A/N: Thanks to WhiskytheFoxtrot for letting me play in his universe once more.
This story is an alternate universe retelling of the first few chapters of Welcome to the Misfits, interpreted through my own personal lens.
I hope you enjoy.
Project Phoenix - T +03:05:23:49
With every detonation overhead, a bit of dust falls from the ceiling. You'd think it would stop after a while, but it does not. Every time a bomb goes off, or artillery hits the area, or a grenade is tossed back or forth.
The place is a lab. Formerly owned by an eccentric lady who seems to like cats, it's got all manner of crazy gadgets and gizmos. While the types and arrangement of all the equipment seems random at first, a careful observation shows that everything is designed to build Dolls. IOP's pride and joy, Dolls are androids designed to look, act, and maybe even replace humans if the need arises. They come in A and T varieties, standing for "artificial" and "tactical" respectively.
Nines, an A-Doll with an upgrade package to turn her into a T-Doll, wipes the dust from the control panel she's monitoring for the umpteenth time. The control panel shows a grim result, stuck in the initial stages. 0.05%. It's touch and go, but as long as there's a chance.
Her last task, one given by the former owner of this lab, is to make sure Project Phoenix comes to fruition. The lab's owner had to bail due to the aforementioned combat on the surface. World War III isn't going well for anyone, and this city has been the latest to be bombed out of existence. It started three days ago…
Project Phoenix - T -7:43:10
A plane soars low overhead, the cannon strapped to the underside of the titanium tub delivering its oh-so-pretty BRRRRRRT as the engines scream overhead, rounds shredding through the target building and everything within twenty meters.
"HOORAH!"
Sergeant Nate Owen lowers his spotter binocs and grins at Sergeant DeLaney. "No kill like overkill."
"Overkill?" DeLaney raises an eyebrow. "It ain't overkill until the building's completely obliterated!"
"Guess I better call in another strike." Owen keys his radio. "This is Wombat-3 to Glider-Actual. Thanks for the gun run, but can you do it again? There's still a building in our way."
"Glider-Actual. Sorry boys, but we've got other things on our plate. We'll keep you in mind if we've got spare ammo on our way back."
"Understood, but we can't wait. Don't put yourselves out on our account." Owen resists the urge to sigh. "Godspeed, Glider."
"Godspeed, Wombat-3."
"So… no second gun run." DeLaney's lip curls. "So we're gonna have to get through there with those damn Soviets in our way."
"What else is new?" Owen looks over his shoulder to see the rest of their squad- or, what's left of it- checking weapons and preparing to complete the next phase of their suicide mission.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out rescue mission. Then the Neo-Soviets had started to bomb their neighbor, and simple went out the window.
"Alright people." Sergeant DeLaney puts his boot up on a raised chunk of concrete. "We're still on track to meet up with our Ukrainian contacts. Only three blocks, but those three blocks are crawling with Ruskies. You ready to rescue this bitch?"
"HOORAH!"
"Here's the plan. We're gonna cut through the parking deck to the East, which will get us close enough to be within radio distance even in this electronic hellstorm. For there we-"
Owen looks back at the building filled with holes, and sees a glint of light from one of them. "SNIPER!"
DeLaney leaps from his rock as the crack of a rifle round punches through the air where he was just standing.
The remains of Wombat-3 step up and start to fire back, the heavy gunner suppressing the face of the building while their own sniper tries to counter-snipe the Soviet.
"Do I need to start quoting the handbook on why standing out in front of the enemy is a bad idea?" Owen raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, yeah, save it for when we're back at base." DeLaney pokes his rifle up and rests it on the same concrete block he had been posing on moments before.
Owen readies his rifle once more, before leaning out from behind his cover to try to pick off a target or two.
One of the enemies pokes their head around their own cover, and Owen's gun bucks as he sends a few rounds their way. Moments later, the person tumbles out of the window to splatter against the hard street below.
Another one to add to my nightmares.
Owen ducks back into cover as some more rounds start to send small puffs of dust up around him.
His eyes track around to the rest of his squad, all seven-
No, six. Herschel's lost most of his face.
Owen closes his eyes. He can't afford to feel right now…
Project Phoenix - T +40:05:23:49
"Hello, sir!" Nines smiles in the mirror. "Glad to see you're alright. Project Phoenix was a complete success!"
Her smile dims as she looks over her features once more. There's a large gash through the fake skin on her face, dirt smeared all over, and her normally impeccable uniform is wrinkled.
Still, she needs to practice.
"You've been asleep for quite a lot longer than you were originally supposed to be. However, you're now back up to a hundred percent, so we can go find your squad. Once you've gotten a proper medical checkup, we can return to the frontlines and make sure to beat the Neo-Soviets back."
No… that's not right.
"Once you get your medical checkup, we can contact your base and get you back into action."
Much better. After all, the Neo-Soviets aren't going to win this war, are they?
Maybe the fighting had already stopped. The explosions had certainly stopped happening two weeks ago, so maybe the owner of the Lab will be coming back to oversee her experiment.
A glance at the terminal controlling Project Phoenix shows the horrific truth about the pace of the project.
0.98%
Forty days for less than a percent.
The Project was damaged during its initial phase, she's sure of that now. It was supposed to take mere months-
Ho. She has to keep hope.
Nines forces another smile on her face and starts her mental script once more. "Hello Sir! Glad to see-"
Project Phoenix: T -4:47:25
Only four people left. DeLaney to his left, Patterson and Wells to his right.
Owen steps into the bombed out hotel lobby. "Yankee!"
"Dandy!"
