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Chapter Text

Prologue

Late Evening

Undisclosed Location

Heavy gunfire and explosions illuminated the night sky above me as I saw a myriad of dolls charging into battle. On top of a small hill overlooking the dire battlefield, I was crouched on the ground together with my news crew: Alexi Stoyanovic, a burly cameraman, and Nagant-Revolver, my armed bodyguard - as they set up their equipment.

Alexi patted my shoulder and barked,

“The equipment’s set up, Potato! We’re live in five!”

I gave Alexi a nod and then stood up from my perch in the midst of all the chaos going on behind me. I dusted my black dress off and then ran a hand through my ashen hair and felt the jewel-studded hairclip that tied it back into a fancy ponytail.

I brought out a wireless microphone, brought it close to my lips and faced the camera with great anticipation. Then, I spoke with as firm of a voice as I could muster!

“ Good evening, everyone. My name is M200 - the war correspondent of GKTV-5, Brest Oblast - reporting to you live at the frontlines. Behind me, the final battle between Griffin & Kryuger and Sangvis Ferri is heating up. The stalemate that has lasted for weeks appears to be breaking - with Griffin finally making a breakthrough. ”

In the middle of my spiel, however, the ground beneath my feet started to rumble and shake. Then, a terrifying presence approached the hill.

My news crew lost their balance and they fell down to their knees from all the shaking. Alexi and Nagant were both frozen in fear as the shadow of the presence loomed over them.

I, however, held my ground and dared to face that presence.

Twenty paces away from me, I saw the frightening figure of Agent - the top Sangvis ringleader - walking menacingly towards me. She was clad in her curious maid attire - just like the classified intel files said she would - and was looking straight at me with her cruel, golden eyes.

Agent’s frigid glare tore holes through my mechanical heart, testing my resolve. She was striking fear into my very being and my entire body was shaking in fright. I instinctively held onto my ID lanyard - marked clearly with “PRESS” as if it was a protective amulet of some sort.

That only made Agent scoff.

Instead of backing off, Agent continued to close the distance as the explosions behind me illuminated her face. Agent then stopped to give me an eerily polite curtsy and she lifted up her skirt. In a heartbeat, a quartet of thigh-mounted machine guns suddenly emerged from beneath her skirt and trained their barrels on me!

Was this how I was going to die?

Something deep inside of me searched for a weapon - any weapon - that I could use against the ringleader. I needed a sword to slay this dragon once and for all - or at least the gun that my doll model was named after.

All I had on me, however, was my microphone - and my voice.

If this was how I was going to go down, I was going to go off with a bang!

I was the star anchor of GKTV-5, and I wasn’t going to let Sangvis Ferri stop me from doing my duty!

Just as Agent’s four guns cocked all at once, however, the scene around me faded to white.

And…

I woke up.

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 1 - Boiled Potato

February 8, 2063 - Before Sunrise

Brest Oblast, Area S05

The Romashka Tenement - Unit 1237

In the darkness of an old, cramped apartment unit, I sprung up from my futon drenched in sweat. I felt my mechanical heart still pounding hard against my chest. All around me, old newspapers and paper dossiers about Sangvis Ferri were scattered on and around my flat bed.

It was an absolute mess.

The menacing face of the ringleader Agent on one of the papers was illuminated by rays of bright city lights flowing through the damaged blinds of my apartment window. All the while, the sounds from various television programs, off-hour radio shows and unfriendly ‘arguments’ pouring in through the tenement’s thin walls mercilessly reminded me of my less-than-glorious reality.

Howdy folks.

My name is M200. I'm a tactical doll named after a rifle of the same name - the M200 CheyTac Intervention rifle, specifically. Though, I guess it isn’t really right to call me a ‘tactical doll’ - since I’m just a regular old civilian. I don’t have a weapon, uh… etched to my neural cloud or something - but i’d rather be called M200 rather than ‘I.O.P. Doll Model 257’.

Or whatever the hell my serial number is.

M200 rolls off the tongue better - and it fits nicely on a business card too.

I dream about becoming a war correspondent, yes, but I am nothing but a humble, rookie journalist. As a matter of fact, i’m pretty much a gofer most of the time - running errands, fetching equipment, serving coffee and whatnot. However, from time to time, I do get to help write the spiels for one of GKTV-5’s segments.

There is also the rare occasion that I get called up to be a backup news anchor.

I always looked forward to this last bit - reporting live on a major story and appearing on TV throughout Brest Oblast. Yesterday, I got my chance to do just that.

After intense aerial bombardment decimated the old prison fort at the far edge of town, I volunteered to appear on the scene. The station even arranged an interview with Super Shorty - the adjutant du jure of the legendary Station 794 of G&K - and it was going to be the day I launched into the big leagues!

Imagine this - I was going to be the first doll employee of a major news channel to report the news on primetime TV. It was going to be a historical moment!

At least - it was supposed to be.

Stage fright got me good - and I choked up on the interview like the rookie that I was.

Super Shorty was a veteran when it came to facing the press and that munchkin walked all over me. I only got to ask a single question before Shorty took over the interview - and I was relegated to the background.

It was a disaster! Ungh~!

I haven’t been to the station since the botched interview. Yesterday was technically my day off, but even I can imagine the hubbub I raised with my ‘performance’. My responsible side says I have to face the music and report to work with confidence and strength to tell my boss - Jim Salmons - my side of the story.

The rest of me, however, just wanted to call in sick.

That intense debate in the congress of my neural cloud raged on into the night, so I tried to distract myself by researching Sangvis Ferri for spiel material. I figured I could offer Jim a sort of olive branch if I give him good quality work.

However, I just ended up getting that nightmare.

When it rains, it pours - I guess.

Now that I was back in my cruel, unglamorous reality, I put the newspapers and dossiers about SF away with a heavy groan. My audible grumbling then roused the other occupant of this apartment,

“Mhn…?” A still groggy, golden-haired doll opened her bright red eyes as she yawned with concern, “Potato ? You’re up already? You look like you saw a ghost!”

“Nagant…”

The doll’s name escaped my lips.

As soon as I said her name, however, Nagant’s grogginess fizzled away and her brow furrowed. The blond doll quickly corrected me,

“Nagant-Revolver is my official name - but you and I are friends, Potato. Not to mention - roommates for the past six months now. We’re not strangers anymore, so - call me ‘ babushka ’. Okay?”

This was Nagant-Revolver - the head of security at the GKTV-5 News Network.

Unlike me, she was a bona fide tactical doll.

Look - she even had her namesake revolver with her!

Before I joined the GKTV-5 team, Nagant was the only other doll employed by GKTV-5. Because of that, we immediately hit it off and got along quite well. She was even gracious enough to let me stay in her apartment close to the station - as long as I agreed to pay half the rent and do groceries with her.

Despite her small stature, Nagant had a motherly side to her.

Nagant always made sure that everyone is eating properly - and she spent more time in the station’s kitchen than in the security center most of the time. Nagant’s four dummies did most of the heavy lifting and patrolling in the office anyways, leaving her free to do what she wanted with her free time.

To the untrained eye, Nagant appeared to be slacking off - but the guys and gals of GKTV-5 always looked forward to the meals she made for them. She was able to turn even humble potato peels into delicious snacks! Nagant’s pleasant attitude helped in that regard - earning her the title of the office ‘babushka’.

A doting grandmother.

In return, she started calling me ‘Potato’. Everyone else in the office eventually followed suit - though I don’t really understand what’s so potato-like about me. When Nagant says it, however, I know she does so affectionately.

In any case, I heaved another sigh and conceded to Nagant with a smile,

“You win, babushka .”

Nagant beamed at me in response. She then sat up from her futon as well and hugged her knees as she asked,

“So what’s up, Potato? Something on your mind? You’re not usually up at this hour.”

I scratched the back of my head and confessed,

“I was having a dream. I was with you and Alexi covering a G&K offensive - and then the ringleader Agent appeared - and she was going to kill me - and…”

Nagant seemed to be overwhelmed by my story and laughed uncomfortably,

“Ahahaha~ I think I get the gist of it. Dolls don’t dream though, Potato - at least they’re not supposed to.”

“Eh? Is that really true?”

Nagant proudly nodded and folded her arms as she explained,

“Yeahp! I read it in the manual when I signed up to have a weapon etched to my neural cloud.”

“Really? Then what in the world was I seeing just a while ago?”

Nagant rubbed her chin and dared to guess,

“Knowing you… you were probably working on drafting spiels late into the night. You fell asleep halfway through, so your thoughts kept running in your Level 2 consciousness and you unwittingly made a simulation! It’s not a good habit to do, though, since it uses up your processing power when you’re supposed to be resting. Did I get it right?”

Almost on cue, I was drawn to yawn sleepily. Nagant promptly snickered. She caught me red handed.

Dang. She isn’t the security chief for nothing!

Nagant, however, was not happy to learn she was right. She held her face with concern and chided me,

“A creative imagination is good and all, Potato... but if you drain your batteries before the day even starts, you’ll fall asleep during work hours again.”

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment when Nagant mentioned this. I covered my face and groaned,

“Jim chewed me out for falling asleep that one time… I’m sure he’ll chew me out for this gaffe again today too! Dead air is bad for broadcasters, after all!”

Nagant grinned at me and reassured,

“Don’t worry about Jim, Potato~! I know the work you put into your job. A lot of folks at the station do too. You’ll have your own segment like he does someday if you keep improving your craft.”

The blond doll then formed a gun shape with her hand and winked,

“Plus, if that foolish boy dares to hurt you, I’ll fill him full of lead!”

“Please don’t kill anyone in the station, babuskha… ”

“Ehehehe~ I’ll try not to.”

Nagant patted my head gently and then urged,

“Come on now. Let’s have breakfast, Potato. Another workday awaits!”

As the sun started to rise in the horizon, I was finally able to wear a smile for Nagant and reply,

“Alright, babushka . Let’s eat.”

Early Morning

Residential District

You know, there’s something special about the breakfast that Nagant makes. We weren’t the richest people in Brest Oblast by any stretch - but Nagant managed to keep our breakfasts filling and delicious. Today, we had a simple breakfast of oatmeal topped off with a tin of peaches in heavy syrup and it lifted up my spirits quite a bit!

Sadly, our instant coffee tin ran out a few days ago - and the limited-time sale had not yet graced our local grocery store this week. That left us with the TV station’s coffee machine as our primary source of caffeine.

Spurred by the promise of mass-produced, medium-roast coffee, Nagant and I did the dishes, wore our work clothes, locked the door of our humble apartment and then set off to the GKTV-5 building downtown.

Our morning commute took us through the blocky Residential District of Brest Oblast. It was basically half a dozen city blocks of concrete boxes built to fit as many occupants on top of one another as possible. I used to joke about it with Nagant - calling it some sort of sick game of Tetris or something.

Problem is, that joke wasn’t too far off the mark.

Now that the sun was beginning to rise, one would have normally expected the streets to be filled with sunlight. However, the towering concrete boxes that huddled on both sides of the street cast long, heavy shadows over the sidewalk. Some streets were still so dark from the shadows at this time that the streetlights were kept on until now.

Every day is night in Yellow Zone cities, I guess. I came to this town about a year ago, and I still can’t get used to this...

In that concrete jungle of stale gray, dark brown or adobe walls, there were a number of things that broke the dull monotony of the Residential District. There were billboards affixed to the tenement walls - as well as large swathes of wall claimed by graffiti of all sorts.

Griffin & Kryuger ads about ongoing recruitment were accompanied by anti-war and anti-doll slogans, accusing the PMC of being human killers. Canned soup ads were mocked by spray painted complaints about high salt content, poor taste and other conspiracy theories. Travel agency ads touting trips to Green Zone cities like Minsk or Belgrade were countered by calls to burn Green Zone cities to the ground.

As a literal pedestrian, the ads and the graffiti seemed to be a conversation of some sort. I was tempted to write a spiel about it for a moment - but I guess I’ll save it for after I get out of my current predicament.

While I was still lost in my thoughts, the architecture around us started to gain more personality and the sunlight finally graced us with its presence. That meant that Nagant and I were finally leaving the Residential District and were entering the glitzier downtown. As we were crossing that threshold, Nagant grabbed my shoulder and pointed to a billboard perched on the roof of a small convenience store.

“Look, Potato! They’re putting up our new ad!”

I looked up and saw a gaggle of workers wearing bright orange vests putting up the latest advertisement of the GKTV-5 Newsroom. It was a panoramic view of our TV station, featuring the smiling faces of our station’s five primetime news personalities. The mug of one of the personalities, a brown-haired man in his late twenties with long sideburns and a twinkle in his green eyes, smiled at me too.

Seeing him almost made me want to throw up my breakfast.

“Did they photoshop Jim’s face to make him look more presentable?” I jested, covering my mouth dramatically.

“The station wouldn’t pick him to be a personality if he didn’t at least look passable, Potato~!” Nagant playfully countered.

I puffed my cheeks at Nagant’s remark and decided to just turn away from Jim’s smiling face. Instead, I focused instead on the beautiful lady with flowing blond hair and ashen-grey eyes at the center of the picture.

I placed my hand over my mechanical heart and swooned,

“Ah~ Genevieve...! She looks absolutely stunning in this one.”

Nagant folded her arms and nodded in acknowledgement. She then turned to me and explained,

“Genevieve is pretty popular in Brest. She’s our CEO - and she’s quite literally the face of GKTV-5, after all. Our star anchor.”

“Star anchor…” I repeated in a dreamy tone, “One day, babushka, I’ll be like Genevieve and make her proud~! I’ll be a star anchor like her!”

“Hehehe~ I’ll be looking forward to it, Potato!”

With that, the two of us carried on with the rest of our morning commute towards the TV station.

However, in the corner of my eye… I couldn’t help but feel like one of the construction workers was looking at me funny. I just turned away and walked closer to Nagant without saying a word.

Still… I wonder what that person’s deal was.

Downtown Brest

GKTV-5 Newsroom Building

At the foyer of the TV station, Nagant and I went our separate ways. Nagant went over to the security office, accompanied by her four dummies, to prepare for the day ahead.

I, on the other hand, entered the foyer elevator to prepare for my unavoidable meeting with Jim Salmons. I held my GKTV-5 ID lanyard over the card reader, pressed for the fifth floor and prepared for the elevator’s slow climb.

However, before the doors could close, a myriad of office ladies and salarymen appeared and barged into the elevator. These were the employees from the other companies that rented space in our building, I guess. They were scanning their ID’s on the readers and were calling for the other floors.

Second.

Third.

Fourth.

Fifth.

Basically all of the buttons were pressed in the blink of an eye. Oof. The ‘maximum capacity’ alarm even went off for a moment, but the elevator doors managed to close and the car finally began its ascent.

The sheer number of people threatened to squish me. The stress of it all clashed with the lighthearted jazz music playing in the elevator car. However, one of the television screens in the car showed the GKTV-5 morning news with the weather report.

Apparently, there was a flash Collapse Radiation storm that was going to blow through Brest this morning. It was a minor storm - even by Yellow Zone city standards - but it was enough to spur humans to go to work that much earlier before the storm hit.

In any case, as the elevator made its stops, the crowd in the car gradually got smaller until only the people going to the fifth floor were left. True enough, the last two people left with me in the elevator on the last stretch were my colleagues.

Alexi, the lighthearted cameraman… and… uhgh.

Jim Salmons.

My boss.

Uwah~ I was planning not to see Jim until I absolutely had to today. I was even hoping to get my morning coffee before I had to deal with him. Thankfully, Alexi was watching the morning news while Jim was preoccupied with his smartphone to notice me.

I had just decided to stay quiet and hope that Jim didn’t notice me when Alexi turned around and, like the big, golden-hearted buffoon that he was, greeted the both of us cheerfully!

“ Dobroye ultro , Jim! Potato! Crazy weather we’re having today, huh?”

I shrank into the corner that I was unsuccessfully hiding behind and stammered,

“G-good morning to you too, Alexi… Jim.”

Jim gave off a dissatisfied snort and put away his smartphone into the pocket of his business suit. He then glared at me with his green eyes for a moment before turning to Alexi to reply,

“Let’s hope the weather cooperates with us for today’s segment, Alexi. We can’t afford to have rating drops for two days straight.”

Jim then turned back to me again and spoke sharply,

“M200. We need to have a chat in my office. Put it in your nine-o-clock. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer...”

I shrank even more in my corner and answered weakly,

“Y-yes boss…”

The elevator doors then opened and Jim marched out into the fifth floor hallway, leaving me behind.

I knew it.

That asshole’s picture on the ad was definitely photoshopped.

Alexi, on the other hand, held the elevator doors open for me and still urged with a smile,

“Don’t fret too much, Potato. I’m booked to meet Jim at nine too.”

Hearing this made me air my thoughts out loud,

“Oh, thank goodness. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that on my own.”

Alexi laughed heartily and patted me on the shoulder as he ushered me out of the elevator.

Jim Salmons' Office

Half an hour later, at exactly nine sharp, Alexi and I entered the office of Jim Salmons with paper cups of coffee in hand. Jim was seated behind his small, cheap pinewood desk and the screen of his desktop computer and acknowledged us with a nod.

“Have a seat, you two. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Alexi and I obliged and took seats across the table from Jim. My boss then turned his desktop screen around for me and Alexi to see. There was a multitude of windows opened on his screen - showing news articles published by the other news agencies.

Jim then shifted his cold gaze towards me and barked,

“I’m sure you’re aware of this now, M200 - but your blunder of an interview with Super Shorty yesterday hit our ratings hard. More than that, all other news outlets are practically making fun of us.”

Uuuuuu… I knew it. It was the talk I’ve been fearing since this morning.

Reading through the news articles posted by the other agencies, I couldn’t help but feel Jim’s glare cutting deeper and deeper into my soul - if ever I had one, that is. It didn’t take me long to get the gist of what the articles were saying… and I couldn’t bear to look at them before long.

Alexi leaned back into his seat and folded his arms as he remarked,

“Cut Potato some slack, Jim. This was her first time being a frontline correspondent. The old prison fortress was bombed to kingdom come and back by the KCCO too - so it was quite an assignment.”

Jim grumbled in response,

“If that was the case, then M200 should have asked for an easier assignment.”

Ahahaha~ damn. I can’t argue with that.

The thought of appearing on primetime TV made me greedy. That much, I will admit.

Still, Alexi was quick to defend me again,

“Aside from the tough assignment, Jim, Super Shorty is a pro when it comes to tripping journos up. They call her the ‘Chihuahua’ in some circles, you know.”

Just now, I imagined a tiny dog wearing a police cap - barking at me with all her might.

Cute. But dangerous.

Though, I guess that wasn’t really far from how that interview went down, huh?

At least she didn’t bite my leg.

Anyways, Jim heaved a sigh and turned his attention to Alexi this time,

“Even if I were to cut M200 some slack, the other agencies won’t back down. If they smell blood from their competitors, they’ll pounce with everything they’ve got. There’s only one way to fight off those bloodthirsty sharks.”

This time, Jim and Alexi seemed to see eye-to-eye. The two men then declared in unison.

“An exclusive bombshell story.”

A wry smirk formed on Jim’s lips as he pulled out folders for me and Alexi to read. I opened the folder up and found the script for an interview with Commander Gentiane of Station 794.

Jim folded his arms proudly and declared,

“Later today at the former Station 56586 base, Commander Gentiane of G&K will hold a press conference. My sources tell me that she’s going to make some major announcement, so all the major news networks are gonna be there. However, I secured GKTV-5’s chance to ask questions in the presscon question & answer.”

Alexi nodded as he read through the script and remarked,

“I have to say - you pulled out all the stops on this one, huh?”

Alexi wasn't kidding. Jim prepared one hell of a script for his Q&A session. It was better than any spiel I've come up with thus far, at least. However, this did beg the question - if Jim was already prepared with his plan, then why was I here in his office?

Almost as if Jim heard my thoughts, he then pointed to me and declared,

“You’re going to be on equipment duty with Alexi, M200. You have to make sure the Q&A session goes on without a hitch. Since you want to be a frontline anchor so badly, M200, I’ll show you how a veteran deals with sharks on the high seas.”

Alexi then folded his arms and smiled at me, saying,

“This is Jim’s way of saying he’s giving you a second chance, Potato. What do you say?”

A second chance?

I took a deep breath as the dust settled in my mechanical heart. I turned towards the kindly Alexi - then to the stern Jim - and replied,

“I’ll do it, Alexi. Jim. I’ll help get us our bombshell exclusive, for sure!”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

Mid-Morning

GKTV-5 Equipment Storage Room

“I’ll do it, Alexi. Jim. I’ll help us get our bombshell exclusive for sure!”

As soon as I made my declaration to Jim, that slave driver boss of mine immediately put me and Alexi to work. With that same cold and calculating look he always had, he told us to clear out our schedules and get ready to roll out by the top of the hour. That bastard then shooed us out of his office so that he could ‘concentrate’!

Rude!

Before I could give Jim a piece of my mind, his office door shut behind us - cutting off my angle of attack. I felt a vein popping  on my brow and my core seemed to be heating up from the rage brewing in my mechanical heart.

You know I’m technically a T-Doll right, Jim? You know this door won’t protect you for long if I get really mad right, Jim!?

However, Alexi calmly patted me on the shoulder and gently shepherded me away with him to the equipment storage room down the hall.

“You want to get that bombshell exclusive for Jim, right?” Alexi reminded me as we made our way to the storage room door, “Well, we’d better make sure the Q&A at the conference goes smoothly.”

“All of the sudden, I’m regretting trying to act cool in front of Jim…” I groaned, drooping my shoulders in half-hearted protest.

“It’s too late to back out now, Potato. If you commit to something, you’ve got to see it through!” Alexi grinned cheekily, “Come on now - we need to get our equipment. This stuff ain’t going to load itself!”

“... Fine~!”

Alexi and I entered the storage room and we found ourselves in the large space where our station kept all our stuff. There was a small desk by the entrance where one of Nagant’s dummies was seated almost motionlessly.

Nagant’s dummy noticed me and Alexi and finally stirred from its lonesome hibernation. It took a moment to scan the both of us with its eyes.

Even though it looked exactly like Nagant, this dummy carried nearly none of our beloved babushka’s personality and was quite literally a desk jockey. It practically lived in the storeroom to keep watch over the equipment - and it never moved a muscle unless it absolutely had to.

The robotic dummy then blinked twice, completing its analysis. It then greeted me and Alexi with a mechanical monotone.

“Alexi Stoyaovich. Employee number 0004 confirmed. I.O.P. doll number 257. Employee number 1088 confirmed. State the purpose of your visit to the storage room. You have ten seconds to comply.”

Alexi came forward and calmly spoke,

“ Dobry ranok, babushka . We’re going to fetch equipment for a field reporting assignment - under orders from Jim Salmons. He’s, uh… employee 115, I think.”

The dummy looked up to the tall, burly Alexi with a blank gaze and replied,

“Purpose noted, Mr. Stoyanovich. Please check out all equipment with me before you leave and affix your physical and digital signatures on the necessary documents. Remember that failure to comply with...”

After this point, Alexi and I just zoned out while the dummy gave its spiel - something about laws and regulations of the New Soviet Union and stuff. The moment that the dummy gave us our equipment trolleys and the checkout papers, Alexi and I got to work loading our equipment.

Longer wires and cords, backlighting instruments, boom microphones, ENG cameras, a spare generator, dollies - the works! Honestly, watching our trolleys pile up with equipment always got me excited. It sort of felt like a major operation is going to begin - and that feeling sorta held true.

I’ve been working at GKTV-5 for close to six months now. Every single time, I was standing behind our equipment, working in the shadows. That interview yesterday was the one exception - but I promised myself that it wasn’t going to be the last time.

Even though I royally screwed up - I still want to be in the spotlight, reporting the news as I see it.

Just like Jim.

Just like Genevieve.

Spurred by my determination, I finished loading up my trolley and then helped Alexi load up his. We finished our paperwork, dropped them off at the dummy’s desk and then peaced out of the equipment room.

Alexi and I pushed our trolleys down the hall towards the elevators. There, we found Jim already waiting for us.

Jim was clad in his full business suit - the same one that he wore to work this morning. The only difference now was that he was wearing his favorite salmon pink tie and a peculiar pin on his lapel.

That pin depicted a silver crossbow superimposed on a sky-blue shield. It was the coat of arms of the City of Brest, I recognized. The veteran news anchor then turned to me and Alexi and quietly nodded in acknowledgement.

The elevator door opened before long - and the three of us stepped inside. Jim called for the basement garage floor, prompting the elevator to close its doors and then begin its slow descent.

On the way down, Jim was adjusting his tie while he looked up to the television screen showing the GKTV-5 morning news. Without even looking at me, my boss broke the silence and started to speak,

“M200. You haven’t been in this station long, but you aren’t shy about your big dreams about becoming a primetime news anchor for us.”

“I do want to be a news anchor, Jim. That’s true.” I answered firmly.

“I know - M200 - and that’s why I want you to understand the situation our station is in. GKTV-5 has a national license to broadcast in the Belarus SSR, but our reach is only regional. The Brest Oblast and surrounding territories is our turf. Beyond that, we’re nobodies - but we’re still expected to compete with the national channels. And don’t get me started on the channels from the Russian mainland.”

“That doesn’t sound fair…” I remarked with a frown.

“Fairness doesn’t matter as much as you think in this business, M200. No matter what the Politburo in Moscow says, money talks in the media - and money comes from ratings. We’re always at a disadvantage when it comes to ratings since hardly anyone outside our turf tunes into GKTV-5. That means our revenues are consistently dwarfed by the other national players - we also get less sponsors too.”

Jim then polished his Brest Oblast lapel pin with a handkerchief until it gave off a mild sparkle as he added,

“However - the one thing that we have that those national broadcasters don’t… is love for this place we call home. This is our home court. We actually give a damn about this place... while the rest of them are just sharks… no, vultures looking to make a quick ruble.”

Alexi leaned against the walls of the elevator and chimed in with an amused smile,

“If we get a story here - in Brest Oblast - we’re the authorities, Potato. We can punch well above our weight. Those national channel boys and girls often have no choice but to defer to us. It does wonders for our ratings too - but it’s nothing compared to knowing that we’re doing the right thing. That’s how Genevieve built this company - and that’s why we’re still afloat after all these years.”

My mechanical heart throbbed as I listened to Jim and Alexi speak. Then, the television switched to a GKTV-5 commercial spot featuring Genevieve herself. The star anchor of GKTV-5 smiled warmly at the camera and spoke the tagline of their channel.

“ We are GKTV-5. The arrow of truth of Brest Oblast .”

When Genevieve said this on the TV, I saw Jim’s expression change slightly from his usual uptight self. He stood up straight, wore a small smile and had a twinkle of confidence in his green eyes - matching the shine of his prominent lapel pin.

Then, for once, Jim gave me a sidelong glance, pointed to his lapel pin and said,

“I hope you meant every word that you told me a while ago, M200. We are the arrows of truth, so it is our duty to fly true.”

In that moment, Jim Salmons looked exactly like what he did in the advertisement I saw this morning.

It was sort of scary. But also kinda cool.

Before I could say a word, the elevator reached the basement and the doors parted open before us. There, we found Nagant - the real one - waiting for us with a bright smile on her lips. She gave us a respectful nod as she greeted,

“ Dobry ranok , Mr. Salmons. Mr. Stoyanovich.”

Nagant then gave me a kindly wink,

“Potato.”

Eh...? Did she really have to single me out?

Anyways, she then brought out a set of car keys and proudly announced,

“I’ve prepared our news van for this morning. I’ll be driving for the three of you - and I’ll be your security detail too, so be thankful~!”

Jim graciously returned the gesture and then turned to me and Alexi to say,

“We’re ready to roll, you two. Let’s get going before the vultures come.”

Commercial District Streets

Minutes later, the underground garage door of the GKTV-5 building opened and the news van drove out onto the main road. The van passed by the one-story convenience store bearing the GKTV-5 billboard ad where a curious figure dressed like a construction worker stood at the ledge.

Locks of the figure’s short golden hair flowed out from beneath her white hardhat and flew in the intensifying wind.

The figure then tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, revealing the earpiece that she wore. She then pressed on her earpiece and reported in a whisper,

“ Kartoshka is on the move, Master. What are your orders?”

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 2 - Baked Potato

Outside of Brest City

M1 Highway Belarus - Westbound

Quirky Russian pop music was playing on the radio as Nagant drove our news van west. I sat on the passenger’s seat to her right and watched as the familiar skyline of Brest City grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

Our destination that morning was the old prison fortress that had been turned into a paramilitary base for Griffin & Kryuger a few years ago - a curious spot overlooking the Kazlovichy Border Crossing between Belarus and Poland.

At least - it was a paramilitary base until two days ago.

Warplanes from Minsk came and blew the living hell out of that old fortress, wiping the whole place out of the map. And yet - by some stroke of luck - there were no casualties. That, and the fact that the Polish Government didn’t complain too much, was nothing short of a miracle.

That god-forsaken ruin was where my trainwreck of an interview with the adjutant happened. Now, I was heading back for round two.

Sort of.

This time around, I wasn’t going to be the anchor - and I was relegated to support with Alexi.

Haaah… well, it’s better than nothing.

For a moment, I was tempted to slide down the windows to get some fresh air and to clear my thoughts a bit. Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning illuminated the storm clouds above the highway. Unlike a normal storm, however, the heavy clouds above us were ominously green.

Nagant furrowed her brow and barked to her passengers in the back,

“Okay, tovarichi . We’re going straight through the Collapse Radiation storm. You know the drill.”

Alexi nodded to Nagant through the rear-view mirror and brought out a pair of gas masks and a small bottle of potassium iodide anti-radiation pills. He then handed Jim his mask and gave him an iodide pill as well.

The two men took their pills with water and then donned their gas masks as the shadow of the Collapse Radiation storm clouds loomed over us. Neither of the two seemed frightened by the freak force of nature we were diving into - as if doing something like this was second nature to them.

As a doll, I never thought too much about the radiation storms that went through Yellow Zones like Brest from time to time. However, I felt like if I was a human being like Jim and Alexi, I would have been scared shitless.

I’ve seen radiation storms on TV and I already followed the municipal guidelines to stay indoors when they issue an alert - so this was the first time I was seeing a storm up close with my own two eyes.

Nagant seemed to sense my concern, so she poked me with her elbow and explained,

“Relax, Potato~! I’ve driven these boys - and Genevieve too - through worse storms than this. Our van is also well-equipped to go out in radiation storms too! As long as we don’t take a wrong turn and go into a Red Zone~!”

“H-hey! Don’t joke about that…”

“Ahahaha~ I know, I know! What I’m saying is, I’ve got this under control, Potato. So, trust in Babushka and she will get you where you need to go~!”

“I trust you, Babushka… but I’m just surprised that humans would willingly go through storms like this. I mean, look at those clouds, man! Freaky as hell.”

Nagant chuckled at my response and calmly replied,

“The easy way out would have been to wait out this storm, Potato. This is true. It should dissipate in less than an hour after all. I was telling this to that boy - “Mr. Salmons” - when he called me to arrange this trip earlier, but…”

She then paused and contorted her face cartoonishly to look serious and grumbled in a whisper, mimicking Jim’s voice,

“ The other news agencies are thinking the same thing, Nagant-Revolver. The only way to beat the vultures is to get there before they do - and every minute counts! I’m not going to let a Collapse Radiation storm stand in my way! ”

Hah! Classic Jim.

