Groza found KSG lying on the ground, a good distance away from the convoy, only identifiable by the fact that her hair positively shone in the moonlight. She made no move to recognize Groza's presence, hands folded behind her head, eyes fixed upon the sky. Despite the temptation to let her be, Groza sat on the earth beside her, content, Groza didn't leave, instead, taking a spot on the dirt beside her. After some time, KSG glanced towards her from the corner of her eye, before letting her attention turn skywards once again.

Following KSG's attention, Groza took the time to actually examine the night sky. The stars were bright, unobscured by clouds, and provided most of the light, when compared to the thin sliver of the moon. It felt like an unusual environment for KSG to be in, and left Groza desiring less and less to interrupt the peace.

But, in the end, questions had to be asked, and experience suggested that KSG would not prompt for them. "How thoroughly have you been briefed on the activities of the Russian Army in Poland during the war?"

KSG took her time to answer, her facial features contracting into something approaching a frown when Groza spoke before relaxing again, leaving absolutely nothing readable behind. "Our briefings were aggressively detailed. With the original plans calling for the Marines to be the reserve force for the push to defend Poland, we were briefed quite thoroughly on the activities of the enemy in that theater." Even without inflection or other non-verbal indicators, those words chilled Groza. "That didn't happen, of course, but we didn't know that until late, so until the point we landed briefings continued to include that information." Another longer silence. "If I had to guess, you were deployed to Krakow around that time, or just being redeployed."

"Yes." Thinking better of asking how KSG came to that conclusion, Groza let her agreement stand on its own.

Something must have shown on her face anyway. "Evidence and analysis make Krakow one of the only reasonable fronts for you to be on. Russia used Dolls as disposable breaking forces, and Krakow proved a prime example of the early tactics. While Doll units were used in Warsaw and further west, you did not react to this assignment in such a way as to suggest that you were personally involved in that fighting, ergo Krakow stands as the most logical point for you to be at that period." A long, grim silence followed. "No that any further uses of Dolls showed much refinement from the battles in Krakow and its environs."

"It did not." Perhaps underestimating KSG's pre-military past had been a mistake, Groza realized. To put that much together from only scattered details, or to had the wherewithal to research it, and then lie straight faced, did not match what Groza expected. "If results were obtained, they did not see a reason to evolve. Dolls were kept in line by our base programming, undercutting the usual things that would force change from Soviet officers."

"I cannot decide if I find that degree of callousness impressive or deeply disconcerting. Even if you view a Doll as inhuman, they recognize you as conscious life, yet still sent you to slaughter without a flinch." Groza didn't know what to say to that. "I've read the after-action reports from Krakow. The only consideration given is the replacement rates." That, Groza did not know, although she made a point of never going looking. For the first time those words brought some emotion to KSG's voice, a small but rising undercurrent of anger. "A tragedy that exhausts any other in living memory." A deep breath, and then KSG's body relaxed again, all the building tension washing into the earth without a word. "I suppose it is not a good habit, but sometimes I do wonder just what might have been different, if we were hurled into one another."

Groza did not care to think about that. If AK-74M, a Doll that Groza absolutely did not want to fight, suggested that KSG and her compatriots were so dangerous, Groza did not care to find out what would have happened if a bunch of unprepared Dolls went to battle. The Polish fight to defend their land, and their identity. "If we were still in Krakow, why did you not?" That part of the timeline didn't immediately line up.

This time, KSG took many minutes to reply. "Someone bombed the central US." Someone, of course, being Russia. "That prevented the reinforcements that were supposed to follow, and by that point, planners had to accept that they didn't have the ability to stop Russia in Poland, especially with rising resistance in East Germany."

"You can say the bomber was Russian." Groza did notice, sometime ago that some parts of history KSG would pick her words carefully around. A small shrug provided her only answer.

A hum. "We were halfway across the Atlantic. Had days to stew on that knowledge, on the uncertainty and the worry. In the chaos knowing if your family lived or died, if your home was already gone, any of that was all but impossible." Another, grim silence followed. "It festers, that feeling. Festered into a helpless rage, just waiting for its outlet." Groza could imagine, and for someone as cold as KSG could be, that sounded even worse. "By the time we landed, plans changed. The Czech front collapsed, Poland would fall, and half of us didn't know if anyone back at home lived or not. Guys in my unit lost their entire family. Two weeks before they'd kissed wives and husbands, then…" The trail off told the story, as the white haired doll's eyes closed. "By the time we deployed, that festering anger shifted. On a battlefield, they felt, they could pay you fucking bastards back for what had happened."