The heavily accented voice sounds like a mercy at this point, as the countersign is correct.
"Boy are we glad to see you, Grigori." DeLaney walks forward and shakes the hand of the burly Ukrainian. "It's a meat grinder out there."
"I am afraid it will not get much better. We must hurry."
"Hurry?" Owen grimaces. "We're barely hanging in here, chief."
"I am aware, but time is still short."
Wells stands up, shouldering his HK417. "I'm ready, Sarge."
"Ready." Patterson nods, though he doesn't move to pick up his M240.
Owen checks his ammo situation, which is pretty bad, but not bad enough to go begging for supplies just yet. "Alright then. DeLaney?"
"Grigori, we're following you." DeLaney gestures to the Ukrainian.
"We go."
The four Americans follow the Ukrainian deeper into the hotel, guns held at the ready. For his part, Grigori seems more relaxed despite the constant sounds of combat in the distant streets and sometimes the not-so-distant streets.
"Here is the rest of our group." Grigori waves as they turn the corner. "We have also suffered many casualties."
Owen nods, eyes scanning the new group of dirty, haggard men and women…
There's a much higher ratio of women to men than usual. Ten to the men's six.
"Did we stumble on the Valkyrie squad?" Dulaney grins. "Gonna have the angels of combat on our side?"
"Tak, u pevny maneri." Grigori smirks. "They are those new Tactical Dolls that have been appearing over the battlefields."
"Ah." Owen's mood falls. He'd been forced to fight beside some of the earlier prototypes before, and they were… okay but nothing to write home about. These ones look a lot more human though, dressed in Ukrainian uniforms. He privately wonders why it's necessary to give them faces with expressions, the prototypes were faceless masses of armor, after all. "Well, I hope they're up to scratch."
"Believe me." One of them calls out in perfect English. "I can outsnipe your marksman while balancing on one foot."
"Is that so?" Owen frowns.
"You shall see."
"Lookin' forward to it, Miss." Wells grins. "Can I get yer name?"
"Nataliya."
"Bro." Patterson whacks Well's shoulder. "Don't flirt with the robots."
"Oh come on!"
Owen shakes his head. "I don't get why anyone would want to have sex with one of these things."
DeLaney gives Owen the side eye. "Uh… Nate?"
"What? You can't tell me I've already done one of them." Owen frowns. "I'd know if I had sex with a robot."
"So, you know that pilot-"
Grigori gives out a big guttural laugh. "Chudovo! We shall accomplish glorious things today. Come! We must hurry!"
Project Phoenix: T +1:000:00:00:00
Nines blows out the flame on the lighter she had scavenged.
The outside environment has gotten worse if anything since the bombing stopped, but still, she must scavenge. After all, this bunker, herself, and mostly Project Phoenix requires electricity, and the backup generator has long since run out of juice.
Sometimes she'll stumble across the corpse of a soldier or a civilian, and she can strip them of their useful items. Sometimes she ventures into the shopping quarter of the city to snag a solar panel, or some more batteries, or a box of cake mix.
As a Doll, she doesn't need to eat if there's electricity, but she prefers to eat when there's the option to. It saves the electricity for Phoenix, after all.
It's been a year since she's been assigned her duty to protect Phoenix, and it had dawned on her that this was to be her last job.
After all, Dolls don't survive more than maybe a few years without maintenance. At the current rate…
She glances at the percentage readout once more.
7.3%.
It's going to take fourteen years, assuming nothing goes wrong.
That's well past the maintenance interval she was expected to hit.
Oh well, she'll just have to make do with whatever parts she can scrounge up.
A pile of parts from dead Dolls she had scavenged sits in the corner, neatly laid out so she can easily get whatever she needs.
There's no active cores, they would have all died months and months ago, which is a shame.
She could use someone to talk to.
Project Phoenix: T -4:24:57
"You sure she's in the building?" Owen asks the robot next to him.
"Da." The sniper Doll holds her outdated Mosin to her eye and scans the base of the nondescript building. "What, were you expecting a sign saying 'secret lab here'?"
"No." Owen lowers his binoculars and gets to his feet. "I was expecting there to be an enemy presence."
"There's certainly enough of that." DeLaney walks up and folds his arms next to Owen. "Just look in any direction other than our target."
"And that's worrying?" Owen gestures to the deserted street. "The Soviets are everywhere but where we don't want them to be."
"Too good to be true, huh?"
Nataliya stands up from her prone position, her rifle slung over her shoulder. "I need to get my orders from Grigori."
Owen nods and lets his feet carry him along behind the woman as he continues to talk with DeLaney. "Hey DeLaney?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you show me the dossier for our VIP?"
"Sure." DeLaney reaches into his pack and withdraws a manilla folder. "Just be sure to give it back."
Owen nods and opens the file, eyes flicking from the picture to the name and occupation information.
"Miss Persica." Nataliya mutters from beside Owen.
"You know here?"
The Doll nods. "She's our mother."
"You're gonna have to run that one by me again." DeLaney raises an eyebrow.
"She invented the Neural Cloud that gives us our sense of self." Nataliya shrugs. "Without her, we'd never have been born."
"I guess that's why we're going after her." Owen mutters. "Too important to let fall into Neo-Soviet hands."
"That is correct." A new voice joins in.
Owen turns around to see a mousey girl, silver blonde with bright blue eyes. Her uniform seems to wear her rather than the other way around, red Beret tilts too far to one side due to being oversized.
She continues in her quiet voice. "She is a genius. I think her work will change the world."
"Already has." DeLaney sighs. "So many fuckin' robots everywhere."
