9 dove from the GAZ as soon as it skidded to a stop at the bunker's garage door. The plan didn't exactly pan out like she thought… but perhaps this was for the better. They were certainly being incentivized to move faster-
"Fifty-seven seconds" 416's countdown until contact was not helping 9's already over-taxed processors.
"I know." 9 muttered, fussing with the door's control panel. Physical locks were one thing, but electronic ones were 45's realm-
"Forty-five seconds."
"I'm doing it." 9 shouted back, using that pent up frustration to pull the panel off of the pad. Cable-management be damned- 9 shoved her hands into the mess of wires, not even having time to test anything as she just started yanking.
The buzz- decoupling of the bolts… she had pulled the override wire; she would need that one...
"Thirty-"
"Shut up!" Between mentally marking mixed wires, find-functioning through post-Soviet bunker door manuals, pulling up relevant G&K maintenance documents, and maintaining her combat programs, there was very little room for her emotion module's patience override.
9 ripped out the door switch's wiring, swapping it with the override wire and was rewarded with quick, painful shock.
The surge shot through her ocular sensors, casting the world into discordant colors- but she could see the door was opening- slowly. Her mind sent an impulse to her voice module, something along the lines of 'Get inside', but there was no feedback to determine if her system had actually connected them
"!5$..up a_*( in!" 416's words came in incomprehensible… 9's auditory sensors needed to reboot as well.
The GAZ slipped in the moment the jaws were wide enough, scraping its sides against the teeth of the door and 9 tried to follow, only to find the servos in her legs had locked up. Her hands though- her hands could still function. She let go of the override wire, breaking the circuit and forcing the door to shut once again, feeling a stuttering, but still welcome, wave of relief.
416 and 11 could finish the mission- recover 9 after they secure 45. After all, there were more replacement dummies for her than there were of 45's frame.
"Don't(_ &2!- get ^7!"
A puff of purple tinted smoke, what looked like a fist sized pink sponge flung out from the slowly closing door- 416 must have fired a grenade. Sure enough, the technicolor blur of a very upset 416 dashing towards 9, covered by yellow-hued G11 unleashing burst after burst of rainbow puffs from her rifle.
416 grabbed 9 roughly by the collar, dragging her half-locked-up frame just past the jaws of the door clamping shut just as the first scintillating bolts of plasma splashed against the concrete around them.
11 and 416 were shouting back and forth at one another as the grumpier of the two dug through the back seat of the truck. 9 was glad that she couldn't hear, but she would have to eventually- and sooner than later.
[soft reset]
Zenner connection… pending_
[redacted] connection... pending_
Ocular_data[color input]...error_
Ocular_ … found_
realtek _audio… not found_
Hardware audio… found_
...
"These UMP's are useless!"
"Thanks, Four-sixteen." 9 muttered as soon as her voice-modulator booted. She had come-to with 416 and G11 hovering over her, and of course as soon as it was clear 9 was fine, 416 stormed off, readying her weapon.
"Are you okay, Nine?" G11 clutched the tool bag to her chest as if she knew what she was going do with them. 9 was still unsure, but her systems were checking out… she could move her legs at least.
"Just needed to reboot."
"Just needed to reboot." 416 mocked from the other end of the garage with a scoff, "You clearly fried something if you thought standing out there was a good idea."
"Your fingers are burned-" G11 pulled a pack of band-aids from the repair kit. It was the thought that counted-
"I can still pull a trigger." 9 shook herself down, doing a quick visual check before patting G11 on the head.
"If only you had fried yourself. I'd be defacto leader of our little dysfunctional team." 416 rolled her eyes when 9 and 11 stacked up at the next hallway.
"I would have transferred permissions to G-eleven, if I had them."
"Uwwa… why me?"
While 416 still held her scowl, it was an appreciated moment of levity that only came before combat. 9 had already gone through a crude napkin-drawn map of the bunker based off of the data she and 45 drummed up, though without their Zenner network connection, establishing a plan was rudimentary at best. There was no count on how many SF units were still in the bunker- or if they had reinforced from the back entrance.
"Can you get this door without zapping yourself this time?"
"Easier without someone counting down on me." 9 snapped back, pulling the paneling from the wall. This time around, 9 knew which wire was which, and was certainly cautious to make sure she didn't touch exposed connections. "Ready?" she asked.