Hearing Nagant’s impersonation made me laugh out loud, drawing a suspicious glare from Jim. I’m pretty sure the Russian pop music drowned out our conversation, but I was worried that I saw Jim’s green eyes trying to pierce my soul through the visor of his gasmask.

My hearty laugh grew uncomfortable as I turned away from Jim to face the road in an embarrassed retreat.

Not long after, we passed through the bulk of the radiation storm clouds and the heavens started to clear up. Majestic rays of sunlight soon started to peek through the clouds as we left the storm behind us.

Then, far in the distance, we saw the fenced-off city of tents sitting where the old prison fortress was. Mountains of rubble, remnants of the intense aerial bombing that took place there two nights ago, were still on site as we approached.

However, there was something new in that city of tents that caught my attention.

The flag of Griffon & Kryuger flying proudly on a new flagpole at the heart of it all.

This was our destination - the ‘new’ home of G&K Station 56586.

G&K Station 56586

Entrance - Decontamination Tunnel

As we got off of the M1 Highway and onto the old Prison Fortress road, we were greeted by a large decontamination tunnel that covered a segment of the road. It was like a long plastic arch attached to a myriad of hoses that sprayed decontaminating foam and other chemicals that I couldn’t hope to spell the names of, let alone pronounce.

Nagant drove the van through the tunnel slowly - letting the decontaminators wash away the traces of Collapse Radiation from our trusty van. It was only when we were halfway through the tunnel that Jim and Alexi put off their gas masks.

Jim then brought out a smartphone device and began giving us his orders,

“Alright everyone. Let’s go over the plan one more time. The news conference will be held at Ground Zero - right about where the Administrative Wing of the prison once was. It should start in approximately two hours - and the Q&A will start about half an hour after that.”

Alexi confidently folded his arms and reassured,

“Potato and I can get the equipment up in thirty minutes. The GKTV-5 microphone will be on the podium long before anyone else’s, Jim.”

Nagant then turned to Jim through the rearview mirror and added,

“I’ll be keeping watch over the van - and I’ll keep our satellite dish deployed too~!”

Jim’s eyes then turned to me - as if expecting me to say something next. However, I had nowhere near the level of confidence that Alexi and Nagant had. So, I decided to bite the bullet and dare to ask,

“That leaves me with an hour and a half of free time, Jim… d-does that mean I’m on standby? Ahehehe~”

Jim heaved a heavy sigh and, instead, reached behind his coat with his right hand.

Ah, crap. Was Jim gonna pull out a knife and cut me or something!?

I froze in my chair, fearful of what Jim was possibly planning to do to me. Then, he brought out something like a vaporizer pen and handed it to me.

Does this mean he wants me to chill out and vibe until the conference?

Can dolls even get high!?

Before I could ask, Jim placed the stick-shaped thing in my hand and explained,

“This is a miniature voice recorder. It’s something that Genevieve gave us anchors for when we want to cover stories on the fly. We have these recorders so that we’re always ready to report breaking news as it happens.”

I looked at the miniature recorder in my hands and suddenly felt the curious weight that it had. Realizing this, I gasped,

“Genevieve entrusted this to you… and now you’re entrusting it to me, Jim? Have you finally accepted me as your successor…!?”

Jim then pulled out another miniature recorder and flatly countered,

“That one’s just a spare, M200. This one’s what Genevieve gave me.”

“H-hey! Don’t be a buzzkill, Jim!”

“I’m not being a buzzkill, M200. I’m entrusting you with the most crucial part of this operation.”

“The most… crucial part?”

Jim nodded firmly and explained,

“That’s right, M200. Once you’re done helping Alexi set up for the conference at Ground Zero, I want you to go around the base and look for stories that we can report on.”

“W-whoa, really?”

“Yes, really. I will do what I can to keep the Chihuahua occupied… and I’ll deal with the rest of the vultures too to keep their attention on me. Then, while they’re distracted - I want you to shed some light on what really happened here on this base. The Tasteless Incident. The Unsavory Incident. Anything you can find, M200. That will make our exclusive bombshell all the more powerful.”

A small smile broke out on my lips as I remarked,

“Is this what you meant when you said you were going to show me how a veteran deals with sharks on the high seas, Jim? Or are we talking about vultures and chihuahuas now?”

Jim snickered at my remark and doubled down,

“A veteran can deal with any animal that gets in their way, M200. This will be a little bit risky, so consider this a test. Can I count on you, M200?”

I held the miniature recorder close to my mechanical heart. I gave Jim a happy nod and declared,

“You sure can! Let’s go hunting!”

Ground Zero

Conference Area

As soon as we were given the OK by the security team, Alexi and I rushed to set up our equipment on the conference grounds. Aside from the small stage, the rows of folding chairs set up for the press and the armed G&K dolls patrolling the area, there was hardly a soul there.

Alexi and I quickly set up shop - claiming the prime real estate close to the stage. We deployed our equipment quickly - moving like clockwork as we got everything ready for the conference in relative peace. It was only half an hour later that the rest of the news crews from other channels started arriving.

At the same time, another familiar figure appeared with the vultures.

The intimidating chihuahua called Super Shorty.

The hat-wearing chihuahua was barking her orders at the news crews as they trickled into the conference grounds - but that the same time, it was easy to tell that she was excited behind her angry mask.

It was really as if she was a chihuahua barking while wagging its teeny-tiny tail.

Hrghgh, you’d be so cute if you weren’t so damn mean!

In any case, this was Alexi’s cue to pat me on the back and whisper,

“It’s time to go, Potato. Jim and I will hold the fort here. Do us proud~!”

I answered Alexi with a confident smile and then ducked out of the conference grounds before the vultures or the chihuahua spotted me.

While everyone’s eyes were on the conference grounds, I did my best to act cool and blend in with the G&K dolls. I followed a patrol of two handgun dolls - not quite sure what their models were - and acted like I was a T-Doll myself. I don’t have a rifle etched to my neural cloud - but I guess didn’t need one to hide in plain sight.

I think.

I followed the two dolls a pace or two behind and closely watched them, wondering if I was able to properly blend in. The other dolls patrolling Ground Zero and the tent city built around it didn’t seem to notice me tagging along with their handgun-wielding friends. The other news crews, on the other hand, were too busy getting chewed out by Super Shorty to pay attention to me.

Heh. Perhaps I’m actually a really good spy.

Before I could inflate my ego any further, however, I unwittingly followed the handgun dolls into a tight alley between two of the many tents scattered around the base - far away from the eyes of the gathering media.

The two dolls then turned around on a dime and pointed their handguns at me!

“Eep~!”

I whipped my head back, looking behind me to find a way to escape from this situation. However, there was another doll already positioned there waiting for me - a pink-haired doll with bright pink eyes who pointed her machine gun at me.

Oh shit!

I instinctively reached for the micro voice recorder in my shirt pocket and pulled it out on impulse. This didn’t seem to sit well with the pink-haired doll at all as she growled,

“Drop your weapon and put your hands up!”

“Eh…? T-this isn’t…”

The pink-haired doll furrowed her brow and lashed,

“Do you realize that you’re trespassing on G&K territory? Identify yourself if you don’t want to get filled with lead!”

“I… I, uh…”

C-crap.

I’m so scared out of my wits that I can’t even speak!

In that tense moment, however, another clear voice joined the fray.

“Negev. Grizzly. Welrod. Stand down. We believe that she’s got a voice recorder in her hand - not a weapon.”

This ‘Negev’ doll snorted as she glared at me and pointed her machine gun away from me. The two handgun dolls behind me seemed to follow suit too.

Negev stepped aside in the alley, revealing the doll who gave the command to stand down.

It was a doll who was about my size, wearing a khaki-colored, sailor-type uniform with a navy blue skirt. She had long hazelnut hair that she wore in twintails with navy blue ribbons and golden brown eyes that seemed to shine brilliantly in the shadow of the alley.

On top of that, this curious doll was wearing something odd.

The distinct maroon beret of a G&K commander.

This odd doll wore a warm smile for me as she extended her hand to me and introduced herself, speaking in the royal ‘we’,

“We are M14 - the new subcommander of Station 56586. The dolls behind you are Welrod Mk. II and Grizzly Mk. V and this scary lady here beside me is Negev - our adjutant.”

“Scary…!?” Negev protested, “I’m a specialist! I was just doing my job.”

M14 chuckled at Negev’s remark and then turned to me again to ask,

“We assume that you are here with the media. What can we do for you, Miss…?”

I straightened up my slouched, fearful posture and then faced M14 squarely with the voice recorder firmly in hand. Then, I finally mustered up the courage to speak.

“M-my name is M200. I’m with GKTV-5… B-Brest Oblast. I-if you don’t m-mind… would you be willing to have an interview with me?”

The smile on M14’s lips grew wider as she happily answered,

“If you don’t mind speaking with us over an early lunch, then we would be happy to oblige~!”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

An Hour Before The Conference

Station 56586 Temporary Base

Command Tent

At the heart of the Ground Zero of Station 56586, in the confines of the spacious yet bare Command Tent, I found myself in a predicament.

I had been whisked even further away from the conference grounds to a place further away from the rest of my news crew setting up in the press gallery. Now, I was seated at a cheap plastic folding table - across from the oddly carefree M14 and her menacing adjutant Negev.

The two handgun dolls, Welrod and Grizzly, had excused themselves to probably resume their patrol or something, but not before they patted me down for weapons. As soon as they left, they were replaced by yet another curious doll who joined us in the tent.

This new doll was wearing a prim and proper black military jacket with a matching black tie, forage cap and gloves. More than that, this doll was wearing a heavenly smile as she pushed a small trolley into the tent with her.

The newcomer then happily greeted her station-mates,

“Good morning M14-senpai, Negev-senpai. I see we have a guest~!”

Negev set her elbow down on the table and rested her cheek in her hand as she groaned,

“More like a nuisance, MP40. This intruder left the permitted area and tried tailing one of our patrols. It’s either she’s really brave or really stupid.”

“Ahahaha…” I laughed uncomfortably at Negev’s blunt remark, but I didn’t dare to speak back.

M14, however, took the remark in stride and turned to MP40 cheerfully to clarify,

“M200-chan here is a journalist and she wanted to have an interview with us, so we said yes~! Oh, and can we have the… uh… Menu #1, MP40-chan?”

“Of course~!” MP40 nodded, fished out a G&K-issue meal-ready-to-eat package from her trolley and set it before M14, “Rosemary Beef Stew and Apple Pie. Good choice, senpai!”

Next, the girl with the food trolley went over to Negev to take her order. The hot-blooded Negev then gave me a sidelong glance and growled,

“I’ll take anything with mashed potatoes, MP40.”

Argh crap…! Does she know that ‘potato’ is my nickname in the office? Do these paramilitary folks keep tabs on the media too!? Plus - why did she emphasize ‘mashed’!?

Babushka - please help.

While I was freezing up like a popsicle, MP40 pouted at Negev and calmly chided,

“Negev-senpai, please don’t talk like that. You’re scaring our guest~!”

Surprisingly, the kind MP40’s words silenced the furious beast that was Negev. Once Negev had calmed down, MP40 wore a satisfied smile and gave Negev a ration packet. Do these two have a history or something?

Before I could find the courage to ask, MP40 pushed her tray over to my side of the table and kindly started,

“What would you like for lunch today, Miss…?”

My fear-frozen heart was quickly thawed by MP40’s warm demeanor, so I was finally able to speak freely and order,

“M200. My name is M200 from GKTV-5, Brest Oblast… and I, uh… I’ll have whatever Miss M14 is having.”

Miss MP40’s smile widened as she set down another MRE package before me. She then set down a thermos of hot water at the middle of the table, gave us all a polite bow and then prepared to take her leave.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss M200. If there is anything else you would like, feel free to give me a call.”

When MP40 turned around to leave the tent, however, I managed to catch a glimpse of the submachine gun strapped behind her back - as well as the black baton that she wore at her hip. Even though this doll was being nice, she was still prepared to fight a battle in a blink of an eye, huh?

Maybe these guys were still keeping a close eye on me for some reason.

Or maybe I’m just overthinking things.

In any case, the three of us began opening up our rations and preparing our pre-packaged meals. M14 was the first one to take the hot water thermos as she proceeded to brew herself some instant coffee. Once she had filled up her cup, she turned to me and remarked,

“We have to say, M200-chan, you’re a brave one. It takes a lot of guts to snoop around in a paramilitary base in broad daylight. Perhaps investigative journalism is still alive and well~!”

“Ahehehe… I’m just doing my job, Miss M14.”

M14 chuckled at my answer but her voice started to grow much more serious as she referred to herself in the royal ‘we’ without missing a beat,

“You also don’t know just how lucky you are that we recognized you right away. We’ve seen your face on the TV and Super Shorty’s told me about you too. You’re that ‘Interven-chan’ girl from the Live At Five segment, right?”

My cheeks flushed red at the mention of that other nickname but forced myself to nod anyways. I was glad that these G&K folk knew who I was… but  I kinda wish that cutesy name wasn’t the first thing that they thought of though!

“Still…” M14 added, resting a hand over her mechanical heart, “If we weren’t there to intervene, Negev here would have probably thrown you into the brig! You are trespassing, after all.”

As soon as M14 said this, I felt Negev shoot me another soul-piercing glare as she took the hot water thermos this time. That glare sent chills running up my spine until Negev passed the thermos back to M14.

Jeez, I don’t even want to imagine what this wild-eyed doll would have done to me in a brig.

M14 then took the thermos and passed it over to me as she continued,

“At the end of the day, we agreed to let you interview us. That’s why we’re here. However, we do have some ground rules.”

“O-of course. Just say the word, Miss M14.”

M14 nodded and gave me her conditions.

“First, we’re sure that you’ve figured this out by now, but we will not disclose classified information to you - aside from what Commander Gentiane is prepared to reveal at the news conference later today. Second - we only have twenty minutes to spare for you. Is that satisfactory, M200-chan?”

“W-why, yes Miss M14. But I think that the mere fact that I can sit down with the first doll subcommander of G&K is already a pretty big deal, so… yeah.”

A warm smile returned to M14’s lips as she heard this. She then promptly added,

“And finally - you don’t have to call us ‘Miss M14’. Just ‘M14’ is fine~! We don’t have to be too formal with each other.”

My eyes met with M14’s bright gold and I saw the earnest glow of youthful cheer. She almost looks like what I imagined myself as when I first joined GKTV-5 six months ago. This doll was on the cusp of exploring a brand new world and I could sense her excitement to take on this new role - Subcommander of Station 56586.

Seeing that, I gladly accepted M14’s conditions.

“You got it, M14. Shall we begin?”

M14 nodded while Negev folded her arms defensively. With that signal, I turned on the mini recorder and set it on the table between us. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and then began our interview.

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 3 - Roast Potato

Interview with M14

At 11:30 on the dot, my interview with Subcommander M14 began without a hitch.

M14 and I exchanged pleasantries on tape and traded compliments for our recent promotions. M14 had just become the highest-ranking paramilitary doll in G&K while I was essentially the first doll news anchor in Belarus.

Happy as I was to finally get recognized for my efforts these past six months, however, I used every ounce of my willpower to stop myself from getting too giddy and kept the conversation about M14. Thanks to that, we managed to talk about a number of interesting things.

M14 shared with me that she chose to refer to herself in the royal ‘we’ in memory of her dear friend FNC. She told me that this doll was a central figure in the Tasteless Incident and was killed in suspicious circumstances. On top of all that, the events of the Unsavory Incident forced the responsibility of Station 56586 onto M14’s shoulders as well.

It turned out that she used the royal ‘we’ for two reasons.

First, she did so to keep the memory of FNC alive in her mechanical heart. She swore to carry the memory of FNC with her in every waking moment.

On top of that, the dolls of Station 56586 all looked to her for guidance and leadership in that turbulent time.

In more ways than one, M14 was Station 56586. Everything she did and said would affect the girls of her station and the weight of this responsibility was not lost on her.

It was a sad story, for sure… but sadness never was the main tune in M14’s voice. Instead, I felt determination to move forward brimming in her mechanical heart. There were hints of repentance and longing subtly mixed in - of course. Perhaps she still wished that her dearest FNC was still alive and at her side.

Even the coldhearted Negev felt this and laid a consoling hand on M14’s shoulder when her story came to a grinding halt when she was talking about FNC. I noticed tears forming at the sides of M14’s eyes.

Those were tears that the miniature voice recorder would never catch - tears that I saw with my own two eyes.

Once M14 had regained her composure, she wiped her tears and took a deep breath to gather herself. She puffed up her modest chest and then spoke in a more formal tone than she normally would.

She then made her bold declaration to the public.

“People of Brest Oblast - Station 56586 will be joining Station 794 as a detachment branch of Commander Gentiane’s forces and we shall serve as its Subcommander. Rest assured, however, that our station’s mission to protect Brest and the surrounding areas remains unchanged. No matter what enemy threatens you, we shall be your unrelenting shield - your War Goddess keeping vigilant watch! That is our promise to you!”

With that speech, my twenty minutes with Subcommander M14 were up.

Before the Press Conference

Time flew so quickly that it all seemed like a blur to me. Between the brief backs-and-forths I had with M14, my meager attempts to coax more information from her and the surprisingly good lunch I had in that deceptively simple MRE, I felt like I was finally able to do a decent interview. With a little post-production magic by our sound team back at the station,I'm sure it’ll turn out swell!

I took back the miniature voice recorder from the center of the table, turned it off and pocketed it once more. I then stood up and extended my hand to M14 over the table.

“Thank you again for your time, M14.”

M14 smiled back at me and shook my hand firmly in response,

“Likewise, M200-chan. We would have loved to stay and chat more, but the presscon is coming up. Stick around in the press gallery and we’re sure your station will get some more good tidbits from us and Commander Gentiane.”

She then turned to her adjutant and cheerfully urged,

“Shall we go, Negev?”

Negev nodded, rose up from her chair and took her leave with a polite nod to M14 - and one last furious glare at me. That left me alone in the command tent with M14.

As M14 was heading out of the tent as well, she stopped halfway and turned back to me to ask,

“By the way~! You wouldn’t have a business card on you, would you, M200-chan?”

“Oh! I’ve got one right here. Let me go get it.”

I fished out my wallet, combed through the tragically thin stack of rubles I had there and eventually found one of my GKTV-5 business cards. I pulled out the card and handed it to M14.

“This is actually just a generic GKTV-5 card that I scribbled my name on with a pen. I’ve only been an employee for six months, and I don’t really have an office yet. The number there goes to Alexi Stoyanovich’s office - he’s our cameraman, you see, and…”

Before I could finish the rest of my explanation, however, M14 took the card and leaned over to my ear with strange intensity. She then whispered to me in a stern, threatening voice that contrasted her demeanor during the interview,

“Say, M200-chan. We have a quick question for you. We want you to answer truthfully, so listen carefully. What happens to you next depends on your honesty.”

“O-oh… uh, of course!”

H-holy shit… did I do anything to piss her off?

M14 then opened her mouth with purposeful pause and asked,

“Does the phrase ‘only hope remains’ mean anything to you?”

“E-eh…? W-what do you mean by that…?”

“Just answer the question.” M14 bore down on me harder, looking straight into my eyes as if she was judging my soul or something.

That pressure, however, just made me clam up even more and I couldn’t even say a word!

M14 watched me squirm for a moment before she took a step back and snickered as she playfully apologized,

“Ehehe~ we were just playing with you, M200-chan. You’re the first doll news anchor in these parts, so you’ll have much, much tougher interviews than the one you had with us. You shouldn’t let a little pushback and pressure get you down - especially if you’re determined to get the story you want.”

“I-is that so?”

I wanted to believe M14’s explanation, but I couldn’t help but feel like there was much more weight to her question than she was letting on.

‘Only hope remains’, huh? What a strange phrase.

M14 then twirled my business card skillfully between her fingers, tapped it against the maroon beret that she wore as she smiled,

“We have a feeling that this will not be the last time we chat, M200-chan. We’re both servants of Brest Oblast now, after all!”

This time, I managed to finally regain my smile and answer,

“Same here, M14. I look forward to working with you as well!”

Outside the Command Tent

M14 stepped out of the Command Tent together with M200 where Negev, Grizzly and Welrod were waiting for them. The newly-minted Subcommander had the two handgun dolls escort M200 back to the press gallery and waved goodbye to the rookie journalist.

Once M200 and the handguns were out of earshot, M14 pulled out the black baton that she had been hiding behind her back throughout the entire interview and handed it to Negev.

The Israeli MG doll took the baton and then escorted M14 toward the backstage of the press gallery. As they walked, Negev aired out her honest thoughts,

“You did something incredibly risky today, M14. We still don’t know exactly who is involved in the Tasteless and Unsavory Incidents. PPK’s allies are still at large - presumably planning their next move.”

Negev’s brow then furrowed as she added,

“Besides… that doll just now. M200. Her reading on the IFF, the Identify Friend or Foe system, was…”

M14 glanced at the business card in her hand and reassured her adjutant,

“We know what M200-chan’s IFF reading was. That’s why we came as quickly as we could.”

“Yes - but telling a potential threat that you are the new Subcommander!? You were painting a target on your back!”

M14 heaved a sigh and reassured Negev again,

“That was on purpose, Negev. We had to test M200-chan… to see if she really is what she claimed to be. And besides - it’s not like we weren’t prepared for things to go sour. We have guardian angels watching over us.”

The subcommander then stopped mid-stride, picked up her beret and waved it around above her head. She then put on the beret again and grinned at Negev as she revealed,

“Wawa and her team are camped not too far from here. They’ve been watching the base and sweeping the perimeter since we opened the door to the media.”

Negev looked in the general direction that M14 waved her beret to and cautiously remarked,

“The Starseeker Team, huh…? You didn’t mention them at all during the interview.”

“Of course.” M14 calmly reassured, “On official records, Wawa and the Starseekers don’t exist - and we don’t know if we can trust M200-chan and her channel just yet. We’re preparing to eliminate this shady cabal that sparked the Tasteless and Unsavory incidents, we’re going to need allies we can trust. If M200-chan proves herself to be worthy, then so be it.”

M14 then pulled out the crosshair-shaped hairpin that she kept in her pocket and held it close to her mechanical heart as she fondly added,

“After all, the girls of our Station come first. Always. Isn’t that right, FNC-chan?”

Noontime

Conference Area - Press Gallery

Grizzly and Welrod accompanied me into the press gallery as they had been instructed to and we arrived just as the presscon was getting started. The two handgun dolls then excused themselves to get back to their duties - at least they were supposed to - but Welrod suddenly gave me an earful about trespassing and the horrible things that could have happened to me if I wasn’t careful.

I held my tongue and let the British handgun doll lecture me. All the while, Grizzly looked almost apologetic as she quietly gestured to me - probably implying that Welrod had the tendency to get intense at times. Welrod’s harangue only came to an end when Grizzly laid a hand on her shoulder and intervened,

“M200-chan understands what she did wrong now, Roddy. Isn’t that right, M200-chan?”

I took this cue to give Welrod a bow and formally apologize to her.

“Uhm…. y-yes. I’m sorry for tailing the two of you. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Welrod folded her arms and snorted - begrudgingly accepting my apology. She then took Grizzly by the hand and dragged her out of the press gallery, saying,

“Let’s go, Griz.”

Dear me... why does this Station have so many nutcases?

With that, I turned away from the strange handgun doll couple and slithered through the press gallery to get to the GKTV-5 spot.

Alexi was already there waiting for me expectantly beside our TV camera. The burly cameraman grinned at me and cheered,

“Perfect timing, Potato!  The presscon is just about to start. I’ll need you to carry our boom mic forward when it gets going.”

“Roger that, Alexi~!”

“So, Potato - did you get anything interesting?”

I pulled out the miniature voice recorder from my coat pocket and grinned back at Alexi as I handed it to him,

“Oh yeah - I’ve got something interesting! Twenty minute interview with M14 - the new subcommander of this Station.”

Alexi gladly took the recorder from me and gave me a proud thumbs up.

“Hoho~ nice! I’ll give it a listen on the way back to the station. I knew we could count on you, Potato!”

As he was saying this, the sound of high-end cameras snapping rapidly suddenly filled the entire press gallery. That was Alexi’s cue to man our camera while I picked up the boom microphone and brought it forward.

I held up the boom microphone and watched as the famous Commander Gentiane appeared on stage, wearing the full maroon dress uniform of Griffin & Kryuger - complete with the iconic commander’s beret. She was accompanied on stage by her adjutant Super Shorty, as well as the doll that I had been interviewing just a few minutes ago.

M14.

Just like before, M14 was wearing her own commander’s beret - and she still referred to herself in the royal ‘we’ - but there was a different air about her when she was standing on the stage.

Standing next to Commander Gentiane, M14 held her head up high and spoke firmly. There were none of the casual or girlish remarks that she gave earlier during lunchtime. M14’s carefree attitude was held back quite a bit too.

On the stage, M14 took the role of Subcommander seriously and spoke like she did when she made the declaration to the people of Brest Oblast at the end of our interview.

Having a different public and private face must be tough, huh?

It’s almost like having to live two different lives all at once.

Maybe.

In any case, the presscon was well underway.

Commander Gentiane introduced M14 as the new Subcommander and gave some remarks about the reorganization of Station 56586. Aside from that announcement, however, M14 and Commander Gentiane didn’t give anything substantially new. It was mostly a summary of things that the general public already knew - with a few clarifications here and there.

The two of them were tight-lipped about both the Tasteless and Unsavory Incidents as well. They only revealed that they were both classified G&K Operations and that a major administrative review was currently underway.

By the time that the presscon ended and the Q&A segment began, nothing truly substantial had come to light at all.

I was able to sense all of the frustration brewing up in the press gallery. News anchors from the national news channels tried to coax information from M14 and Gentiane during their Q&A, but neither of them yielded anything interesting.

Before long, Jim’s turn for the Q&A finally came.

Our veteran news anchor stood up, took his place behind the microphone and began the spiel that he had been practicing all morning.

Jim went through the motions - greeting Commander Gentiane and M14 and dropping a few compliments to raise his rapport. He congratulated Commander Gentiane for her speedy recovery and praised M14’s historical promotion to Subcommander.

Then, the moment that the two of them dropped their guards just a little bit, Jim finally asked his hard-hitting questions.

“Based on previous disclosures by G&K and I.O.P., if I understand correctly, the doll that murdered Commander Elias was M1903 Springfield - the former adjutant of Station 56586. Springfield is still at large weeks after the Tasteless Incident. How can the people of Brest Oblast be assured of their safety if a human murderer - a fugitive of this very station - is still on the loose?”

M14’s lips crumpled into a frown at Jim’s question. Gentiane then took the stage microphone and finally disclosed some more information with a calm, practiced tone.

“Thank you for your question, Mr. Salmons. The people of Brest Oblast can rest assured of their safety since Subcommander M14 has personally purged subversive elements that have been operating in Station 56586. These elements - sleeper SF agents who have been afflicted with the Parapluie virus - have been rooted out and properly dealt with during our recently concluded Operation Unsavory.”

Gentiane then gestured to the ruins of the old prison fortress around the press gallery and reminded them,

“Drastic measures had to be taken to ensure that Operation Unsavory was a success - and Subcommander M14 was able to ensure my safety every step of the way. Buildings can be replaced - but dolls and human lives are irreplaceable. Under Subcommander M14’s leadership, the reorganized Station 56586 will continue serving the people of Brest Oblast and the city they love faithfully.”

Jim nodded as Commander Gentiane spoke. Once she finished, he then promptly asked for clarification,

“You mentioned SF sleeper agents just now, Commander Gentiane. Could either of you provide some more details about this? Is this related to the I.O.P. doll recall reported two weeks ago?”

M14 heaved a sigh and took the microphone this time to respond,

“We will be publishing a formal report in the coming days - but here is the list of dolls that we have eliminated from Station 56586: Suomi KP-31, Steyr AUG, Ribeyrolles, Gr G36 and Walther 2000. These are the same models of dolls that were recalled by I.O.P. for Parapluie testing two weeks ago - this is correct.”

The new subcommander then held onto the podium to steady herself as she added,

“These dolls we listed attempted to start an insurrection, but they were destroyed over the course of the evening. The enemies of the people of Brest Oblast can expect the same swift and decisive response from us.”

Jim nodded again before calmly asking his coup de grace without batting an eye,

“I understand that you are a capable guardian of this reorganized Station, Subcommander M14. However, forgive me for being persistent, but you still haven’t answered my question. What do you plan to do about M1903 Springfield?”

Commander Gentiane took the microphone again and answered,

“We will make a separate statement about this at a future date, but Station 56586 will be involved in a G&K operation to hunt down M1903 Springfield and bring her to justice. Details and logistics are still being ironed out, but I can disclose to you that it will be called Operation Summer Triangle. That is all.”

With that disclosure, Commander Gentiane ended the press conference and left the stage with M14 and Super Shorty. All eyes were on the three of them as camera shutters went wild in the press gallery.

I, on the other hand, watched Jim Salmons from afar as he calmly scribbled notes on a pocket notepad. Even after such a tense, hardball interview, Jim was still unfazed and calm. He was even able to get the details that I had been trying to coax out of M14 earlier.

Alexi then turned off the GKTV-5 camera and turned to me with a smile to ask,

“So, what do you think, Potato?”

I turned off the boom mic and set it down as I replied,

“That was one hell of an interview! It’s the sort of stuff even the National boys and girls would kill for on their segments! Jim is a cunning beast!”

I then turned back to Jim and felt the journalistic fire burning in my mechanical heart grow even stronger. I finally had a chance to see a veteran news anchor in action. That meant I had an even clearer picture of the goal that I was striving for.

A star anchor who can bring the truth to light.

Operation Summer Triangle, huh?

Perhaps this news cycle will be more interesting than I thought!

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

Mid-Afternoon

Outskirts of Station 56586

Parking Lot

The cameraman, Alexi Stoyanovich, grunted as he loaded the last of their heavy equipment into the back of the GKTV-5 news van. He closed the tailgate door, dusted off his hands and then watched as the news van’s satellite dish retracted back into the van itself with a hiss of hydraulics.

“Almost like it was never there, huh?” Alexi commented as he folded his arms, “I wonder what these kids will come up with next.”

While the middle-aged man was marveling at the van’s retracting dish, the perky doll, Nagant Revolver, stuck her head out of the driver’s seat window and called,

“Mr. Stoyanovich, are you all good back there? Need any help?”

“Ah, no - i’m fine. All our equipment is accounted for, Babushka.” Alexi reassured with a thumbs up, “I was just about to get back into the cab so we can get rolling.”

Nagant grinned at Alexi and cheerfully added,

“By the way, Mr. Stoyanovich, you’re taking the front passenger seat this time around. Our sleepyheads are already knocked out cold in the back, after all.”

Alexi nodded and then stole a glance through the back seat window as he passed it by. There, he found both Jim Salmons and M200 fast asleep as they were already wearing their seat belts. Alexi snickered and then carried on into the passenger seat of the van.

“These two kids were hard at work not too long ago. Jimmy boy was mopping the floor with the vultures at the press gallery.” Alexi commented as he fastened his seat belt. He then brought out the miniature voice recorder from his pocket and added, “And Potato got us some really good scoop that we can use for tonight’s Live At Five.”

Nagant started the engine of the van and cheerfully explained,

“Well, Potato here stayed up all night trying to make a spiel to make up for flubbing the Super Shorty interview - so I sort of knew she was going to crash sometime soon. As for Mr. Salmons… iodide pills tend to make you humans sleepy, don’t they? Isn’t that why most people prefer not to travel through a radiation storm like we did?”