"Hey." Nataliya glares at DeLaney. "We're the ones they keep sending into hell, you humans always get the cushy jobs."
"This is cushy?"
"Nobody's ordered you to participate in a suicide charge yet, have they?"
Owen coughs. "Well, not technically. That said, this operation has already gotten ten of our Squad killed."
"Oh." She looks away. "Sorry about that, I guess."
"Sergeant Owen?"
Owen once more looks down at the small Doll with the silver hair. "What's up?"
"Commander Grigori provided me with a dossier on you. It says you are special operations?"
Owen's face twists. "He's giving out Dossiers to his Dolls?"
"We need to know what's going on too, Sergeant." Nataliya rolls her eyes.
"I'm also Special operations!" The small girl smiles at Owen. "9A-91 at your service!"
"You're… named after the assault rifle in your hands?"
"Yes!" She beams. "I have been bonded to this weapon, which is good for stealth."
"Does holding a special gun make you a spec-ops Doll?" DeLaney gives the girl a look.
"Well, no, but-"
DeLaney waves 9A-91 away. "Owen, let's go talk to Grigori."
"Right." He glances at the two Dolls. "Nice talking with you."
"Mmhmm. Sure."
Nataliya's sarcasm is slightly offset by 9A-91's polite bow.
Project Phoenix: T +3:304:20:58:42
"No! Please!"
Nine's pleas are unheard by anyone or anything. She practically can't hear them herself over the wind.
A storm, one unlike any she'd ever encountered before, rocks through the former city. Normally, she would be sheltering in place, but-
"The panels!" She cries out, hands that long ago had the synthetic skin rubbed completely away scrabbling to unbolt the electronic equipment.
The back-up batteries kept outside due to space concerns had already caught fire due to a lightning strike, the lithium compound contained within burning regardless of the driving rain. The fire is spreading, already startling to lick at the solar array. She's already cut the connection down to the lab, so the problems won't spread down there, but…
Another bolt of lightning strikes a nearby building, the internal wiring melting in a flash and sending debris raining down at the copper and decayed concrete briefly liquifying under the hundred million volt strike.
She peers into the dark gray sky as her metal fingers clack on the bolt she had so confidently fastened… How long ago?
Years.
She pulls up the panel, setting it under the protection of a sheet of corrugated metal that will hopefully direct any electricity away from the delicate components.
A few chips of concrete glance off her face and frame as the remains of a nearby building crumble, the debris threatening to take her out if she's not careful.
She really should just stay inside. It's not worth risking her life-
Project Phoenix.
Someone else is counting on her to keep the power flowing.
She grits her teeth and starts working on the next panel-
A chunk of concrete punches a hole right through the panel in front of her.
She looks up just in time to see even more of the deadly rocks from the sky raining down.
She hastily grabs all the panels she's managed to save and bolts for the cave-like entrance to the underground lab.
When she gets inside, she collapses to the ground, watching the water drip out of her frame where it had collected. Her skin is so full of holes, she's probably going to have to contort a few times to get it all out…
Her pile of panels is pathetically small compared with how many she had before. Less than half.
Thunder booms overhead.
She doesn;t want to run the numbers, but she's a Doll. Numbers are at the core of her being.
"This number of panels will be able to keep the project running." She says to nobody. "It can't keep both of us running."
There's got to be more panels out there, though… they have to be pretty far out. She's never gone more than a klick or two from the lab just in case something went wrong, but in the past few years she's picked the local area almost clean.
"I have until the batteries get down to fifty percent." She tells herself. "If I can't find a solution by then… I'll give Phoenix its best shot, and then go into hibernation."
Project Phoenix: T -3:32:09
"What do you mean?!" DeLaney's knuckles are white on the radio. "We haven't even gotten to the VIP yet!"
"You only have a few hours to fix that, Wombat-3." The clinical voice isn't doing anyone's nerves any favors. "We can't jeopardize the entire front of the war for a scientist, no matter how valuable."
"FUCK!" DeLaney raises the radio as if to smash it against the floor, but holds himself back. "Owen, Grigori, we need to get moving."
"What's the situation?" Owen raises an eyebrow.
DeLaney seems to collapse in on himself for a few seconds before he manages to respond. "They're gonna hit this place with a Pike."
Wells gives a low whistle. "That bad, huh?"
"We're the only people not immediately retreating." DeLaney looks at Grigori. "You should probably contact your superiors. Get everyone else to pull out."
"No need." He smiles sadly. "We are all that's left."
"...Fuck."
"Agreed." Nataliya growls. "So, any chance we get out alive?"
"Air Force is sending out two choppers." DeLaney grunts. "Coming an hour before the missiles are launched."
"Is that long enough for us to get away?" 9A-91 asks timidly.
"Long enough for the Air Force, apparently." DeLaney spends a moment to pull himself together. "We need to get Persica now."
Patterson releases the bolt on his M240 with a distinct click. "What are we waiting for then?"
"We shall move then." Grigori gestures for the large squad of twenty to follow him. "We should move before the Soviets catch our scent."
Project Phoenix: T +7:152:18:03:32
Nines lies on her stomach, watching the group of humans through her scope.
Real, living humans.
It's been so long!
They're heavily armed though, and she doesn't want to be chewed up by bullets, so for now she's observing to try and get a good idea of who they are.
She's close enough to hear their conversation as they set up their camp for the evening, though (she hopes) completely out of view due to lying behind a slab of fractured debris from one of the many building collapses.
"Any sign of ELIDs?"
"No, but this place was ground zero for a blast near the end of the war." Another of the men answers the first. "There's probably hordes of them around."