No rise in tone. No inflection. Simple, cold reflection on the past, which made it all the scarier. It only furthered the worry inside Groza that, whatever might actually move KSG to wrath, shatter her steely control and bring her the same irrationality that she described so dryly.

"Florida made it out clean." That might explain some, if her home didn't burn, but hardly all of it. "Created some friction at first. A Doll, without family and a predisposition to emotional detachment meant I didn't entirely relate to those who lost, and even less to a Lieutenant whose family didn't make it." A faint smile drifted across her features then vanished again. "We took a while to find our medium."

"Meaning?"

"You lead Dolls in battle." Groza nodded, even if KSG couldn't see, and unsure just where that would be going. "You were subordinate to some shitsack of an officer, who led the human troops."

"A Captain." Groza confirmed "Not the cruelest man I served, but perhaps the most callous." An eye opened, searching her for more information. After a moment of consideration Groza chose to provide it. "Colonels in the GRU are not known for kindness."

"No, they are not." KSG returned to her neutral posture again. "Unlike most of Europe, American units were truly integrated. My platoon had five other Dolls mixed in with humans. FAL and the Belgians, and later the Germans and MG4, had all Doll units led by a human officer. While the Marines never committed to Doll officers there were plenty of us as sergeants, leading even humans in battle."

"That sounds like a recipe for trouble."

A bit of a chuckle and a nod. "For a little while. Everyone solved it differently, just as each of you coped with your circumstances."

She could sense the story hidden there, and if nothing else it would give an in next time the group of Echelon leaders were together, with the surface level question being sufficient to address at that moment. "How did you?"

When both of KSG's eyes opened, pinning Groza in place with the most intense stare yet, she had to wonder if she went too far. "Meadows is insane." A blunt statement to be sure. "I do not know if he just wanted to kill you as badly as the rank and file, or if he suffered clinical insanity, but the difference is largely academic." KSG went quiet. "For all that insanity, Meadows understands how to lead. How to inspire, how to focus that raw, formless rage that they felt into something practical."

"But?"

"But, he could not be called an authority on the military strategy part of leadership." That same half smile formed. "He didn't quite sink to the level of first World War officers, but he sure did have some boneheaded ideas. It made it easy for me to fill the role of 'reasonable' party, having the better plans, and ensuring we all came home, even if I framed it as coming home to shoot more Russians." That did sound like the sort of thing that KSG would do. "I also may have done something stupid."

That did not sound like KSG at all. "Imagining you doing something stupid is difficult." That, at least, made the other Doll laugh.

"In my defense, letting someone else do it would have been stupider?" For the first time KSG's emotionless façade shattered entirely, coming across as entirely contrite about this mysterious event.

Groza gave that exactly the consideration it deserved. "That is the sort of defense SV-98 might use." Contrition morphed into a baleful glare, just as SV-98 might have done.

"If someone in your unit suggested suicide charging an armored position to blow it the hell up, would you have let them do it, or do it yourself?" KSG countered, forcing Groza to once again reassess the situation, and the implications of KSG's words. That would wait for later, as she nodded to indicate she accepted KSG's point. "The choice was objectively stupid, a poor use of my life if it failed." Another silence. "You didn't come here to listen to my stories."

"No." It took a while for Groza to even remember why she'd come. "We will need to be careful in Poland."

"We will." A longer, more in-depth sigh followed. "The risks of any of us being identified in specific are low, there is no evidence of significant Polish military presence left behind in Poland itself to further diminish the chances." Once again, Groza could see the gears turn behind KSG's eyes, that analytical mind tearing apart the problem, and then in turn feeding that information into whatever assessment she performed. "Your units were all in battles away from Warsaw itself, which would limit the odds of a civilian identifying you. However, our affiliation is self-evident, and it won't take long for someone to work out we're frontline combat troops. It follows someone will infer at least a few of us were soldiers, and some of us are obviously Russian, which will lead to the remaining obvious conclusions." That same, vague hint of a smile followed. "For me or Alfa there are only promises and betrayal."

"They would remember?"

"While in Minsk had a Pole try and feed me and Alfa our guts." Such a bland statement given its violent implications. "The Commander is aware of the risks, and I'll do what I can." KSG's eyes once more. "Without more details from onsite I can only promise so much."

That truthfully proved more than Groza expected to get. "I understand."