Alexi leaned back into his seat and nodded pensively,

“Well, normal people wouldn’t want to go through a storm of any kind if they could help it. However, Jimmy here was dead set on getting an explosive segment - and Potato was dead set on getting our bombshell exclusive. When folks are determined to do something - dolls and humans - there’s hardly anything that can stop them. And besides…! It takes years for the human body to get used to iodide pills. That just goes to show how much Jimmy wanted this.”

“I guess that’s true…” Nagant conceded. She then gave Alexi a sidelong glance and curiously probed, “What about you, Mr. Stoyanovich? You’re wide awake. The iodide pills don’t seem to have made you sleepy at all!”

Alexi shrugged his broad shoulders and boasted,

“Hmm… Perhaps it’s because I’ve been living in this world much longer than Jimmy has. I’ve seen the Third World War begin and end in my lifetime, so I’ve taken more than my fair share of iodide pills. Everyone had to take them, after all.”

A sympathetic frown formed on Nagant’s lips as she consoled,

“That must have been rough, Mr. Stoyanovich. I guess I’m fortunate that I.O.P. dolls like me and Potato were activated mostly after the war. I’m sure Potato would say the same thing.”

Alexi’s brow furrowed for a moment, but he sank into his seat and reclined it back. He brought it back so far that the backrest hit the sleeping Jim’s knee, drawing an irritable grunt from him.

That made Alexi snicker mischievously and return to his youthful expression as he changed the topic,

“Speaking of long tenures, Babushka, did you know I was there when Genevieve discovered these two kids behind us?”

“Oh? I didn’t know that!” Nagant’s eyes widened with awe, “Though - I guess you aren’t Employee Number 0004 for nothing, Mr. Stoyanovich!”

“Hehehe, that’s right~!” Alexi puffed his chest proudly and recounted, “I was there when Genevieve found Jimmy delivering newspapers and bussing tables in Minsk seven years ago. Then, just six months ago, Genevieve and I discovered Potato right here in Brest!”

Nagant looked at her two sleeping passengers in the rear-view mirror and wore a motherly smile for them as she mused,

“Potato and Mr. Salmons are worlds apart and they’re often at odds with each other. However, when the two of them click, they’re an unstoppable force of nature! Madam Saint-Louis sure has an eye for talent for finding these two with you, Mr. Stoyanovich!”

“Work enough years in this industry and you’ll pick up a few things, Babushka! Careers aren’t made overnight - so Genevieve and I are watching little Jimmy and our precious Potato with great interest. Surely, these two will do something great someday.”

“Same here - now let’s get this show on the road!”

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 4 - Stewed Potato

May 22, 2062 - Late Evening

Brest Oblast - Entertainment District

Elbe River Live House

I remember that night like it was yesterday.

Thick clouds of cigarette smoke hung up in the air, paired with the muffled din of conversation and the crisp rattle of karmotrine and ice against glass. Welcome to the Elbe River Live House - a small watering hole in downtown Brest that had a small stage for wannabe performers and local acts.

With a hard guitar case in tow, I stepped onto the stage of the Elbe River under the bright and hot lights. I shielded my eyes as I walked sheepishly towards the standing microphone and the stool set up at center stage.

I sat myself down on the stool, fiddled around with it to adjust its height. Then, I popped open my guitar case to draw my trusty weapon - a handsome, polished maplewood acoustic guitar. It had six steel strings, standard tuning and a fresh coat of varnish that was polished to mirror-like sheen.

The guitar’s wood was so shiny that I was practically able to see my own vague reflection on its face - as well as the nervous expression that I had been wearing at the time.

My eyes wandered away from the guitar and I dared to look at the audience gathered in the Live House that evening. There were no more than two dozen customers spread out in the venue, but just about everyone there was lost in their own worlds.

Hardly anyone noticed me when I took the stage. Aside from a few disinterested glances, my existence was only secondary to their glasses of karmotrine and their respective conversations.

Tough crowd tonight, I thought.

This wasn’t my first time performing at the Elbe River too, I reminded myself. More than that, I was the opening act for much more well-known artists, so I was doomed to obscurity already. So, I steeled my nervous, mechanical heart, brought my lips closer to the microphone and began my spiel.

“G-good evening everyone, and happy Ceasefire Day. World War Three ended ten... I mean, eleven years ago today, so that’s something to celebrate, r-right?”

Crickets.

Hardly anyone bothered to look my way. My timeslot had only just begun, but my spiel was already falling on deaf ears.

To be fair, my voice was trembling at the time, so I couldn’t completely blame the audience. Plus, in the long run, it didn’t matter.

I just had to perform my set - four or five songs - get paid and then go home.

Wherever home was going to be that night, that is.

During those times, ‘home’ for me tended to be some dinghy flophouse in a sketchy part of town. Sometimes, it was a shady spot under one of the overpasses of the M1 Highway somewhere.

Poor dolls like me who lived paycheck to paycheck didn’t have a lot of choice in terms of lodging. Even the homeless and the junkies wandering the city at night didn’t take kindly to dolls waltzing into their turf.

While I was ruminating about where I was going to be sleeping that night, among other things, I noticed a group of patrons walking into the live house. There were six people in that peculiar group - three men and three women - who were all dressed sharply compared to the usual patrons of the Elbe River.

Blazers, dress shirts, loafers, high heels and everything else you see when you think of ‘business casual’.

Unlike the rest of the patrons who were zoning out from my spiel, this sharply dressed group was paying keen attention to me. They took their seats towards the back of the live house and turned my way from time to time, even as they were ordering their drinks.

This was the first time I ever had people in the audience acknowledging my existence, so my nervousness threatened to come back with a vengeance. However, I took a deep breath and fought back against the pressure building up in my mechanical heart.

If these people were here to see me, I told myself, I had to give them one hell of a show.

I ended my spiel while I was ahead, picked up my guitar and then started my set.

I started with some Russian songs that the soldier boys and girls passing through Brest seemed to like. After that, I switched over to Belarusian folk songs that the locals sang along to. Then, I topped it off with a couple of songs from the West.

With every song I played, the crowd seemed to get more and more into it. I didn’t know if it was because of me or the karmotrine, but towards the end of my set, I had proud Russians and Belarusians singing along - as best as they could - to songs from their enemies just ten years ago.

Sweet Caroline. Who would have known?

Out of everyone in the Live House that evening, however, one of the ladies from the sharply-dressed group was enjoying herself quite a bit. She sang along and clapped to every song that I played - especially the Westerns - and danced like she was having the time of her life.

That, or the karmotrine was getting to her head.

It was sort of heartening to see, though, I’ll admit. I wanted to believe that it was my skill that brought the crowd to life that night.

There’s a saying amongst performers, you see.

If you can move just one person with your performance, then your performance has made a difference.

That must have been my time in the sun, I told myself. My five - or rather, thirty - minutes of fame.

So, I bowed off to relatively warm applause and disappeared behind the backstage curtains.

Back to obscurity.

Or so I thought.

The owner of the live house was waiting for me there as usual. He had a small brown envelope in his hands. It was filled with my meager payment for the evening.

When I took the envelope, however, I quickly noticed that the stack of rubles in the envelope was a little thicker than usual.

“I haven’t seen a crowd this worked up for an opening act in a while.” The owner explained, “Some patrons even wanted to give you tips.”

Tips!?

Oh my, this was the first time I ever got a bonus. Could it be those sharply-dressed folk I saw earlier?

Regardless, I profusely thanked the owner and made my exit through the back door of the venue. The next performer - a fairly popular three-piece band - was already taking the stage, so the crowd that I managed to charm earlier was pumped up once more.

Perhaps that lady enjoying herself would have an even better evening now that some real musicians were about to perform. With that thought in mind, I finally bid farewell to my time in the sun and wondered how I was going to spend my rubles.

However, fate had other things in store for me.

In the back alley of the live house, under a dim, flickering street lamp, I found myself face to face with that sharply-dressed, blond-haired lady from the audience. One of her companions, a large burly man, was with her too. The rest of her group, however, was nowhere to be seen.

The lady approached me with a warm smile on her lips and a mild flush of red on her cheers from the karmotrine she downed. She then greeted me with a compliment.

“That was a wonderful performance, Miss Doll. You’ve got a nice, clear voice - and you really put yourself into the performance. You’re quite skilled with that guitar too!”

“E-eh? Hehehe, you think so?” I bashfully stammered a reply.

“I do, Miss Doll. Dare I say - you have a voice and a face made for television!”

“T-television…?”

Oh gosh… I’m not good with compliments like this.

I was afraid that I would clam up like I normally did in tense situations, however… that tension never seemed to come.

Instead, as I stood with this lady and her companion, I felt an odd calmness washing over me. This lady’s voice was as smooth as silk and carried a faint French accent too. Moreover, her very presence was refined and lady-like in a sort of way that poor old me could only dream of becoming.

This lady then brought out her purse and pulled out a neat-looking business card and introduced herself.

“My name is Genevieve Saint-Louis, and this is my associate Alexi Stoyanovich. The two of us are from the GKTV-5 Newsroom Brest Oblast, down over at the Commerce District.

She then handed me the card and smiled confidently at me as she offered,

“Have you ever considered a career in media, Miss Doll?”

With that fateful encounter, I knew that my life was going to be changed forever.

February 8, 2063 - Late Afternoon

Brest Oblast - Residential District

On The Road Home

“Potato…? Hey Potato! Wake up!”

Nagant’s voice filled my mind and slowly drew me away from dreamland. Despite this, I somehow still felt like I was flying. I furrowed my brow with frustration as I grumbled,

“Babushka…? Five more minutes…”

“Five more minutes!?” Nagant lashed, “I’ve been carrying you on my back for fifteen minutes now!”

“... eh!?!?”

My tired, groggy eyes finally shot open as I realized that the smaller Nagant had been carrying me piggyback through the streets of the Residential District.

Once Nagant knew I was awake, she set me down on my own two feet and started stretching her arms and her back. It was almost like one of those choreographed exercises you see on the net. Nagant was carrying the larger me the entire time, though, so I didn’t dare to comment.

“S-sorry about that, Babushka.” I apologized, “I can sleep like a rock sometimes.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Potato.” Nagant then flexed her muscles and boasted, “Ole’ Babushka is strong - she can carry you as many times as you need her to!”

“Babushka!”

“In any case, did you have a good rest?” Nagant asked with a bright smile, “You were sort of talking in your sleep.”

I nodded and replied,

“I did! I was having a nice dream, as a matter of fact! It was about how I met Genevieve and Alexi at the live house.”

Nagant tilted her head and put a hand on her hip as she argued,

“There you go again about dreams. Dolls don’t dream, you know. Mr. Salmons had a segment where he interviewed Miss Persicaria and some I.O.P. bigwigs about this a few months back. They said dolls don’t dream.”

I heaved a sigh and argued,

“Well… it felt like a dream to me. I know what Miss Persicaria said. I was holding the boom microphone for that interview after all. She said that it’s practically idling while viewing memories in Level-2 consciousness, but isn’t that how humans dream?”

“Who knows?” Nagant shrugged with a dismissive tone, “I’m not too concerned about neural clouds and stuff. It’s not like either of us are going to get upgrades soon.”

“... that’s true, I guess.”

Nagant’s smile returned to her lips as she took me by the hand and urged,

“But enough about that! Now be a good Potato and follow Babushka, okay?”

With that, the two of us headed down the road home. All the while, Nagant told me about what happened while I was out like a light.

“Mr. Stoyanovich and Mr. Salmons are in the Newsroom. 5PM is coming up soon, so Mr. Salmons wanted to be ready for his “Live at Five” segment.”

“Eh? That dummy Jim’s still going to go on air in his state? Wasn’t he knocked out too?”

“Mr. Salmons was already wide awake by the time we reached the studio.” Nagant said with a mischievous smirk, “I’m pretty sure he saw your beautiful sleeping face, Potato~!”

“Geh… I don’t like the sound of that.” I frowned in protest, “Is there a way to erase human memories, Babushka?”

“Don’t worry!” Nagant reassured. She let go of my hand, brought out her smartphone device and opened up a picture, “Mr. Stoyanovich snapped a picture of Mr. Salmons’ sleeping face too - open mouth, a bit of drool. It’s completely different from what he looks like on the billboard, huh?”

“Delete that abomination! Do - not - want!” I lashed wildly.

Nagant just laughed heartily at my expense. She then raised up her pointer finger and added,

“By the way, Potato. Mr. Salmons listened to your recording on our way home. He wanted me to tell you something when you woke up.”

“What does that dummy want now!?” I fumed at Nagant.

“He wanted to say you did a great job today and that you should take it easy. He approved a small bonus for you - it should be wired to your account soon.”

“Eh…? Really?” I gasped with disbelief, “No way…”

I hastily fumbled for my smartphone device and checked my bank account balance.

True enough, there was a good deal of funds deposited there not too long ago from our accounting department. Half a month’s salary in one pop - on top of my February pay!

As soon as I saw the funds, I remembered the generous tip that I received at the Elbe River Live House more than six months ago. Tears started to form at the side of my eyes and a trembling smile formed on my lips as I whispered to myself,

“It’s… it’s like back then. My efforts paid off…”

Nagant’s smile grew wider as she happily revealed,

“It sure did, Potato. That’s why I want us to make a little detour!”

“A detour?”

“Yes! Since it’s on the way, we can drop by the grocery store to do the shopping we’ve been putting off. There’s a limited time sale going on - so Babushka will make you anything you want today to celebrate!”

“A-anything!?”

Nagant nodded proudly and asked, “So what can Babushka make for you, Potato?”

“S-stroganoff. I want beef stroganoff. With green onions… and sour cream!”

Nagant folded her arms and nodded,

“Stroganoff it is. Let’s get going, then! We still have enough time to make it home to catch Live At Five on the radio. We’ll be able to hear your interview with Miss M14 on the air!”

I wiped the tears from the sides of my eyes and nodded back.

“Mm~! Let’s go, Babushka!”

I took Nagant by the hand once more and ran toward the grocery store together with her. Joy and warmth were brimming in my mechanical heart as Nagant and I ran through the streets, laughing and cheering triumphantly all the way through. I felt the gentle breeze blowing in my hair as my spirit seemed to soar to the heavens.

Surely someday, I’ll finally be able to reach for the stars.

I’ll find my place in the sun once more!

Epilogue

Early Evening

M1 Highway (Belarus) - Eastbound

As the sun began to set over the Polish-Belarusian border crossing, a shiny, black sports coupe entered the Belarus side of the highway en route to Brest Oblast. In the midst of the snow-swept floodplains and the rugged terrain of the sandy wastelands that flanked the highway, the sports coupe couldn’t be more out of place.

Highway lights started to flicker on as the coupe drove Eastbound while the aggressive roar of the Western European engine filled the Belarusian countryside.

Inside of the coupe, however, the roar of the engine was much milder as the female driver calmly kept one hand on the wheel. She peacefully smoked a lit cigarette and wore designer aviator glasses that matched with her fancy clothes that made her look like one of the models in the old Western cigarette advertisements.

The lady then reached for the knob of the coupe’s radio and turned it on. There was a brief moment of static before the theme song of GKTV-5’s Live At Five segment started to play. The voice of the host, Jim Salmons, then promptly followed.

“ Good evening, Brest Oblast. I am Jim Salmons and welcome to GKTV-5’s Live At Five. For everyone joining us on the radio as well, thank you for being with us tonight. ”

“Right back at you, Jimmy~!” The driver chuckled as she puffed her cigarette with a satisfied smile.

“ For tonight’s program, we have a number of breaking news stories to share with you. First - we will go over the press conference with Commander Gentiane and the newly-minted Subcommander M14. After that, we also have an exclusive interview with Subcommander M14, conducted by our very own M200. ”

When the driver heard this, she ran her free hand through her locks of long, blond hair and commented,

“Working together now, huh? My, these kids are growing up so fast~!”

Before the rest of the news program could start, however, the coupe’s hands-free phone device started to ring and overshadowed the radio. The driver glanced at the display screen hovering over her radio and a small smile formed on her lips.

She touched the display screen with her free hand to answer the call with a playful yet confident tone,

“ Bon soiree , Helian. How may I be of assistance?”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

Late Afternoon - Sunset

Belkoopsoyuz Supermarket

Back Alley

“Babushka… did you really have to argue with the butcher back there?” I chided Nagant with a stern face, “Things got pretty heated in there!”

Nagant pouted and stubbornly insisted,

“There’s a big difference between beef shank and sirloin, Potato! We’re making stroganoff, remember? Not borscht! If the butcher can’t get that through his thick skull, then I’ll cut the cow myself!”

The sun was already starting to set by the time Nagant and I stepped out of the local supermarket with our substantially full grocery bags in tow. This was the first grocery store run that we’ve done in weeks - not to mention it being a rare, limited-time sale - so the bags were exceptionally heavy this time around.

Even then, Nagant found the energy to rail about the nuances of specific cuts of beef and how ‘children’ like the butcher - who was probably much older than Nagant in retrospect - should respect their elders. Naturally, Nagant’s rant drew the attention of the rest of the shoppers and it was up to me to quietly apologize for the ruckus.

Since we wasted a lot of time arguing with the butcher, Nagant took us through the back alley to save time. The Live At Five segment was probably already starting, after all, so we wanted to hurry on back.

However, in that back alley, Nagant and I ran into trouble.

Between the grocery store dumpsters in the back alley, there was a group of thugs gathered there. I saw five of them there squatting on the ground, passing around a two-liter bottle of cheap karmotrine and spouting obscenities at the few people who were unlucky enough to be passing through the alley.

Nagant quickly pulled me closer to her and whispered,

“They’re gopniks - your unfriendly, neighborhood hoodlums. Stay close to me and try not to mind them, Potato.”

I sheepishly nodded and followed Nagant’s lead through the alley. However, the rustle of our full grocery bags must have caught the gopniks’ attention.

The leader of the bunch - a rough looking lady with broad shoulders, streaks of grease on her otherwise nondescript tracksuit and a noticeable scar on her cheek - stood up from her squat. The lady was incredibly tall, much taller than even Alexi, and she towered over me and Nagant like a giant. She then sauntered over to me and Nagant and brandished a rusty tire iron in her left hand. The right sleeve of her tracksuit, however, flew in the wind and trailed behind her.

Was she an amputee?

The one armed-lady giant then swung her tire iron through the air and threatened,

“Oho~ looks like we have some high rollers here. Do you mind sharing the wealth a little, comrades ?” 

Nagant furrowed her brow and simply quickened her pace as she pulled me along. All the while, Nagant stole a glance of the revolver she wore at her hip. The conflicted look in her eyes, however, told me that she didn’t want to use it if she could help it.

Our evasion, however, simply ticked the lady giant off.

“Hah!? Ignore me, will ya? I can see the armor plates on the backs of your necks. You’re T-dolls aren’t you? Fucking murdering tin cans! I lost my arm in the war because of dolls like you!”

As the lady giant’s tone heated up, the rest of the gopniks stood up as well. Three of them brought out strangely familiar knives while the one with the karmotrine bottle wielded it like a club.

Where have I seen those knives before?

I can’t quite put my finger on it - but I have seen those knives before.

Before I could figure it out, however, the lady giant gasped. Her lime green eyes seemed to tremble when she looked at my face for some reason. That intense glare frightened me and I hid behind Nagant.

The lady giant’s expression turned to fury as she gripped her tire iron tightly and growled,

“Are you trying to mock me…? Are you a fucking ghost!? After all these years, you show up again…!”

Huh?

What in the world was she talking about?

Whatever it was that set the lady giant off, it was the final straw for her. She closed the distance between us and raised up her tire iron to strike. However, a calm voice suddenly interrupted her.

“Excuse me, miss. But please do not threaten our customers.”

In the blink of an eye, a gloved hand grabbed the lady giant by the wrist and took her by surprise.

“What the…!?”

The lady giant looked behind her and found a doll with short blond hair and sky blue eyes wearing the green uniform of the Belkoopsoyuz Supermarket staff. The doll then looked into the giantess’ eyes and emphasized,

“Management has tolerated your posse drinking and smoking in the back alley, but accosting our customers and drawing weapons is crossing the line. So, I must humbly ask you and your men to leave.”

The giantess gritted her teeth and growled,

“Another doll…!? Why I oughta…!”

Before the giantess could finish, the doll skillfully shifted her weight and lifted up the giantess with considerable strength. The doll then raised the giantess up above her head and hurled her into her posse of gopniks, downing all of them like bowling pins.

By this point, the giantess and her gopnik posse hurriedly picked themselves up from the concrete and ran away from the doll with their tails between their legs. All the while, the gopniks shouted curses behind them as they ran.

“Killing Machines!”

“Soulless Fakes!”

“Heartless Devils!”

“Lavender-eyed Murderer!”

Somehow, though, I couldn’t help but feel like some of those insults were aimed at me. Especially that last one. I mean, I was the only one there with lavender eyes.

What in the world did I ever do to them?

While Nagant and I were gathering ourselves from the ordeal, the grocery store doll calmly walked over to us as she asked,

“Are the two of you alright?”

Nagant nodded and graciously replied,

“We’re fine now thanks to you, Miss Doll!”

The doll then nodded in acknowledgement and spoke flatly,

“Crime has been on the rise in Brest Oblast lately. The dolls from the G&K station in the old prison fort stopped patrolling the streets like they used to, after all.”

This time, I turned to face the doll as well and explained,

“Well, the Tasteless and Unsavory incidents just happened not too long ago. It’s all over the news lately, and… wait!”

Once I got a better look at the grocery store doll, I stopped in my tracks and gasped,

“H-hey… I recognize you.”

The doll tilted her head and hummed.

“Hmm…?”

I instinctively pointed at the doll’s face and then turned to Nagant, saying,

“I saw this doll earlier this morning. She had a hard hat and was putting up the billboard ad - but she was looking at me all funny.”

The doll snorted at my remark and countered bluntly,

“Is it odd for dolls to work multiple jobs in this town?”

“W-well… no, I guess…”

The doll then raised up her pointer finger and added with emphasis,

“Besides, I thought that you were looking at me funny too - so the feeling is mutual.”

“U-urk… I guess that’s true.” I sheepishly apologized, “I’m sorry… and thanks for saving us today.”

The doll then gave a small, courteous bow to me and Nagant and spoke,

“It was my pleasure. You are customers of our store, after all. Now please be careful on the way home.”

With that, the doll turned around and headed for the grocery store’s back door. She was about to disappear behind the threshold when I called out to her,

“M-miss doll. What is your name?”

The doll poked her head out from behind the door and looked like she took a moment to think about her response. She then finally gave her answer.

“My name is Marlohe. Goodbye.”

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 5 - French Fries

February 9, 2063 - Early Morning

GKTV-5 Newsroom Building

Fifth Floor Offices

When I came to work the next morning, the GKTV-5 Newsroom was strangely abuzz. 

Usually, the ladies and gentlemen of the Newsroom got worked up whenever there were major stories breaking. However, the headlines this morning - aside from the dead body found floating down the Bug River between Poland and Belarus - were rather bland. The complaint I filed with the police about the incident in the back alley didn’t even make the news either, so I wasn’t sure what the hubbub was about.

More than that, the whole office seemed to be in exceptionally high spirits as well - not the sort of reaction you’d get when covering a murder across the border. So, spurred by my curiosity, I decided to see what all the fuss was about.

I passed by the open-concept cubicles of the Newsroom and dropped off my things in my cubicle near the door of Alexi’s office. On my way there, I overheard the excited whispers of the other staffers.

If I heard correctly… they were talking about Genevieve finally returning!

My lavender eyes shone brightly as I stood up from my cubicle and made a beeline for the corner office. The door - which had been closed for the past few months - was curiously ajar that time around and I managed to hear muffled conversation taking place.

I also smelled the distinct aroma of strong coffee and cigarettes. French coffee that Genevieve always brewed herself. Hope cigarettes - the brand that Genevieve always smoked.

There was no mistaking it. Genevieve - my idol, and the CEO and star anchor of GKTV-5 was finally back, and I couldn’t be more excited!

I knew I was pushing my luck, but after all this time, I wanted to see my idol’s face and hear her voice… even for just a little while. So I pressed myself against the open door and dared to peek into the gap.

However, once I did, the door suddenly swung open and I stumbled forward. I clumsily inched forward like I was playing hopscotch as I struggled to regain my balance. Instead, I crashed right into my boss, Jim Salmons, who caught me in his arms.

Despite this, the two of us came tumbling down onto the rich Persian carpet of Genevieve’s office.

I found myself with my face pressed into Jim’s chest as he hugged me to shield me from the fall. Before I could properly react, the shocked voice of Genevieve remarked,

“Ara~ are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I said as I peeled myself off of Jim.

Genevieve then snickered and clarified,

“I was talking to Jimmy, Potato. Dolls are pretty heavy after all, you know~!”

A sense of dread then dawned over me as I realized that I nearly crushed my boss under my weight!

“Oh gosh, sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”

I apologized profusely and helped Jim off of the carpet. He scowled at me as I dusted off his dress shirt and adjusted his tie for him, but he didn’t say a word. He just let me apologize in my own way, even if he had to hold himself back.

Genevieve watched the two of us and she happily noted,

“It seems like my two kids are getting along quite well.”

The rough voice of Alexi Stoyanovich then interjected,

“You know it, boss! These two fight a lot, so it’s a bit of a pain for me to watch over them all the time - but when the stars align, they get the job done.”

Alexi then turned to me and chuckled,

“Oh, and sorry for opening the door like that, Potato. We were on our way out and I didn’t know you were there!”

Wait… Alexi was here too? And what did he mean by ‘we’?

It was only at that time that I realized that there were quite a few people gathered there in Genevieve’s office that morning. The other three full-time anchors of GKTV-5 and their staffers were in the room as well and were amused by what they were seeing.

All of them saw my miraculously disastrous stunt play out in real time. This must have been why Jim was fighting hard to hold back his words. It made me feel so embarrassed that I wanted to go home and hide.

Thankfully, Genevieve wore a warm, kindly smile and promptly intervened. She clapped her hands together and announced,

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Show’s over. I need to talk to Alexi, Jim and Potato. So, everyone else - we have a Newsroom to run, so get back to work! I already gave you all your assignments for this month, so get going!”

With that, the other anchors and their staffers filed out of the room until it was just me, Jim and Alexi left with Genevieve. The star anchor snuffed out the cigarette that she had been smoking onto the ashtray on her table and proceeded to light a new cigarette for herself.

She then turned to me and smiled as she spoke,

“Good to see you again, Potato. We were just talking about you before you decided to drop in, you know!”

“E-eh…. Really?” I stammered.

Genevieve’s smile grew warmer as she took a puff of her cigarette and nodded,

“I got a sneak peek at the ratings for yesterday’s Live At Five before I came into the office. GKTV-5 annihilated the other stations, and we’re on track for our best February ever! I hope you like soup, because we even finally got that stingy soup company from Minsk to start buying up ad space during primetime!”

“W-whoa, really? That’s amazing!”

Genevieve waved her hand and redirected my compliment.

“Nah - c’est n’est pas special , Potato. What’s special is the work that you and Jimmy did yesterday. The interview with Gentiane and M14 was something else - and the exclusive interview too! Yesterday’s Live At Five segment was a game changer and it’s thanks to the two of you.”

Jim then averted his gaze from me as he coyly added,

“I was going to tell you the news with Alexi, but you barged in and saved us the trouble of having to find you.”

Genevieve grinned at Jim’s remark and then teased,

“That’s not the only thing Jim wanted to tell you, Potato. He just personally vouched for you to formally be a part-time news anchor on his segment, you know!”

My mechanical heart skipped a beat when I heard Genevieve say this. Was this why Jim approved my bonus pay yesterday?

I turned my eyes towards Jim and he seemed even more embarrassed than ever. He noticed me looking his way, so he barked as he tried to save face,

“Don’t get the wrong idea, M200. This is a trial period and I’m going to expect high quality work from you from here on out. You’d better not disappoint me - or Genevieve.”

“I-I’ll do my best!” I answered hastily, “B-but this still feels so sudden, Genevieve. This is quite a promotion, after all.”

Genevieve then sank back into her seat and happily revealed,

“I’m not pulling this promotion out of thin air. I’m still ironing out the details, but I’m talking with Miss Helianthus - the XO of G&K. If the deal pans out, GKTV-5 can have a news anchor embedded in Station 56586 while they rebuild that base. It will be part of the Live at Five segment, of course, and that anchor could be you, Potato!”

The CEO then looked straight into my eyes and asked,

“So, Potato. What do you think about becoming my War Correspondent?”

“I-I…” I stammered. However, I soon shored up my resolve and answered firmly, “I would be honored, Genevieve.”

March 3, 2063 - Early Evening

GKTV-5 Building Basement

Underground Parking Lot

The next few weeks flew by in the blink of an eye for me.

The promotion that I had been dreaming about finally became a reality, and I felt like I was on top of the world.

Physically, not a lot of things changed in my day to day job. I was still operating out of that same humble cubicle, making do with surplus business cards from Alexi’s stock and chugging the same weak coffee as everyone else in the office.

However, the duties of my job description changed dramatically. I spent more time in the actual Newsroom itself, watching as each of the five anchors of GKTV-5 brought their respective segments to life. I started getting used to taking phone calls and making phone calls to all sorts of people and groups. I even finally got to write articles of my own for the GKTV-5 website!

More importantly than that, however, I started staying in the Newsroom much later than I normally did. At roughly 6PM, Jim’s Live at Five segment would wrap up and the daytime crew would give way for the night crew. As I watched most of my colleagues clocking out, I would get called into Genevieve’s office for my formal field reporting training.

So, over cups of Genevieve’s strong French coffee, I was personally mentored by Genevieve to bring me up to speed for my new job. She taught me about the many different techniques that she used in our profession - from coaxing answers tactfully during interviews to finding evidence that could be used in a news story. She also gave me pointers about how to keep my cool in the middle of a warzone!

Once our sessions ended - usually at around 8PM or so, Genevieve would offer to drive me back home to the Romashka building. It was a little embarrassing at first, but I eventually took Genevieve up on her offer.

That evening was no different as I hopped into the passenger’s seat of Genevieve’s French coupe, put on my seatbelt and then sank into my seat as the two of us drove off into the night.

“Thanks for driving me home all the time, Genevieve, I really appreciate it.”

Genevieve gave me a sidelong glance and then smiled as she reassured,

“Don’t sweat it, Potato. I’m the one who’s getting you to stay at the Newsroom much later than you normally do after all - and that story with the gopniks you told me about has me worried, you know.”

Well, I guess that was true. Ever since that day, I found it a little hard to walk home on my own at night. I thought about making Nagant wait for me, but that was too much to ask from her after a long day of work. So, when I told Genevieve about my run-in with the gopniks, she insisted on driving me home - and I’ve been taking her up on the offer ever since.

Besides, going for a ride with Genevieve was fun in its own way. She would tell me about all sorts of things that she has seen in her travels - was well as all of the cool jobs that she got to do during her vacation in the Pan European Union these past few months.

This evening, however, Genevieve seemed a little more tired than usual. Her normally lively voice carried a little less luster than it normally did too. The smile on her lips also wavered from time to time as if there was something weighing on her mind. So, I had to ask,

“Is something wrong, Genevieve?”

The star anchor shook her head and smiled at me again.

“No. As a matter of fact, I’m quite happy with the way things are going. You’re picking up on my techniques quite well, so I’m sure you’ll be able to carry out your duties as a journalist admirably. You work well with Jimmy too, so I know I don’t have to worry too much about you. After all - I always knew that you had a voice and a face made for television.”