They're speaking Russian. While that's Nine's native language, she was distinctly on the side against the Neo-Soviets in the last war. It's good that it ended though.
Yes, that is a Neo-Soviet patch on that man's arm. These guys are the enemy.
Another soldier walks up, shaking his head. "This entire area's been picked clean. Avengers must've been through here already."
"In a yellow zone?" The first shakes his head. "They must be insane."
"Just desperate, I think."
They continue to chatter, and Nines keeps her ears peeled. This is the first news of the outside world she's gotten in forever. In fact, there were times she wondered if humans had survived at all, or the only things still alive were those gross rock-hard zombie things that had been roaming around for a while after the bombs dropped.
Eventually night comes, and Nines watches as the fire they had started grows and casts flickering shadows all around.
An idea strikes her.
They have food. Rations, food that will keep for a long time, if her guess at them being military, and Neo-Soviet enemies at that. Her protocols allow her to shoot enemy combatants, so she could just sneak in during the dead of night, steal all their food, and if they woke up then he could just pop them.
Food would be so nice. She's been having to ration electricity to an extreme degree, only charging during days where the panels are outputting more power than the batteries keeping Phoenix running can absorb, and having real food again would allow her spare energy to do other tasks, like repairing her uniform, or fixing her skin, or…
She watches the men go to sleep through her scope, then stands up.
If the war is over, then these aren't even enemies, are they?
Desire to have spare energy battles with knowledge newly gained of the war having ended.
With a heavy heart, she turns away, heading back to the lab.
There, she sits against a wall, plugging into the battery bank to draw just enough power to keep her core from dying overnight.
"Hey Scrappy?"
Scrappy, a collection of spare parts arranged into the shape of a doll, though no core is present to bring the parts to life. She remains silent.
"I had a chance to get some food today."
Scrappy remains silent.
"I really, really want some food. I want to be able to go scavenge farther away to see if I can find anything useful."
Scrappy remains silent.
"B-but, they were saying the war is over. I can't just kill people if the war's over! I… I don't want to be that kind of person!"
Scrappy remains silent.
"But… what if by losing this opportunity, Project Phoenix fails? What do I do then?"
Scrappy remains silent.
"I hate this." Nines curls up on herself. "Maybe they'll leave some food behind, and tomorrow I'll be able to have a feast, and I'll do a ton of maintenance on me and you, and…"
Nines continues to talk to Scrappy about all the things she'll do once she has spare energy.
Scrappy remains silent.
Project Phoenix: T -2:10:45
Gunshots echo through the concrete canyons, shots being exchanged back and forth.
Wombat-3 and the Doll detachment had run into a patrol of Neo-Soviets, and due to the time constraint, they couldn't afford to just wait the slow moving group out.
Instead, they had split up.
Owen, being the only one with even a hint of infiltration experience (though if he was perfectly honest, he hadn't used most of the skills since boot camp) had been sent to sneak around, with two of the Dolls as backup while the rest of the team engages and distracts.
It's just his luck that he got the mouthy sniper Doll and the young Spec-ops Doll.
"Clear." 9A-91 waves Owen and Nataliya forward.
Owen sneaks forward, barrel of his rifle leading as he steps around the corner, eyes on the lookout for anything moving.
Nothing, of course.
He has to admit, 9A-91 at least moves like a special operations trained woman. He'd have to evaluate the rest of her abilities if they need them.
Personally, he'd rather not have to find out.
Suddenly, 9A-91 reaches out a hand to snag Owen's uniform. "Wait."
He tries to pull his shirt out of her grasp, but her hand is tighter than iron, so he just looks in the direction she's indicating.
Three Neo-Soviet soldiers, guns raised, sweeping as they approach.
"I'll get the one in the rear." Nataliya murmurs. "9A, can you get the other two?"
Owen draws his handgun and screws on the suppressor in a hurry. "She only needs to take down one."
"Do you think you can hit them with a pistol at this range?" 9A-91 asks Owen. "I can probably hit both of them pretty quickly."
"Well, if I miss, I'm counting on you." Owen gives the suppressor one last tighten before raising it up and checking his sight picture.
Completely blocked. This is going to be fun.
"On your mark, Sergeant." Nataliya murmurs, her Mosin Nagant braced on a shattered planter.
"Ready." 9A-91's rifle is plante in her shoulder.
"Mark." Owen paises his gun and fires three shots. Only one of the bullets hits, stumbling the man as it impacts his armor. Owen fires a fourth round that penetrates his helmet and the man collapses to the ground.
9A-91 and Nataliya both hit their shots as well, though each of their weapons only go off once each.
Begrudgingly, Owen recognizes that they can at least shoot.
"We have to hurry." 9A-91 looks back at Owen. "We're almost at the entrance to the Lab!"
Project Phoenix: T +10:109:11:30:59
Nine's hands lock up as she attempts to manipulate the special item she's been saving.
More and more scavengers and soldiers have been passing through this dead city in the past two years, and sometimes they didn't make it all the way through. Sometimes ELIDs got them. Sometimes it was other humans. Once or twice, it was a rogue doll.
Nines wonders to herself if she could just abandon her duty.
Her index finger locks up again, and she carefully reaches over with her other hand to break the joint free. Maybe she should install one of the spare hands she's collected?
No, those are needed for when Phoenix wakes up.
And Scrappy needs her arms too! Even if she's not really using them, she wouldn't be happy to be disarmed.
Heh. Disarmed.
Nines finishes getting her fingers locked into place, feeling the stubborn plastic off the item she had stripped from a corpse.