For a long while they were quiet again. Groza stood to leave, having gotten what she wanted, and KSG without an obvious desire to break the silence. "Do you not trust the Blackwood, or is it just more familiar to ask another Doll?" The sudden question made her freeze in place.

"I don't-" Groza started evading the question, turning to face KSG once more, she couldn't find the words to finish denial.

"You are coming to me with concerns about safety and mission integrity, as opposed to our superior officer." Giving Groza a minute to speak, the American kept going, as it became obvious Groza wouldn't say anything else. "We are people of habit. Our habits say things."

"KSG-"

"It is not a judgement." Cutting her off, the American sat up. "I am merely stating the fact that one learns things about others from their habits." Where her half smiles usually felt amused or reassuring, this one carried an edge. "To abuse my siblings a bit, Alfa is a mouthy bitch, because that's what she's always been, in the army ,and then after. I cannot pretend to understand the vitriolic camaraderie of that bunch." Groza didn't know what to make of that information, even less the light laugh and afterthought, "She is also just a bitch."

"And your sister."

"And my sister." Groza could pick out fondness, annoyance and amusement in KSG's tone, in equal measures. "That is not an answer to my question."

"I suppose it isn't." Groza took a while to think, both if she agreed with KSG's unspoken point, and what to say if she did. "The Commander reminds me of a GRU Colonel." That thought did not sit right, after voicing it, but Groza couldn't deny that even though their relationship had mended, she still felt a pragmatic sense of unease around the man. "You are just another soldier, another person who led those of us unfortunate enough to fight into battle. You understand. He…doesn't."

Groza didn't know what she expected from KSG in response to that. Perhaps laughter, disagreement or another knowing smile. At a stretch a solemn nod, a grim sigh, or one of the other small, controlled expressions of emotions that KSG favored. Anything other than those, or perhaps yet further analytical insight, did not register on the list of possibilities.

Thus, the soul rending stare followed took Groza aback. KSG stood fully, hands in her pockets. Groza did her best to meet that gaze, leaving the network connection open if KSG wanted to use it. For minutes on end, they stood that one, as Groza realized that KSG would not just take what she wanted to know, or even parse the network for it if freely offered, instead content to find her answers in Groza's face.

"You're realizing something." Groza suppressed her instinctive flinch when the tension broke. "Probably along the lines of my preference for analysis rather than direct information acquisition." A clinical way of saying it. Nonetheless, Groza dipped her head. "Your privacy is your own Groza. I will not impinge upon it without good reason." Moving past her, KSG stopped a few steps away. "Just…do not place too much faith in that. He is better at empathy than I."

Groza wanted to challenge that point, but KSG's retreating back, and air of tired resignation made it clear she would accept no arguments.

-Faded Glory-

9A-91 found SRS and MG4 sitting off to the side of the convoy. As expected, it seemed that MG4 listened far more than she talked, although that circumstance did not seem to bother the shorter doll much. Instead, she seemed to treat it as background noise, nodding politely in the correct places while inspecting and cleaning every bit of her weapon.

"9A!" Catching sight of 9A, SRS waved her over, just when 9A planned to slip away.

"SRS." Giving the sniper a nod as she settled onto a crate, 9A took a moment to consider them both. MG4 glanced up, a tilt of her head being the only major indication of her opinion. "MG4." Waiting a few seconds for one of them to speak, 9A suppressed a desire to sigh. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"What did you do before Griffin?" Of all the forthright questions, 9A had to admit she didn't see that one coming. Then again, 9A realized she probably should have, given that SRS seemed to identify most strongly with her past work.

"Depends what period you mean." Shifting to get comfortable, 9A internally debated how much she could get away without saying, to at least somewhat avoid upsetting her other half. "After my creation I worked as a military psychologist." That revelation took both of them aback, MG4 freezing in place, holding the barrel of her weapon at an odd angle, SRS blinking as she visibly tried to rationalize that against her own image of 9A.

"Surprised they had them." Setting the barrel down, MG4 spoke. "Didn't seem like anyone over there gave a damn."

"Some units were considered valuable enough to be worth the expense." 9A did little to suppress her swirling emotions when she thought back on it. "Battlefield experience in special forces proved more valuable than replacements. Not every unit agreed, but some put in the resources to keep their Dolls fighting fit." Under the scrutiny of MG4, 9A couldn't help but wonder what else danced behind those eyes. The machine-gunner seemed to answer honestly when asked questions but remained cagey about so many aspects of her past. And, those events were the ones that seemed to matter most to how MG4 looked at the world.

