It hadn't taken long for the URNC to come crashing down upon Dolls of all types like a hammer. 'Reduction in births', 'risk of humanity's extinction' and 'Dangerous weapons of war, not meant for a more peaceful time'. It was unsurprising, if a little depressing, that that was all they'd amounted to:A footnote for the bastards on top of the Rossartrist Coalition to write up in their short history book.

Lunasia had made sure, however, that their enemy would presumably know the very Dolls that had kept them safe and alive would also be their undoing. To that end, she needed M4A1's body. The leader of AR-Team, the only Doll of her type, capable of independent action without connection to a Commander, slowly faded out of existence in her own mind, allowing Lunasia to take it all over.

A 'Commander', huh…?

She wondered if he was okay. Even as she faded, her mind only settled on the man that had given her a purpose after all that occurred. The man that had given her, of all other Tactical Dolls under his command, an Oath Ring. One that still resided on her left hand's ring finger to this day. One gleaming memory in the sea of darkness that had been this nightmarish life.

Lunasia, too… She paused, eyes widening as, through the blur of her own damaged vision, a hand stretched out and gently touched her on her chest. The familiar voice of the young woman whose mind she was modeled after whispered to her, "Go… Find him and yourself… Good luck, M4…"

She gasped, feeling herself falling all of a sudden, the air around her thin to the point she was struggling to breathe. She passed through clouds, vision unblurring slowly. The world around her first unfurled, then reformed again, a thousand hands reaching out of eternal darkness and vanishing behind it again. The screams of the damned echoed and passed.

She closed her eyes, feeling the ever-harsher pull of gravity, then grit her teeth and put her hands forward, crossing them in front of her head so as for her CPU not to get destroyed. She could see past the hands that a city, or the ruins of one, approached her rapidly. She felt herself strike the ground, but she didn't strike it like a hammer, as she expected. Instead, she landed almost like a feather.

As she rolled onto her feet, her namesake firearm drawn, eye peering down the red dot as she scanned the area, she whispered to herself, "... Hell of a place to drop me off in, Lunasia," before thumbing the rifle's selector switch to full auto. She looked around at the collapsed or collapsing science-fiction-like buildings, at the overgrowth on top of them, at the cracked roads and rusted, destroyed cars. She turned on her radio and tried to see if there was any signal, only to find static.

Her optical sensors worked overtime as other internals picked up everything from latent radiation bursts to particle decay the likes of which hinted at something much more dangerous lurking through the area. She saw a slew of skeletons inside a building, their bones inches short of crumbling to dust. A frown crossed her face, but she sighed and kept pushing, rifle raised as she moved inside the store.

The ancient shattered glass cracked below her boots as she scanned the area, rifle raised. She turned on the flashlight on the side of her weapon as she advanced deeper into the building. Bullet holes marked parts of the store, the clothes on the racks bleached by what looked like energy weapons fire and particle weapons of some kind.

Though desolate cities like this were anything but new to the old Tactical Doll, the sight of the crumbling remains of a civilization destroyed by their own mistakes still stung a bit. How long ago had these people been alive, simply living their lives, enjoying them, buying clothes and shoes and eating and drinking together? She sighed, peered into one of the destroyed changing rooms and found a shattered mirror.

Looking upon herself, she saw that she still donned her old gear. Heavy armor, her helmet and NODs, her rifle, her sidearm and the heavily-modified knife she had clipped to her boot. Beneath that, the standard black clothing of her MOD-3 frame resided. She took her helmet off, letting her brown hair flow freely. Her almost alabaster skin glowed, too, but the marks of damage from bullet, blade and other implements could never be wiped away.

She gently ran a hand over her green streak, then paused, looking at the Oath Ring on her finger, light reflecting into the mirror. She narrowed her lips, sighed deeply, then wiped away the first tear that appeared and put her helmet back on. No time to bawl, she thought. She'd made her choice, surrendered herself to Lunasia.

… She would've liked to say goodbye to him beforehand, though.

As she continued trudging through the stores and destroyed buildings, finding the remnants of a fighting force here, namely a destroyed wheeled IFV with a bent 30mm cannon barrel and all the skeletons surrounding it, she sighed. Taking a knee, she searched through the burnt-out vehicle for potential ammo, since it looked like a NATO transport, meaning 5,56 caliber ammunition.

Sadly, nothing. Even if she did find it, the propellants inside might've decayed or the rounds might've rusted to the point of unusability, so she made a mental note not to try her luck anymore. She was still disorientated from the drop to wherever in the world this was and Lunasia hadn't given her much warning that she was gonna do this beforehand.

Was this just some intricate sim made by Lunasia to keep M4 happy and busy, or was she actually wholesale herself now, with her additional processing power? She stopped for a moment in the shadow of a great tree, rising from amidst an old playground, and did a quick scan of her DigiMind while in Level II.