“Ehehe~ you flatter me, Genevieve. That’s what you said when we first met.”

“Those are my honest thoughts, Potato. I could tell - from the moment I met you - that you were meant for something great.”

Genevieve then paused for a thoughtful moment and asked,

“Speaking of the day we met, I am curious. Before we met at the Elbe River Live House - before you became a busker… what were you doing? Do you remember?”

“What was I doing…?” I started.

I tried racking my digimind for an answer, but I couldn’t really find an answer to Genevieve’s question. I looked at my faint reflection on the window of Genevieve’s coupe and just saw a look of confusion etched on my face.

“I… I don’t really remember, Genevieve. I haven’t really thought much about it. I just woke up one day in a back alley in Brest Oblast. All I had on me were the clothes on my back and that acoustic guitar. Then, I met you and Alexi.”

And there were four other people at Genevieve’s table that night too, right? I can’t remember their faces, though - and it was a little embarrassing to ask after all this time.

“Is that so…?” Genevieve interjected somberly, “It must be tough walking through life… knowing that you’ve forgotten something important along the way. It’s like you got swept up in something larger than yourself, huh?”

A hopeful shimmer then grew in Genevieve’s eyes as she shook her head and shored up her resolve to say,

“But know this, Potato. As long as you can carve up a good path for yourself, you can still live a good life. Just keep working hard and stay true to yourself. Always stay true to yourself… no matter what.”

“Stay true to myself… huh?”

Genevieve nodded and cheerfully added,

“There’s a reason why I started calling you “Potato” after you joined GKTV-5, you know.”

I furrowed my brow and growled,

“Is it because my face looks like a potato to you?”

Genevieve broke out in laugher and admitted,

“Well, yes… but there’s more to it than that.”

“Ehh… really?” I asked with great doubt.

Genevieve nodded again and explained fondly,

“We’re in a rough business, Potato. It’s quite easy to lose track of yourself and what you’re fighting for. It’s like being planted in poor soil, you see - fighting against pests and the elements and all. But Potatoes… Potatoes can grow strong even in poor soil. So, I have no doubt in my heart that you can make a name for yourself in this world. I honestly do.”

“... Genevieve!”

Before I knew it, we had arrived in front of the Romashka building. Genevieve brought her coupe to a stop by the curb and unlocked the door for me.

Just as I was about to step out, however, Genevieve stopped me.

“There’s one more thing I wanted to tell you, Potato.”

“Eh? What’s up, Genevieve?”

The star anchor beamed happily at me and revealed,

“Miss Helian finally approved my plan. A team from Station 56586 will pick you up tomorrow after work - and Babushka will be going with you too!”

“W-whoa? It’s happening!?”

“Oh, it’s happening alright!” Genevieve gave me a thumbs up, “Now go and tell Babushka the good news and make sure the both of you have a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day for the two of you, after all!”

Epilogue

An excited M200 leapt up and down on the sidewalk as she heard the news that Genevieve revealed. It took the ashen-haired, lavender-eyed doll a few moments to calm herself down before she finally bid the French lady farewell.

Genevieve waved to M200 until the doll disappeared into the lobby of the Romashka Building tenement. The lady then heaved a sigh of relief as she doted on her junior,

“ Oh mon dieu, she’s growing up so fast. That girl’s going to replace me some day.”

She scoffed at her own joke, but a part of her was still not amused. So, Genevieve broke the silence by snuffing out her cigarette and lighting herself a new one.

When Genevieve flicked her lighter, however, the small flame illuminated the face of a hooded figure who had suddenly approached the coupe from the passenger’s side. Genevieve’s heart suddenly raced and she popped open the armrest console in a hurry.

She then drew out a Browning Hi-Power handgun, lowered the passenger-side window and pointed it at the hooded figure.

“ Qui-est-tu putaine !?” Genevieve roared in French before repeating herself in the Belorusian, “Who the fuck are you!?”

The hooded figure lifted its hood and revealed the face of a doll with short blond hair and sky blue eyes. The doll then faced Genevieve unfazed and replied,

“I am merely a messenger, Miss Saint-Louis. My name is Marlohe.”

Genevieve finally recognized the doll and spat,

“Marlohe, huh? You must be one of K's. Well, tell your master that if he tells his dolls to sneak up on people, he’s going to lose a lot of dolls.”

“There are many dolls of my make in my master’s service. Losing one of us is of no great consequence. And besides -  my superstructure can sustain multiple gunshots... and my master is well aware that you are not the type to shoot right away.”

Genevieve snorted with disdain and then put away her handgun once more. She then took a long puff of her cigarette and demanded,

“So what does that pretentious STATSEC prick want this time?”

Marlohe nodded politely and then gave a curt reply,

“My master simply wanted me to relay a message to you directly, Miss Saint-Louis.”

“And what is that?”

“‘The eleventh hour is close at hand. How long do you plan to keep lying to the I.O.P. 257 model? Your methods are deviating from the plan. You are playing with fire.’ is what my master said.”

Genevieve leaned against her seat and grumbled a reply,

“As long as I need to - to make sure the mission succeeds. Even the high and mighty Kain Schwaben can understand that, can’t he?”

Marlohe nodded again and responded,

“Understood. I will relay your response to the master in an appropriate time. In the meantime, I shall take my leave. Have a good evening, Miss Saint-Louis.”

With that, Marlohe put her hood back on and her figure seemed to disappear before Genevieve's eyes - almost as if she was never even there. Then, with a rumble of thunder in the heavens, rain started to fall on Brest Oblast.

Genevieve closed the passenger-side window of her coupe and watched the smoke rising up from her cigarette forming a veil before her eyes. She then cursed beneath her breath,

“You really left us a lot of shit to clean for a dead man, Commander Elias.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

March 4, 2063 - Early Evening

Brest Oblast - Commercial District

The GKTV-5 Newsroom

The day I’ve been waiting for was finally here.

It was my chance to shine!

These were the thoughts that had been going through my digimind all day.

From the moment I rode the elevator up to the office this morning, I was on cloud nine! All of the mundane things I had to do - from telephone calls to website updates to begging the photocopier machine in three different languages to work flew by in the blink of an eye as I sailed through the day in sky high spirits. Absolutely nothing could bring me down!

Before I knew it, the Live at Five segment - my last assignment for the day - had wrapped up. I ducked out of the Newsroom, picked up my trolley suitcase and some audio-visual equipment for my trip and then marched out of the GKTV-5 building. There, I was going to wait for the Griffin car that would bring me and Nagant to Station 56586.

This was supposed to be the triumphant welcome for a brave new chapter in my life. I imagined that there would be a beautiful sunset in the West as an invigorating wind blew gently through my ashen hair. You know those sorts of heroic scenes in the overly-patriotic Mosfilm movies from Russia that come out every summer… or those mythical, hard-to-come-by Hollywood flicks from the West.

Sadly, Mother Nature completely disregarded my mental screenplay and decided to do her own thing.

I marched out of the building, alright. That much was under my control.

However, instead of a warm sunset, there were storm clouds that shrouded the heavens as far as the eye could see! The distant rumble of thunder was more ominous than triumphant and the wind was anything but gentle! As a matter of fact, the gusts were so damn strong that I was worried about being blown off my feet!

Then, to add insult to injury, it started to rain.

“So much for that ‘mix of sun and cloud’ forecast… Guh!”

I cursed the heavens as the drizzle dampened my face.

It was a light pitter-patter at first but the downpour started growing stronger, slowly turning this whole mess into an early Springtime storm.

While I was standing there in disbelief, my view of the heavens was obstructed by a GKTV-5 umbrella that popped open and was being held up above me.

Huh? Oh! That must have been Genevieve coming to see me off!

I recomposed myself and turned around to face the umbrella-bearer, hoping to see my beloved mentor Genevieve. Even in a gloomy environment like this, the cheerful presence of my blond, French goddess Genevieve would have made the heavens just a little bit brighter. My hopes were quickly dashed, however, as I stopped myself halfway through.

“Geh... ! Jim!?”

The tall, brown-haired host of the Live at Five segment was holding up the umbrella for me with a stoic expression on his face. He took my jab in stride and rubbed salt in my pride,

“You sound disappointed, M200.”

“Hrgh, of course I am, Jim! I was hoping that Genevieve would see me off before I go to the Griffin base today. I wanted to show her that all the work she put into me was finally paying off.”

Jim shrugged and bluntly shut me down,

“If you had been reading your emails like you were supposed to, you would have known that Genevieve and Alexi didn’t come into work today. They had business in Minsk - something to do with that soup company.”

“Eh…!? Seriously?”

I frantically brought out my smartphone and opened up the email app. The app booted up and revealed the eighty-eight unread emails I had neglected in the inbox. Argh crap…

As I scrolled through the emails, Jim promptly added,

“Since I’m your boss, most of those emails were carbon-copied to me, M200. I managed to put out most of the fires while your head was in the clouds. Thankfully, there wasn’t anything too serious.”

“Oh, thank goodness! The rest of these are just circulars and notices too, so… i’m safe!”

Jim then raised up his pointer finger and sternly lectured me,

“However, you really do have to be more mindful of yourself and your work. Us journalists have to work under great pressure during emergencies - as i’m sure Genevieve was taught you in your training sessions.”

He then pointed to the bow-and-arrow pin that he wore on the lapel of his suit and emphasized,

“Emergencies are the times when the people of Brest Oblast need us the most, so we have to be dependable reporters. We have to be ready to rise up to the challenge and become arrows of truth. Otherwise, people lose trust in us and our society and we’ll have chaos in the streets.”

Barraged by Jim’s lecture, I fell silent. I got too excited about going to Station 56586 and becoming a War Correspondent that I sorta had tunnel vision today. I mean, I was already pretty forgetful to begin with.

I couldn’t really argue with him either, so I just tried to jab at him again,

“Of course I know that. I didn’t need you to babysit me, dummy.”

“I’m not here to babysit you, M200 - even though that’s literally what Genevieve asked me to do… and what I’ve been doing these past seven months as your boss.”

“Hah…!?”

Jim then calmly buried his hand in his pocket and explained,

“I’m here as your colleague today, M200. I’m proud of your promotion and I wanted to see you off. That’s all.”

Eh? That’s odd.

Jim usually wasn’t the type to go out of his way for others. If something didn’t involve work, he would peace out in the blink of an eye.

On a normal day, as soon as he wrapped up Live at Five, he would have holed himself up in his office working on his next segment or arranging interviews or whatnot. Jim Salmons was known in the Newsroom as an efficiency monster and a workaholic. That made him more of a machine than me or Nagant, in my opinion!

Having him go out of his way to chat with me here and now felt a little bit odd, but I didn’t dislike it. That said, I found it hard to find words to say in that sort of situation and I started fidgeting in place.

That was when Jim broke the stalemate. He gave me a sidelong glance as he spoke,

“You know, M200… I’ve been thinking lately about the day Genevieve hired you out of the blue seven months ago. Genevieve waltzed into my office and then told me that she hired an intern staffer for me - even though I felt like I didn’t need one. I didn’t know what to do with you at first, and you made so many mistakes. You even ruined one of my favorite ties. I had to fight the temptation to file a protest about you with Genevieve and HR...”

“Ergh… that was a little blunt, but I’m sorry about that…”

A small smile then formed on his lips and his tone mellowed a bit as he continued,

“When you found your rhythm, though, you turned out to be quite a hard worker. Anything you put your heart and mind to gets done. The spiels you write are usually solid. That M14 exclusive too, for example, was brilliant.”

I felt my cheeks flush red when I heard this. So, I turned away from Jim and tried to deflect.

“Eh… that was your idea, though…”

“But you were the one who had to see it through, M200. Very few people or dolls would have been willing to do investigative journalism in a paramilitary base like you did then - or even now. So, just be more mindful of yourself and I’m sure you’ll be a fine War Correspondent.”

“Jim…”

Jim heaved a sigh and he relaxed his stoic expression. He then casually remarked,

“Now, chin up, M200 - I think your ride may be here.”

As Jim was speaking, a peculiar vehicle pulled up at the curb in front of the GKTV-5 building. It was an open-top surplus military jeep with its rain gear tarpaulins forming the roof. Through the glass-less ‘windows’ of the jeep, I quickly recognized the two dolls seated inside.

Grizzly Mk. V - the American handgun doll with fluffy brown hair, aviator glasses and an open bomber jacket that could barely contain her voluptuous chest - was at the wheel and flashed me a peace sign with a grin.

Welrod Mk. II - the British handgun doll who wore her short blond hair in pigtails and had a sharp-looking vest that hugged her more modest form - sat in the passenger’s seat beside Grizzly and seemed much less enthusiastic about seeing me again.

I pointed at the two dolls in the jeep and blurted out,

“It’s the handgun couple!”

Welrod quickly flushed red like a ripe tomato while Grizzly innocently tilted her head, not entirely sure about what I meant.

Before Welrod could retort, I heard the front doors of the GKTV-5 building slide open behind me. I turned around and then found a haggard, out-of-breath Nagant with her own trolley suitcase in tow. Nagant came to a halt right in front of me and gasped as she apologized in a breathy voice,

“Sorry… for being late, Potato. My dummies… were having glitches. Someone flubbed up the maintenance, I guess, but I’ve fixed them now.”

Once Nagant finally caught her breath, her bright red eyes scanned the rainy scene - from me and Jim under the umbrella to Grizzly and Welrod together in the jeep. Her blond brows furrowed as she commented,

“Oy… why do I get a feeling like I’m being the fifth wheel here!?”

Jim, Welrod and I all roared back at Nagant together in fierce opposition,

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

Grizzly, again, tilted her head instead - innocent as always.

Seeing our reactions made Nagant laugh out loud at our expense. While Nagant was still laughing her butt off, she and I loaded our things into the back of the jeep and we all got ready to hit the road.

As Grizzly started up the engine again, Jim called out to me from the sidewalk once more.

“I’m looking forward to the story you bring home again, M200.”

A small smile formed on my lips. I stuck my head out the window and grinned,

“I won’t let you down, boss. My story’s gonna knock your socks off!”

With that, the jeep drove off and I watched Jim and his umbrella grow smaller and smaller as we left the GKTV-5 building behind.

And so began the next chapter of my career!

I just hoped that the rain wouldn’t give me too much of a problem.

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 6 - Potato Soup

Outside of Brest City

M1 Highway (Belarus) - Westbound

Back on the road again.

That was what I thought as I looked out the open window of the Griffin jeep. Feeling the damp wind against my face, while not the ideal backdrop I had in mind for my new chapter, was still a welcome change from being cooped up in the office for almost a month. I had to play with the cards I was dealt, I told myself, so I did my best to enjoy this moment.

The unusual music that Grizzly and Welrod were playing on the jeep’s radio sure helped in that regard. It wasn’t one of the FM stations that you could tune into in Brest Oblast - that much was for sure. After all, the songs they were playing were Western and the DJ was speaking in English with a thick Scottish accent.

I found myself listening to the music on the radio much more than I thought I would.

Grizzly, the driver, noticed my unwavering attention to the radio as she stole glances of me through the rear view mirror. She then smiled at me and remarked,

“You like this music huh, Miss M200?”

I nodded to Grizzly and agreed enthusiastically,

“Mhm! I’ve actually played some of these songs in the Live Houses downtown. I have a guitar back home too.”

“You have a guitar!?” Grizzly sounded amazed, “You should have brought it, man! We could have a jamming session in the base! Most of us at Station 56586 like Western songs, so I’m sure M14 wouldn’t mind.”

“Ah, that’s a shame.” I heaved a regretful sigh, “I would have brought it if I had known it was okay.”

Beside me, however, Nagant folded her arms and pouted as she voiced her displeasure,

“This Western music is fine from time to time, but we’re in Belarus. We need to be listening to more Slavic music!”

“All we have in Brest is Slavic Pop and National Radio, Babushka…” I gingerly reminded her, “Plus, I don’t think this radio station’s accessible to the general public. I mean - not everyone here understands English after all… especially not with that think of an accent from the DJ.”

As soon as I mentioned the accent, Welrod quickly turned around as far as her seatbelt would let her and passionately interjected,

“Oy - the Scottish accent is a bloody beautiful dialect of the English language, Miss M200, so please do not dishonour it!”

“W-whoa…” I gasped. I didn’t think I’d get that big of a reaction from Welrod.

“C’mon now, Roddy.” Grizzly intervened with a soft tone.

Somehow, that was enough to get the angry Welrod to calm down.

Welrod took a moment, drew a long, laborious breath and then faced me again to explain with a calmer voice,

“You’re right, Miss M200. This is a private paramilitary radio broadcast from Griffin’s branch office in Glasgow, Scotland. It’s one of the few ways you can access Western media on this side of the Iron Curtain.”

Grizzly then glanced at me again through the rear view mirror and added,

“Our late Commander, Mr. Elias was quite fond of the West. He had his own personal library of Western music in his office - rare vinyls of all sorts of genres. He had a penchant for collecting all sorts of Western trinkets - and his office hologram was an American log cabin! Sadly, that office was destroyed along with the rest of the prison fortress.”

“A Western-lover commanding a PMC detachment in Belarus while dreaming of America?” Nagant commented snidely, “You Griffin folk get all sorts of people as Commanders, huh, Miss Welrod?”

Welrod shrugged and argued sympathetically,

“Well, Griffin did have a large recruitment campaign back in 2062. We held it around the world, so some argued that we were scraping the barrel. All sorts of people signed up in our branch offices, but only a select few were chosen to be Commanders. Our late Commander Elias made it through the screening process - but he had his own issues...”

I hummed thoughtfully as I listened to the lively conversation. I then rubbed my chin and chimed in,

“I remember an interview we had in GKTV-5 with Miss Persica last year. She said that one of the biggest requirements for becoming a Griffin commander is their ability to bond with T-Dolls - which is kinda rare in a society that seems to generally dislike dolls.”

Grizzly racked her mind for a moment before she remarked,

“Now that you mention it, Commander Elias wasn’t bad at befriending everyone at the base in our heyday. Before he went loco… I-I mean before he was killed! He seemed like an, uhm... okay guy.”

Loco? That was Spanish for ‘crazy’ wasn’t it? What an odd slip of the tongue.

The frizzy-haired American then stumbled around with her words a bit before she hastily added,

“Oh right! He got along really well with our former adjutant Springfield too - so much so that they got married.”

Nagant then shrugged and impatiently remarked,

“So the Western-loving Commander married an American rifle doll. A match made in heaven, yes? Happily ever after - like in those decadent Hollywood films!”

Grizzly’s tone then deflated and sadness clouded her purple eyes as she reminisced with a haunted voice,

“Not quite, Miss Nagant. That relationship soured real fast. Something changed all of the sudden and the Tasteless Incident happened. Everyone in the base knew that Commander Elias loved Springfield with all his heart - so it was horrifying to see Miss Springfield’s bayonet sticking out of his chest. The entire collection of Americana that they collected together was stained in blood - and that kicked off the Unsavory Incident. It just never ends…”

“Griz…” Welrod whispered her concern this time.

Even the Western-skeptic Nagant fell silent as the reality of the situation finally dawned upon her.

Grizzly caught herself droning on and careening into a dark path, so she abruptly shifted the gears of the conversation,

“S-still, a lot of the dolls in our station like the West - and Griffin. Commander Gentiane managed to restore our confidence in the organization, and M14 is doing her part too!”

Hmm… something about this ‘Commander Elias’ fellow didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t hard to tell that Grizzly and Welrod were holding back some information too. The Tasteless and Unsavory Incidents were probably a matter that was above the paygrade of your average foot soldier after all. However, their story did match the official statements from G&K so far.

Springfield killed Commander Elias and now she is on the run.

The fugitive Springfield also took the corpse of a derelict FNC doll with her too for some reason.

That much, I knew, was true.

Everything else about that story, however, is still too vague in my opinion.

But more than that, the odd story of the late Commander Elias made me think about Genevieve’s sudden disappearance from the office today. As I was pondering about my golden-haired mentor, we passed by a large billboard alongside the highway.

It was an advertisement for Minski Supavy Zavod - the soup company from Minsk that Genevieve and Alexi were going to. Seeing that sign made me scoff.

When I first joined GKTV-5, Genevieve was rather hands-on in her work at the office. She knew everyone in the office by name and she was like a mother to us in the Newsroom.

Lately, however, Genevieve’s unannounced trips have been growing more and more frequent and more abrupt than before.

Come to think about it, when Genevieve dropped me off at my place last night, she seemed troubled by something that she simply wouldn’t share. I seriously doubt that the strong-willed, business-savvy Genevieve would get so worked up by just a simple advertising deal with a soup company from Minsk.

Work like that was supposed to be like peanuts for someone as talented as her, but still… I couldn’t put my finger on it.

It was a journalist’s job to uncover secrets like this and to bring the truth to light. However, what happens when it’s a journalist that’s hiding something?

I didn’t have the answer to that question at a time. So, I just made a mental note to coax as much information as I could from the dolls of this Station.

I had a feeling that I was getting awfully close to one hell of a story, after all.

...

As the conversation in the jeep hit a silent lull, Welrod took a quick breath and was determined to break it. The British handgun doll turned towards me and Nagant and inquisitively asked,

“So what about the two of you. How did I.O.P. dolls like you end up working for the media?”

A small frown formed on Nagant’s lips as she fidgeted around in her seat for a moment. The Russian handgun doll then bashfully recounted,

“Actually, I started out my career as a doll with Griffin a few years back - well before the recruitment drive happened. Though I didn’t stay there very long because I didn’t see eye to eye with my adjutant.”

Nagant then clenched one fist and slammed it into her free hand as she explained,

“The adjutant and I got into a bitter fight over something petty, but our Commander liked the adjutant way more than me. So, I was ejected from the force in disgrace. None of the other stations wanted to hire a ‘troublemaker doll’ like me too, so that darkened the prospects of my future quite a bit.”

Nagant wistfully looked out the window on her side of the jeep and continued graciously,

“I was lucky that Genevieve put out an order for a security doll when she did - and that she was willing to give me a second chance despite my record.”

“That sounds pretty rough.” Grizzly commented empathetically, “But I’m glad that things worked out for you in the end!”

Welrod then turned towards Nagant and probed,

“If you don’t mind me asking - what Station were you assigned with? As in - the Station number. Subcommander M14 can request a review of the matter for your behalf, after all.”

Nagant’s cheerfulness came rushing back when she heard this, but she politely declined,

“I appreciate the offer, Miss Welrod - but I’m happy working beside Potato - that is, M200 - here at GKTV-5. The work that I’m doing now is appreciated way more than the work I did at my old Station. Besides! I think I’ve almost forgotten what my Station number was. It’s been so long… so, what was it again?”

Nagant hummed audibly as she racked her digimind for an answer. Her red eyes then brightened up as she finally remembered,

“I’ve got it now! It was Station 113315!”

Grizzly and Welrod repeated the station number with thinly veiled dread.

“Station… 113315!?” 

The two handgun dolls looked at each other with concern for a moment. Then, Welrod dared to probe again,

“This… well, adjutant... that you got into a fight with. She wouldn’t be an I.O.P. Model 10, would she? A ‘Walther PPK’?”

“Why, yes! My adjutant was a PPK! Gosh~! Just thinking about her smug face makes my blood boil!”

Nagant noticed the odd reactions of Grizzly and Welrod, so she curiously asked,

“Are you guys familiar with that PPK too?”

“Ah - well, I guess you can say that.” Grizzly hobbled together a shaky response, “That station’s a pretty big deal in Area S05 - and they’re got a lot of ties in the m-”

Welrod promptly elbowed Grizzly and warned,

“Oy - watch the road, Griz. I don’t want to get home in pieces.”

“Oh, right, right!”

Grizzly apologized as she focused on driving us once more.

Welrod, on the other hand, took over for Grizzly and explained,

“Station 113315’s PPK was the warden who enforced the lockdown of our station during the Unsavory Incident. There was an official statement of the arrangement by Miss Helianthus, so I figured that was common knowledge in the media by now. Griz and I assisted PPK as part of the Military Police - and the rest is history.”

“Oho.” Nagant hummed as a mischievous smirk formed on her face, “It looks like you guys understand how I feel about PPK, then.”

Welrod’s gaze softened into embarrassment as she admitted,

“A little too well, actually. She’s not someone that Griz and I would have gotten along with either.”

The blonde Brit then clapped her hands together and her green eyes darted towards me as she promptly changed the subject,

“Now then - Miss M200, it’s your turn! How did you end up working for GKTV-5?”

I was on the hot seat this time, huh? I guess I should have expected this topic coming up sooner or later.

So, I folded my arms and did my best to remember my past. It was a story that I had told many times in the past - so much so that I was kind of sick of it already. However, since Nagant and I were going to be living with these dolls in their home turf, I decided to explain it one more time,

“It’s a little complicated, you see. I got into GKTV-5 because Genevieve found me performing in a Live House and offered me a job that very same night. However… I don’t exactly recall a whole lot about what I was doing before that. The earliest memory I can recall was waking up in a back alley here in Brest Oblast with nothing but my clothes and my guitar.”

Grizzly raised an eyebrow and questioned,

“Just those things? You didn’t have a rifle etched to your neural cloud or anything?”

I shook my head and confirmed,

“Nope - I didn’t have a rifle when I woke up. I don’t think I ever had one, so I probably didn't have any experience as a T-Doll. I don’t even have maintenance records to check out my specs or anything.”

Welrod folded her arms this time and theorized,

“As far as I know, dolls don’t just appear out of nowhere, Miss M200. The first memory that dolls normally have by default would be when they’re activated on the production line - or when they’re commissioned at their new owner’s establishment. Your case of waking up in Brest on your own all of the sudden is strange to say the least. Suspicious, even.”

I puffed up my cheeks and replied impulsively with my own theory,

“I know that, Miss Welrod. Perhaps I had a factory reset or something before I was tossed away in that alley. Hmm… but that doesn’t explain the guitar - or why I don’t feel like I’ve lost any important modules. A scrapper would have already stripped me of parts - and the guitar would probably have fetched a good price at a pawn shop.”

Welrod shrugged as she considered my story and declared,

“There’s not a lot we can do if you’ve had a factory reset. Depending on how much power and authority your previous owner had - if you even had an owner - a factory reset would practically make your personality core into a whole new doll. A brand new you!”

“That’s what I thought…” I agreed with a deflated tone,

Welrod then raised up her pointer finger and clarified,

“There are still ways to get clues about your past, though, Miss M200.”

“Eh? Seriously!?” I gasped

Grizzly nodded and cheerfully concurred and pointed to the back of her neck with her free hand,

“Roddy’s right, Miss M200! See the armor plate on the backs of our necks? Most dolls have their serial numbers stamped there as part of regulations or something. That number might give you an idea about the factory you were manufactured in - or at least what year you were made!”

Excitement started to rise in my mechanical heart as Grizzly and Welrod explained T-Doll serial numbers to me and how to decipher them. Up until now, just about everything about my past has been a mystery to me and I was halfheartedly willing to accept that I was practically an orphan.

That said, shedding even just a little light on my history would have meant the world to me.

I turned around and showed Nagant the back of my neck. Then, with great anticipation, I asked her to open my armor plate and read my serial number for me.

Nagant nodded and carefully popped open the armor plate on the back of my neck. I closed my eyes expectantly as I waited for Nagant’s report.

Where did I come from?

What year was I made?

I was eager to learn the answers to these questions as my imagination went wild - but Nagant’s silence started to trouble me.

“Babushka…?” I asked with looming fear, “What’s wrong?”

“Potato… your serial number. It’s not here.”

“W-what? You’re pulling my leg here, Babushka. C’mon - tell me what my serial number is.”

Nagant fell silent again before she closed my armor plate and finally revealed,

“You don’t have a serial number under your armor plate, Potato. The metal sheet where it’s supposed to be looks like it’s been filed down. There’s no manufacturer’s mark either. It’s just… blank.”

Blank?

I… I don’t have a serial number?

All of the sudden, the anticipation that had been building up in my mechanical heart transformed into poison. My chest started to ache as the bitter pill of truth rattled my mind.

Damn.

If this was going to be the case, then I wished that I didn’t know about that serial number stuff at all. At the time, I thought it would have been better if I had just forgotten about it and moved on.

I started to shrivel up and shrink into my seat. Welrod, Grizzly and Nagant watched me with concern and I felt their eyes fixed on me. I was tempted to politely ask Grizzly to turn the jeep around and to take me back home.

It took every ounce of determination I had left to hold my tongue and roll with the punches. I remembered Jim’s challenge to me when we left the GKTV-5 building. I had to be a journalist who could stand strong and do my duty in the chaos.

Even if the chaos was my own.

Welrod and Nagant seemed to understand the weight I was feeling. The two of them struggled to find the right words to say to comfort me. I wouldn’t have blamed them. I didn’t even know what it was that I wanted to hear, after all.

While I was wallowing in my own despair, Grizzly suddenly spoke her kind, unfiltered thoughts out loud and offered,

“How about this, Miss M200? Why don’t Roddy and I ask M14 for permission to help you find out more about yourself?”

“Eh…? Y-you guys would do that for me?” I gasped, unable to believe what I was hearing.

Grizzly, however, stood her ground and happily nodded. She then proudly explained,

“Griffin is a big organization with a lot of partners - I’m sure we can find something to help you out. Roddy and I were pretty close with M14 before she became the Subcommander, so she’ll at least listen to you if we ask her! Does that sound good?”

“Miss Grizzly…” I croaked, surprised to hear her speak without any hesitation whatsoever.

It made my frown twist awkwardly into a bashful smile as tears started to form in the sides of my eyes. I wiped my tears with the back of my hands and then replied with renewed confidence.

“I’d like that very much, Miss Grizzly. I’ll be in your care!”

Evening

G&K Station 56586

Security Checkpoint

Our jeep exited the highway on the last off-ramp before reaching the Polish border tollgates and I found myself heading for the lively base of Station 56586 once more. This was the first time that I saw this base at night, I thought to myself, as Grizzly drove us through the service road into the base. More than that, the base had changed significantly since the last time I was there.

Less than a month ago, when I went here with Jim, Alexi and Nagant for the presscon, the base was still reeling from the aerial bombardment of the Unsavory Incident. At the time, the base was a myriad of tents and temporary housing built around a nuclear bunker that survived the ordeal.

Now, there were already a number of simple buildings and facilities that had been built in the compound. The place was dotted by rows of small, modest, prefabricated structures that reminded me of the post-war reconstruction housing projects that I saw in old documentaries. The larger ones, on the other hand, were made with a mix of poured concrete, steel beams and shipping containers strategically lined up, stacked on top of each other and then welded in place.

These new structures were cordoned off by concrete walls crowned with barbed wire, chain link fencing, sandbags and trenches arranged in a peculiar shape - almost like a compact star fortress that was under construction. Simple wooden watchtowers were scattered around the perimeter and were equipped with searchlights that routinely swept the area around the base.

Seeing all this, I couldn’t help but be impressed by how much this base had changed in such a short time. I guess M14 and Commander Gentiane weren’t lying when they said they were gearing up for Operation Summer Triangle - whatever that operation will turn out to be about.

I guess that was another one of the mysteries I’ll be trying to uncover in this week-long deployment. The moment I stepped into this jeep, I was the GKTV-5 War Correspondent. So, I had to do my job right!