"Were you made for that, or is it just the job you were given?" Oblivious to the tension between them, SRS found her own voice.

"It is the first task I received." Few that 9A knew considered if they were made for the tasks assigned to them, herself among them. "I do not know what my model was created for originally, nor have I cared to investigate." Based on the frown, that answer did not appease SRS in the least. "Early days and months of the fighting were messy, with things changing rapidly, and plans that seemed reasonable one day would be insane three days hence, the same for the uses of dolls."

"So I'm told." SRS glanced at MG4, who returned to her previous task without further comment. "And after the war?"

"I stayed with the military for a year or two." Putting the timeline together remained difficult. Picking up the pieces in the postwar made it hard to keep track of passing time. "After that, I drifted." SRS's body language made it clear she didn't follow, until 9A remembered the fundamental difference in perspective at play. "For you, Dolls are able to take a variety of jobs, correct? Teacher, astronomer, analyst, and so on." SRS nodded. "That is not the case in Russia. We are not seen as equals, or even selectively equal. The place for a Doll is in work that a human is not willing to do. Exceptions were made during the war, and for certain exceptional Dolls, but in general a Doll entering the Soviet workforce would be expected to end up in a menial job, or failing that a bodyguard or PMC one."

"Still true, depending where you are." MG4 interjected, in between steps of assembling her weapon. "Germans tend to push Dolls towards military work."

9A accepted the new information with a nod, electing to keep the obvious observation to herself. "I floated from place to place."

"You didn't join a PMC?" A bit of relief colored SRS's tone at that revelation.

9A shook her head. "I'm not a soldier and after years of hearing about the abject horrors of war, the nightmares and suffering they went through, the idea of going into that field horrified me."

"Oh." MG4 pointedly ignored them more than usual, reaching the end of the process of assembling her weapon, even when SRS glanced furtively in her direction.

"It is not a perspective you are going to have without spending time amongst soldiers." 9A forged ahead before SRS could say anything else. "Consider yourself fortunate that you had the life you did, and the chance to experience a normal life." Looking away, 9A sighed, suddenly realizing how tired she actually was. "There is a cold comfort in knowing the enemy had it as bad as you."

"There is little comfort in war." MG4 set her assembled weapon down. "Merely in the knowledge that it is done."

"It is done." Not for the first time, 9A felt herself straddling the uncomfortable line between the military and the civilians, having been subjected enough of the horrors of the war to never quite feel at home amongst civilians, but also not so truly traumatized by the events of the fighting itself that she could truly relate to a soldier. "Now we have to hope whoever comes next learns."

To 9A's surprise, that statement appeared to depress SRS more than MG4. "We tried." While that did track for a teacher, 9A would contend that in such a short time, SRS would not know that for certain. "But no one wants to put money into charity efforts when their own country is falling apart." While she could not dispute the point, 9A also didn't think SRS blaming herself for that made a whole lot of sense. "What made you come to Griffin?"

Once again, that question required a careful answer, lest information that others didn't want to get out got out. "The man who ran the café I worked in died. I didn't care for his replacement."

MG4, in her usual way, didn't seem to buy that. "Bit of a leap to mercenary work."

"A friend made sure I knew how to fight, and I didn't care to go work in another position that treated me as an object." Even if she hated both options, fighting at least gave her some agency. And she could operate as a bodyguard where the fighting would have been less likely.

"Heard about that." The German leaned forwards. "Bit more than knowing how to fight." Something about that stare felt knowing, even if logically there was no way for her to know. "Regular infantry aren't half as lethal."

"I don't imagine they bothered with the things regular infantry are taught." 9A went for that answer, feeling it safer than denials or evasion.

"The marvels of Russian special forces." While not entirely convinced, the drawling reply signaled MG4's desire to bow out of the conversation for the time being. Standing, she stretched, working some imagined stiffness from her joints before walking away with all the purpose of someone who just wanted out of the conversation.

SRS watched her leave, only releasing the deep sign when MG4 was out of earshot. "She's so hard to understand."

"I think she would say the same of you." Once again, 9A felt every bit of her strange situation, entirely understanding both sides, but even all her training made it hard to find good advice for either one.

"She would." SRS agreed. "All of them would." 9A cocked her head in question. "Say it's hard to understand me." A bit of a laugh. "Even Honey Badger, although for her it's her immaturity."

"Of all of them, Honey Badger will learn." 9A wanted to say she already was learning but that felt untrue. "As for the others, why do you say that?"