Chocolate.
A small bar of chocolate, hardly more than a mouthful.
She nibbles on the corner, determined to let this treat last as long as possible.
It's Valentine's day, after all! A human holiday, one celebrating love for one another. Everyone gets chocolate!
This year, even Nines gets chocolate.
She would have saved some for Scrappy, but Scrappy never eats anything, so no point in wasting it.
Doesn't stop Nines from feeling a bit guilty about it.
Snow falls on her head, drifting through the decayed city and laying down a pure white blanket that hides the nasty realities of traversing through this dead city.
For a brief moment, everything is nice and calm.
Project Phoenix: T -1:52:17
"Lady-"
"My name is Persica."
The lady in question blows off Owen yet again, draining her third cup of coffee in as many minutes as she hurriedly collects notes, and hard drives, and small computery things Owen isn't particularly familiar with. Everything in this lab is weird, to be honest.
Especially that tube in the center of the room. It looks like a Star Wars Bacta tank, but orange.
Idly, he wonders if it tastes like Tang.
"Okay then, Persica, we need to go." Owen returns to trying to get through to the woman. "There's a Pike incoming."
"Yes, yes. I was made aware." She continues to scramble around, only stopping to load up her mug once more. Owen never knew one person could use more than one coffee machine, but Persica has four, and it looks like she uses them all constantly. "I must save as much of my research as possible."
9A-91 is peering at all the larger devices that have to be left behind, eyes tracing every square inch of them like she's trying to memorize their shape for later.
Nataliya is bust cleaning her rifle, fingers expertly disassembling the weapon without her eyes even looking at the gun.
Since everyone else is busy, Owen fumbles around with his radio. "Hey DeLaney?"
"Owen?!" The note of relief in his voice is audible even over the poor bitrate of the radio. "Thank god! We finally managed to get away from the Soviets. Did you get to Persica?"
"Yes." Owen looks at the woman, who has cat ears for some reason. "She's busy packing up her research."
"Well, tell her to get the lead out. Two Black Hawks are inbound, ETA ten mikes."
"I thought we had a good half an hour left!"
9A-91 and Nataliya look up at Owen's exclamation.
"We did, but it looks like the pilots are flying fast. The Soviets are bringing in some anti-air they don't want to be around to meet."
"Fuck. Understood, we'll get the lead out."
"Landing pad is on top of the building we're staging out of. We're lying low until you get here. Over and out."
"Roger. Over and Out."
Owen tucks the radio back into his pocket. "Ladies, we have ten minutes before our ride gets here, and I do not want to miss it."
Persica slams her briefcase shut, though a paper or two is sticking out. "That's fine, let's move."
Nataliya slides the bolt back onto her rifle, operates it once, and nods. "Ready to go."
"What's 'Project Phoenix'?" 9A-91 asks.
Persica stops to glance at the large translucent orange tube. "It… doesn't matter now. It was a super soldier project, but it will die with this city."
"Super soldiers?" Owen shakes his head. "What, not happy with your robots?"
"We're Dolls, thanks." Nataliya grumbles.
"I am immensely happy with my children." Persica directs a glare at Owen, but with those massive bags under her eyes, it seems more dour than anything else. "This was just another project."
"Well, it's a dead one." Owen checks his rifle. "Let's go."
Project Phoenix: T +13:213:13:05:27
"Project Phoenix is a full body augmentation procedure completely automated by advances in medical technology-" Nines looks up from the documentation she's read more times than she would like to count (eight-thousand, four-hundred and thirty-seven times) to look at the person she's reading to.
"Scrappy, you are paying attention, right? I'm sorry I never read this to you before, but I forgot you like technical documentation."
Nines looks back down at the papers in her hands, the singular working eye focusing down at the well handled paper and the fading text. It would be nice to have some more light down here, but Nines cannot afford to waste power. Not when the percentage is so high!
Today's the day it will reach 95%!
"Anyway. Using advances in modern medicine, small machines suspended in a medium of nutrients and minerals surround the host body, and the machines can use the nutrients and minerals to create new bones, sinew, and organs to reinforce them. In addition, there's neural integration so that the host body can work with the new abilities."
Nines flips a page.
It takes a long time, but this doesn't bother Nines or Scrappy. Nothing Nines does is fast nowadays. Everything is broken, from the delicate joints in her hands to the very core she sustains her Neural Cloud on.
All the new parts she's saving for when Phoenix wakes up are still pristine… well, as pristine as they can be for salvage. But, she keeps them nice and dry, away from the leaky roof, the pools of oils and hydraulic fluid from the last time she cut one of her lines, from the odd flora finally starting to grow on this blighted land.
"These new abilities include eye augmentations so that the host body can see in the dark, integration with modern weapon systems, improved reflexes…" She giggles to herself. "It's almost like he'll be a DOll when he gets out!"
She looks to the translucent orange tube dominating the room.
Inside, a human floats, the process that began over a decade ago finally starting to come to a close.
"Only five hundred more days." Nines stands up slowly. "I should make a calendar!"
She grabs a chunk of sharp metal from who knows where, and walks up to the tube. It's made of some sort of reinforced acrylic, nothing that would shatter.
She knows this from experience. She's ashamed of her actions, but sometimes she just can't handle being trapped in here for more than a decade for no fucking reason-
She could just open the tank now.
Obviously, it has risks, but it should be stable by now. The project notes say so.
The man inside should survive.
All she needs to do is pull the lever, and Project Phoenix will be complete, and she can rest.
SShe can finally leave this hell-
Oops. Bad thoughts are creeping in again.