416 and G11 were set in place. The door would open to the main corridor-
The gears of the door groaned in protest, and was quickly punctuated by the punching pop of suppressed fire from 416.
"Three down, bound up."
G11 ran low- easy to do considering how short she was, with 416 firing over her head at the moving shadows down the hall.
"Set!" 11 took up firing where 416 left off, leaning out from an open bulk-head door, "Nine, go." 11 ushered between quick bursts.
9 dashed through the hall with 416 close on her heels. She recognized part of the hallway. Three security doors up, then hang right, the armory would be a bit past the security checkpoint on the left-
9 leapt a security barricade and faltered, tripping over the bodies of the G&K dolls that had manned it. She landed face-first in a pool of blood- human blood. Next to her, two bodies lay on top of a third. Closer inspection identified the two on top as dolls- a Tokarev and BAR.
The third was clad in a bloodstained crimson uniform- a G&K commander. All three had been run through by some sort of energy weapon- the dolls having died trying to defend their commander.
It sent a wave through 9 that heated every circuit in her body. A pain- and another that she couldn't parse. It felt… it felt like someone had slammed her in the chest with a sledgehammer. It felt like someone was trying to tear her core conversion unit from her. It felt like…
Unconsciously she grabbed her hand that held her ring. The pain came from there- not her finger but from the concept of the ring she wore.
"GET THE FUCK UP, NINE." 416 forcibly grabbed 9 by the collar, yanking the sub-machine gun doll to her feet. 416 looked down to the corpses, her expression unchanging; the only tear she shed was the crimson one painted under her eye. "It's not him." She cryptically muttered, giving 9 another shove down the hall.
"Eww…" G11 peeked over the barricade, only to be grabbed by the collar as well when she tried to retreat. 416 moved to throw the tiny doll onto the pile of bodies with a pivot of her hip, only to gently set her down next to 9.
"Move. We don't have time." 416 prodded at them both with the muzzle of her suppressor.
"Give me one second." 9 shook the feeling as best she could. Somehow, 416's words eased the pain, even if 9 didn't fully understand. With the overriding pain fleeting, 9 began to place herself back into her tempo, but still felt a interrupting pulse… hesitation. She waved 416 forward despite the assault rifle's scowl, "Next left, you'll see an armory door, opposite of it is the last corridor."
416 pushed to the head of the formation, the echoing footfall of her boots setting the beat to which the team would approach. 9 was thankful for the moment she needed taking up the rear. Snap reactions from their elite teammate were announced with every punching burst from her rifle until they reached the final turn- the final hallway. 416 checked both side before frowning.
"Twelve by the front of the door, few more half way down the hall. Left side is clear as far as I could see." 416 announced while snapping open the tube of her launcher, but 9 stayed her hand. Despite the fierce stare from 416 threatening 9 to back down from the decision, 9 held firm.
"If the grenade damages the door, we won't be able to get to Forty-five."
"And what do you expect us to do? Win a gun battle against four-times our number?"
"Yes." 9 prepared one of her flash-bangs, "That is exactly what I expect. You're an elite aren't you?"
The bite in 9's voice made those electric green eyes for 416 practically glow with surprise. That scowl of hers pulled into a cock-sure grin as she swapped out magazines.
"You're right, I am." 416 yanked G11 up to the corner, having the small doll ready her weapon, "Low. I go high." She instructed.
"Ready?" 9 had already pulled the pin, the stun grenade cocked back. Four seconds of sensory overload, 416 had thirty rounds- even optimal three round shots would only drop five-
"Now." 416 demanded.
Despite not having their networked connection, the three still moved together. 9 could only chalk it up to the fact that her teammates were higher-specced than she was- more capable in a stock configuration.
.36 of a second from the flash and G11 and HK416 were already peeking the corner and firing, giving 9 time to cross the corridor and push up to the closest door alcove. There was no fancy maneuvering- there was simply no room- so 9 could only join in with the deluge of bullets. Two more seconds until return fire came down the corridor.
9's shots… they felt far less accurate, far less effective at thinning the throng of Vespid and Ripper chaff. Where G11 made every two-shot burst for the head and 416's always hit knuckle-sized center-mass groups, 9 could only count two or three Sangvis kills compared to her teammates.