"KSG told me, when I first joined them, that all three of them carried some measure of their experiences with them. That if I thought they were doing something stupid, or that didn't make sense, to say so, and expect their reasoning to be weird." SRS managed a small smile, obviously reminiscing on something. "I've long since accepted that they do strange things at times, and value themselves less than they should. Or perhaps they simply do not fear in the same way I do."

"Both." 9A could confirm that notion easily enough. "But you single out MG4 in particular."

"MG4 is…" SRS stewed on her words for a while. "She is very uncomfortable in a group. She is used to being alone, and I think, accepting that will be a sticky end." 9A didn't speak. "It's not even that she dismisses my abilities, she recognizes those, but she will almost subconsciously enforce a desire to be the last person out." A long silence. "I worry about her."

"What does she have to say about that?"

"Last time I brought it up, a shrug, a nod, and nothing else."

9A suppressed her frown, quite unsure how to interpret that information. "As long as she isn't actively getting herself killed, I'm not sure there is much worth doing. MG4 strikes me as a bit of a loner by nature, and I doubt that KSG would let her engage in suicidal stupidity."

"She would not." SRS confirmed with more surety than any point that evening. "KSG is particular about that."

"Suicidal stupidity?"

"Yes. It is one of the few things I've seen genuinely upset her." 9A filed that away for later, mostly as a bit of reassurance.

"Good." Some day, 9A would learn the context for that, but it wouldn't be today. "It eases my job, if nothing else."

That made SRS laugh, the sort of darkened humor that told 9A that the former teacher was becoming a soldier, little by little.

-Faded Glory-

If there was one thing AR-15 learned since being assigned to Griffin, it was that she didn't enjoy being dragged off by white haired former American soldiers. But, she didn't quite manage to escape, or figure out what AK-Alfa was doing until far too late. So, she once again found herself sitting with Five-seveN, SV-98, and Ak-Alfa.

"What exactly are you trying to achieve here?" AR-15 did her best to sound upset. "And if you say bonding time-"

"You'll what, stab me?" Alfa dismissed any idea of a threat with the roll of her eyes. "That's not exactly threatening."

"If she wants to stab you, I will hold you down." SV-98 cautioned, getting a rude gesture in reply. Ignoring that, the other sniper turned to AR-15. "And this wasn't our idea." She pointed at Alfa, who nodded along.

"Okay fine. What do you want?" AR-15 turned her glare on Five-seveN, the Belgian doing her best impression of innocence "You do know that none of us believe that look."

"You aren't any fun."

"Fun isn't relevant." AR-15 hissed.

"I'm plenty fun, I just have standards." Alfa countered. "Which apparently are a bit higher than I thought."

SV-98 meanwhile, provided the deadpan wisdom, "I'm not paid to be fun."

"I'd say something about that being why you're single, but there's some saying about stones and glass houses." The lack of chance to insult someone seemed to genuinely disappoint Alfa.

"How considerate." SV-98 meanwhile did not seem bothered at all.

"Do you three do anything except insult each other?" That is the one thing AR-15 really didn't manage to figure out, how they casually slung insults without ever seeming to notice them.

"Isn't as if we mean anything by it." Alfa shrugged. "Pretty sure I call KSG worse things than I do either of those two." AR-15 opened her mouth to ask, then thought better of it.

"Ingrained habit at this point. Insult me, I insult you." SV-98 waved the idea away

"As amusing as watching them psychoanalyze themselves is." Five-seveN cut in. "We do have a more interesting situation."

"If you're trying to start up another betting ring, I might decide that violence is a solution after all." Where previous threats came off as joking, that one very much did not.

"Another?" AR-15 repeated. "She's done that before?"

"One on when Groza and FAL's finally figure it out." SV-98 confirmed. "Well, I think it had some component about when they'd make it into bed, which really put a damper on her fun."

"Because they haven't yet." AR-15 didn't care about gossip that much, but even she knew that. Further, it gave a chance to needle Five-seveN, who seemed to be struggling to gain her footing in the conversation again.

"I may have been hasty in some assumptions about FAL." Five-seveN conceded.

"Nah, you just got played." SV-98 shook her head. "But if you aren't trying to sucker us into giving you money, what is your goal here?"

"I can't want to spend a little time with you?"

AR-15 couldn't resist. "When even I don't believe that?"

"You heard the lady." Alfa smirked.

That deflated her. "Rude."

"We try." The American drawled.