She calms herself down, and with a heavy hand, scratches a line into the acrylic.
The first tally of the end of Project Phoenix.
"Oh, I can't wait!" She turns to her pile of parts, food, and clothes she had gathered over the years, stockpiling for the end of her duty.
She could start fixing herself now, right? The new parts will still be good in five-hundred days…
Right?
Project Phoenix: T -1:40:05
"They're late."
"What is this, the army?" Wells rolls his eyes. "Hurry up and wait!"
"Could be very worse." Grigori sighs. "Could not be coming."
"That would suck." DeLaney agrees. "Eyes up, people."
Owen shakes his head and sits down beside the helipad.
An actual helipad, one on top of the building they're waiting on. Not that they trust the stability of the building. No, the helos aren't even going to touch down.
The sixteen remaining dolls and humans are going to board the two helos while they hover, turning round almost immediately.
"Hey, Sergeant Owen?"
Pulled out of his thoughts, Owne notices that the Spec-Ops doll has sat next to him, blue eyes wide. "Er… yes?"
"You did a great job out there! It was wonderful to be able to work alongside you!"
"Thanks." Owen's lips curl despite himself. "You didn't do half bad yourself."
"Hehehe. I've been on a bunch of missions before, but this one was the most fun!"
"I'm just hoping it's not our last." Owen looks back in the direction the helos are supposed to come from. "What's the status of the Neo-Soviets?"
"They're not evacuating." Nataliya comments from nearby. "So, they probably don't know about the Pike."
Owen nods.
"Also, they've got some SAM launchers being set up. They're certainly expecting incoming aircraft."
"Maybe we should go take care of those?" 9A-91 asks.
"Negative." DeLaney barks. "We've got visual!"
Owen picks up his binocs once more, peering into the darkening sky for silhouettes he recognizes.
Ah, there they are.
UH-60M, the Black Hawk. Two of them, flying in low and fast.
Owen gets to his feet, relief flooding his veins as he walks up the rest of the group, all of them watching the approaching craft with a mixture of joy and exhaustion.
Finally, it's all going to be over.
Owen feels a tug on his uniform.
"What is it, Nines?"
9A-91 pauses. "Huh?"
"Ah, sorry… old squadmate." Owen looks out into the distant past. "Called 'im Nines. Since your name starts with a nine-"
"Nines." She nods. "I can be Nines!"
Owen smiles. "Alright then. So, what's up, Nines?"
Her face goes from it's soft smile to serious like a switch was flipped. "I think someone's coming up here."
Owen turns around, unslinging his weapon. "Are you sure?"
Nataliya also readies her weapon to match Nines and Owen as they both go on full alert, while the rest of the group looks on in mild confusion.
"What's going on?" DuLaney asks.
"We might have company." Owen grits out. "I'm going to check it out."
"Don't go too far." DuLaney reminds Owen. "Ride's gonna be here in only a minute or two."
"Roger."
Nines and Nataliya both move up with Owen, weapons held at the ready, aimed at the exit of the staircase that leads to the roof.
A head pokes out, and three shots turn it into paste,
Nataliya gives Owen a look. "Itchy trigger finger?"
"You shot too."
Yelling in Russian comes from the other side of the metal door, and before Owen and company can do anything more a machine gun is poked out the door and whoever's on the other side of it starts spraying fire.
"GET DOWN!"
Everyone able hits the deck, Owen accidentally pinning his firearm under him in his haste.
Nataliya though, she managed to land perfectly, her rifle braced on the ground. Her eyes squint as she aims her gun-
The bullet goes right through the metal door, and the machine gun falls to the ground, the owner presumably dead or dying.
"Good shot."
"I don't miss."
Owen shakes his head, finally wrestling the gun out from under himself.
"Choppers are here!"
The trio looks back over their shoulders. Sure enough, the helos are here and in that hyper silent mode. These must be the 'special' versions.
Alright, I got you covered." Nines braces her weapon. "You two get to the Helo!"
Owen scrambles to his feet, backpedaling toward salvation, gun aimed at the entrance to the roof.
When someone touches his shoulder, he looks up and sees he's right on the doorframe of the helo.
"Nines!"
Nines turns and bolts, sprinting faster than any human could expect to match.
She leaps into the helo just as the pilot kicks the rotors into gear, sending the Black Hawk into the air.
"Welcome to the US Express-"
"Collette?!" Owen peers into the cockpit. "That you?"
"Yes it is!" She cackles. "How my favorite one night stand?"
"Doin' great now that you're here."
"Missed the sex that much?"
"No." Owen pauses. "Well, mayb-"
The cockpit lights up with alerts, and Colette immediately yanks the nose over, sending everything loose in the Helo to one side.
This includes Owen.
A missile soars past, and Owen gets a real good look as he dangles out the open door of the Helo, both his arms straining to keep him from falling back down to the roof below.
A roof that suddenly has a bunch of Soviets on it.
"Owen!" Nines calls, her arm outstretched, Nataliya holding her from falling out herself.
Owen does his best to shift all his weight to one arm, his other reaching for Nines'.
Their hands connect, and for a moment Owen is held in place by the rock solid grip of a Tactical Doll.
Then a gunshot rips right through his shoulder, and he falls backward out of the helo into empty air.
"OWEN!"
He hits the roof hard. So hard, several things stop working, like his legs. And arms. And now everything's on fire.
"9A!" Nataliya yells, but it's too late.
The Doll lands beside Owen, gun blazing, ripping through the Soviets who had just shot the man laid out on the ground.
"What happened?" Colette's voice is strained on the radio.