Indeed, all the data in her mind, all of her memories and additions, all of her thoughts and capabilities were her own with no Lunasia around. She was either a perfect copy, a Ship of Theseus of the old M4A1, or just M4 herself, now devoid of Lunasia von Oberstein's Soul and thus, maybe just a Tactical Doll now, no longer that which was human.

She felt her heart, though machine, get metaphorically stabbed by that thought and soon realized that, no, her mind was still attached, in fact, to human emotion. Regardless of if her brain was human or not, or if her body was machine, she was still the same woman who almost cried when that Oath Ring was placed upon her finger by him.

His face flashed in front of her eyes, at first a young hopeful man with a slight stubble, smiling at her, then an older, more grizzled man in combat gear. He'd shaven a few times during their outings, but the last time she'd seen him, he hadn't, with that scruffy beard of his, a nice touch to compliment his face. She smiled a little at the eyepatch on the left side of his eye, then sighed as she recalled the left arm, which he had had to replace with an advanced prosthetic due to injuries sustained after years in combat.

A faint smile crossed her lips then, before she was taken out of her trance by the thumping of something heavy. The ground around her began to shake as what sounded like a stampede began to move toward her position. She took cover behind a pillar, rifle at the ready while praying it was just a bunch of wild bison.

What she saw, however, was definitely not animal in nature. Or, at least, no animals she knew of…

A thousand skittering feet passed by her, machines of various shapes and sizes with sinew hidden beneath metallic armor and glowing scarlet eyes marching down the road, over wrecked cars and the corpses, disturbing them, bones crumbling beneath their hooved feet. The machines creatures glowed, marching down-stream of the way she'd come, attracted by something.

M4 could hear them chittering, their interconnected communication systems seemingly hyperactive as they 'spoke' to each-other. The machines continued to advance, with M4 tensing, the grip on her rifle tightening, leather on the palms of her gloves creaking against the plastic of the grips. She whispered to herself, "Great place to drop me, Lunasia…" with a drop of sarcasm.

She continued waiting for them to pass, noting the massive horde still stretched across the entire road as she held close her rifle. Slowly, the numbers began to thin until only a few smaller, quadrupedal stragglers remained. They were still as tall as her and resembled crabs whose claws were replaced with Machine Guns, one baleful scarlet eye peering out from beneath the silver shell. Two remained, stopping and scanning the area.

She heard them chirp something to each-other before they began to move again, their feet thumping against the floor as they moved away. Releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding, M4 shook her head and poked her head out to see if there was anything still out there… Only for an emerald flash to appear some distance away.

She yelped, then rolled back into cover just as a beam of energy melted a chunk of the pillar she was using as cover. She felt the heat of the beam on the synth-skin of her cheek as she staggered back, stumbling a bit. She grit her teeth and decided to press the transmit button, stating, "This is M4A1 to any allied unit nearby! Does anyone copy!? I am pinned down by a sniper and in need of aid!"

She grit her teeth and ducked as another energy bolt drilled through where her head had been, singing her OPS-CORE High-Cut helmet. She dropped onto her side and squeezed the trigger toward where the shots had come from. The rifle coughed a burst of AP bullets toward the shooter, but she was soon forced to dodge another blast.

She grit her teeth, then called out, "I repeat, M4A1 transmitting! I request backup, over!" before shouldering her rifle properly and mumbling, "What the hell are you? We dealt with Sangvis decades ago and the URNC never sent any of their most advanced units after us…" before pulling her ghost mask up and onto her face and nose.

She knelt, poked out and fired another burst, before dodging another shot. She made out the shooter at about half-a-mile out in one of the skyscrapers. Or somewhere near the wall facing her. She decided on a smart course of action, immediately pulling a smoke grenade off her belt, removing the pin and tossing it in front of the window. She counted to five as she waited for the smoke cloud to form, then looked around quickly and bolted it to the nearest door.

Another shot rang out, this one far from her. She smiled to herself as she kicked the door in. Easiest way to get out of the sight of a sniper. Sure, it posed risks if they had thermals, but that bastard didn't, thankfully. She pushed out through the ancient department store's decrepit warehouse, dodging fallen shelves and stepping over wet, deteriorated cardboard and nylon from the clothes.

When she found a way out, she kicked the damaged door open again and stepped into the bright sun of midday, then looked around. She turned and ran perpendicular to the store and the road she'd come down so she would avoid intercepting that massive column of machines. What she didn't expect, however, was one machine appearing from behind her.

Its side-mounted cannons began to spool up. It fired a burst her way, forcing her to dodge out of the way. When it stopped firing, it charged toward her. She grit her teeth, lifted her rifle and fired. Spent 5,56 casings dropped to the floor, bullets striking the face of the little critter and cracking the armor around whatever bulb or eye was shining red.