"I suppose you can answer a question for me." AR-15 leaned forwards, elbows on her knees. All three turned to her. "Why did you lie?"

"Problems between us aren't anyone else's problem." SV-98 shrugged it off. "If you want to talk, you can talk, but you don't seem keen to spread your business, and I'm fine with that." A pause. "Also wasn't my fault, so not my problem."

AR-15 looked at Alfa. "Nobody died, and I'm not insane enough to say I didn't try and provoke you." A beat. "Look, this sorta crap we sort out between us. We're not like that bunch, who can figure out how to work together because they got the 'emotional depth' function, we're a bunch of abrasive dickheads who much prefer to avoid our problems or solve with something high in both velocity and caliber." AR-15 looked to Five-seveN. "She had Ballista for that."

"Oh." That put that into perspective.

"Also, didn't think you'd appreciate your sisters trying to but in." SV-98 tacked it on as an afterthought.

"Pardon me?" AR-15's voice frosted over.

"They tried to get in my face about it. Told them to shove it." The sniper sighed. "They're going off and beating the shit out of that idiot," She pointed at Alfa, "Wouldn't fix anything, and just make it worse."

"And you think that because?"

"You don't strike me as the type to want to be pitied and have someone else fight your battle. If someone's going to shank her in revenge, it's going to be you." SV-98 rattled off. AR-15 couldn't deny that. Although being assessed so effortlessly felt a little weird. "If you want to shove a knife in her guts, I won't stop you."

"Thanks?"

"Anytime." The Russian nodded to her.

"You can try it." Alfa conceded. "Actually." Her eyes narrowed, rotating on Five-seveN. "And you're a conniving little shit, KSG's right."

"Such harsh words."

"I call them like I see them, she considers carefully and then calls it like she finds it." Alfa shot back. "Hell, pretty sure even Miss Sheltered and Stuck Up over there agrees." A nod to AR-15.

"I would not disagree with that idea." AR-15 admitted. "Although I'm not sure what it's got to do with anything."

"She's been pointing us at each other and sitting and watching." Alfa considered. "Not sure why."

"Just what I do." Five-seveN smiled in a way invoked M16's attempts at looking innocent. "And I can't want to get to know my coworkers?"

"Only thing you're getting to know is how we insult each other." AR-15 groused. "That's not informational, that's blackmail." Even she knew that. The pout from Five-seveN failed to convince any of them that the Belgian didn't. "Or an attempt at blackmail."

"If you wanted to get to know people, you'd ask questions about them, like a normal person." SV-98 threw in. "Even someone as socially defective as me realizes that."

That really did take the wind out of Five-seveN's sails at that point. "You know, that raises a point. How the hell'd you end up like that anyway?" Alfa crossed her legs. "People don't start using people like you do without a reason."

"Someone had to look out for FAL." Five-seveN frowned.

"Look out for FAL. The woman who I'm entirely sure would sell someone's kidneys for a cookie." SV-98 shook her head. "I'm calling bullshit on that one."

"FAL can scheme and play, but she doesn't take great pleasure in it." Five-seveN, at least to AR-15's eyes, grew more serious. "So, I did. I handled all the political nonsense that her job required, to remove her burdens."

"Huh. That's right." Much like AR-15 none of them felt all that convinced it seemed. "Feels like there should be more to that story."

"Nope!" Five-seveN shook her head. "And we've heard plenty about you two, what about you?" She turned on AR-15.

"What about me?" AR-15 really would have preferred to not be questioned.

"What is you fours deal?" Alfa did chime in.

"I don't know what 'deal' you think you are talking about."

The American muttered something crude. "Right, let me spell it out. You made it clear before you don't really 'get' each other, and that's all fine and great, but there's just too much crap that doesn't add up. Why's M4 in charge, and not M16, for one?" Now with a head of steam, Alfa just kept going. "When you aren't up your own ass, you're a good shot, just not a soldier, which is a fixable problem, so there's just things about all four of you that don't make sense."

"I don't see why any of that matters to you?"

"I realize being an asshole makes it hard to believe, but I do care a bit about getting along with people." Alfa leaned forwards. "Mutual antagonism is fine as long as when shit hits the fan, we're all on the same page."

"Mutual antagonism she says." Five-seveN grumbled, only to actually wilt under the stare that Alfa sent her way. AR-15 thought the other Doll intense before, but this, this felt different. Far more direct, and intense.