"9A jumped to go after Owen!" DuLaney snaps. "Hurry, get this bird back down!"
"We can't!" Colette cries out. "We've got active SAMs!"
"Fucking- Land this damn bird or so help me-"
"9A, what's his status?" Persica's cool voice doesn't match the situation.
"He's… he's pretty bad." Nines looks over the man she had just learned to work with. The man that had given her a real name. "We need to save him!"
"Well… I have a solution." Persica sighs. "You might not like it-"
Phoenix Project: T +14:172:23:53:35
Error: Core corrupt. Running diagnostic.
Info: Core memory damaged. Recommend using new core.
Info: Core logic processing unit damaged. Recommend using new core.
Info: Core voltage levels abnormal. Plug into external power supply.
Personality recovery in progress.
…
…
…
Personality 52.046% reconstructed.
Rebooting.
Error: Core corrupt. Running diagnostic.
Info: Core memory damaged. Recommend using new core.
Info: Core logic processing unit damaged. Recommend using new core.
Info: Core voltage levels abnormal. Plug into external power supply.
Personality recovery in progress.
…
…
…
Personality 52.049% reconstructed.
Rebooting.
Error: Core corrupt. Running diagnostic.
Info: Core memory damaged. Recommend using new core.
Info: Core logic processing unit damaged. Recommend using new core.
Info: Core voltage levels abnormal. Plug into external power supply.
Personality recovery in progress.
…
…
…
Personality 52.054% reconstructed.
Rebooting.
Error: Core corrupt. Running diagnostic.
Info: Core memory damaged. Recommend using new core.
Info: Core logic processing unit damaged. Recommend using new core.
Info: Core voltage levels abnormal. Plug into external power supply.
Personality recovery in progress.
…
…
…
Personality 52.057% reconstructed.
Rebooting.
Error-
Project Phoenix: T -0:14:02
"He's inside the tank?"
Nines confirms. "Yes, he's locked in." She triple checks the seals. "Are you sure this will work?"
"To be honest, no." Persica states. "It's untested. It's much better odds than leaving him lying on the floor."
"Persica, a Pike is going to be detonating there in a matter of hours!" DuLaney yells. "Neither of them will survive that!"
"My lab is rated against Pikes." Persica sniffs. "Of course, if a Pike goes off, you're trapped there until the radiation levels die down, which is why I needed to be pulled out. Regardless, 9A and Owen are down there now, it's too late to go back for them."
"...Fuck."
Nines ignores the bickering. She's too busy trying to find all of the controls Persica had told her about. Set the replacement rate to 5000 PPM, turn the tank's oxygenation to thirty percent.
"9A?"
"Yes, Miss Persica?"
"I have an order for you. Make sure Project Phoenix reaches its conclusion."
"I will!" Nines salutes, though nobody is there to see her. "I think it's working."
"Is there a progress bar on the main terminal? It should indicate a percentage and a time to complete."
Nine peers at the display. "Erm… 40 days."
"Forty-" DuLaney spits out. "We're going to need a special decon team just to get to him!"
"If we have the resources." Persica chews her lip for a moment. "9A, make sure to keep him in the pod until he's needed. He won't experience time in there, so it'll keep him healthy until we come back."
"Okay." Nines hesitates. "You… will come back for us, right?"
"Once Project Phoenix reaches completion, it will notify me. We'll come get you."
"Okay." Nines relaxes into a chair. "I hope the generator lasts."
"It's rated for a good month or two. You shouldn't have any problems. If you do-"
"INCOMING PIKE! EVERYONE BRACE!"
Nines looks around at the bunker-like lab, biting her lip as she listens to the radio.
A massive explosion rocks the lab, and she falls out of the chair.
A shelf tilts over, crashing into the Project Phoenix control terminal.
"No!"
Nines runs over, even as secondary shocks rock the room, from collapsing buildings most likely.
She shoves the shelf aside, only to see that the screen had been damaged, the entire lower portion of the screen gone. All the status text, all of the useful metrics…
The only thing left is a percentage that was near the top of the screen.
It's at 0.00%.
Nines looks around, but realizes that at this point she should just wait out the shocks.
When they do eventually subside, she gets to her feet and starts looking around the lab.
It's still sealed. Not collapse radiation inside the Lab.
Good.
There's some supplies, some spare doll parts… coffee. Lots of coffee.
Nines settles down once more, closing her eyes. THis might end up being a long month or two.
Still, as long as Owen makes it out, it'll all be worth it.
Project Phoenix: T +15:002:10:45:03
"We're not gonna find anything." Nagent Revolver grouses.
Makarov traces her namesake with her fingers, idly wondering if she could just get rid of the annoyance. Nagent had been complaining about this or that for hours. No, they're not going to find anything. This is a yellow zone, though it's on the safer side of that. A city bombed during the War.
A war Makarov recalls acutely.
"Makarov?"
"Da, Commandant?" Makarov responds to the voice on the radio.
"We've got a strange signal coming from that area. It wasn't there yesterday when we did our scan."
"What kind of signal?"
"Encrypted. Heavy duty encryption too, whatever's sending it is likely military."
"So we should stay away?"
"On the contrary." Makarov notes more than just a hint of amusement in her Commander's voice. "Let's go see who would be out here in these god-forsaken wastes."
"Aside from your dolls you have decided to throw away?"
"Please. I don't want to be here either."
Makarov keeps her snide comments about how 'here' her Commander is, given they're off in their own bunker miles away. Instead, she gestures for her friends and Nagant Revolver to follow as she heads for the coordinates sent from Griffin.