The Sangvis shook the sensor overload of the flash-bang, returning fire the instant that their visual sensors came online. It'd be another sixteen-or-so seconds before their processors returned to their normal state for a second flash-bang to have the same effect-
The sound of a forty-millimeter slotting into a tube distracted 9 from her calculation. Before 9 could interrupt her, 416 stuck her launcher around the corner, thumping it down the hall. 9 watched in horror as the grenade sailed- at least until survival protocols forced her to curl into the little alcove she found herself in.
The concussive *wump!*, a pressure wave blasting burning air down the tight corridor. She felt the shock-wave go past her, and immediately 9 leapt at her teammate.
"Four-sixteen I said-"
The elite doll merely grinned smugly, pointing down the corridor.
She had struck the top of one of the security bulkheads, Sending the majority of the blast out and away from the commander room door- but killing the remaining Sangvis units below.
9 wanted to call it luck that the door and its panel were mostly unscathed… but she knew that it was a totally calculated move- but it was one that she didn't want to encourage. Let 45 deal with it later. It was thought of her sister combined with the already circuiting impulse of frustration that caused 9 to pick herself up and dash past the scattered bits and bobs of Sangvis dolls. Not another second wasted, 9 punched in the three numbers that were the team's code.
"Did you even try securing the perimeter- h-hey!" 416's scolding was interrupted by 9 forcibly pulling the duffel bag filled with the repair parts from G11.
9 rushed to her sister's side, dumping its contents on the floor, barely able to see and sort with the dull red emergency lights. Spare batteries, old cables, replacement hand-digits… 9 tossed aside what she didn't need, and despite 416's vehement protests, 9 shut off her auditory processes. She needed to concentrate, pulling up the heavily redacted form of 45's blueprints in her mind as she worked. G11 hovered nearby as well, her normally drowsy features instead stitched with worry once she saw the state 45 was in. 9 had limited knowledge of her sister's frame, but she knew enough to know that some of the damage couldn't be fixed in the field.
45's torso was badly damaged at the hip- meaning a replacement leg would do nothing since the joint was the problem. 9 cast the spare leg aside, instead focusing on fixing the exposed systems in her sister's shoulder. How lucky that there was a convenient hole already there for her to work in.
G11 sat next to 9, her eyes not leaving 45's broken body.
9 could feel her voice modulator working- the vibrations of sound projected from it, but couldn't hear the words that she spoke. G11 moved with a haste that was reserved for only for when she was properly motivated. Like a nurse, G11 went about grabbing and holding tools for 9 as she worked. Wiring first- thank 11 for the clippers and solder, then replacement fluid… wait no… 45 was leaking fluid still… patch it- patch it…
G11 handed her duct-tape- it was better than welding it over… then refill with the limited fluid they had-
There was only so much 9 could do, but she was confident she at least restored part of 45's arm functionality. If she were a human doctor, this was where they'd sew her up and call it a job well-ish done… but they didn't have an epidermal replacement patches. Instead, she went about at least fixing the wiring and patching the fluid loss in 45's shattered hip-joint.
'45?' 9 pinged their local private network. Her sister wasn't present on their level of the network… was she deeper in? 45 never told her how to signal her back to her frame…
"Well? She hit frame death?"
Of course 416's snide comment would be the first thing 9 heard when she turned her auditory sensors back on.
"Shut up and secure the hallway." 9 snapped, moving to gently pull 45's terminal from her sister's arms. It still had power- and 45 was still jacked into it. Maybe she had shunted herself over just in case?
The thing booted properly, the basic operating system's command line rhythmically blinking. Her fingers rested on the keyboard.
**Sis? Sis we're here_
9 watched that damned little underscore blink, her fingers tensing over the keys one more time-
[administrator] About time._
If 9 could sigh, she would have let out all the relief she felt.
[administrator] Did you_
**I redid your wiring and patched the leaks I could. Your frame should be stable until we get home._
Even while typing, 9 couldn't help but interrupt her sister. She would rather hear 45's voice than read it, anyways.
[administrator] I'll run my boot sequence then. Are you alone?_
**No_
[administrator] Team…?_
**Yeah. We took the GAZ in_
[administrator] _
Again, that horrible pause, counting the blink of that line over and over… she counted twenty-five blinks by the time that 45 responded, but it felt like hours.
[administrator] Who else?_
**I_
[administrator] Who else, 9?