"You might be a scatter-brained slag, but I also have a general faith that if someone is about to shoot me, you'll shoot them first. SV-98 probably only would shoot them first to make sure she got to shoot me herself, but that is good enough for me. Likewise, if someone is going to shoot her, it's going to be me, and for whatever her faults, Five-seveN's useful, so I'd shoot someone for her."

"What Alfa is taking the roundabout way to, is that our latest assignment is not just a simple 'we go in and shoot things and leave', it is going to involve being in a city full of people that for various reasons want to shoot each and every one of us, and in all likelihood will do so with no hesitation." Again, this felt far more intense than previous statements.

"We'll shoot people that try and shoot you, we're asking for the same courtesy." SV-98, as usual, didn't seem interested in dancing words, cutting right to the point.

"I don't see why you're talking to me about this." AR-15 repeated. "I'll do as M4 asks."

"And M4 isn't going to think about that." Alfa countered. "You are. More importantly, you are the one we are more likely to deal with. And the one who's tried to stab me." Another pause accompanied by a searching stare, and then Alfa seemed to realize something. To AR-15's surprise, she fluidly switched to Russian of all languages, presumably cursing profusely.

"I don't speak much Russian but that seemed decidedly not nice."

"As the Russian, I am unsure if I should be impressed, or concerned." SV-98 eyes widened. "What'd you figure out?"

Alfa took a long, slow breath, and slumped. "Not drunk enough to unpack why she's drunk that insane Russian dumbassery that we are Dolls and thus expendable."

Where all of them obviously expected a rebuttal, AR-15 didn't offer one.

-Faded Glory-

The early morning for Sector Nine was usually a chaotic time. Even when traveling, things always picked up with the sun.

Fleur still didn't consider herself an expert, but she knew enough to know that the tension in the air could not be considered normal. The Commander's nose was buried in a report, accompanied by mutterings in multiple languages. KSG seemed to be coordinating the basic logistics of their journey with Lena and Aleksander, while the pilots were off in a corner talking amongst themselves. All of those things were normal, even if the German profanity wasn't. Yet, something about the atmosphere felt off.

"I'm not the only one who thinks this is deeply uncomfortable?" AR-57's question made her jump.

"Nope." Fleur glanced around. "You'd think they expect the road to be full of landmines or something." She didn't have a good feel for the base armorer, they usually didn't work too closely, outside of Fleur delivering odd requests for items that the teenager felt certain went into making explosives. "Which isn't the case."

"Guess I kinda get it." AR-57 admitted after a few seconds. "I know what I'm doing, and every time I'm making something new and has a chance to blow up, I'll end up nervous regardless of how well I know the process." In that context, Fleur could get it, at least a little bit. Everything she'd done, even when she knew the plan could create plenty of tension.

"Probably should let them figure it out." Fleur decided, turning away from the mess. "I'd rather not have the headache that hearing an explanation of whatever conclusion they arrive at will produce."

"Experience talking?" AR-57 didn't seem to object, following Fleur away.

"Every time I talk to the Commander, I leave the conversation with a headache." Fleur confirmed. "I swear everything he does is a four-layer plan, and everything I do is all part of the scheme." AR-57 just looked at her. "I basically ended up here for giggles, right? Except, bringing me in let him absolutely destroy someone who betrayed them during the war, and if I didn't know for an absolute fact that he pulled that scheme out of his ass in the moment, I'd think he planned it all from the start."

"How'd that work anyway?"

"Me being a stupid kid." Fleur shrugged. "That's about all there is to it. Now I'm…I dunno what. It's weird."

"How so?" AR-57 shook her head. "Not that weird that people end up with multiple skills to solve any given problem."

"It is weird when you're a person who handled logistics, random information and reaching out to contact shady mercenary figures." Fleur countered. "It's even weirder when you are the person they reach out to."

AR-57 regarded her for a while, then shrugged. "Doesn't seem entirely out of the realm of reason." Fleur went to object. "I've had plenty of people come hunt me down looking for weird garbage that were probably involved in underworld nonsense, when seemingly coming to me doesn't make all that much sense."

Fleur took a moment to think those implications through. Firstly, that AR-57 had done work for what sounded to be mobsters or the like. Second, AR-57 seemed to have more wisdom than Fleur originally suspected. "That sounds concerning."

"Probably." AR-57 shrugged. "My boss knew better than take the properly shady work, and I did the best work, and they paid well." She winced. "Didn't keep us above water in the end, but it kept us going for a while."

"Do you miss that?"

"My old job?" AR-57 shook her head. "I mean, I'm still doing the same work, I just have to keep track of more people, and I've got a friend to help get me parts."

