ahead. "Be that handling some problem that we foresee coming amongst our subordinates, playing off one another to move another scheme along, or working out how best to handle the impending issue of adding the newest dolls to the base." Stopping to gather her thoughts, Groza concluded with a shrug. "We spend a lot of time thinking about things that aren't ourselves."
"Yes." Groza's eyes all but dared FAL to deny it, but she couldn't. They both knew the truth when they heard it. "You are driving at something."
"That we are overdue for a conversation purely about us. Without the overtones of our teammates, or the problems lurking in the shadows." Groza crossed her legs, her expression flickering with uncertainty before returning to calm. "Unless we want that conversation to happen outside of our control." While FAL couldn't be sure, she suspected that meant her second in command got more ideas in her head than usual. "More than it already has."
"You can blame Five-seveN."
"It wouldn't just be her fault, but yes, she would be a primary instigator." Groza sighed. "And to be more blunt, the longer we let this wait the harder the conversation becomes." FAL couldn't help a brow rising in question. She felt like she was missing a step in this conversation. "There are a few nuggets of wisdom that the Colonel that I served under during the war imparted that I consider worth keeping. Although he saw holding off as a valuable asset to unbalance the other party, I see it as a warning to not let things linger for too long."
"That is the politest reference to this Colonel you've ever made." FAL seized on the concrete information, as something to fix herself to, while she sorted out whatever point Groza wanted to drive at.
"Because it is the politest reference he deserves." A flat, decisive statement, leaving no room for FAL to try and dance or dodge.
FAL let it go. Probing that part of Groza's past felt dangerous, one of the few things that might truly damage their relationship.
"What am I to you, FAL?" Softer, more contained now, Groza's entire bearing shifted. There were layers to that question, spoken and unspoken, and FAL took her time trying to pick through them.
The easy, safe even, answer would be a friend. Not an incorrect answer, but some portion of her rebelled against it, as incomplete, lacking some nuance or specification that FAL wouldn't put her finger on. On the other hand, calling them simply co-workers or comrades lacked everything, and FAL tossed that aside without any further consideration.
In the end she settled for a bit of honesty. "I haven't given much thought to how to describe it." Fortunately, that seemed to amuse Groza more than anything else.
"You spend too much time in your own head." While chiding it didn't quite rise to the leveling of insulting. Before FAL could form a rebuttal, Groza changed track abruptly. "And when was the last time you did something for yourself? Purely for the sake of you, as opposed to anyone else."
"Years?" Even since coming to Griffon most of her time was focused elsewhere. "I-" Groza held up a hand, and the words died in FAL's throat.
"During the fighting you ended up in the role of protector and overseer because you were willing or able to bear the brunt of hard, unpleasant choices to ensure everyone else came out okay." Groza half stated, half asked. "Understandable. Admirable even." The faintest hints of a smile were on her face. "And even now you are viewing this conversation in that lens."
FAL wanted to disagree, but knew the truth when she heard it. "Yes."
Groza cocked her head. FAL could tell there was a thought lingering just beneath the surface, held in check mostly by Groza herself.
Something clicked then, watching Groza shifted to a more comfortable position. FAL pushed off the counter she was leaning on. Groza's eyes sharpened, tracking the movement taking in every bit of FAL before locking to her eyes. A different feeling sat there, never changing as FAL moved over the distance.
She settled on the arm of the chair, still holding Groza's eyes. "When we first met, you made a remark about neither seeking out or desiring what I was offering."
"I did." Her voice was heavier than usual, drawn tight. "I had no interest in something..." Groza fished for the word, seeming to try very hard to keep her gaze focused, instead of wandering as it often did when she was thinking. FAL bit down on a smile. "Transactional."
"And if the offer were not so transactional?" This, FAL decided, was rather fun, watching Groza squirm as she tried to keep up her own act. In the end they knew where this was going, the conclusion to this unspoken dance clear to them both. The fire dancing in the back of Groza's eyes made that very clear.
"Then I withdraw my objections."
The temptation to draw things out, continue to tease stayed, but FAL kicked that aside. They could, would, play such games later. For now, Groza did raise a point, and FAL intended to take every advantage.
"Good." The next few seconds were a bit of a haze, FAL sliding into Groza's lap, and their lips meeting in a tentative kiss.
They broke apart, and FAL realized her heart was hammering. Delight danced around Groza's eyes, a faint but honest smile left on her lips.
"Does that answer your question?" A circular route, to be certain, but an honest one. Groza rolled her eyes.
"Kiss me again and maybe I won't be annoyed with you for taking so damn long."
FAL could accept that bargain.
AN: And it's done! And they kissed, and lived happily ever after. …I wish I could wrap things up that concisely. This ended up spiralling a bit out of control on the rewrites front, as FAL/Groza was easy, but basically every other scene her got rewritten at least once, sometimes as many as five times. After all that I'm quite happy with the final product, and we can smoothly transition into a one or two chapter day on the town before getting back to the M16 catching.
This chapter wins the dubious award of most Branded comments yet, largely involving his desire to have Ak-Alfa commit violence, or violence commited on Ak-Alfa.
As always questions/comments/concerns are always appreciated, and on that note, if you want to yell at me for my madness in person, I've joined Johnny Wycliffe's Discord. I'll be supplying updates on the status of Faded Glory updates there, and it's the easiest place to reach me. A bunch of the other big GFL authors are there as well. FFN safe link version is thus, just remove the spaces: discord. gg / njdVNtw9.