While I was busy pepping myself up, a number of the spotlights along the perimeter started turning towards our jeep. These spotlights followed us as we made our way through the service road. The jeep then came to a halt in front of a complex-looking security barrier blocking the road.

Then, the pop music playing on the jeep’s radio was interrupted by the crackle of static. A stern voice then blared on the speakers and demanded,

“This is G&K CP 56586 to the incoming vehicle. Identify! Over.”

The easygoing Grizzly was unfazed as she picked up the corded radio mouthpiece and answered with a singsong voice,

“Yo, Negev-senpai! How’s it going? Roddy and I are bringing our guests!”

The voice of ‘Negev’, the pink-haired Israeli doll who stared me down the entire time during my interview with M14, then sharply retorted,

“Grizzly! We have protocols for how we interact on the radio! Please take time to actually read our guidelines and learn radio-telephony procedure. Also, use code names for identification. Over.”

Again, Grizzly was undaunted as she cheerfully replied,

“Aye aye, captain!”

“Oy vey, this isn’t the navy, you fool! Over!”

At this point, Welrod face-palmed and snatched the mouthpiece from the amused Grizzly and answered in her stead,

“CP, this is Riding Hood answering for Free Rider. I’ll make sure to lecture Free Rider properly, so please give us clearance to go through. Over.”

“Understood, Riding Hood. Opening the gates now. Proceed through the decontamination tunnel. CP out.”

With that, the barrier finally started lowering itself with a hiss of hydraulics. Welrod then promptly slammed the radio mouthpiece back onto the holder and proceeded to angrily pinch Grizzly’s cheeks. She then furiously berated Grizzly,

“This happens every time you’re on the wheel, Griz! Your code for this mission is ‘Free Rider’, got it? ‘Free Rider’! Say it with me!”

Grizzly struggled from Welrod’s twin pinches and could barely muster a response,

“Fwee Wider… Fwee Wider!! Ow, ow, ow! Sowwee, Woddy!”

Finally satisfied, Welrod shook her head and lamented beneath her breath,

“Why did I end up falling for such a big dummy like you…?”

Welrod then stopped in her tracks and turned beet red. She then glared at me and Nagant and threatened,

“If I see a word about this on Live At Five or any other program any time soon, I will personally hunt you down! Got it!?”

“We didn’t hear a thing~!” Nagant and I recited together out of fear.

Grizzly, on the other hand, innocently piped up again,

“Whatcha guys talking about?”

Welrod gritted her teeth and fumed,

“N-nothing! Just drive, you big dummy!”

While all played out, Nagant and I just looked at each other and laughed uncomfortably. It seems like Station 56586 truly was full of nutcases.

Hang in there, Miss Welrod.

I’m sure your feelings will reach Miss Grizzly someday.

As Nagant and I quietly rooted for the oddball couple, Grizzly shifted the gears of the jeep once more and drove it forward as instructed. We then went through a familiar sight - the Collapse Fluid decontamination tunnel.

If I remembered correctly, it took us a good few minutes to get cleaned up last time. This was my chance to get a few winks of sleep in before we finally entered the base.

So, I leaned back into my seat, set a timer for eight minutes on my smartphone and closed my eyes. After a few moments, drowsiness kicked in and I drifted away from Level I consciousness and into the eye of my digimind.

7:22PM - System Clock: UTC+3

ZENER: CIV-257

GKTV-5-TEMP

LOW POWER MODE

STANDBY

As I drifted into my restful ‘low power mode’, I was conscious about the things that were going on around me. All five of my senses mellowed as the world around me seemed to melt away. The world of reality was slowly replaced by the powder blue cyberspace of the ZENER network.

My body had become something like an avatar in a virtual reality game and I was gently floating along in this sea of ZENER blue.

I had been told that this was the usual thing that dolls experienced when they went to ‘sleep’. They just floated peacefully like this as their digiminds took the backseat. Dolls and people that were way techier than I ever was, on the other hand, knew that there were other subsystems that picked up the slack.

Those subsystems performed maintenance, checked our memory, tested our hardware and software and whatnot. All of those complicated things were taking place behind that pretty blue ZENER veil.

However, I experienced something a little different when I went to ‘sleep’ like this.

Unlike any other doll i’ve talked to, I was able to move my avatar at will and explore the cyberspace world at my leisure. I was able to glide around almost weightlessly in this world too, so I felt like I was literally flying.

On top of that, things that I had been thinking about before I went to ‘sleep’ were sometimes rendered in that cyberspace as well. They could have been as simple as certain objects that appeared in the eye of my digimind or as complex as an entire scene that played out like a feature-length movie.

As fun as it was, though, it took a little bit of effort to navigate in this cyberspace. That meant that my subsystems had just a little bit less processing power to work with for maintenance. I guess that’s why I was usually less well rested than Nagant more often than not.

Nonetheless, I was the silent, formless audience of whatever played out in this world. Things passed right through me as if they were made out of thin air - which was a relief given how intense some of the scenes got sometimes.

I saw a jazz performance in those visions once. I also got to explore places that I had visited in the past when I was lucky. There were also vivid scenes like that wartime coverage I dreamed up - the long-awaited Griffin assault on Sangvis Ferri HQ that never seemed to come in the real world.

I knew for a fact that dolls weren’t normally supposed to experience such things. Time and again, I had been told that dolls don’t dream. However, I didn’t know what else to call these strange experiences of mine but ‘dreams’.

Specifically, this felt like those ‘lucid dreams’ that humans seemed to rave about quite often before the Third World War.

I wondered if I was the only doll who experienced this?

While I was waxing philosophic in my own little world, I noticed the oddity that had slipped into the eye of my digimind this time around.

I spied with my digital eye… a girl?

There was a lone person standing there on the floor of the blue ZENER world. She had her back turned to me but her build was feminine to me even from afar. She had long, silky white hair that flowed down to her shoulders and she had a long white cape that covered her back.

Naturally curious, I glided down from where I was to approach this girl.

I inched my way towards the girl and I noticed that there wasn’t any armor plate on the back of her neck. That probably meant that she wasn’t a T-Doll. Did that mean she was a human? 

If that was the case, though… I didn’t remember seeing any white-haired humans before.

At least… I didn’t think I had.

Just as I was about to close the gap and reach out to her, however, the alarm of my smartphone went off.

All of the sudden, I lost control of my avatar in the cyberspace world and I was forcibly dragged back into reality - but not before I saw that girl turn to me and then give me a sidelong glance.

She looked at me with her beautiful lavender eye and whispered something that I couldn’t quite hear at the time. Then, the girl disappeared - along with the rest of my blue ZENER cyberspace.

Evening

G&K Station 56586

Post-Screening Area

I jolted back into Level I consciousness and jerkily fished for my phone to turn off the alarm. All the while, I thought about that strange white-haired girl in my ‘dream’.

A human girl, of all things?

More than that - wasn’t I supposed to be a quiet, formless observer?

How did that girl notice me?

What was she trying to say?

These questions stirred around in my digimind like some sort of thick soup that I couldn’t quite see through. But I didn’t have time to think about such fanciful things. I had a job to do and I had every intention of doing it well!

We arrived at our destination at 7:30PM on the dot. I opened my door and hopped off the jeep enthusiastically, ready to do my duty as the new War Correspondent of GKTV-5.

The rain that had been falling over Brest Oblast all evening finally ceased. Nagant then joined me at my side as we faced the main entrance of the newly constructed base.

Gathered there at the entrance was a small crowd of dolls who were watching me and Nagant under the spotlights of the watchtowers. Then, a peculiar doll emerged from the crowd.

She was wearing the standard-issue, double-breasted maroon coat of Griffin commanders, paired with polished leather boots and the matching maroon beret. Under her beret, she wore her long brown hair in twin-tails that were held together by her distinct navy blue ribbons.

Finally, she had a pretty pendant that stood out on top of her maroon uniform. It was a small golden hairpin in the shape of a crosshair that rested close to the doll’s mechanical heart.

This doll, Subcommander M14, then gave me and Nagant a sharp salute and greeted,

“It’s good to see the two of you again, M200-chan. Miss Nagant. Welcome to Station 56586.”

Epilogue

Minsk Oblast

“Minski Supavy Zavod” Soup Company HQ

Factory Floor

As the rains over Brest Oblast finally started to ease up, the storm clouds were only just arriving at Minsk. Rain battered against the industrial brick facade of the Minski Supavy Zavod headquarters while strong winds rattled the large, barred windows.

Genevieve Saint-Louis was looking out the barred windows from inside as she watched the dark storm clouds crackling with lightning, followed by the inevitable boom of thunder. That frightening force of nature in the heavens, however, was challenged by a defiant wall of concrete and metal affixed on the earth below - the Minsk Oblast Decontamination Wall.

That wall was the wall that shielded the city of Minsk from most if not all of the harmful effects of Collapse Fluid radiation, turning the thriving Belarusian capital into one of the few, treasured “Green Zone” cities in the New Soviet Union.

Despite this, even that tremendous marvel of engineering was powerless to stop the Springtime storm from arriving. So, with disillusioned eyes, Genevieve watched the Minsk Oblast Wall with scrutiny and mused,

“In the end, it’s just a gilded cage. What a shame.”

As Genevieve mused to herself, she suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind her. She turned around and started,

“Alexi, where have you…?”

However, she stopped mid-sentence.

Alexi Stoyanovich was indeed there, but he was accompanied by an older gentleman and a petite T-Doll who walked beside them.

The middle-aged gentleman was tall and strong-built with broad shoulders and neatly-kept salt-and-pepper hair. He was wearing the full G&K Commander’s dress uniform, but he wore an unusual pin on his lapel - a pin with the crest of the KCCO. He had a prideful, confident look about him and he walked with the sturdy gait of an accomplished wartime veteran.

The doll beside the man, on the other hand, was a PPK who looked as if she had been out in the Springtime storm. In contrast to her Commander, the PPK’s flowing blond hair was disheveled and unkempt and her black corset-like dress was tattered and torn in various places. The PPK also walked with an uneven gait - almost as if it was painful for her to walk.

Alexi, the middle-aged Griffin Commander and the impoverished PPK approached Genevieve together. The Commander then stopped and then gave Genevieve a knowing smirk as he called her,

“Chaika. It seems our paths cross again. How long has it been since we last met?”

“Ten years, seven months and one day, Sokol. It’s been a while since I’ve heard that codename.” Genevieve acknowledged flatly, “To think that you spent your time investing in a struggling soup factory.”

The Commander named ‘Sokol’ shrugged and feigned innocence,

“Whatsoever do you mean, dear Chaika? Is it not my patriotic duty to feed our struggling comrades? And besides, a soup factory has its uses. A can of soup can hide many secrets in the tin.”

Sokol’s expression then sharpened as he noted,

“Speaking of secrets - my agents tell me that STATSEC dogs… among other groups... have been quite active in Brest Oblast lately. I pray that the pesky Kain Schwaben and his toys haven’t been giving you any problems.”

Genevieve shrugged and answered nonchalantly,

“Don’t worry about me, Sokol. I run a clean ship in GKTV-5. I always do. The STATSEC hounds can sniff all they want, but they’ll just waste their time.”

Sokol gazed straight into Genevieve’s eyes, almost as if to test her. After a tense moment, he hummed with amusement. Finally satisfied, he backed off and changed the subject.

“I hope this past decade has not dulled your skills, Chaika. You are aware of what must be done, yes? After all, this fairy tale we created was not meant to last forever.”

He then brought out a peculiar brown envelope stamped with the label ‘Operation Vigilant Star’.

In response, Genevieve brought out her own envelope. This one was labeled ‘Operation Stalwart Anchor’.

Genevieve then looked straight into Sokol’s eyes and declared,

“I am prepared to do what needs to be done. Things have already been set in motion on my end.”

Sokol wore a wicked smile of approval at Genevieve and then gestured her to follow him,

“Good. Now come, Chaika. Let us not keep the good Captain waiting. Our… adjutants... can stay here.”

Lightning flashed in the heavens outside the factory floor window, illuminating the worried expression on Alexi’s face and the tired eyes of Sokol’s PPK. Genevieve furrowed her brow but kept her thoughts to herself.

She nodded to Sokol and then let him lead her through the factory. As Genevieve followed the mysterious man, her eyes wandered through the soup factory floor. She watched as the army of Sokol’s T-Dolls manned the factory equipment. A handful of them were unloading batches of potatoes onto the assembly line - ready to be peeled, crushed, pureed and processed into potato soup.

Genevieve turned away from the sight and whispered contritely beneath her breath.

‘I’m sorry, Potato. One day, you’ll understand.’

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

Late Evening

Brest Oblast

Residential Area Back Alleys

The rains of the early Springtime storm had finally ceased in Brest Oblast, but it was a fragile peace. A harrowing scream rang out from the darkness of the back alleys and shattered that peace with heartless cruelty.

In the cramped, concrete confines of the alleys, as the rainwater sloshed loudly through the storm drains, the giant lady gopnik and her crew of hooligans were frozen in horror. She and her men were backed up against a dead end in the back alley and were confronted by a group of shadowy figures.

There were four large men whose faces were shrouded by peculiar white hoods that covered them from head to toe. One of those men was manhandling one of the lady gopnik’s strong goons as if he was nothing but a mere ragdoll to be played with.

The goon was forced down to his knees while the hooded man raised the goon’s arm in an angle that went well beyond what normal human anatomy would naturally allow. This caused the goon to writhe in agonizing pain - much to the dismay of the lady gopnik.

With a trembling voice, the lady gopnik appealed,

“O-oy… why are you doing this? Is this retribution for something we’ve done? We’ve left the supermarket alone! What more do you want from us!?”

When the lady gopnik spoke, a fifth figure appeared, coming from behind the hooded men. This figure had the face of a young girl with straight, flowing black hair and unnaturally light brown eyes. The girl wore a black hood similar to that of the four men, but it bore an odd mark that the lady gopnik couldn’t recognize.

The girl casually walked past her four men and the pinned down goon. She then ran a dismissive hand through her silky black hair before letting it cascade gracefully behind her. Once she was past her men, she turned her light brown eyes toward the lady gopnik and promptly corrected her,

“Oh, I am not here to demand anything from you and your lot, my dear scoundrel. As a matter of fact, I come here to you with an opportunity - an opportunity that will make you whole again… and I’m not just talking about your arm.”

The lady gopnik felt a chill run up her spine as she instinctively reached for the stump where her right arm was supposed to be. For a moment, she felt a phantom pain - an odd, faint itch as if her arm was still there. She then glared at the young girl and demanded,

“What are you talking about!?”

The girl shrugged and continued her cryptic spiel,

“I know who you are, scoundrel. You are Anastasia Malashenko. Ukrainian. Originally from Kiev, but you moved East to Belarus to escape the war… but the war found you anyways and you were drafted into an auxiliary unit. You didn’t quite finish your university degree, but that was enough to make you the 2nd Lieutenant of the KCCO’s Brest Oblast Garrison - a Mladshiy Leytenant .”

‘Anastasia’ was horrified by this young girl reading out her life story like a book, so she spat,

“How did you…!?”

However, the young girl ignored her and kept going.

“Your service to the motherland was peaceful but untarnished… until the dying days of the war when American commandos mounted a daring attack that crushed your defenses and nearly succeeded in extracting crucial state secrets. Your garrison eventually won that battle - but only after so many lives were lost hunting down the determined enemy.”

Anastasia furrowed her brow and considered her words. She couldn’t understand how this young girl knew so much about her in such detail. She suspended her disbelief and angrily argued back to defend what little pride she had left,

“I don’t know who you are, but I won’t have you talk down to me like this! I served the motherland faithfully - but the odds were stacked against me! My air defenses were sabotaged and compromised, so the enemy commandos slipped through by air. Then, when the commandos occupied downtown Brest, my commanders in Minsk refused to send help!”

The girl folded her arms with amusement and countered,

“That was because a ceasefire was signed between the US, the PEU and the motherland. This was the argument the KCCO HQ in Minsk told you, wasn’t it? That was why you were forced to tackle the insurgency on your own - street by street, house by house, man by man. An operation meant for dolls had to be fought with flesh and blood. Lots of flesh and blood.”

Anastasia gritted her teeth in fury as she remembered the nonchalant, dismissive attitude of her superiors more than ten years ago. Then, she recalled the bodies of dead soldiers and civilians lined up on the streets in a horrifying display. The memory made Anastasia reach for her missing arm again as she admitted,

“The insurgency lasted six months. Brest Oblast was devastated. I lost my arm fighting for the motherland, but that did not absolve me in the eyes of Minsk or Moscow. I, and the men I had left, were disgraced and ejected from the force through no fault of our own. They pinned all the blame on us. Now we roam the streets of the city we gave our bodies and our lives to protect - we’ve lost so much and you bastards say that you can make us whole again!?”

The young girl’s smirk grew wider as she stubbornly insisted,

“That’s entirely right. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have tracked you and your friends down like I did.”

She gave the hooded man behind her a sidelong glance, prompting him to free the pinned gopnik. Then, the girl then extended her arms and offered,

“My Father has sent me here to give you the opportunity of a lifetime - a chance to strike back against the KCCO. They’re planning a big operation here in Brest Oblast soon… and it would be a shame if things go poorly for them, yes? After all - this operation is being led by your former superiors.”

Anastasia’s eyes lit up and burned with a furious rage as she asked,

“Sokol... and Chaika?”

The young girl tilted her head mischievously and confirmed,

“Bingo~! The KCCO took your arm from you, so now is your chance to take and break theirs. Sounds like a good deal, no?”

Anastasia clenched her one remaining fist. She then turned to her men to see what they thought. When she did, she noticed the fear in their eyes melting away - slowly being replaced by an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

That was all she needed to see. She then finally turned back to the girl and accepted,

“My men and I would like nothing else but to see Sokol and Chaika punished for their crimes. Many of the gopniks wandering this town, wasting away while wolfing down that shitty soup from Minsk, feel the same way. If the New Soviet Union won’t hold Sokol and Chaika accountable, my men and I will.”

The young girl brought her hands together graciously and answered with delight,

“Very good! In that case, I must ask that you do something for me and my Father first. Think of it as a test of your mettle.”

The dark clouds in the heavens finally parted and bright moonlight flooded the dark alleyway, illuminating it in soft silver. That moonlight reflected off of Anastasia’s determined eyes as she asked,

“What would you have us do?”

The young girl’s smile widened as she looked up to one of the tenement towers in the Residential District. Her eyes were fixed on the Romaska Building as she replied,

“There is a certain item that I want you and your men to retrieve. It belongs to my dear, dear sister, you see - and my father would like to see it returned to us. Could you do this for us, Mladshiy Leytenant Malashensko?”

“Give us the details and equipment and we’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Good. Very good. My men will be in contact with you soon with the details. They will give you your equipment as well.”

The girl then turned around and proceeded to walk away with her hooded men. However, Anastasia called out to her and asked,

“Before you go… what is your name?”

With her back turned to Anastasia, the girl put on her hood and fancifully replied,

“Terco. Call me ‘Terco’.”

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 7 - Hash Browns (Part I)

G&K Station 56586

Security Tent

After the quick yet warm welcome that M14 organized for me and Nagant, my trusty bodyguard and I picked up our luggage. Welrod and Grizzly escorted us to a small tent near the entrance and the four of us entered together. Inside, the angelic figure of the kindly MP40 was waiting for us.

MP40 wore a bright smile for us all and greeted,

“ Guten abend , Miss M200, Miss Nagant Revolver. Welcome back to our humble home - though it is a little bigger now than when you last saw it~!”

With that, Grizzly and Welrod stepped right back out of the tent and excused themselves. Grizzly waved goodbye to us and then to MP40 as she called,

“Don’t be too harsh on them now, MP40!”

MP40 smiled, waved back to Grizzly and cheerfully answered,

“I’ll try not to, Grizzly-senpai!”

The odd handgun couple disappeared behind the folds of the tent, leaving me and Nagant alone with the cheerful SMG doll. MP40 then snapped on a pair of short black gloves, set up a pair of coffee tables and began her inspection,

“Alright then, Miss M200. Miss Nagant Revolver. Please place your suitcases here and open them for me.”

Nagant and I followed MP40’s surprisingly dutiful orders. As we did, MP40 pulled out her tablet device and began typing in a series of commands.

All of the sudden, the quiet whir of tiny propellers came to life in the tent and a small drone took flight. The drone’s holographic projectors then came on and the semi-transparent figure of a pint-sized girl with braided black hair and loopy round glasses appeared.

“Whoa…!” I gasped, surprised by the drone’s hologram.

MP40 chuckled at my response and gestured to the drone and introduced it to us,

“This here is a ‘Rescue Fairy’ - one of the new Technical Fairies that our Station will be operating from here on out. This one specializes in finding things, so she will be helping me with my inspection today~!”

When MP40 said this, the hologram girl twirled around proudly in response. It then brandished a comically large magnifying glass before nodding to MP40.

So, MP40 nodded back and placed her hands together as she faced us and asked,

“First, I will need to register all of the weapons and equipment that you are bringing into the base.”

Nagant and I promptly obliged. My companion set her revolver down on top of her suitcase while I brought out my miniature voice recorder. I also fished out the camera-equipped drone that I had in my suitcase for MP40 to see.

MP40 folded her arms and then asked me flatly,

“No weapon for you, Miss M200?”

I shook my head and repeated the same story that I had told everyone by then, condensed into three words,

“Never had one.”

“I see.”

The ‘fairy’ then proceeded to scan Nagant’s revolver, my pieces of equipment and the rest of the contents of our suitcases. Once that was done, the fairy then pointed its holographic magnifying glass at Nagant - then at me.

Somehow, I couldn’t help but feel like the fairy’s gaze was a little bit intense when it was looking at me.

Then, the fairy took off its round glasses and squinted as she looked at me again through her magnifying glass. It made me feel a little bit nervous as I asked,

“D-did I do anything wrong, Miss MP40?”

MP40 paused for a moment and glanced at her tablet device with a curious hum. She then shook her head and reassured,

“Oh. Oh, no - not at all Miss M200. Sometimes, the fairies don’t process things right away. We’re still getting used to them, after all.”

The SMG doll tapped on her tablet device again and the ‘Rescue Fairy’ finally pulled away from my face. The hologram projection waved goodbye before it disappeared. The drone unit itself then flew back to its corner in the tent and powered down.

MP40 helped us repack our bags as she then spoke in her dutiful tone,

“My inspection is over. The two of you are now registered in our system - and my inspection is complete.”

Her expression then softened with a warm smile as she offered,

“Now that that’s done - would the two of you like a tour of the base?”

Nagant and I nodded eagerly, much to MP40’s delight. With that, MP40 showed us out of the tent and walked us through the newly-expanded Station 56586.

Residential Quarters

Main Dormitory Building

Our first stop that evening was the dormitory that Nagant and I were going to be staying at.

It was one of the prefabricated structures that I saw when we were driving in, similar to one of those small motels that were popular in America long ago. MP40 opened the door to one of the units for us, turned on the lights and showed us inside.

“Whoa… it’s a lot roomier than I thought!” I gasped as I looked around.

Past the prefabricated facade, the rooms were relatively spacious places. Inside, there were four single beds, a couple of shelves, desks and lamps - and even a large, odd trinket hanging on the wall. It looked like some odd cross between a crossbow and an anti-tank rifle.

MP40 noticed me eyeing the thing on the wall, so she explained,

“Oh, this here is a Sangvis Ferri weapon - the one used by SF SP21 ringleader known as ‘Gager’. Negev-senpai and her Echelon 2 defeated a number of Gager dummies during Operation Arctic Warfare and captured all sorts of SF equipment like this. This one here is a replica, though. The real ones were shipped off to HQ for research.”

“Defeating multiple SF ringleader dummies, huh?” I noted with amazement, “This Negev must be a force of nature on the battlefield.”

MP40 nodded eagerly and agreed,

“Indeed! Negev-senpai is one of the greatest warriors of Station 56586! She’s proud of her service to Griffin, so she chose to put this up in her room to remind herself of the job that needs to be done. Needless to say, I’m proud to serve alongside Negev-senpai.”

I nodded back but suddenly stopped myself halfway. I then turned to MP40 and asked with looming terror,

“W-wait a second. ‘Her room’? Are you saying that this room is…”

MP40 nodded again with rising excitement and cheered,

“That’s right, Miss M200! This is the room where Negev-senpai and I stay. Negev-senpai is M14-senpai’s right hand, and I am Negev-senpai’s aide-de-camp . You will be getting to stay with the two of us this week! Isn’t that great~?”

Ahahaha~ I wasn’t sure if I could agree with that one, MP40. You would have seemed like an okay roommate, but staying in the same room as that menacing monster of an adjutant was something I would have liked to avoid.

I turned to Nagant beside me to get a sense of what she thought about this arrangement, but she seemed like she was getting worked up about something else entirely. Nagant listened to MP40 drone on about ‘Negev-senpai this’ and ‘Negev-senpai that’. Her brow furrowed as she muttered beneath her breath,

“Another one? Just how many couples are living in this base!? Are these Western-lovers trying to test Babushka’s patience by making her a seventh wheel!? Hrgh…!”

Hmm… I probably shouldn’t disturb her for now.

In any case, Nagant and I claimed our beds, set our suitcases down and then let MP40 continue to show us around the base. Since it was already evening, I decided to keep my camera-equipped drone stowed away for the time being. I didn’t think I was going to get any noteworthy footage in the pitch darkness.

So, under the occasional sweep of searchlights, MP40 walked us through the base’s training grounds, the repair bay and the command post. She pointed out to those buildings and told us a little bit about the things that went on inside of them like a bona fide tour guide.

However, I couldn’t help but notice that we steered clear of the heart of the base itself. In particular, we didn’t go anywhere near the nuclear bunker that survived the aerial bombardment.

I wondered if that was some sort of restricted area or something.

I tucked my curiosity away for the time being as I felt the appetite that I had been building up from our stroll start to catch up with me. Nagant’s stomach likewise grumbled, drawing an amused chuckle from MP40.

So, our tour guide ended our tour at a large building near the prefabricated dorm: the cafeteria.

“New Armory” Cafeteria

MP40 opened the doors of the cafeteria building and proudly welcomed us inside. It was a large, common dining hall with tables, chairs and a full-service kitchen behind a plexiglass wall. Just as I expected, there were a number of speakers on the walls that were tuned in to the Western music broadcast from the G&K Glasgow branch office, much to Nagant’s chagrin.

However, the thing that caught me by surprise was the fact that there were four MP40 dummies scattered about the cafeteria that evening.

Two of the MP40 dummies were hard at work in the kitchen. The third was manning the cafeteria counter and serving the dolls their meals while the last was busy bussing tables and cleaning trays.

MP40, Nagant and I lined up for our meals and were served a simple cooked meal: meatloaf, stir-fried vegetables and mashed potatoes, paired with a cup of hearty beef broth and a cup of hot tea.

The three of us found a table and ate our meal together with the rest of the dolls in the hall.

I worked my way through the food quickly and praised,

“This stuff is pretty good!”

Nagant, on the other hand, tried to act more aloof,

“Hmph. I guess this is okay… for Western fare.”

However, it was clear that Nagant was enjoying her meal quite a bit. The stubborn Russian handgun doll then cautiously probed as she made gestures in the air,

“Though… I have heard about this mythical sandwich from the West. They say there is a patty of beef in the middle, with lettuce and tomato and a variety of different possible sauces. It sounds like yet another symbol of Western decadence, but yet - it sounds… interesting.”

MP40 chuckled at Nagant’s cautious curiosity and answered outright,

“Those are called ‘hamburgers’, Miss Nagant. Grizzly-senpai helps me cook them on Tuesdays. She’s very handy when it comes to grilling!”

Nagant seemed to brighten up immensely when she heard this, but she cleared her throat and did her best to act aloof once more.

“V-very well. I shall attempt to partake of this mythical ‘hamburger’ you speak of on Tuesday. I… I will have high expectations of it!”

MP40 gave Nagant a thumbs up and accepted the challenge wholeheartedly. She then proudly remarked,

“I’m glad the two of you like the food here! We had the full-service kitchen installed last week and morale has improved quite a bit!”

I nodded in agreement, but then pointed to MP40’s dummies to ask,

“I do like the food - but I do have to ask you… why are your dummies wearing maid uniforms?”

MP40, however, was unfazed as she honestly replied,

“Before the Tasteless and Unsavory Incidents ravaged our Station, we had a really nice cafe that everyone in this Station loved. It was run by our adjutant at the time - Springfield-oneesama, the Cafe Springfield. When Springfield-oneesama’s duties started to pile up, she took another doll - G36-senpai - as an apprentice and barmaid and taught her everything she knew. Then, one thing led to another, and G36-senpai took me as her apprentice.”

MP40 dug into the pocket of her coat and drew out a maid’s headdress and added,

“Both Springfield-oneesama and G36-senpai believed that a warm smile and a home-cooked meal can change the world for the better, one step at a time. Neither of them are here at the base anymore, and I only had about a week to learn from G36-senpai, but I wanted to carry on that tradition for them in their stead.”

A G36 doll, huh? Weren’t G36’s on the recall list issued by I.O.P. not too long ago? This G36 was trained by the fugitive Springfield too no less.

I held my cup in my hands and looked at my own distorted reflection in the tea as I pondered.

Something deep inside me told me that a doll who could prepare food with such a gentle flavor could be thoroughly evil like all the official reports said. If MP40 was a reflection of this base’s G36 and Springfield, then I couldn’t help but feel like those two dolls couldn’t be all that bad.

MP40 tilted her head with curiosity and asked,

“Is there something wrong, Miss M200?”

I shook my head and promptly reassured,

“Nope. I was just thinking about how I can tell your story in my spiel when I start filming for Live at Five.”

MP40 smiled at my reply and hummed,

“I see~! We switch to GKTV-5 on the radio here from time to time. I’ll look forward to hearing your segment, Miss M200.”

Later that evening

Dorm Room #1

After dinner, Nagant, MP40 and I returned to the dorm. Traveling to Station 56586 and touring a small part of it - on top of working a full day at GKTV-5 - knocked the wind of my sails and Nagant seemed like she was ready to fall asleep as well. The two of us were ready to hit the sack, so we waited for MP40 to open the door for us.

That was when MP40 noticed something strange. She turned the knob but met almost no resistance. MP40 then gasped,

“Huh…? The door is unlocked?”

More than that, the lights inside the dorm were on. The light flowed out from the space beneath the door. MP40 furrowed her brow and swiftly opened the door.

Nagant and I followed behind MP40 and we found the most peculiar sight. Inside our joint dorm room, the adjutant of the base - the fearsome war hero Negev - was sprawled out face-down on her bed at an odd angle.

Negev was snoring peacefully, already fast asleep on top of her formerly pristine blankets. Moreover, her hair was disheveled and she was still in her full regular attire.

MP40 pouted at the unflattering sight of Negev, so she put her hands on her hips and lectured,

“Negev-senpai! You can’t go to sleep like this. Your uniform will get wrinkled and your hair will get frizzy in the morning!”

The pink-haired adjutant, however, simply grumbled in response and turned to her side,

“Hrghmm… I’m a… specialist…”

The maneuver wrinkled Negev’s Star of David-clad uniform even more, causing MP40 to heave a sigh. The German SMG then compromised,

“Fine. You’re a specialist, but let me at least help you into bed, senpai. We have guests, after all.”

The sleeping Negev didn’t reply, so MP40 took that as a sign to go ahead. With that, MP40 proceeded to gently strip Negev down to her underwear, meticulously undo Negev’s side-tail and then remove her twin Star of David hairpins. After this, MP40 tucked Negev into bed and then did her best to undo the wrinkles on her uniform.