9's fingers hesitated over the keys, flexing and relaxing as she tried to find a way out of having to explain the whole situation to 45. Somehow, even though her sister was still somewhere in Level Two or shunted into this simple computer, she was still capable of reading into 9's hesitation.
[administrator] Who else, 9?
**Griffin. I used a G&K signal to attract a rescue team to_
"Four-sixteen, Eleven go check the garage and make sure it's clear." UMP-45's voice coldly snapped from their collective radios, startling everyone in the bunker.
"Great. Even half-booted she still can bitch at us." 416 sneered, her hand drifting to the volume switch on her radio, but never twisting it to off.
Even if 45's frame was still shut-down, 9's sister could still operate her digimind on Level-Two. That brought some relief to 9, even if it seemed that 45 was clearly upset with her decision considering she interrupted 9's explanation.
"Nine."
"Y-yeah, sis?" 9 hazard a guess that 45 brought her auditory processors online first, and she was certainly right in that assumption.
"We're going to need to escape before the Griffin units fully secure the area."
"B-but they could help us repair you-"
"No. Too many risks to the current mission." It was clear that 45's emotion module hadn't fully come online, as the voice coming through the radio was completely flat, but 9 knew that 45 was going to upset as soon as that portion of her came online.
"We move to egress when Griffin troops engage the Sangvis encirclement. Broadcast the signal from the bunker's system using the same mask."
It was a simple enough task, and the bunker had enough reserve power to keep the signal going long after Griffin secured it, but as 9 worked, she increasingly felt that it was the wrong move to make. It was a feeling not based from logic, something that she should completely disregard... however even as she finished swapping out the network masks, she hesitated at fully transferring over the broadcast- her finger hovering over the Enter button on the console.
"Remove the evidence of us being here, Nine."
9 had never felt both what she identified as dread and excitement at the same time, but both simulated emotions collided the moment she heard 45's voice properly. Though her sister had given her an order- it didn't come with the jolt of the command module. Either it wasn't online yet, or 45 hadn't given her the pulse…
But a pulse still surged forth from her emotions, driving 9 to grab her sister, hugging tightly so that 45 wouldn't slip away again.
"Nine, remove the-"
"Just let me have this, Forty-five!" 9 pulled her sister in closer, trying to make sure that she was both real and alive. The quiet buzz of 45's faux muscles, the subtle creaking of her joints, the hum of her internals…
45 wrapped her good arm around 9, gently stroking her sister's head until 9 could pull her emotions together. That piece that was missing in 9's functionality was suddenly slotted back into place as easily as one inserted a memory card.
"We've got a problem-" 416 dashed back into the command room, snapping in a fresh magazine as she did so and making it clear exactly what the problem was. When her attentions fell onto 45 and 9's embrace, she raised an eyebrow.
"Sitrep. I'm still working on our Zenner connection." 45 hung onto 9 as her sister pulled her to her feet.
"Knocking on the front door -something heavy- and there is still scrap moving around in the halls."
As if to further sell the situation, the popping of G11's rifle echoed through the open door. 45 shrugged, motioning for her weapon to be returned to her hands.
"We go out the way you came in." 45 showed to 9 that the range of motion in her arm was sufficient, holding her hand out for the sub-machine gun.
45's injuries weren't the reason why 9 didn't want to hand the gun back to her sister.
Even 416 was glaring at 9 now, urging 9 to hand it over with her eyes. They would need every gun available to them-
A cold spark- like an icy droplet of water into 9's digimind, causing her systems to shiver; 416 shuddered slightly as well. They were back on the network-
9 tried to hide her reluctance, burying it under conflicting emotional programs. 45 could easily give command module overrides now that they were connected once again, but 9's sister patiently waited until 9 gave the namesake weapon over herself. "Promise me, if we can't get out of this situation you'll let Griffin help." She demanded.
"I can get us out of this situation." 45 grabbed the pistol grip of her firearm, though 9 still hadn't let go of it. "But I promise: if we're in over our heads, I'll use the help from Griffin."
9 stared into those amber eyes of her sister. She watched the camera apertures of those faux pupils shutter back and forth in minute flicks, constantly shifting focus levels as 45's processes spun around in that enigmatic head of hers.
The truth was almost impossible to pick out from 45's words, and even more impossible to pull from the micro-details of her behavior. 9's empathy program constantly called back that 45 was telling the truth, but the whispering somewhere in her mind-map said otherwise.
9 let go of the gun and readied her own.