"SOPMOD?" Fleur did notice the two of them being surprisingly close. AR-57 nodded. "Is she always uh…"

"Quite so enthusiastic about violence?" Fleur nodded. "Sometimes. More, battle maniac than violence addict." AR-57 shrugged. "She's pretty smart, knows how to tinker with things. Not sure where she learned it, but she's got a knack of turning Sangvis bits into useful things."

"Seems weird, considering her sisters." Fleur didn't get any of them, but SOPMOD probably confused her the most. "She talk about them much?"

"Not really." AR-57 shook her head. "They seem like a mess, and not my place to ask."

"I guess that makes sense."

The rest of their conversation didn't matter much, and as AR-57 drifted away, Fleur checked her phone, finding a flurry more message from 'Seir'

You can tell your Commander everything is finalized on our end, and he'll have what he needs in a few days. Fleur didn't know the specifics, but that would be good enough. Playing middleman for information felt weird enough never mind transferring files and the like.

I'll pass it along when I get the chance. That felt wisest. Adding more to the pile of things that were going on didn't fit Fleur's idea of fun.

Thanks. A long pause. Be careful. I don't know the specifics, but you guys are heading towards trouble.

Do I want to know how you know what we're up to?

A pause. Probably not?

Fleur groaned. Just tell me.

There was a long pause. It's not too hard to infer from his requests, but an entire Griffin sector moving around causes some stir. Fleur would yield that point.

You coming too?

I usually don't. A pause, and the pop up to suggest Sier was typing, which kept appearing, and vanishing.

-Faded Glory-

"They're planning something, I'm telling you, Kamil." Tomek jabbed a finger at the man across from him, voice rising in time with his flush, to the amusement of most of the rest of those gathered about the table.

"We agree on that." Kamil for his part didn't seem nearly as bothered. Arms folding over his chest, the man slouched back. "However, without knowing what, we cannot do anything."

Tomek didn't relent, slamming a fist into the table, making everything on it jump, and killing most of the amusement. "And when they bring in reinforcements? What do we do then?"

"Nothing says they are bringing reinforcements." Kamil snapped. "If we sit here jumping at ghosts, then we're playing right into their hands!"

"And if we sit here doing nothing, what is the point!" Came the thundering reply.

"The point is that we can't waste our effort!"

"And arguing like children in the process." A third man cut in, Lucjan, silencing them both. "I believe our friends are telling us the truth, and that Griffin is mobilizing troops to assist the local forces, and their own."

"And they can't be bothered to tell us what those reinforcements are." While grumbling, Kamil backed down. "Just that it's 'numerous' and 'experienced' and coming 'sometime'. Damn useless report."

"And that is more information than we had yesterday." Lucjan pointed out. "Would you rather no warning that at least one additional squad of heavily armed Tactical Dolls is coming?" The second man snarled but didn't object further. "Now. How do we handle these new Dolls?"

"We don't?" Tomek shrugged. "You ever had a Doll try and take your face off?" Everyone at the table shook their heads. "You can remove half their guts, and they just keep coming. Pain, fear, none of that matters to them. Watched a Doll take a shotgun blast to the chest, not slow down, and shove six inches of steel through the chest of the guy who shot them."

"So, we don't mess with the Dolls. That's fine and all, but I remind you, those are Dolls who will be looking for us."

"Who says we need to fight them?" Lucjan took a while to consider his words, drawing all eyes to him. .

"You're saying we point them at somebody else?" Tomek did not sound convinced by that idea.

Nodding in confirmation, Lucjan gestured broadly to the area around them. . "I'm sure we can all think of a Russian puppet or three that would enjoy a nice visit." Slowly, nods cycled around the table. "For now, we wait, and we prepare."

"Fine." All of them sat around, nodding along with that idea. The tension that started the meeting largely abated, but Lucjan couldn't shake the feeling that it would not be quite so easy as directing these new arrivals, whoever they happened to be at another faction within the city. He stared at the last line of the report.

Written in code, and double talk beyond that, the information suggested that, not only did Griffin send extra heavy troops, they were sending elite troops at that, fresh from combat, with an experienced officer to lead them. Not a bunch of cops with an axe to grind, but combat soldiers. That did not bode well for the future in the least.


AN: Final chapter of transition, next chapter, we arrive in Poland, and I am going to have so much fun. An utterly unreasonable amount of fun.

As always a thanks to Branded for putting up with my bullshit.