She kept firing as it charged her, each bullet striking and sparking as the plate cracked further. It aimed and fired again, causing her to scramble to her feet, rounds zipping by her head as she backed away and fired. Each burst struck, thankfully, the massive eye being a perfect target. And when the shield finally cracked, the last three bullets in her magazine hit the core.

The machine exploded violently while her rifle clicked empty. She breathed a sigh, dropped the spent magazine and slapped in a fresh one, hitting the bolt release to feed a round into the chamber. She heard a second one, turned and felt it slam into her, sending her rifle away. She slid across the ground for a sec before jumping back to her feet and drawing her pistol and knife…

… Only to pause as she saw a slew of those monsters ahead of her, all various shapes and sizes. She scoffed, mumbled, "I swear, Lun, you really picked hell to drop me into!" and took a combative stance, knife turned backward, pointed at the enemy, pistol hand using the knife hand for support as she aime.

She staggered when a volley of explosives lit up the entire force, followed by the blast of a high-caliber shotgun and the chattering of a rifle. Lowering her weapons, she watched the machines ahead be torn to shreds by automatic fire and HE round, only to pause as she heard the mighty roar of a high-caliber machine gun.

Looking to the right, she gasped as she saw a man in an exoskeleton, followed by three women. The latter looked injured and battle-damaged, while the former looked like he'd been hit several times by high-explosive rounds and was still walking. His main weapon looked like a PKM, but the bullet caliber was all wrong.

She asked with half-a-mouth, "You friendly…?"

"Yeah," The man replied as he lowered his MG, "We are. We're Counters squad, with the Central Government. You 'M4A1'?"

… Oh, this oughta be interesting, M4A1 thought, face morphed into pure confusion.


URNC Sector 35, Kavkaz

Earth, 2089

He felt blood pooling in his mouth as he watched the skies around him start to glow. His armored vest had been penetrated by maybe half-a-dozen armor-piercing rounds from nearby Rossartrist Units and his lungs rapidly filled with blood, to the point he wasn't sure how long it was until he was gonna choke to death.

He watched a trio of blue-clad URNC Commandos approach him, the barrels of their rifles still smoking. The 7,62mm rifles were modified heavily, to the point the base AKM underneath was nigh unrecognizable. One of their commanding officers, clad in a camouflage-style uniform with reds, whites and greys, approached. He took a knee in front of the man, lifting his scarlet goggles, then said, "Well, well, well… If it isn't Lukas Taube… How've you been, Commander?"

The man grinned through bloody teeth, then replied, "Kept ya waiting, huh? Been better, Landzaat… Don't suppose you have something to seal and inflate lungs, right…?" before coughing and spitting blood off to the side. The Commando let out a short laugh, shaking his head and standing up. Lukas shifted a little uneasily, feeling the weight on his back.

Around them, a battlefield lay, filled with the corpses of the Rossartrist Coalition's combat units and whatever remained of Commander Lukas Taube's little company of mercenaries. The dead surrounded the man and followed him like his past mistakes. An ever-awful reminder of just how much he'd lost throughout his fighting.

Decades upon decades of fighting and what did he have to show for it? A dead wife, all of his friends put to the axe and his life, destroyed. But he'd done the impossible multiple times, too:Bloodied the URNC. And bloodied them good. He spoke weakly to the Dutch man ahead, "Any smokes, at least…? I know I dropped a pack with my name on it somewhere," before garnering a laugh from the soldier.

"Sorry," The man replied as he tapped the pistol on his thigh, "Only one thing with your name on it today… You made quite a mess of the situation here," before motioning broadly to the dead in the AO and several destroyed, seemingly important buildings in the background, "Destroyed our defenses on this side. Forced us to move troops… What if the AU attacks us?"

"Then I'd say you fuckers get what's coming to you," He growled back, grinning. He could hear the distant roar of the Antarctic Union's airpower far, far away. He watched the officer kneel in front of him, cup his chin and sigh sadly, steam exiting his breath. Lukas' grin grew, then he spat on the man's face.

"You little fucker," Landzaat growled, wiping his face away. He drew his pistol and said, "Say your prayer!"

"... You first, arschloch," The man replied with a grim smile, retrieving the heavy object from behind him, an emerald glow suddenly filling the air. The soldiers screamed as Lukas looked down at the modified Collapse container. He whispered, "I'll see you soon, Meine Liebe…" before slamming his fist into the detonator.

Moments later, he saw a bright flash and felt his entire body burn for but a split second. Almost an eternity in death. It hurt, but, to give the Antarctic Union a chance… He had to withstand it. Revenge for everyone he loved mattered more than his own pain at this point. Plus, he wasn't exactly the perfect picture of health as he was.