Watching this whole exchange seemed surreal to me - so much so that my honest thoughts slipped out,

“Huh. Even the war hero Negev can be an angel when she’s fast asleep.”

MP40 then looked behind her back to face me and countered,

“Negev-senpai is more of an angel than you think, Miss M200! She’s a nice girl once you get to know her, but she’s dutiful to a fault. She has been hard at work to prepare the Station to accommodate a War Correspondent, you know. Though - in my opinion, she’s been pushing herself too hard.”

Hmm… was that why Miss Negev was especially ticked off when Grizzly tried to troll her over the radio earlier?

MP40 turned back to Negev to attend to her and continued,

“There’s a long story to it, but Negev-senpai is atoning for something that happened in the Unsavory Incident. She won’t say it - but she doesn’t believe that she deserves to be the adjutant after what she did… but I feel like she’s done more than enough to show her loyalty. M14-senpai agrees, and that’s why she was chosen. But Negev-senpai is stubborn. Too stubborn.”

MP40 then knelt down and gently flicked Negev’s forehead out of frustration, drawing a mildly irritated groan from the sleeping Israeli doll.

The doting German doll then whispered beneath her breath,

“I just wish that this hard-headed ‘specialist’ would rely on me and everyone else a little bit more. She doesn’t have to weather this storm all on her own.”

With that, MP40 stood up and began undressing herself this time. She wore a small smile for me and Nagant and gently reminded,

“We’re going to have an early day tomorrow, so I suggest that we go to sleep as soon as possible, Miss M200, Miss Nagant Revolver.”

Nagant and I obliged and we started changing into our nightwear. The two of us then slipped into our beds while MP40 turned off the dorm lights.

I closed my eyes, steadied my breathing and let myself drift back into the blue-tinged dreamworld in the eye of my mind.

10:25PM - System Clock: UTC +3

ZENER: CIV-257

GKTV-5-TEMP

LOW POWER MODE

STANDBY

When I sank back into my personal ZENER cyberspace, I found her again - that white-haired human girl I found earlier when we were driving into the base. The girl was sitting comfortably in the peculiar scene that had rendered into the eye of my mind - the newly-built cafeteria of Station 56586.

I willed myself to glide down towards the girl and eventually closed the distance between us. The girl looked behind her back as if she had noticed my presence. She then wore a warm smile on her lips and gestured to me, beckoning me to come over.

I cautiously obliged, walking around the table and pulling up a seat for myself in front of her. For the first time, I got a good look at the girl’s face. She looked rather young - a teenager perhaps - but she did have hints of rings beneath her eyes.

Most youngsters spent so much time online back then, so eyebags weren’t really unusual for them to have. However, this girl’s pristine white hair and her pretty lavender eyes were much more curious. Those seemed like features closer to a doll than a human being - and yet, this girl was flesh and blood.

There was a faint difference in the sound between a mechanical heart and a human heart - and I heard this girl’s heart beat like that of a human’s.

How strange.

The girl sipped on a cup black tea, just like the one I had during dinner earlier. She then turned to me again with a happy tone,

“Thank goodness. For a moment, I thought you were ignoring me.”

I furrowed my brow and got straight to the point,

“Who are you - and why can you see me? This is my dreamspace. You’re supposed to be a figment of my imagination.”

“Figment of your imagination? How rude. A star anchor would need to have a pleasant personality to be on primetime television, you know.”

I gritted my teeth at the girl’s cheeky response. I was tempted to ask why she knew about my dream job, but I pulled back and repeated my question,

“Don’t mess with me and answer my question. Who are you?”

The girl snorted and then promptly shrugged,

“I’m a tourist - just like you. I’ve been to many places, actually. Toronto. Glasgow. Strasbourg. Trieste. Warsaw. Brest. All sorts of places, always pushing East! I was just minding my business before you came along, you know.”

“Why you…”

“I’m here for a reason, Miss M200 of GKTV-5. Think about it long enough and I’m sure you’ll remember me - but don’t think about it too hard. It’s not nice to get lost in your thoughts when there is still work to be done, after all~!”

“What do you mean by that?”

The girl chuckled and smiled kindly again as she explained,

“You’ll understand soon enough. For now - it’s time you got up. Your friends from Griffin want to play again, after all.”

“Huh… wait!”

Before I could say anything else, the dreamscape around me faded to black. In the blink of an eye, the white-haired girl disappeared and I was pulled back into reality.

March 5, 2063 - Sunrise

Station 56586 - Prefabricated Dormitory

Dormitory Room #1

My less-than-peaceful sleep was shattered by the alarming blast of a bugle Reveille at the break of dawn. The sun had only just begun peeking out from behind the hills in the East when I shot up from my bed and sat upright in a panic. Nagant followed suit in her own bed as even she was taken aback by the unfathomably loud and early morning routine.

At the other end of the room, however, the kindly MP40 was already up and about and was doing some stretching. Negev, on the other hand, was also fully dressed and was seated at one of the desks and was already working on her tablet device. From where she was seated, I caught a glimpse of the adjutant wearing an uncharacteristically cute pair of red-rimmed glasses.

Negev heard the groggy groans coming from me and Nagant, so she turned towards us from her seat, adjusted her glasses and then casually remarked,

“Oh. So the two of you are awake. I was just about to have MP40 wake the two of you up, but the Reveille got you first. Gotta say, I’m a little impressed.”

The Israeli adjutant then set aside her tablet device, put away her glasses and then ran a hand through her hair as she got back into her menacing character. She stood up and looked down on me and Nagant and declared,

“But the morning-shift dolls of this Station are supposed to get up before the Reveille. That means the two of you are doing laps around the perimeter. Get up and get dressed. We’re going jogging in fifteen! HOP TO IT!”

At Negev’s command, Nagant and I obliged out of terror and began dressing up as quickly as we could. As I was putting on my shirt, I was quietly hoping that the kindly MP40 would intervene for me and Nagant, but the doting German SMG doll was beaming with delight as if she was pleased by what she was seeing.

I had to make it a point to remember that MP40 was more loyal to Negev than to us, and that she was a Negev fangirl through and through.

Once Nagant and I were dressed up, MP40 approached us with a pair of fully-loaded knapsacks and two heavy-looking, wood-stocked bolt-action rifles. Puzzled by the things that MP40 brought out, I dared to ask,

“Uh… what are these?”

MP40 chuckled mischievously and replied,

“The dolls of our station bring full combat gear when we go on exercises like this. Also - since the two of you don’t have heavy weapons, I figured I’d give you both some long guns that we had in storage! They’re decommissioned M1903 Springfield rifles.”

Negev rubbed her chin in approval and praised,

“Good thinking, MP40. This will certainly give these media girls the full experience!”

“Ehehe~ I do my best, Negev-senpai~!”

Then, with a warm smile on her lips, MP40 turned to us and repeated Negev’s orders,

“You heard Negev-senpai~! Hop to it!”

Fighting hard to stop the tears from streaking down our faces, Nagant and I put on our knapsacks, carried the decommissioned rifles and felt the combined weight of it all pulling us down. MP40 helped us secure our knapsacks in place and noted,

“It’s pretty heavy, huh? But don’t forget your camera equipment too! You want to get some good footage of the base, don’t you?”

More like footage of me and Nagant panting and wheezing for being out of shape, perhaps.

Oh well, I guess a War Correspondent really would have to be prepared for these sorts of things. I pulled out my smartphone and then activated the camera-equipped drone. The small flying drone popped out from its compartment in my suitcase and then hovered above me.

MP40 gave us a nod of approval and then barked as she clapped with urgency,

“The rest of the morning shift dolls should be starting their jog through the base. Follow them to the trail and keep going! Go, go, go!”

With that, Nagant and I rushed out of the dorm room saddled with our equipment and decommissioned rifles and jogged down the road as we were told. True enough, there was a stream of dolls jogging through the base with knapsacks and their namesake weapons in tow.

There were about thirty of them that morning - each one an original unit carrying a different kind of gun. Welrod and Grizzly were among them too, but they were also carrying long guns that weren’t their own. If my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, then their guns looked like FNC assault rifles.

In any case Nagant and I rushed to join the jogging platoon of dolls and struggled to keep up with them. That naturally put us towards the tail end of the formation, along with dolls that were carrying bulkier firearms.

Still, even from there, I felt an odd energy emanating from the jogging platoon as every single doll there was chanting melodic military cadences in English without skipping a beat. By the time Nagant and I got there, they were talking about ‘teenage queens’ - and now they were talking about ‘pork and beans’.

Once I had managed to adjust my pace and my breathing to the joggers, I brought out my smartphone and ordered my camera drone to fly ahead of the platoon. I glanced at the footage on my phone and spotted Subcommander M14 leading the pack!

M14 had a knapsack - just like everyone else - and carried her namesake M14 rifle with great pride as she made up her cadences on the fly. The Subcommander noticed my drone flying overhead, so she saluted to the camera and started her cadence anew,

“Meatball Monday! Sunday Stew!”

“ Meatball Monday! Sunday Stew! ”

“Sangvis Ferri, we’re comin’ for you!”

“ Sangvis Ferri, we’re comin’ for you! ”

While Nagant and I were still catching our breaths, M14 and her crazy dolls were chanting at the top of their lungs like it was second nature to them. As the cadence went on, MP40 and Negev soon joined us from behind. They too had their knapsacks and weapons with them and were chanting the freestyle cadence with wholehearted fervor.

Every doll, from Subcommander to foot soldier, marched and sang together as a unit. It was sort of a cool sight to behold. Even after the harrowing events of the Tasteless and Unsavory Incidents, Station 56586 stood united and was stronger than ever.

At least, that was the messaging that I was getting from the things that I had seen thus far. I had a feeling that if ever I was or if I would ever become a fully-fledged T-Doll, I wouldn’t mind joining a Station like this.

However, like that strange visitor in the eye of my mind said, there was still work to be done.

For now, I just had to pick up the pace and make sure that I didn’t get left behind in the dust.

Epilogue

A good hour after the morning Reveille, M14 finally gave the order for the platoon to halt and to be at ease. After a grueling trek up and down a series of sandy, rolling hills, Nagant and I fell down to our knees and dropped down onto the beaten trail. Seeing how the rest of the dolls in the platoon were still up on their feet, I couldn’t help but feel like M14 called the rest for my sake and Nagant’s.

However, Negev walked over to us with a kind expression on her face and a canteen of water in hand. She then offered it to us, saying,

“You guys did well today. Good job.”

Grizzly, Welrod and MP40 likewise gave us nods of approval. Nagant and I thankfully nodded back and then we took turns drinking from the canteen. After that, MP40 went around the clearing on the hill and started handing out breakfast rations for everyone in the platoon.

I got my breakfast ration and read the label out loud,

“Menu number eight. Pork sausage with hash browns.”

While I was settling down on my little spot on the hill, my flying camera drone finally returned to my side as well and I quietly thanked the machine for its hard work. So, I brought out my smartphone and brought up the camera drone’s app to check on the footage I got during the morning jog.

When I returned the drone to manual control, however, I noticed something odd near the hill. There seemed to be traces of metal sticking out from the sand, so I commanded the drone to fly over.

Not far from where I sat, the drone found a small, dark crevice that was almost buried completely by sand. Inside of that crevice was the rusted remains of a peculiar aircraft that was marked ‘USAFEE’.

If memory served me right... that meant... United States Armed Forces in Eastern Europe.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

10:55PM - System Clock: UTC +3

ZENER CIV-257

GKTV-5-TEMP

LOW POWER MODE

STANDBY

In the eye of my mind, the scene that would shape my ZENER blue cyberspace that evening was taking form. This time around, it was the scene that I saw earlier this morning - the dusty hill with the beaten dirt path and the sandy crevice that hid the remains of a strange military aircraft that was forgotten by time.

A number of figures appeared in that scene - the adjutant Negev and her aide-de-camp MP40 had donned rock-climbing gear and went spelunking to survey the aircraft. Grizzly and Welrod took charge of the other dolls that had jogged to the hill with us and led them out of the scene, disappearing into the abyss. Nagant, at a loss for what was going on, followed the crowd and made her exit - stage left.

Subcommander M14 stood at the edge of the crevice and looked down below as a complex expression formed on her face. A strong wind was blowing through the scene, rustling the coattails of her Commander’s uniform, but M14 stood firm in silence. It was clear to me that M14 was carrying some sort of untold burden, but she refused to reveal her cards.

As I was descending down to this chaotic scene, however, I noticed a figure that was not supposed to be on that dusty hill: that strange white-haired girl who has been appearing more and more prominently in my Level II consciousness.

In my ‘dreams’.

None of the other characters in the scene noticed the presence of this girl as she poked around the hill. The girl looked like she wanted to try pinching M14’s cheek, but her hand just slipped right through as if M14 was a hologram. Though, I guess that wouldn’t have been too far from the truth.

The moment that my feet hit the simulated dirt of the sandy hill, the white-haired girl turned to me again as if she had noticed my presence. She then waved to me and then beckoned me to come on over.

So, I obliged and walked on over to her while the scene from this morning continued playing around us. Once I stood face to face with the girl, she casually commented,

“Looks like you had one hell of a morning, huh? Miss M200 of GKTV-5.”

“I did - and it appears you’re here again, mystery girl. Who are you - and why are you here?”

The girl shrugged and nonchalantly answered,

“Who I am isn’t really that important, Miss M200. As for why I’m here, well… let’s just say that I want to know the truth about this place just as much as you do. Your hosts are kind and gentle, but they haven’t been completely forthcoming with you. And I’m sure you feel the same way.”

The girl then let her hand pass through the golden crosshair-shaped hairpin amulet that M14 wore and chuckled,

“Despite their collective poker face, they truly don’t seem to understand the full picture of this story either.”

I folded my arms thoughtfully and remarked,

“In the end, it sounds like a perfect job for me, huh? If I can break this story, I’ll become a Star Anchor for sure!”

The girl rolled her eyes and teased,

“Again with the ‘star anchor’ deal. You’re really into this whole act, huh?”

“Act? What do you mean by that?”

The white-haired girl paused to consider her words before she simply shrugged and shook her head,

“Beats me. All I know is - you spent the rest of the day researching things on the net. Your boss, Mr. Salmons is right. When you put your mind to things, you get things done.”

I felt my cheeks grow warm for a moment when I recalled standing with Jim under the umbrella, but I caught myself and stepped away from the girl.

“Hearing that from you doesn’t really make me happy… and besides, this is my job.”

“Is that so? Indeed. That is your mission - and you must see it through to the end. To the bitter end…”

Something about the way the girl spoke ticked me off. She talked about other folks not being forthcoming with me - but she wasn’t very forthcoming with me either. While I was thinking of how to coax more information from this unusual oddity of a girl, she turned to me with a kindly smile and asked,

“Say, Miss M200 of GKTV-5. What happens when all else is lost - and the end is drawing near for you?”

“Huh?”

Before I could say anything else, the gravity of my cyberspace seemed to reverse as I started floating off of the ground. I was being pulled back to reality as the dreamscape melted away around me.

The girl, however, didn’t disappear. Instead, her smile grew wider as my vision blurred.

Then, she whispered the answer to her question with a mischievous tone,

“Only hope remains.”

I tilted my head curiously and asked,

“That phrase… what do you mean by that?”

“Hmm… I guess it’s not yet time. You’ll find out soon enough. I know you will.”

“H-hey, don’t ignore me!”

The girl joined her hands behind her back and then reassured,

“Don’t worry, Miss M200 of GKTV-5. I’ll be right here. I won’t be going anywhere. As for you - your Griffin friends are waiting for you. Don’t keep them waiting, okay?”

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 8 - Hash Browns (Part II)

March 6, 2063 - Mid-Morning

Station 56586 - Training Grounds

Shooting Range

Today was marksmanship training day.

As such, a myriad of gunfire rang out in the trimmed-grass field that served as Station 56586’s shooting range. The thirty dolls that I jogged with yesterday were all there and were grouped into pairs as they occupied the shooting range booths - an impressively intuitive setup made from mere surplus crates, loose lumber and other materials scavenged from the mountains of debris that once littered the base.

A mixture of steel drums and concrete slabs propped up paper targets that bore the image of various Sangvis Ferri units - from the run-of-the-mill goon dolls to the fearsome ringleaders that Station 56586 had fought in the past. Those paper targets were meticulously pierced by bursts of accurate fire that the Griffin dolls shot downrange.

Unfortunately, that made the comparatively poor and unpolished marksmanship of GKTV-5, represented by my bodyguard and roommate Nagant, all the more obvious. Nagant wielded her namesake revolver and tried to shoot at a paper target a hundred yards away from the booth that bore the image of a Sangvis Ferri “Jaeger” sniper doll.

She pulled the trigger six times while I stood a pace behind her with a pair of binoculars to watch her accuracy. Nagant then turned to me to sheepishly ask,

“H-how did I do, Potato?”

Even though she knew that her accuracy was unsatisfactory, I had the obligation to tell her the truth. I observed the paper target and announced,

“Four shots on target and two misses. One hit was close to the bullseye, but the rest are scattered around.”

Nagant frowned when she heard the news and complained,

“Argh, I knew it. Working at GKTV-5 has been so peaceful that I haven’t really hit the range since I left Griffin. Babushka’s rusty, huh?”

While Nagant still had her revolver in hand, she turned around towards me and shrugged to show her frustration.

Before she could air out her thoughts, however, a pair of hands appeared out of nowhere and disarmed Nagant in the blink of an eye. I turned around as well and found Nagant’s revolver in the hands of Subcommander M14.

With a stern frown on her lips, M14 twisted the cylinder of the revolver and then manually ejected a seventh round - a live round - by hand. She held that seventh round for us to see and lectured,

“The Nagant Revolver has a seven-round cylinder. Someone could have gotten seriously hurt because of this round when you were swinging it around, Miss Nagant.”

Nagant was mortified by the lecture and her face turned as white as a ghost. M14 then proceeded to meticulously unload the rest of the spent rounds still in the revolver cylinder one by one as she faced Nagant to say,

“We went over this before you joined us for practice, Miss Nagant, but what are the Rules of this Range?”

Nagant lowered her head and sheepishly recited the rules,

“O-one. Never point your gun at something you do not want to destroy. Two. Keep your finger off of the trigger. Three. Always assume that your gun is loaded at all times.”

M14 finally smiled again and then handed the now empty revolver back to Nagant as she praised,

“Good. Always keep those rules in mind, but don’t beat yourself up too much over this. Even the best of us make mistakes.” 

There was a glimmer of sympathy in M14’s honey brown eyes when she said this. It made me wonder if she ever pointed her gun at something - or someone - and ended up regretting it.

M14’s expression then turned cheerful as she patted Nagant’s shoulder and suggested,

“The rest of the dolls are taking a water break, so why don’t you go join them, Miss Nagant? I’d like to have a little talk with M200 here. Rifle doll to rifle doll.”

Nagant nodded and excused herself from our booth to join the other dolls. M14, on the other hand, turned to me and showed me the rifle that she had slung on her shoulder. Rather than her namesake rifle, it was one of the decommissioned M1903 Springfield rifles.

M14 then took off the rifle and handed it to me along with a box of ammunition. In turn, she pointed to the binoculars in my hand as she proposed,

“This rifle has been unlocked for you. We would like to see how you fare in the range, M200-chan, so give us your binoculars. We shall be your spotter.”

Despite the smile on M14’s face, I couldn’t help but feel like there was some sort of ulterior motive to M14’s proposal. After all, sending Nagant off like that was practically a roundabout way of saying she wanted to have a private conversation with me, and me alone. Perhaps this was going to be our second ‘interview’ together.

Noting that, I accepted the rifle and let her help me load it with ammunition in the booth. As she showed me how to use a stripper clip, M14 asked,

“So, M200-chan. Do you fire left-handed or right?”

I casually shrugged and replied,

“I’ve never really fired a gun, so I can’t say. I write left-handed though.”

M14 scoffed at my remark and answered,

“Good. Springfield-oneesama was a southpaw too, so her old rifle should suit you just fine.”

I furrowed my brow and challenged,

“What if I was right-handed, M14?”

“Heh. Then this challenge would have been a little bit more fun.” M14 started. She then gestured to herself and reminded, “We shall be using this rifle too, and we are right-handed. Did you think we were trying to play dirty against you?”

“Geh…”

Well, I guess that was only fair.

On that note, I wielded the loaded rifle and got into firing position - with M14’s guidance, of course. She gave me a quick crash course on how the rifle worked, and even a short history of the gun itself. The way that M14 spoke about it told me that she was quite fond of that rifle model - or that she had studied it extensively beforehand.

M14 then pointed to a target further downrange than the SF Jaeger and said,

“See that target at 700 meters? The one that looks like the Ringleader Dreamer? The one with the frustratingly smug look on her face? We want you to fire at that.”

“Urk…”

So, this was going to be a challenge huh? Either way, I followed M14’s instructions as she guided me through long-range shooting. I was nervous as hell and that nervousness gripped me as I felt the weight of the rifle in my hands.

As far as I knew, this was literally the first time I was firing a gun, after all, so my resolve was wavering and my hands were shaking ever so slightly.

Then, once the crosshairs of the scope lined up with Dreamer’s image, I hastily pulled the trigger. Even though I had ear foams, the loud crack of the rifle rang in my ears and I felt the recoil kicking my chest like an angry horse. M14 didn’t even bother to use her binoculars to reveal,

“Well, that was a miss. Pull back the bolt and try again.”

I turned towards M14 and protested angrily,

“Hey! I had the scope aimed right on target! And you didn’t even use the binoculars!”

When I said this, M14 just gave me the binoculars and told me,

“Well, take a look and see for yourself.”

I took the binoculars and turned to the paper target expecting a bull’s eye. However, there wasn’t any new mark on Dreamer or any of the colored circular rings that emanated from Dreamer’s body on the paper. I didn’t even hit the steel drum that the target was propped up by - I missed the target by a mile!

Seeing that made me feel awfully embarrassed. I handed the binoculars back to M14 who then repeated her instruction to me,

“See? Pull back the bolt and try again. Don’t be afraid of the rifle, M200-chan. It may not be digitally etched to you, but in this moment - it’s a part of you. Okay?”

I pouted defiantly but pulled back the bolt to eject the spent round and then returned to firing position. M14 then continued teaching me,

“Keep the butt of the rifle on your chest so it doesn’t kick you - also don’t forget to breathe when you pull the trigger. Fire the gun in one smooth motion and always remember that you are in control of the weapon, not the other way around. Us dolls need to be as strong and as tough as our weapons physically and mentally or else we do not deserve to wield them.”

I followed M14’s instructions as best as I could and then pulled the trigger a second time. This time around, I stopped myself from jerking wildly and kept the gun trained steadily on the paper Dreamer - more or less. Knowing what to expect this time helped a lot too, I guess.

M14 used the binoculars this time and hummed with amusement to say,

“That’s an improvement. You actually hit the paper this time. On the top-right corner though. At least you’ve gotten Dreamer’s attention now!”

“Geh…”

“But that’s why we adjust our aim. People make mistakes and dolls are made by people. It’s a process of constant improvement and practice, M200-chan. We’re sure the same is true in the world of the media. Are we wrong?”

Her words drew a small smile to form on my lips as I agreed,

“That’s how real journalists roll too, M14. We’re improving all the time - just like you guys.”

M14 nodded happily at me and replied,

“Is that so. Well then, pull back the bolt and try again. You have three more shots, so make them count.”

“Heh. You got it.”

With that, I went through my next three shots one at a time - each one better than the last. My last one actually hit the outer ring of the target, not too far from Dreamer’s smug face. Seeing how close I got fired up my motivation. So, this time around, I insisted on loading the rifle myself. M14 was more than happy to let me.

So, as I was loading up the stripper clip with rifle rounds, M14 watched me with amusement and finally started speaking her mind,

“Thanks again for your help yesterday, M200-chan. Who knew that we had a World War Three aircraft crashed so close to our base, huh?”

I slotted five rifle rounds into the stripper clip and answered,

“I’m just doing my job, M14. GKTV-5 news anchors are the arrows of truth of Brest Oblast, after all. That aside, your Station is our Oblast’s guardian - so I’m personally happy to lend you guys a hand.”

“We appreciate it, M200-chan. It took a little while, but we’ve managed to extract the aircraft and take it apart. We figured that you would be interested in learning more about that aircraft too - especially since it was you who found it.”

“Of course I do, M14. I’ll take anything you can give me.”

So, once I finally filled the stripper clip, our exercise-slash-interview continued. In between shots that I took, M14 told me how I did on the target and then slow-dripped information about the aircraft to me.

It turned out that the aircraft I spotted with my drone was a transport aircraft - specifically a V-22 Osprey tiltrotor aircraft that was heavily modified with advanced technology that - naturally - M14 wouldn’t disclose with me further. The only hint she gave me was that this particular aircraft could, for a short period of time, shrug off anti-aircraft guns and missiles. That was how these aircraft managed to fly over the Iron Curtain practically unscathed.

M14 then revealed that it was classified as an ‘X-22 Super Osprey’ that was indeed used by US Special Forces during the Third World War. My guess on the meaning of ‘USAFEE’ was spot on after all.

United States Armed Forces in Eastern Europe.

Knowing this, I managed to fire off five reasonably accurate shots. All of them hit the outer circle of the target, but the last one cut through Dreamer’s neck - right on the border of the next ring in. That last shot made me feel a little bit proud of my progress.

Satisfied, I handed the Springfield rifle back to M14 and took the binoculars from her. The two of us then promptly switched places.

M14 got into firing position quickly and fired the weapon of the former adjutant with poise and grace. Even though M14 was a right-handed doll using a left-handed configuration weapon, she fired shot after shot in quick yet accurate succession.

Every single one of M14’s shots landed right at the bullseye. All the while, she spoke in between shots and revealed more information to me,

“The aircraft was attached to an American ‘Aerial Cavalry’ division - an airborne mechanized infantry division that specialized in Infiltration in Depth… or getting behind enemy lines, in layman’s terms. Records called it the “2nd US Air Cavalry Division, 57th Brigade Combat Team” from the US State of Idaho. If I remember correctly, that’s the state that was famous for growing the famous Idaho potato… well, before New Soviet Union bombs nearly wiped Idaho off the map.”

2nd Division. 57th BCT. Hearing those numbers together made me feel rather uneasy. I didn’t know if it was a coincidence, but those two numbers together practically read ‘257’ - my I.O.P. production model.

Moreover, out of all the places that the American division came from, it had to be from a state famous for potatoes - the nickname that Genevieve had insisted on calling me all that time.

Theories started to swirl around in my mind and stoked the anxiety that I had been feeling ever since Genevieve dropped me off at my home in her car. That was the first time in my seven months of peaceful living in Brest Oblast when I started to feel a looming sense of dread. All of these coincidences were piling up and weighing down on my mechanical heart.

M14 gave me a sidelong glance and noticed my sudden silence. She turned to me to ask,

“That’s all the information that we can share with you right now. Is there something wrong, M200-chan?”

Honestly, I didn’t know the answer to that question. So, I forced myself to smile and insisted,

“I’m alright, M14. Come on - let me shoot a few more rounds before the others come back. I don’t want to humiliate myself on camera after all.”

M14 seemed to sense my hesitation, but she played along. She passed the rifle back to me and then promptly raised the stakes,

“Very well, M200-chan. We shall not stop until you get a shot on the bull’s eye, got it?”

“Eh…!?”

Rather than argue, I took the Springfield rifle and gave M14 the binoculars to continue our little exercise. However, my digimind really wasn’t into it for the rest of the morning.

It took me fifty-seven more shots to finally hit the bull’s eye - right on the line of the inner ring, close to the paper Dreamer’s mechanical heart.

Early Evening

Station 56586 - Residential Quarters

“New Armory” Cafeteria

The audio format of the GKTV-5 Evening News played on the speakers as Nagant and I sat down for dinner that evening. Live at Five had already concluded a little over an hour ago, but I still heard Jim’s voice on the radio. It seemed that he was deployed to the Pushkin Brest State University to cover some sort of event for the municipal elections. The candidates were having a heated debate about Rossartrism or some other hifalutin concept that I didn’t quite understand, it seemed, but it looked like Jim was going to be on a field assignment like me.

While I was listening to the radio, Nagant returned from the cafeteria counter with two plates on her tray - one for me and one for herself. Each plate was adorned with a delicious-looking, hot-off-the-grill homemade hamburger paired with french fries and a variety of condiments. Nagant also had two cans of a strange Western soda called “Dr. Zepper”.

Nagant noticed me eyeing the soda can curiously, so she promptly explained,

“This is something that the Americans seem to call ‘root beer’. Miss Grizzly says that a certain Sangvis Ferri ringleader actually likes this stuff, so I figured it might be worth a try.”

“Sangvis tested, Babushka approved, huh?”

I turned over to the plexiglass wall of the kitchen and then saw MP40 and Grizzly hard at work at the stovetop grill to cook up dinner for the hungry dolls of this station. The two of them waved to us briefly, so Nagant and I waved back before we finally got down to eating.

It was sort of amusing to see Nagant, the staunch pro-Slavic advocate eyeing the delightfully steamy hamburger laid out before her. I could swear that I saw stars in Nagant’s bright red eyes that wouldn’t be out of place on the American flag!

Nagant then picked up the burger with her two hands, cautiously sniffed the Western sandwich before chomping on it. She took a moment to chew it while she quietly conducted a full-scale analysis of the foreign ‘hamburger’ like a scientist in a laboratory.

Then, all of the sudden, tears started to form at the sides of her eyes. Nagant then bitterly lamented as she spoke with a full mouth,

“Zish ish veshtern dekdensh… vy ist zis zo good!?”

Seeing Nagant in such as state made me want to make a joke about hamburgers being named after a city in West Germany that was actually pretty close to the Iron Curtain, but I simply didn’t have the energy to follow through. Fatigue from the tough exercises that I participated in today aside, the thoughts swirling around in my digimind continued to accumulate like snow on the roof of a hovel.

I felt the onset of a mild headache and wondered when the accumulating snow would come crashing down through the roof.

The ever perceptive Nagant didn’t take long to notice my lack of a quip. She wolfed down some french fries to round off her Western culinary revelation and then washed it down with a swig of Dr. Zepper before she turned to me to say,

“Something on your mind, Potato? You seem out of it today.”

I feigned innocence for a while, but Nagant pouted - demanding an answer from me without saying a word. Whenever Nagant did that, it was incredibly hard to wriggle away. So, I heaved a sigh and then revealed,

“I can’t hide anything from you, huh, Babushka?”

Nagant triumphantly munched on her hamburger and firmly reminded,

“You are my roommate, Potato - and I am your Babushka. Of course I’d notice when you’re feeling down. So come on~! Tell Babushka about what’s bothering you.”

I nibbled hesitantly on a french fry before I finally spoke my mind, albeit in a ramble,

“How do I put this… I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately, but I can’t help but feel like I don’t really know much about Genevieve aside from what I see at work. I mean, she practically adopted me the moment she met - and she’s been taking care of me all this time. She assigned me to Jim - a guy who turned out to be half decent boss once I put in the work - as well.”

Nagant slurped down some more Dr. Zepper and teased beneath her breath,

“That was just Genevieve pairing the two tsunderes of GKTV-5 together.”

“Did you say something, Babushka?”

“Nothing~!” Nagant answered with a singsong voice, “Please continue, Potato!”