"What's goin' on?" Nagent asks.
"A signal." Makarov sends the data to the rest of the dolls in her echelon. "Commander wants us to check it."
"Eh."
For once, Makarov agrees with Nagent. Not that she'll admit it.
"AK-47, you keep everyone on alert." Makarov contacts the rest of the echelon. "Be ready for combat."
They approach the source of the signal, only to find an odd sight.
Solar panels.
Intact, clean solar panels. Ones that are being cared for, maintained.
"Weapons, Nagant."
"Don't gotta tell me twice." Nagent mutters.
They move toward the camp, each step careful, eyes peeled for traps.
Nothing.
Upon reaching the panels, Makarov can see that they're not pristine. Scratches, a bend on that one over there, a thin coating of dirt, but still mostly functional.
"Hey, Mak!" Nagent calls as the doll dressed in blue inspects the jury-rigged wiring. "I found a tunnel leading into the ground!"
"It's probably where the signals are coming from." Makarov abandons the panels and walks over. "I'll head in first. You follow me in."
Makoarov doesn't wait for a response before heading down into the earth, darkness swallowing her up like a hungry beast.
"What left these scratches?" Nagent mutters.
"Most likely whoever's down here with us."
Nagent shivers. "Don't say it like that! This old granny spooks easily!"
Makarov rolls her eyes, but doesn't say anything more until they reach a security door.
A security door that's been jammed open with a crowbar.
Inside, a glowing orange tube can be seen, with a… is that a person?
The dolls move in cautiously, weapons drawn and pointing around.
THe place doesn't look deserted, that's for sure.
"Doll snatchers?" Nagent ask quietly, pointing toward the pile of broken doll parts.
"Possible." Makarov murmurs back. "Be ready for everything."
Something clunks in the dark, and both guns point into the inky blackness.
"W-wait!"
The voice is scratchy, full of static.
Out of the darkness, a Doll walks out, hands up slightly.
She looks much the worse for wear, like she hasn't had maintenance in a bit. Her skin's a patchwork, though it's been properly blended with makeup to be almost unnoticeable. Her eyes are slightly different colors, indication she had one or both of them replaced. Her arms are just a bit too long for her frame, and one of her legs is just straight up bare, the skin just not there.
It's notable that Makarov can see the whole leg because the Doll isn't wearing pants. Rather, most Dolls forgo pants, but usually that at least is replaced by a skirt instead of… a sheer nightie and racy black panties.
"I'm sorry I'm not ready." The doll babbles, her voice box still adding harsh noises in. "I've been trying to get ready to meet Sergeant Owen for so long, but I think a few things broke."
"I'll say." Nagent comments. "Is… is that another doll?"
"Scrappy?" The ruined Doll looks over at the mass of parts. "No, I just… I spent a long time in here, and I needed someone to talk to."
"We'll, you've got a bunch of real dolls here now." Makarov states. "How long have you been here?"
"Fifteen years."
"Fif-?! How are you still operational?" Makarov stares at the poorly repaired Doll.
"I… I don't know." She laughs hollowly. "I have one thing left I need to do, and I suppose that kept me going."
"What is it?"
The mutilated Doll turns to the tank. "Sergeant Owen. He gave me a name. When he almost died, I had to put him in here. It was only supposed to take a month of two."
Nagent looks around the room, her lips pressed into a line. It certainly looks like someone had been living here for fifteen years straight.
Someone crazy.
"Alright, well, we'll figure out how to get him out. Get some doctors. For now, why don't you come with us-"
"No!" The Doll draws a firearm, an old post-soviet-era weapon (Newer than either the Makarov or Nagent, though) and points it… at herself. "I'm not leaving without the Sergeant!"
"Hold on." Makarov tries to calm her down. "We're not going to abandon him here, we just need some gear to make sure he makes it. Medical equipment, yeah?"
"O-okay. I see." The Doll lowers her gun. "We'll get him help, in case the process didn't take."
"What process?"
"He's been turned into a super soldier." She caresses the acrylic tube, deep gouges carved into it counting… something. Hundreds of gouges. "Persica said this was the only way to save him."
"Persica? IOP scientist Persica? Designer of the Neural Clouds?"
The Doll nods.
"This is above our paygrade." Nagent mutters.
"Well-"
"MAK!" AK-47's voice comes through the comes. "We're under fire!"
The dolls look at each other.
"What's going on?"
"I dunno! Some scavengers or something! We gotta go, there's too many of them for us to stay!"
"But…" The Doll looks at the translucent orange tube.
Makarov licks her lips. This is one of those moments… "You said he was turned into a super soldier?"
"Yes." The Doll looks up at the tube almost reverently.
"Wake him up." She grimaces. "If this is the Doll snatchers we're after, we're going to need as much firepower as we can get."
The Doll nods, walking over to the control panel and pressing a button near the top of the screen.
THe tube starts to drain, and the man inside the tank sinks to the bottom, the suspending gel draining away.
Nines walks over to the opening tube, arms itching to hold the Sergeant. It's been… fifteen years.
When he finally slides out from under the tube, she catches him gently, new arms still not quite calibrated properly. Still, she catches him gently.
Above, an explosion rocks the surface.
A small trail of dust rains down from the ceiling, landing on the control panel that now displays little more than the message "Suspension tube opened."
"We need to go, Makarov!" Nagent hisses.
"Da. Miss, can you get him out?"
Nines hesitates. Her borrowed parts aren't exactly…
Instead, she leans down and whispers into Owen's ear.
"Sergeant Owen, please wake up!"
Two bloodshot eyes shoot open.