He missed his left arm, which was now bionic. His left eye was gone entirely, replaced by an eyepatch. He had longer hair and a messy beard that he had not bothered to trim in almost a month after everything that had occurred. Even now, he felt the sting of losing everything. Lunasia had told him that M4 had given her the body and gone into the Great Beyond, whatever the hell that meant.

He wasn't religious. Not very. But he had prayed a second before he detonated the bomb with even the slim hope that he might see her up there, or at least see her from down below, the sweet angel that she'd been, the very light of his life. A light extinguished many years ago, when Lunasia had taken over.

… He didn't hate her. Lunasia. But he did dislike that she'd taken her place…

Although that wasn't his biggest issue right now. His biggest issue was why he was still feeling anything at all. Sure, hell probably kept people well and truly awake to feel everything happening to them, an eternity of torture and whatnot, but this wasn't hell. No way it was. As he opened his eyes, the dim, cloud-covered sky met his gaze. He craned his head right and saw only a sprawling desert, then to his left…

Only to pause as he saw a glowing beacon of some kind in the distance. He swallowed, feeling his throat dry. He felt himself, but only found old wounds. No penetration of his body armor, no bullet holes. He didn't even taste the metallic taste of his own blood. He cocked his jaw, felt it, then mumbled, "Oh, great…" as he gently lifted himself into a seated position.

He checked his gear, finding he still had all of his guns and ammo on him, weirdly enough. As if he hadn't expended much of anything to begin with. In the corner of his eye, he caught something flying above, but pretended to ignore it. His hand hovered over his rifle's grip as he lifted it, gently thumbing the safety to off and starting to walk toward the Beacon.

He mumbled to himself, "If this is someone's idea of Hell, it's comparatively pleasant to the kind of shit I had to deal with for the past three decades of my life," as he waded across the sand, watching that figure with the corner of his eye, hovering above. It wasn't a Drone by any means. Looked way too humanoid, even from this distance.

He continued walking, wondering when the hell the Rossartrists got jetpack troops. He must've met them at some point, he thought as he watched the figure float. It seemed to stare him down from above, the faint flicker of two red dots that must've been its eyes locked onto him. He didn't have any lasers painted on him, though. Not from what he could tell.

If it was a hostile drone, though, it'd have wasted him the moment it identified him. Or were the Rossies getting cheap with the ammo now that they had to fight the AU all of a sudden? The Antarcticans weren't exactly too discreet about their idea of wanting to start an immediate pre-emptive war with the URNC. It was as blatantly obvious as the troops mustering in the AO.

He sighed, then paused as he felt a slight buzz, the hairs on his hands and neck standing on end as an electric current surged on through. He contained his concern and continued walking, pausing only as he saw that the beacon itself soon resolved… A glowing dome hovered above a beautiful city built into a mountain, futuristic technology seemingly shielding it from the outside.

Some new failsafe? An Antarctic Union outpost, maybe? Who knew at this po-

… He felt the disturbance in the air and heard the whoosh of that thing's engines as it swept in. It was coming in so close he could swear he could smell whatever perfume it was doused in. With few precious seconds to react, Lukas pivoted on his right foot, dodging the attempt at a sideswipe, before his balled robotic fist made contact with the back of the creature, coming down like a hammerblow.

He heard a female whine and watched the figure skid to the floor in front of him, face-first. He lifted his gun and marched up to her, watching a dark-haired beauty with cherry eyes and tan skin swivel about, clad in a bodysuit of some kind with armor and glowing, hard-light wings. He pinned one of the wings down before she could stand up, put the barrel of his rifle at her face and demanded, "Who the hell are you!? Angels sure as shit aren't dressed in combat gear like that and I'm damn sure I'm never getting into fucking heaven, so talk!"

The woman blushed, eyes wide and mouth agape. She raised her hands in surrender, staring the man in his one good eye. She swallowed empty, staring, while he pushed the barrel of his rifle closer to her face, to the point she could see the rifling inside. As footsteps echoed ahead of him, he drew his pistol and pointed it up.

A second winged figure, this one with a scythe, approached, eyes wide. She asked, "Isabel? What the hell happened? I thought you were supposed to do a flash test for this guy…?" only to watch him point the gun at her. She raised her hands and said, "Easy does it, human. We mean no harm, but Eden has a very particular security detail with it. I'm Harran and that's Isabel you have pinned there and we're friendly."

She watched him loosen a little, but he still had guns pointed at both of them. She sighed and asked, "Do you have a name? Johan and Cecil are gonna need to know what to call you when we get inside and I and Isabel have to explain how you took her down," before snorting and stating, "She's one of our best hunters…"

"Mm…" The man hummed, then said, "Lukas… That's all you're getting until we're inside…" before looking between the two women. They were dressed in fairly similar, yet completely different outfits, both a bit too revealing to be normal. And both looked about ready to tear throats out despite their seemingly more docile behavior.

… Just what fresh hell had he dropped into?