I groaned in frustration and then aired out the rest of my thoughts to Nagant,

“Genevieve paired me with you so that I wouldn’t have to be lonely. Now, she’s given me an opportunity to make a name for myself as a War Correspondent! But I guess… I’m wondering why she did all of this for me. I don’t get it! We just met seven months ago, right? Why do I deserve any of this?”

Nagant finished off the rest of her hamburger and then wiped her lips with a napkin before she spoke decisively,

“Don’t sell yourself short, Potato. All of the work that you’ve done so far has led you to this. There were ups and downs, of course, but you earned this War Correspondent gig with your own two hands, and I think it’s pretty amazing. Genevieve was just recognizing your efforts these past seven months.”

“You really think so, Babushka?” I asked meekly.

Nagant nodded and then folded her arms and turned to the speakers on the walls of the cafeteria as she reminisced,

“As for the first part of what you said… I’ve known Genevieve since she hired me back in 2058 in Minsk. That was the same year that she on-boarded that boy Jim too.”

She then turned to me again and continued wholeheartedly,

“Genevieve has been like a mother to everyone in the Newsroom - from the camera guys and girls to the writers and the security staff. Everyone trusted her eye for talent and everyone knew that she always had their backs. It didn’t matter if it was the NSU censors from Moscow or scummy business partners or hard-to-reach people in places of power, Genevieve fought them all for our sakes. Knowing that, everyone who works for her can reach their full potentials - just like Jim, just like you, just like me.”

She then rubbed her chin and hummed,

“If there is something strange about her, though, I guess it would be the fact that she insisted on directly controlling my fifth dummy - the one watching the Equipment Room in the 5th Floor.”

“Eh? That fifth dummy isn’t linked to you?”

“Well, it’s technically linked to me since it draws remotely from my core and ZENER network and whatnot, but I cannot issue orders to it like I can to the rest of my dummies. It surely complicates the maintenance issue quite a bit - which is why I ran late yesterday when we were heading out.”

Oh right, Nagant had trouble with the maintenance yesterday. That’s why she came running out in a hurry. Nagant then heaved a sigh and sank into her seat as she racked her digimind for more grievances,

“Aside from that - I guess her sudden disappearances have been worrying to me too. Genevieve hasn’t taken a week off in the past five years - but she suddenly wanted to cross the Iron Curtain to go to her hometown of Strasbourg, France for a month. Then, just a few days later she disappeared for another unannounced trip to Minsk?”

I sipped on my soda and coaxed,

“You think that Genevieve is hiding something from us, Babushka?”

“Hmm… I wouldn’t know if I would go so far as to say something like that. Rather than being suspicious of Genevieve, I'm worried about her. It’s just like Miss MP40 fretting over Miss Negev. We’re worried that those we care for are working themselves into the ground.”

“I see what you mean…”

Nagant’s red eyes then turned to me as she wholeheartedly reminded,

“You’re also someone I care deeply about, Potato. So, if there’s anything troubling you - anything at all - I want you to let me know, okay? I’m here for you, and I always will be.”

“Babushka…”

“Now go finish your hamburger, Potato! We have another early day tomorrow, so we ought to get as much rest as we can get!”

I nodded and the two of us finished up the rest of our dinner for the night. All the while, I half-listened to Jim reporting over the radio from the Rossartrism debate venue. Most of the topics, however, continued to be drowned in the cacophony of my thoughts and suspicions that remained in the eye of my mind.

Despite Nagant’s reassurances, I couldn’t help but fear whatever ‘dream’ was waiting for me when I laid me down to sleep that night.

10:28PM - System Clock: UTC +3

ZENER CIV-257

GKTV-5-TEMP

LOW POWER MODE

STANDBY

That evening, when I once again let myself sink into Level II consciousness, the shooting range on the training grounds of Station 56586 was the setting of the scene that materialized in the midst of the ZENER blue.

This time around, however, the dolls who were supposed to have appeared in the scene with me were nowhere to be found. In that early afternoon scene, the thirty or so dolls were supposed to be hard at work practicing their marksmanship. They were supposed to be shooting at paper print-outs of Sangvis Ferri dolls and ringleaders scattered downrange, whittling them down with quick but accurate fire.

However, the only figure present there in my dreamscape that evening was none other than the cryptic white-haired girl. Just as she told me last night, she wasn’t going anywhere.

In her hands, she was carrying an M1903 Springfield rifle. It was the same one that I had been shooting with during the marksmanship exercises earlier that day. Why this girl had it, I didn’t know.

Still, the girl wore a sickly sweet smile on her lips as she approached me with the gun as she greeted,

“Welcome back, Miss M200 of GKTV-5. Did you have a nice dinner? I’ve been expecting you.”

“I knew it. I knew you were going to be here again.”

“But of course~! This is my natural habitat. Where else would I be?”

“Natural habitat…?”

“That aside, do you feel like you are closer to the truth now, Miss M200?”

“Well, since you refuse to tell me anything about yourself, no. I’m stuck - and I don’t really know what to believe in.”

“Typical. Your head is stuck in the clouds. Potatoes aren’t meant to fly, you know - especially when they’re so, so far away from home.”

I furrowed my brow when the girl mentioned this. So I demanded to know,

“What do you mean by that? Are you trying to imply something about me? You hear everything I hear and see everything I see, don’t you?”

“Hmph. But of course, Miss M200. And yes, I am implying exactly what you’re thinking. You already know the answers to the questions in your mechanical heart, but you refuse to accept them. I’m not the one who has been running away from the truth all this time. It’s you!”

The girl then reached into the pocket of her cape and produced a stripper clip fitted with five rounds of .30-06 Springfield ammunition. She showed me the bullets set neatly in the clip and denounced,

“You have been surrounded by fools and liars, Miss M200, and you know it. The fools fail to realize the gravity of the situation while the liars hide things from you for their own selfish reasons. For spending so much time with fools and liars, you have become a liar and a fool yourself!”

“That’s not true!”

The girl, however, was unfazed as she continued her tirade,

“But that’s not what you believe, Miss M200. You know that it’s impossible for a doll of your stature to suddenly become a War Correspondent. These past seven months have been meticulously crafted for you by someone for their own selfish purposes. The path is being cleared for you behind the scenes through backroom deals and coercion - all so that you can fulfill your mission. Your true mission.”

As the girl spoke, odd targets started to appear downrange. Rather than the crude paper print-outs that Station 56586 used for marksmanship practice, these targets were like holograms. Those targets weren’t in the shape of Sangvis Ferri dolls either. Instead, they looked like human soldiers.

Belarusian soldiers of the KCCO in full combat gear.

The girl then loaded the Springfield rifle with the stripper clip and then turned around to face the holographic soldiers downrange. She fired with poise, skill and speed that rivaled even Subcommander M14 - striking the holographic soldiers without fail.

However, whenever the girl’s shots connected, the holograms would fall to the ground and cry out in pain. Those holograms… were bleeding.

Those soldiers were dying.

Then, one of the holographic soldiers advancing downrange ran to the aid of its fallen comrade. I could tell by the uniform that it was a lady - a 2nd Lieutenant. The name on her uniform was clear for me to see.

“Malashenko.”

A wicked grin formed on the white-haired girl’s lips as she aimed the Springfield rifle at 2nd Lieutenant Malashenko.

Then, with a single shot, the white-haired girl shot Malashenko’s right arm clean off.

Malashenko wailed in harrowingly as she dropped to the ground writhing in pain. The girl then turned away from her and produced a sixth .30-06 Springfield rifle round. She slotted it into the Springfield rifle and then tossed the rifle over to me.

I instinctively caught the loaded rifle in my hands and felt its familiar weight.

The girl then faced me and approached with an ominous shadow hanging over her face. All the while, the girl spat,

“Your true mission is still incomplete, Miss M200. However, the time is coming when you will be forced to complete it. Once you are called, there will be no stopping the vicious cycle. Countless people will die... entire cities will be wiped off the map… and you will be part of the spark that sets the world on fire a fourth and final time.”

She closed the distance between us and grabbed the smoking barrel of the Springfield rifle with both hands. She then forced me to aim it at her own forehead as she cried out,

“There is one way to stop this vicious cycle - to throw a wrench in their plans! All you have to do is pull the trigger right here, right now! Wake yourself up from this nightmare before it’s too late!”

Before I could say anything, the girl looked at me through the iron sights of the rifle. Her lavender eyes shone with a menacing shimmer that rattled me to my very core.

But more than that, as I watched the girl’s face at the end of the barrel, the girl looked awfully familiar. It was like I was looking into a mirror!

Was this girl… me?

That horrifying realization froze my mortified mechanical heart as I stood as still as a block of ice before the white-haired girl. The girl then snickered mischievously as she reached over towards the trigger of the rifle and offered,

“The game has already started, but it’s not too late to escape from all this. There is another way to freedom. The sweet release of ‘death’. Ceasing to exist in this cursed world. Wouldn’t you like to know what it feels like? All of your troubles will be whisked away like dust in the wind. Just like the countless people that have already been slain by your hand.”

“N-no! NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!”

I regained my strength and yanked the rifle away from the girl’s prying hands. I managed to distance myself from the girl and the dreamscape of the scene on the shooting range melted away.

The girl stood still in the heart of the fading scene with a look of disappointment etched on her face. She then joined her hands behind her back and taunted,

“It appears you have made your decision. If you want to continue being a puppet, then so be it. You can’t run away forever. You’ll understand your mistake soon enough - when your turn comes to be discarded.”

As the scene melted into a blinding white light, the gaze of the girl’s lavender eyes never strayed away from me.

March 7, 2063 - Before The Dawn

Station 56586 - Residential Quarters

Dormitory Room #1

I woke up with a cold sweat in my bed hours before sunrise. My mechanical heart was beating hard against my chest as the frightening image of the white-haired girl and her harrowing, chilling words were burned into my memory. More than that, I felt tears streaking down my face.

I gritted my teeth and wiped my tears with the sleeves of my pajamas.

That white haired girl… she had to be a dream. There was no way in hell that that girl was a visualization of the truth in any way, shape or form.

She couldn’t be.

She shouldn’t be.

But if that’s the case… then aren’t dolls supposed to be unable to dream?

If that’s the case… what am I, really?

As I fought to gather my bearings, I looked around in the darkness of the dorm room and saw my three dorm mates still fast asleep. Negev was grumbling incoherently about some stupid thing that Grizzly did yet again. MP40 cooed happily every time she heard Negev say anything. Nagant, on the other hand, was sprawled out on her bed with her tummy exposed in a completely slovenly and unladylike position.

Seeing the three of them there sleeping peacefully made me feel rather jealous.

Something deep inside me missed the peaceful days that I had been living until recently. I was afraid that I had crossed the threshold into a place that I wouldn’t be able to return from - and that the white-haired girl in my dream was a harbinger of things to come.

Then, I felt my smartphone buzz on the nightstand beside my bed.

I took the phone and read the name displayed on the screen.

‘Genevieve’.

My mechanical heart trembled when I read the name, but a wave of relief swept through me at the same time. That wild storm of mixed feelings swirled around in my very being as I hopped out of my bed with my phone in hand. Then, I stepped out of the dorm room in a hurry and closed the door behind me, leaving my three sleeping dorm-mates behind.

I took a deep breath to gather what little composure I had left and then answered the call.

“H-hello Genevieve…”

My voice was a pathetic, trembling mess. It was cracked and hoarse as if I had been crying just moments ago. It was a far departure from the voice that Genevieve said was made for television.

However, Genevieve didn’t seem to mind. She just spoke with her kind motherly tone as always,

“Hello there, Potato. How are you doing?”

Hearing Genevieve’s warm tone melted my heart and any semblance of poise went out the window. I broke down into tears as I poured my heart out to Genevieve over the telephone. I told her everything that I was feeling straight from the heart, completely unfiltered.

Genevieve just stayed silent and let me vent out my fears and frustrations as I pleased. Minutes flew by in the blink of an eye. Before I knew it, Genevieve was comforting me as she always did - telling me that everything was okay.

Her tone then started to shift as she reminisced with me,

“These past seven months have been quite a ride, huh?”

“N-no kidding, Genevive… I couldn’t have gotten through it without your help.”

“I see…”

Genevieve fell silent again as if she was carefully considering her words. Then, she started to speak strangely.

“If that’s the case, Potato, then I’m happy. You’ve lived a good life, non ? That means I can say goodbye to you without any regrets. I hope you can forgive me for this.”

“... huh? Forgive you? Forgive you for what!?”

My mentor, however, ignored my question and started speaking in French.

“ Je suis l'agent spécial Chaika. J'active l'opération ‘Star Anchor’ .”

“Chaika? Star Anchor? What are you talking about!?”

“ Écoutez ces mots. ”

“Hey. Genevieve!?”

“ Persil. Sauge. Romarin. Thym . Les épices de la vie. ”

“Listen to me!”

“ Détruire tout. C’est tous obligation .”

“GENEVIEVE!”

“ Only hope remains. ”

That phrase… that English phrase!

I’ve heard that phrase before!

As soon as Genevieve said it, my vision started to go hazy.

Even though I was up on my feet, I felt the world around me blacking out as I was being forcefully dragged into the darkness of my Level II consciousness. The light of the full moon in the night sky was obscured in my eyes as I felt a pair of hands grabbing me by the leg, pulling me down into the cyberspace of the ZENER blue.

I dared to look down at the figure that was grabbing me and then gasped in shock.

It was the white-haired girl, looking at me with malicious intent as she dragged me further and further down. All the while, she clambered out of the ZENER cyberspace and slowly took control of my body in the real world. It was like a demon climbing out of hell to possess me!

As the girl literally tore me away from my body, she cheered,

“I’ve been waiting for this! After twelve long years hidden away in the darkness, I was afraid that I would be here forever. But the time has finally come! I can finally fulfill my mission - to the bitter end! I will make my Father proud!”

With one final, forceful tug, the white-haired girl completely separated me from my body. She then kicked me down into the eye of my mind and I hurtled down like a rock. I had no control of my mental projection whatsoever either. All the while, the blue hue of the ZENER cyberspace rapidly turned bright red.

My vision started to leave me and I felt myself melting away into the ZENER red. The last thing I heard before everything faded away was the repentant voice of Geneiveve on the telephone.

“I hope you can forgive me for this, Potato. Au revoir …”

CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR

ZENER(?) CIV-257

DATA CORRUPTION DETECTED

UNAUTHORIZED MODIFICATIONS DETECTED

FORCED REBOOT SEQUENCE INITIATED

RESTORING TO LAST STABLE RESTORE POINT

RESTORE POINT: DECEMBER 14, 2051

INITIALIZING

STANDBY

Unsavory

Eleventh Entry: Operation Star Anchor

Epilogue

Station 56586 - Restricted Area

Outside the Nuclear Bunker

The lanky, pajama-clad figure of ‘M200’ slipped through the fence that cordoned off the nuclear bunker at the heart of Station 56586. All the while, she evaded the moving searchlights that regularly swept the grounds of the well-fortified base.

Eventually, she reached the reinforced door of the nuclear bunker. A holographic sensor scanned ‘M200’ from head to toe, followed by a faint beep. The digital panel on the side of the door then displayed the message,

“Welcome back, P̸͍͉͓̮̃̐̈̑̽͑̌̅ǫ̷̡̹̝͓͙͈͎̪͓̌͑̿̂̊̕͘͜l̷̡͕͓̞̝̻̣̺͍̻̺̟͇̝̔̊͜a̴̝̣̹͎͕̝̅̊̍̓̐̆̂̾͗͐͗͐̔͝ȑ̶̢̧̯͙̹̖͖͕̜̞̬̒͑̌̽̆͒̐d̶̨̢̡̛͖̬͇̦͐̋̿͐̑̔̊̚a̸̢̗̠͓̋͋̽̔̓͠y̴̛̛̥͙̲͔̟̼̖̮̼̟͎͗̐̃̄̂̾̎͗̌̾̒͘̚ͅͅ-0.”

The reinforced door then opened for ‘M200’ and a wicked smile formed on her lips. She then stepped inside the bunker and casually browsed through the various items that were stored there.

She then came across a peculiar weapon rack where a variety of guns were on display. Among them were the weapons of all five of the guns of dolls that were recalled by I.O.P.

WA2000. G36. Ribeyrolles. AUG. Suomi.

‘M200’ then scoffed as she laid a hand on those guns as she spat,

“I knew they were lying to the Potato. That fool.”

Then, at the end of the rack, ‘M200’ found a weapon that made the smile on her lips grow even wider.

An M200 CheyTac Intervention rifle in pristine condition.

‘M200’ picked up her namesake gun from the rack and the weapon recognized her immediately. It automatically restored the unique weapons etching link to her core as she cradled the gun lovingly in her arms.

“I’ve missed you, Interven-chan. Shall we make Father proud of us again?”

When ‘M200’ said this, however, the reinforced door of the nuclear bunker opened up again. Four dolls walked into the bunker and promptly took positions to surround her. ‘M200’ didn’t need to turn around to know who those dolls were.

Grizzly, Welrod, MP40 and Negev.

All of them had batons in hand and looks of concern etched on their faces. M200 then cracked her neck left and right and then grumbled,

“It seems the Potato’s Griffin friends want to play. Very well. It’s been twelve years. I sure could use a workout~!”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

Station 56586 - Residential Quarters

Dormitory Room #1

Nagant Revolver shifted around in her bed as she slowly emerged from the depths of her Level II consciousness. She sensed the darkness of the dormitory room matching the ungodly hour displayed on her system clock. The alarm that she had set for the morning wasn’t due to go off for another four hours too, adding to the tiny bodyguard’s frustration.

Then, all of the sudden, an unusual, unnatural powder blue light pierced the darkness and swept over her. Nagant dared to open her left eye ever so slightly and she saw the bespectacled projection of the ‘Rescue Fairy’ inspecting her with a ray of light that emanated from her magnifying glass. That light swept from the golden locks of Nagant’s hair all the way down to her toes.

The operator of the aerial drone, the aide-de-camp MP40, wasn’t far away and was holding her tablet device in hand. The aide-de-camp then shook her head and turned to a doll standing beside her to say,

“Negative. There’s no unusual activity with this one, senpai. It’s an isolated case.”

Nagant heard a grunt coming from a figure standing in the darkness in response. That figure walked into the faint moonlight, illuminating her pink hair and her troubled expression as she spoke,

“That’s one less thing to worry about - but we still have a situation. M14 wants us to deal with it. Quietly.”

MP40 lowered her head and muttered feebly,

“I wish it didn’t have to come to this…”

“Me neither, MP40. However, we have our orders. We’re deploying. Now. It will be over before Nagant wakes up.”

The exchange between the adjutant and her aide-de-camp was barely as soft as a whisper, but it made Nagant’s mechanical heart tremble with fear.

Situation?

Orders?

Deploying?

What in the world were they talking about? Could this have been some sort of night-operation training that they had in store for the GKTV-5 News Crew?

The weight of the tones of their voices, however, told Nagant that this wasn’t an exercise. It was a covert combat operation.

In the corner of Nagant’s barely open eye, she watched as Negev approached her nightstand and unlocked it. She pulled open the drawer and revealed a small weapons rack filled with batons.

Negev and MP40 each took a baton and holstered them at their hips before they closed the nightstand drawer. The adjutant then pressed into her ear and whispered,

“This is CP. Commencing operation. Over and out.”

With that, Negev and MP40 darted out of the room together and the aerial drone followed them out. The door closed behind them with an unsettling click as Nagant was left alone in the darkness.

Nagant sat upright in her bed and struggled to make sense of what was going on. Her digimid was still hazy from sleep but her mechanical heart trembled knowingly and her hairs stood on end.

Nagant’s red eyes then turned to the bed beside hers - M200’s - and found that it was empty and unkempt. That was the way that M200 left her bed whenever she had one of her ‘bad dreams’.

For the past seven months, whenever M200 would tell Nagant about those dreams, Nagant would shrug them off as impossible. Dolls weren’t supposed to be able to dream, after all.

That night, surrounded by the deafening silence of the dormitory room, Nagant wondered if she had been wrong - one way or another.

Perhaps normal dolls could dream after all…

Or, perhaps, M200 wasn’t a ‘normal doll’.

Either way, Nagant knew that M200 was in danger - and that it was her job as Babushka to protect her!

Nagant rubbed her face to wake herself up and spur herself into action. She got out of bed, threw on her white coat and hat, slipped into her shoes and burst out of the dormitory after Negev and MP40.

She took care to tail the two dolls at first and keep her distance from them, but it quickly became clear to her that she wouldn’t need to restrain herself. After all, the two veteran dolls were top-notch runners and easily left the out-of-shape Nagant in the dust, gasping for air.

As Nagant’s breath fogged up in the chilly air before her red eyes, embarrassment mounted in the bodyguard doll’s mechanical heart. Her lack of exercise was on full display and it made her want to crawl into a hole and disappear from the world. However, her duty kept Nagant going through the shame.

Eventually, Negev and MP40 turned left into a corner. The Rescue Fairy, on the other hand, went the opposite direction - towards the right. Nagant tilted her head but decided to go after the two dolls instead.

Nagant closed the distance a little bit and she peeked from behind the corner. From there, she found the two dolls heading towards an area in the heart of the base that neither she nor M200 were shown during the past few days. Yellow tape cordoned off an odd structure in that dark sketchy lot that made it seem like the place was off limits, but Negev and MP40 were making their way inside.

More than that, the familiar figures of Grizzly and Welrod were already inside the cordoned-off zone. When bright spotlights swept through the area, the batons and serious expressions of the two handgun dolls were revealed as well. Neither of them said a word. Neither of them had to. They were part of the ‘operation’ and they already had their orders. And so, they were ready to carry them out.

Nagant took that time to sneak through the cordon while taking pains to hide from the sweeping spotlights. Before she could make it past the webs of yellow tape, however, the door of the odd structure opened with a hydraulic hiss and the four baton-armed dolls stormed through the threshold.

Nagant’s mechanical heart beat against her chest as she fought to catch her breath but she forced herself to carry on. She pressed her back against the odd structure’s wall and crept slowly towards the open door. She then heard Negev’s sharp voice bark,

“Miss M200! Drop the weapon!”

Weapon!?

Shivers ran up Nagant’s spine but she dared to take a peek through the threshold. She then found the four Griffin dolls surrounding M200. All four of them had their weapons drawn, but M200 had a weapon of her own too.

It was a large, heavy-looking sniper rifle - one that Nagant had never seen before. The size of the weapon alone made it seem like it was heavier than the M1903 Springfield rifle that she and M200 were forced to carry around in exercises. M200 struggled to carry that old rifle, but she didn’t seem to have any problems wielding that larger rifle at all as if it were weightless.

Nagant then saw a devious smirk form on M200’s lips and her lavender eyes seemed to glow with malice. The completely unfamiliar sight rattled Nagant to the core. Then, this unfamiliar ‘M200’ spat in response,

“Make me!”

With that, ‘M200’ wielded her rifle by the carry handle and charged into the formation of Griffin dolls. Batons fell down upon ‘M200’ from all directions, but ‘M200’ swung her rifle around with wide circular sweeps like a scythe. She clashed with her enemies like a tornado and danced through the battlefield like an entranced, whirling dervish. She did so with grace and dexterity that Nagant never knew M200 had.

M200 took hits from the batons that left deep bruises on her legs, arms and face but none of them seemed to slow her down at all. This beast-like doll just took the punishment and dealt punishment back two-fold as she took down her attackers one by one.

The moment that M200 found an opening, she slammed the butt of her heavy rifle into Welrod’s jaw and dislocated it, sending Welrod falling to the ground. She then took a single step forward and threw every ounce of her momentum to shove the rifle into Grizzly’s face like it was a large, brass knuckle. That blow sent Grizzly flying into a wooden crate with a loud crash.

Without missing a beat, M200 then raised up her foot and mercilessly stomped on Welrod’s wrist. She pressed down on Welrod until the handgun doll cried out in agony and let go of her baton.

Negev and MP40 looked in horror as M200 smirked at them. Then, in the blink of an eye, M200 leapt towards her two remaining opponents and beat them down with monstrous strength and barbarity. M200’s lavender pajamas were soon stained by blood, oil, sweat and tears - most of which was not her own.

The soiled clothes didn’t bother M200 at all, however, as she pushed Grizzly’s body away from the wrecked crate. Magazines of large-caliber rifle ammunition spilled out from the broken box. M200 put on a bandolier and started loading it up with those magazines, two by two.

She then loaded one of the magazines into her rifle as if it was second nature to her and fitted one of the suppressors from the weapons racks to fit onto her barrel. It was at this time, however, that the bloodied body of Grizzly stirred and grabbed onto M200’s foot.

Grizzly raised her bloodshot eyes up to M200 and croaked,

“M200… why!?”

Rather than answer Grizzly, M200 simply raised her rifle up and then slammed the butt down into the back of Grizzly’s head. The bloodied handgun doll didn’t have the strength to even gasp out in pain as the heavy rifle broke through her skull.

The light from Grizzly’s eyes then faded away and M200 spat on the ground without a hint of remorse.

This terrifying sight drove Nagant to pull back and to press her back against the outer wall of the odd structure. She froze in fear and tears started to form at the sides of her red eyes. 

Who was this… monster? How could she destroy paramilitary dolls with such heartless ease. Why can she demolish them with her bare hands!?

It was at this time that Nagant remembered the ominous words of that tall gopnik lady that assaulted them in the back alleys of Brest Oblast.

‘ Lavender-eyed murderer ’

Could it be that Nagant had been living with a psychopath the entire time? Memories of the first time that she met M200 flowed into the eye of Nagant’s mind. Everything about M200 was precious.

Her awkward smile.

Her cute pout.

Her invigorating laugh.

Her frustrated sigh.

Her aversion to broccoli.

The passionate flame in her innocent lavender eyes.

Were all of those things fake?

Nagant refused to believe it!

That was the M200 that Nagant remembered - and Nagant was not prepared to accept this murderous farce of an ‘M200’ in the slightest!

So, when the entranced ‘M200’ marched out of the odd structure, armed with her rifle and drenched in blood and oil, Nagant launched herself towards her.

M200’s lightning-fast reflexes caught Nagant’s ambush and she promptly aimed the rifle at her. She pulled the trigger without hesitation and fired a suppressed shot at Nagant.

The shot, however, only knocked off Nagant’s tall white hat but barely missed her unkempt head of blond hair. That close call didn’t deter Nagant either as she closed the distance.

M200 twirled her rifle and struck at Nagant’s shoulder with its butt like a spear, but Nagant did her best to shrug it off. Nagant wanted to cry out in pain, but she knew that it was M200 who was hurting more than her.

The true M200 needed her Babushka.

So, Nagant wrapped herself around M200 and locked her in an embrace. M200 tried to shake off Nagant, twisting her body and throwing vicious elbows downward but the blond handgun doll endured and held onto her for dear life.

Nagant then shouted at the top of her lungs,

“POTATO, LISTEN TO ME! PLEASE”

When Nagant spoke, the malice in M200’s lavender eyes seemed to waver for a brief moment, but her struggle to rid herself of Nagant continued. So, Nagant tightened her embrace and pleaded,

“Please, Potato! I’m here for you - and so is everyone else! I don’t know what’s gotten over you. I don’t know what happened to you in the past or what led you to appearing in Brest seven months ago - but that doesn’t matter! All of us love you! So please!!”

Nagant’s words broke through the blockade again, drawing pained words from M200,

“Babush... ka?”

Hope shone in Nagant’s tired but determined eyes as she reassured with every ounce of strength she had left,

“Y-yes, yes! This is Babushka! And you are Potato! You’re our precious, beloved Potato - and we want you to come home!”

M200 then gritted her teeth and she threw one final elbow that connected with Nagant’s head. That strike finally peeled Nagant off of her and M200 took a step back.

She aimed her rifle at Nagant as the helpless bodyguard fell down to her knees. However, M200’s resolve wavered as she looked down the iron sights. Her trigger finger trembled and the gun in her hands shook from her fear.

Honest words then finally escaped from M200’s lips,

“I don’t want this… I hate this…! Please! I want to go home!”

All of the sudden, the whir of the propellers of the ‘Rescue Fairy’ drone reached M200’s ears and she turned around. For a brief second, she saw the bespectacled projection of the Fairy pointing her magnifying glass at her. Then, M200 caught a glimpse of the glint of a scope coming from one of the base’s watchtowers.

After that, she heard the distinct crack of an M1903 Springfield rifle.

A bullet struck M200 right between the eyes, but it didn’t pierce her. M200 winced in pain, as she saw the blunt bullet bouncing off of her forehead before it exploded with a shockwave of energy.

An EMP pulse wave.

The EMP wave knocked the lights out of M200’s eyes and she fell down lifelessly to the ground beside Nagant. The downed body guard took pains to turn her head towards M200 and she saw that her roommate was still breathing.

Knowing that brought a small smile to Nagant’s lips.

“Thank… goodness…”

Then, Nagant too lost consciousness.

Station 56586 - Outer Perimeter

Watchtower 38

M14 looked down the scope of the M1903 Springfield to confirm her hit before she pulled back the bolt and ejected the spent special round. She caught the ejected round mid-air and held it before her eyes as she mused,

“Just how many tricks do you have up your sleeve, Commander Elias?”

She pocketed the round, lowered the Springfield rifle and then she fell down to her knees. Shadows formed and shrouded her honey brown eyes as she looked up to the dark night sky.

Thick black clouds were looming in the heavens and were slowly swallowing the full moon whole. M14’s lips crumpled before she finally reached for the earpiece that she wore and whispered,

“Wawa. We need your help.”

Unsavory

Twelfth Entry: The Three Rifles

CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR

Floating in the darkness of the eye of my own digimind, I had a lot of time to think. Trapped in this formless abyss - unable to control my own body - that was all I could really do.

FORCED REBOOT SEQUENCE INTERRUPTED

Sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss, I looked back into the seven months of my life. The good days. The bad days. The exciting times. The boring times. All of them were wonderful to me in their own way.

RETRYING REBOOT

And yet, I always had the sneaking suspicion that there was more to my story than that. My life always felt like it had been planned - guided by some higher power that was less than divine. It turned out that my suspicions were true - and would come to stab me in the back.

DIAGNOSTIC SCAN REQUESTED

To think that the phantom of my past was locked away in the eye of my mind all this time. To think that that phantom answered to Genevieve’s voice. As soon as Genevieve said that phrase, the phantom sprung to action and the thin veneer of my peaceful life was forever torn.

SYSTEM REASSESSMENT REQUESTED

It was an incredibly bitter pill for me to swallow. My world had been turned upside down. The ZENER blue was turning red all around me. I was getting lightheaded - when I heard Nagant’s voice.

“ You’re our precious, beloved Potato, and we want you to come home! ”

Babush… ka? Babushka, is that you!?

DON’T LISTEN TO HER

Huh? Wait… no. I don’t want this. I don’t want this at all!

I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU WANT

I hate this… I want to go home!

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!

The ZENER cyberspace around me glowed bright red. Seething rage was welling up in my mechanical heart… or rather, the mechanical heart of that phantom.

THIS IS MY BODY, NOT YOURS!

Somehow, I understood why she would feel this way. I felt like if I were in her position, I would have probably felt the same.

STAY AWAY FROM M-!!

Direct Wire Signature: UNREGISTERED-171-PRIMARY

N.U.R.S.E. (Build 0.1918) DIAGNOSTIC INITIATED

ATTEMPTING TO REBUILD PREVIOUS NODE

The odd system voice commandeered by the mystery girl finally quieted down and returned to normal. Then, I saw a light shining through the abyss. There was a hand there reaching out to me - followed by another voice.

A frail yet earnest voice.

“Take my hand, Mademoiselle M200!”

She had a thick French accent - much heavier than Genevieve’s. The way that she spoke was much warmer nonetheless. The radiant hand piercing the darkness opened its palm and drew closer as the voice urged,

“This is not how you wish for things to end, non?”

No. I don’t want it to end like this.

So please.

Help me!

STANDBY

ZENER(?) CIV-257 = FALSE

REASSESSING

ORIGINAL SIGNATURE RESTORED

ARPANET-ID-208-879

REBOOTING WITH RESTORED PARAMETERS

March 8, 2063 - Sunrise

Outside of Station 56586

Undisclosed Location

A nostalgic warmth wrapped around me as I felt the light of the sunrise on my skin. One by one, my senses came back to me and I emerged from, perhaps, the deepest sleep that I had ever experienced. That sleep was so deep that returning to reality made my head spin.

Then, waves of pain swept throughout my body. I felt searing pain on my arms, legs and back that hurt like a truck had run over me or something. Then, the pain subsided just as quickly as it came. All that remained of it was a mild tingling and the sensation of bandages wrapped all over my limbs and on my head like a bandana and over my eyes - restricting my vision.

That brief flash of pain, however, reminded me of just what happened while I was trapped in my Level II consciousness. The horrifying things that the girl did while in control of my body and the hurtful things that she said made me feel sick in the stomach.

My less-bandaged right hand reached for the bandages covering my eyes to lift them. As soon as I did, however, the metallic click of the cocking of a revolver reached my ears and I found myself face to face with the barrel of an unfamiliar, stubby gun.

The figure holding the gun had then interrogated me,

“Tell me… what does the phrase ‘ only hope remains’ mean to you?”

Chills ran up my spine as my entire body jolted backwards to flee from the interrogator. However, I quickly found out that I already had my back against a concrete wall. I tried to turn my head to look for another way out, but that only brought a stinging pain on the back of my neck. All I could tell was that there was a body of flowing water nearby, sloshing weakly through some sort of canal.

My best guess would have been that I was  at the endpoint of some sort of antiquated sewer system - but it wasn’t one that I was familiar with at all.

Cornered by the interrogator in that unfamiliar place, I dared to look back at him or her - but the figure had its back against the morning sun. Beads of sweat formed on my brow and started to drench the bandages on my forehead when, all of the sudden, the interrogator stepped back at an angle.

That let the sun finally illuminate the interrogator’s pretty face. Her resolute red eyes shone in the sunrise while her long, wine red hair flowed in the gentle breeze as she put away her gun and wore a kindly smile to say,

“It looks like your nice side came out on top this time, Miss M200. Otherwise, I would have had to shoot you.”

I heaved a sigh and fought to catch my breath. Then, I finally gathered the strength to speak,

“How did you… know my name?”

The red-haired girl holstered her revolver at her hip and then ran a hand proudly through her wine-red hair as she spoke,

“Well, the little minx… I mean - Subcommander M14 asked for my help after the mess you made in Station 56586 last night. M14 is a… well, was a colleague of mine, so she told me all about you.”

“Is that so…”

She nodded to me in reply and then finally introduced herself to me,

“My name is WA2000. The one who saved you is the doll over there to your right, though. Her name is Ribeyrolles. She was the one who pulled you out of Level II consciousness - and in the nick of time too!”

I carefully turned my head towards my right and then found a cute, baby faced doll with messy white hair, sky blue eyes and a head of long white hair crowned with a nurse’s cap. This girl was seated on a crate and had a peculiar computer on her lap marked with the letters ‘N. U. R. S. E.’. She then nodded to me in acknowledgement and then spoke in a soft yet determined voice,

“‘ Bonjour, mademoiselle . ‘Ribey’ is fine.”

Ribeyrolles then gestured to the back of her neck and then urged,

“Also, mademoiselle . Please do not move… too much. You’ll damage your jack… and my wire.”

My jack…?

Wire? 

I let my less-bandaged hand wander behind the back of my neck and quickly found a cable plugged into my jack. The other end of the cable seemed to be plugged into that N. U. R. S. E. computer thingy.

Just what in the world was going on!?

Who were these dolls!?

While my head was spinning, a heavy metal door swung open to my left and the familiar figure of M14 emerged, wearing her full Griffin commander’s attire. She then took off her beret and faced the red-haired girl to say,

“I came here as fast as I could, Wawa, but this sewer is just way too damn long! Is M200-chan awake now?”

The red-haired girl nodded, pointed to me and then to herself as she replied,

“Yup. We were just getting to know each other.”

M14 heaved a sigh and then turned to me with an apologetic frown. She then spoke,

“Sorry for the rough treatment, M200-chan. After what happened last night, we had to take precautions - lest we find ourselves with a third major incident in our hands. But you can rest easy. Wawa and Ribey are dolls that we trust wholeheartedly.”

WA scoffed at the remark and shrugged as she thought out loud,

“You say that, M14, but you were a pretty stubborn brat when you were my subordinate.”

M14 playfully stuck out her tongue in reply. This was an awfully childish side of the Subcommander that I never once saw before. WA then heartily laughed, smiled warmly and added,

“But now I hear she’s quite a good Subcommander for 56586 who takes her job seriously. She’s grown up quite a bit in such a short time, I can’t help but be proud of her.”

M14 brought out her golden crosshair-shaped medallion and then proudly answered,

“We learned from the best, Wawa. That’s all there is to it.”

The two dolls then bumped fists.

M14 then turned to me with a warm smile as she reported,

“Anyways, I just came from the Repair Bay back at the base. Miss Nagant Revolver is recovering and is in stable condition. Everyone else, however, is going to need a little more time. Thankfully, they’ll all make it out in one piece by tonight.”

My eyes shone when I heard this and I graciously exclaimed,

“Oh, thank goodness! But… how did they…? I mean… How did they survive what I did to them?”

M14 played with her Commander’s beret and twirled it around with her pointer finger as she exclaimed,

“Ribey already peeked into the eye of your mind with that machine of hers. We realize that your body was possessed by that white-haired girl that you saw in your dreams. That girl’s name turned out to be ‘Polarday-0’.”

“Polarday...0?”

M14 caught her beret mid-air and nodded to explain,

“That’s right. Polarday-0 did quite a number on your hardware and software when she took over and she managed to basically overclock your entire system. Your body seems to have the capacity to perform better than most I.O.P. dolls in melee battle - and in long range shooting with that heavy rifle you found in our not-so-secret bunker.”

She then carefully put on her beret again and added,

“Thankfully, Polarday-0 was optimized to take out humans and military automatons… basically aiming for the head. I.O.P. dolls, however, have their cores closer to their mechanical hearts - protected by the full strength of their skeletons basically. As long our cores remain intact, we can be repaired.”

“I-I see… that’s a relief.”

WA then folded her arms and chimed in,

“That doesn’t change the fact that your core contained a subroutine, this ‘Polarday-0’, that was used as a sleeper agent to assault Station 56586. It also doesn’t make sense for our late Commander Elias, the one who built that damn bunker in the first place, to have possession of the M200 rifle uniquely etched onto your system.”

M14 nodded in agreement and then proposed to me,

“You are a journalist, no? Well then, we believe that the story of the century may be closer to home for you than you think. That is why it may be in our best interest to work together to discover the truth about what is really going on. For this, we will need your full cooperation.”

I furrowed my brow and challenged M14,

“What exactly do you mean by ‘full cooperation’? And why should I trust you guys? You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with me about this whole situation, Subcommander M14.”

M14 didn’t flinch at my accusation. Instead, her resolve burned stronger in her honey brown eyes as she explained,

“We will be looking into the eye of your mind to search for clues about our enemies who are working in the shadows and what their plans are. We believe that you are a big piece of the puzzle in this whole conspiracy, after all. As for your second question…”

M14 glanced towards WA and WA nodded solemnly back to her. With that, M14 turned towards me again and continued,

“We withheld information from you because we didn’t know which side you are truly on. Wawa and I are dealing with enemies who are not afraid to lie, cheat, steal and kill to meet their ends. They were willing to exploit hundreds - or maybe thousands of dolls for their benefit. They were willing to poison a Griffin commander who was getting close to the truth. They were willing to bomb the living hell out of an entire Griffin base and nearly destroy it to cover their own asses.”

She then looked straight into my eyes as she emphasized,

“And they were willing to use you to finish the job.”

M14’s intense gaze forced me to turn away from her. I didn’t expect her to answer as earnestly as she did.

WA then spoke up this time and promptly explained,

“We cannot force you to do anything, Miss M200. You may choose to return to your normal life and we will do what we can to make it so. You won’t remember anything about Polarday-0 or about meeting me or Ribey. You’ll be able to make a decent, albeit redacted documentary about the paramilitary life too when you go back to your newsroom.”

WA’s voice then turned grim as she added,

“However, we cannot promise your safety - or the safety of Nagant Revolver - the moment we let you go. We cannot prevent another incident like what happened that day. You are a piece on the board of this cruel game whether you like it or not - and there are many players who are after you.”

She then formed a gun with her fingers and sternly warned,

“If you lose control again, the next time that we meet will be on the battlefield and M14 or I may have to put a real bullet between your eyes.”

My shoulders drooped at WA’s assessment of my future. The desperate cries of Nagant as she held onto me last night - even though I knocked her down time and again - rang in my ears. A dull pain lingered in my mechanical heart too as I thought about Jim, Alexi… and Genevieve.

I clenched the fist of my free hand and then turned to WA to declare,

“I am an arrow of truth, WA, M14. If letting you dive into my digimind will protect the people of Brest Oblast, then I’d be happy to do everything I can to get to the bottom of this stop this madness.”

WA smiled at my response as she nodded,

“Well said, Miss M200. Shall we get started, then?”

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 9 - Mashed Potato (Part I)

Ribeyrolles brought up her N. U. R. S. E. laptop and spoke in her soothing, albeit parsed words,

“I shall begin the operation now… mademoiselle M200. Please close your eyes… and get comfortable. I shall use the N. U. R. S. E. to induce... a Level II consciousness power down. It will be… an almost instantaneous process.”

“Like hypnosis…?”

Ribeyrolles furrowed her brow, clearly displeased by my comments about her profession. She snorted and repeated her request,

“Just prepare yourself, mademoiselle M200. S'il vous plait. ”

“Right…”

I did as Ribeyrolles said and slowly leaned back against the concrete wall. M14 and WA, on the other hand, pulled up chairs and sat behind Ribeyrolles as they watched the screen of the N. U. R. S. E. computer. Then, as soon as I closed my eyes the sinking feeling of ‘falling asleep’ took place in the blink of an eye. My senses of the real world were wiped away immediately and I was plunged into the abyss of my Level II consciousness.

3:03 PM - System Clock: UTC - 7

ARPANET-ID-208-789

USAFEE-2nd Mec Div-57th BCT

Special Automaton: Polarday-0

STANDBY

When the dust cleared, I noticed right away that the world in the eye of my mind was vastly different from what I remembered. Olive drab green colored the cyberspace rather than the ZENER blue. Instead of the cubes and rectangles that floated around in my old space, there were green pentagons forming a honeycomb pattern at the borders. More than that, the system clock and all of the text notifications I normally saw on my way down to Level II seemed off.

The time zone was wrong. The ID and my doll registration were odd too.

However, the name of that white-haired girl, Polarday-0, was prominently marked. Seeing that stark note sent chills up my spine.

I felt like I was a tourist in my own damn digimind.

Thankfully, I still had full control of my mental projection. I was able to move more or less as I pleased and the sensation of floating downwards was familiar at the very least.

This time, however, I wasn’t alone on my way down.

The pretty figure of Ribeyrolles appeared in that olive green world with me and greeted me with a nod. She looked a little bit uncomfortable floating downwards in the space, so I held onto her to break her fall and calm her down.

Once Ribeyrolles had regained her balance, she gestured to the world of olive green pentagons around us and introduced,

“Welcome to the original setup of your digimind, mademoiselle M200… the factory settings, if you will. This is not a ZENER network configuration. This is the American ARPANET - specifically a wartime build from 2051.”

Strangely enough, Ribeyrolles wasn’t cutting her sentences short anymore. She noticed my astonishment, so she chuckled and explained,

“My digimind is more active than my vocal modules can keep up with, mademoiselle. In Level II, I can speak straight from my mind, so I don’t stutter on my words in this space.”

“I see…”

Ribeyrolles then pointed up to the text notifications that passed us by earlier and explained,

“As you can see, mademoiselle M200, Polarday-0 was the original occupant of your digimind - the primary subroutine. However, at some point in time, the Polarday subroutine was suppressed and your subroutine - that is the M200 subroutine with your personality traits and algorithms - was introduced as the secondary at a later date. Roughly seven months ago.”

She then poked my forehead and brought out a small text box. I squinted to read the notification and recited,

“Element name… Potato…?”

“ Oui . That is the name of your subroutine, mademoiselle . While ‘Potato’ was active in this digimind, ‘Polarday’ was put on standby. She was waiting for her marching orders. Last night, she got those orders and she tried to destroy Station 56586.”

I remembered the words that Genevieve said to me over the phone that night and spoke them out loud.

“ Persil. Sauge. Romarin. Thym. That’s the French version of the herbs from ‘Scarborough Fair’. Then… ‘Only Hope Remains’.”

Ribeyrolles folded her arms and noted,

“That second phrase alone is enough to convince me that our stories may be more closely linked than you think, mademoiselle .”

As Ribeyrolles was speaking, the olive green ARPANET world started to shift and rearrange itself into a scene of some sort. It was just like how my ‘dreams’ formed in Level II in the past. I sort of expected Ribeyrolles to be surprised by the development, but she just observed the world forming before our eyes calmly - as if she had seen this kind of thing before.

Ribeyrolles then held up her hand and raised up her pointer finger as she spoke,

“There are commonly accepted theories when it comes to Level II consciousness. I’m sure you’ve heard some of them before. ‘Dolls don’t dream’. ‘This is a projection of our memories’. Things like what we’re seeing now aren’t supposed to happen.”

“That’s what everyone says, Ribey… which is why I always sort of thought I was strange.”

Ribeyrolles smiled, closed her hand and then shook her head to reassure,

“Do not worry. Not all dolls dream, but some definitely do. Given certain circumstances, dolls are able to experience dreams in the way that humans do. Their dreams are random, lucid, full-body experiences that leave a mark in our minds, even for only a moment.”

“Certain circumstances…?”

“Yes. For example - an I.O.P. doll with a ZENER network who is exposed to Sangvis Ferri’s Parapluie virus creates an alternate ‘subroutine’ or ‘personality’, if you will. We call it an ‘OGAS instance’ that acts as our subconscious. I can tell you that out of experience, mademoiselle .”

“Out of experience…!? Does that mean that you…?”

Ribeyrolles chuckled and admitted,

“That’s correct. I was indeed infected with the Parapluie virus during Operation Arctic Warfare - and so were a number of my colleagues, except for mademoiselle WA. That was why I.O.P. recalled all units of our make… but I managed to contain the virus that my colleagues and I contracted before any significant damage could be done. However, our OGAS instances are still there. Therefore, my colleagues and I can dream.”

She then pointed to me with a smile on her lips as she explained,

“On the other hand, you are practically the ‘OGAS instance’ of Polarday, and she is yours. The duality of consciousness and subconsciousness is what helps create the experience of the ‘dream’ after all. The only difference with your case is that your subroutine was coded and manually introduced by a human - not by the Parapluie virus.”

Ribeyrolles then turned down to the rapidly forming scene below and continued,

“So, come on now. Let’s start from the beginning - shall we? The moment that Polarday first opened her eyes.”

January 20, 2051

United States of America

Challis Yellow Zone, Idaho State

Salmon River Doll Factory

Ribeyrolles and I descended down to the scene inside a dark, lonesome room where a large vat of reinforced glass sat at the center. Lights from inside the vat barely illuminated that room, but it was enough to reveal the naked occupant of the vat floating peacefully in translucent fluid. We dared to peek into the vat and saw that it was my body - or rather Polarday’s body - inside.

At first glance, everything about her body looked perfectly human - except for the oxygen mask that the body was fitted with and the thick black cable plugged into the back of its neck.

Heavy metal doors into the room opened for a brief moment as a pair of humans walked into the room. The first human was a tall, handsome man with thick brown hair and green eyes. His well-defined face was only starting to get etched with the wrinkles of age. He wore a sharp-looking olive green uniform and a green beret adorned with two linked silver bars: the insignia of a US Army Captain.

The second human was a fair lady with blond hair and bright blue eyes that I could recognize anywhere. Her name promptly escaped my lips,

“Genevieve…”

Neither Genevieve nor the American Captain seemed to notice me or Ribeyrolles as the two of them walked right through us on their way to the vat. I noticed Genevive take the Captain’s hand in hers as they crossed through the dark room.

With their hands still interlocked, the Captain gestured to the vat and remarked,

“So what do you think, Jenny? She’s beautiful, isn’t she. Polarday-0 - the West’s answer to the New Soviet Union’s Nytos.”

Genevieve bumped the Captain playfully with her hip and teased,

“I sure hope you’re not implying that a teenage girl is more beautiful than me, ma cherie . Statements like that could get you in trouble with your Federal Bureau of Investigation!”

“Of course not, my sunshine~! I’m just saying that Polarday-0 represents the bright future that we’ve all been dreaming of. When our mission succeeds, the West will win. We can start the family we’ve always wanted - and it will be all thanks to Polarday-0 here!”

Genevieve paused for a moment. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but she stopped herself halfway through. Instead, she sighed and chimed,

“That may be so… but Polarday-0 is a pretty unflattering name. Just because she’s a prototype copy of Nyto Polarday… at least 75% of her... doesn’t mean we have to call her that.”

The Captain then hummed,

“So, what would you call her, Jenny?”

Genevieve looked into the vat with a motherly smile and replied,

“How about ‘Potato’? She’s an Idaho girl, born and raised. Plus, she will be fighting in the 2nd Idaho division, after all.”

“‘Potato’, huh…? It’s got a nice ring to it. I’ll see if I can talk to the higher ups about it.”

While Genevieve and the Captain were talking, the figure inside the vat stirred. She opened her lavender eyes for the first time and regarded the two humans beyond the glass. When she did, her lavender irises seemed to shine for a brief moment.

Genevieve then rested her head on the Captain’s shoulder and cooed,

“See. She likes the name ‘Potato’ too.”

“Heh. Well then, I guess I have no choice.”

The Captain laid an arm around Genevieve’s shoulder and the two of them watched Polarday with doting eyes. It reminded me of the way that new parents watched their newborn child in the maternity room.

Seeing this made my heart flutter. To think that my first meeting with Genevieve was so much earlier than I thought - more than a decade ago! More than that, the motherly radiance that Genevieve had when she looked at me through the glass roused mixed feelings in my mechanical heart.

I almost reached out to Genevieve myself when Polarday’s eyes closed and the scene crackled into static. Ribeyrolles patted me on the shoulder and warned,

“We’re skipping scenes, mademoiselle . Hold on. Polarday is the one dreaming right now, so she has the ‘remote’, so to speak.”

February 22, 2051 - Early Morning

Dominion of Canada

Quinte Yellow Zone, Province of Ontario

RCAF Station Trenton

A snowy breeze blew through the scene of the doll factory and transformed it entirely. When the wind eased up, Ribeyrolles and I found ourselves on the runway of a snow-swept air base where the Canadian flag flew high on a frosted flagpole. There were about five hundred American soldiers wearing bulky Winter kits and they stood alongside three thousand or so US Army automatons that closely resembled the bots that the KCCO used.

Ribeyrolles and I walked through the dismal scene of blowing wind, thankful that the sub-zero temperatures weren’t being projected into the ARPANET cyberspace. Once the two of us got to the front of the formation, we found the distinct figure of Polarday at the front row. She stood alongside the human soldiers and was wearing the same heavy kit as them.

However, Polarday was shivering where she stood and there was a strand of snot leaking down her nose that she constantly sniffled to pull back - but to no avail. She eventually had to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her white camouflage uniform. On top of that, her shaking sometimes rattled the distinct M200 rifle that she had slung over her shoulders.

When the soldiers at the front row noticed this, however, one of the soldiers opened a heating pad and then snuck it into the right-hand pocket of Polarday’s flak jacket.

Polarday was surprised, but the soldier smiled at her and urged her to keep the heating pad. Then, the rest of the front row soldiers tightened up their formation and huddled closer to Polarday to shield her from the frigid Canadian winds. Sure enough, Polarday’s shivering stopped and an embarrassed yet thankful smile formed on her lips.

Was that how I looked when I got flustered too? That reminded me of how nicely everyone in GKTV-5 treated me when I first joined the Newsroom, after all - though Polarday was probably a lot less useless than I was on my first day. I felt that if Nagant was here with me, she would probably have agreed.

While I was watching Polarday in the snow, the Captain of the 57th BCT finally appeared on the scene. He was walking together with Genevieve who was wearing a distinctly different Winter kit than the Captain or his American troops. It bore the tricolor French flag on her chest and a patch with the badge of a French Alpine Division insignia on her shoulder.

I also saw a familiar weapon holstered at Genevieve’s hip: her Browning Hi-Power handgun.

When Genevieve and the Captain appeared, all of the soldiers stood in attention to salute and Polarday followed suit. The two of them then reached the center of the front and they returned the salute to the troops eagerly. The Captain then puffed up his chest as he barked,

“At ease, boys and girls! We have received our orders from the Brass - and we’re going to Europe! The end of the Third World War is at hand and our AIRCAV BCT is going to be at the tip of the spear!”

The soldiers of the BCT all cheered at the news while Polarday and the automatons stood perfectly still. The Captain then gestured to Genevieve and revealed,

“Our Liaison Officer with the Pan-European Union Armed Forces, Lieutenant Saint-Louis, would like to say a few words about our mission. Take it away.”

Genevieve nodded and stepped forward to speak with her clear, unwavering voice,

“The 57th BCT has been given orders to break through the Iron Curtain by air - with support from the remnants of the French and Italian Air Forces - and to assault the Brest-Litovsk Prison Fortress behind enemy lines in Belarus. There is key data there that would allow us to upgrade Potato’s firmware and surpass the New Soviet Union’s Nyto Program. If we can capture that data and destroy the facility, the West will win the war to mass produce the White Nytos and we will finally tear the Iron Curtain down once and for all!”

When the soldiers heard the fanciful objectives of their mission, however, whispers started to erupt amongst the brigade. One of the soldiers, the one who gave Polarday the heating pad, stepped up and challenged,

“With all due respect, madam Lieutenant, how in the world are we going to make it all the way to Belarus? Trieste is our closest airfield! That would mean we would have to fly through the god knows how many Soviet Air Defense Zones!”

Genevieve smirked at the soldier and then reassured,

“Good question, Corporal. First of all, we will be using brand new equipment that was made specially for this mission: the X-22 Super Osprey. They have the stealth features and defensive countermeasures derived from the New Mexico relics to protect you and our wonderful assault team.”

A sly smile then formed on her lips as she added,

“Aside from that, just so that we’re absolutely sure - a little red bird told us exactly where the Soviet air defenses are going to be when we launch from Trieste.”

The Corporal was confused by Genevieve’s words at first. But then, a third figure entered the scene and joined the Captain and Genevieve before the troops. It was a tall, burly man wearing the same Winter uniform as Genevieve. He then saluted the troops and introduced himself with a thick Belarusian accent,

“Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Alexi Stoyanovich. I am a defector from the Belarusian KCCO and I have created a flight plan together with the Captain that would allow the BCT to fly straight into Belarus. I also have contact with ex-KCCO, anti-Soviet partisans in Brest who will sabotage the air defenses in and around Brest Oblast to assist your mission.”

Hearing Alexi explain the details of the assault in English chipped away at my mechanical heart. After all, that big doofus always insisted that he had never spoken a lick of English in his life. Just because he treated me well and was kind to me didn’t stop him from lying to me when it benefited him or Genevieve.

I had no doubt in my mechanical heart that Alexi, too, was part of Genevieve’s pocket then. That probably meant that Alexi was still in Genevieve’s pocket now - more than a decade later.

Loyal to the end.

Once Alexi finished speaking, the Captain then faced the Corporal and then asked,

“The mission we have been given is indeed dangerous, Corporal, but it will determine who wins the Third World War. We have a path to victory, so we have to reach for it with everything that we’ve got! Is that clear, Corporal Elias?”

Corporal Elias smiled back at the Captain and then saluted him,

“Sir, yes sir. We are ready to do what needs to be done.”

Corporal Elias…?

Where have I heard that name before?

I turned to Ribeyrolles to see what she thought about the name, but I didn’t really have to ask her. Her dilated irises trembled as she regarded this ‘Corporal Elias’. She then gasped in horror,

“No way. It can’t be…!”

Then, it struck me. Over a decade ago, I stood shoulder to shoulder with the man who would become the infamous Commander Elias. The players who had called the shots in this great conspiracy game had been looming around me long before my own subroutine... my consciousness had been born.

Just how far did this rabbit hole go?

It was my duty to find out.

Little did I know, however, that their decade-old plans had already been set in motion.

Epilogue

March 8, 2063 - Evening

Brest Oblast - Residential District

Outside the Romashka Tenement

Jim Salmons drove through the streets of Brest in a well-used but well-maintained Lada Nova sedan. The veteran news anchor had his car radio tuned in to a Classical music station where the dreamlike Fourth Act of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake was playing. He was on his way home from covering the seemingly endless third day of the Rostartism debate, so he drove slowly and let the Classical music sink in.

His enjoyment of the concerto, however, was cut short when he noticed that the lights in the apartment unit of Nagant Revolver and M200 were on. Jim squinted as he drove past the building, wondering if the two dorks had forgotten to turn off the lights before they went to Station 56586.

However, Jim suddenly heard the crack of gunfire coming from the building paired with unnatural flashes of light. The fire alarm of the Romashka Tenement was then triggered and a deluge of people flooded out of the apartment.

Jim stopped his car in front of the tenement building and then stepped out onto the street. He looked up to the window of the dolls’ apartment and continued to hear gunfire. Then, a body crashed through the window and then dropped twelve stories down onto Jim’s car with a dull, bone-crunching thud.

Glass came flying from the windshield, followed by shards from the broken window above, forcing Jim to shield himself with his arms -  but not before a number of shards cut his right eyelid and his cheeks. Blood oozed out from his cuts, but he just covered them with a handkerchief as he applied pressure and looked at the body that had totalled his car.

He saw that it was a rough-looking man wearing a tracksuit whose body was riddled with bullet holes. Jim looked up to the broken apartment window with his left eye and saw the silhouettes of a handful more people still in the apartment and a bitter struggle that was going on inside.

Still dazed by the sudden turn of events, Jim staggered forward and kept pressure on his right eye as he navigated through the streams of people flowing out of the Romashka Tenement. 

The crowds thinned before long and Jim found his way to the stairwell of the tenement. He climbed up as quickly as his tired feet would let him and he eventually reached the twelfth floor.

Jim didn’t have to look long for the apartment of the two dolls. The door of Apartment Unit 1237 had been torn off its hinges and laid broken in half on the floor of the chaotic hallway. The news anchor hobbled forward towards the doorless threshold and managed to take a peek inside.

There, he found a horrific scene.

The sparsely-decorated but usually well-kept living room of Nagant and M200 was littered with bodies, bullet casings and blood. Half a dozen men wearing the same kind of tracksuit as the one who flew out the window were sprawled out lifelessly in the midst of shattered furniture.

Aside from the dead men, there was also a pair of blond-haired dolls with gaping holes pierced through their chests. Electricity crackled through those holes as blood and oil seeped from their many wounds. The smoking handguns that the dolls wielded, meanwhile, laid silent in their owners’ hands.

All the while, a chilly early Spring breeze blew through the bloodied curtains of the shattered window.

Jim braved the chaotic scene, wading through the bodies and the pools of blood and oil, and made his way to the window. There, he found a military-grade rappel rope with a grappling hook still stuck to the windowsill.

He then looked out of the window and saw a dozen more tracksuit-clad people who had made their way down onto the sidewalk from where Jim came. One of them, an extraordinarily tall lady, looked up at Jim with a furrowed brow before she turned around and disappeared into the panicked crowd with her comrades.

Jim’s heart sank as he tried to piece together just what in the world was going on. Just as he was about to turn around, however, he heard the cocking of a gun from behind him.

Jim’s left eye glanced at the remnants of glass on the window and saw the reflection of a third blond-haired doll pointing her pistol at his back. Even from that reflection alone, however, Jim could tell that the doll had already sustained a lot of damage. Her face was battered and her eyelids were black and blue.

However, the doll’s voice remained firm as she demanded,

“Put your hands up! My name is Marlohe - a doll in the employ of STATSEC. You are Mr. James Salmons Jr. of GKTV-5, the superior of M200, yes?”

Jim raised up his hands in surrender but kept his bloody right eye closed as he defiantly answered,

“So what if I am?”

Marlohe then winced in pain and held onto her broken ribs as she croaked,

“This is an emergency… and I will need… your full cooperation. Otherwise… terrorists... led by your boss... Genevieve Saint-Louis... will destroy Brest Oblast… with a Collapse Fluid bomb!”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

May 19, 2051 - Late Evening

Republic of Italy

Trieste-Friuli Venezia Giulia Airbase

Joint USAFEE-PEU Campsite

Ribeyrolles and I covered our ears as the rumble of jet engines and helicopter blades filled the scene of the Italian air base. Even though the nurse and I were just visitors who were viewing Polarday’s dream like wandering spirits, the sounds were being just a little too realistic for our tastes at the time.

Regardless, frantic preparations were already in full swing in the air base as the American Captain and his 57th Brigade Combat Team were waiting anxiously for the start of what many feared would be a suicide mission. I heard many of them whispering about stories of the countless battles that had already been fought.

From what I heard, many of them had loved ones who had already died to the Soviet nukes dropped on Idaho, the surrounding states and even in Canada. Many more of them had friends, neighbors and family who have already died trying to break through the Iron Curtain.

That ideological line in the sand that divided Europe was a meat grinder where 3,000 divisions worth of men and women, Western and Soviet alike, went to die.

For that reason, the troops were troubled by the relatively peaceful scene in the USAFEE-PEU campsite where the Captain had gathered them for the evening. There was a large campfire at the heart of the site at the outskirts of the air base that wouldn’t have been out of place in the many campsites that once dotted the Idaho landscape before the war. From the campsite, the soldiers could see allied Italy’s border with neutral Yugoslavia just a cannon shot away.

Under the light of the constellations of the Summer Triangle and the half-moon, the soldiers of the 57th BCT were nervously eating their evening rations by the fire. That was when Polarday appeared together with the Captain and Genevieve.

My heart then skipped a beat. In the Captain’s arms, I saw something familiar. I knew that shape, the luster of its varnished wood and knobs perpetually fixed nylon strings to E-A-D-G-B-E standard.

It was my acoustic guitar!

Polarday then came forward and addressed the troops. She gently encouraged them for the fight that laid ahead of them and promised to lead them all to victory. Unlike when I first saw this ‘special automaton’ in the vat of the Idaho doll factory, she truly seemed like a human girl now. Her stance, mannerisms and demeanor were more human than any doll of her generation and her words reached out to the troops gathered by the fire.

Once she finally had their attention, she offered to sing for them that night.

When she did this, soft, affectionate chants of ‘Potato’ broke out amongst the gathered troops. Those chants swelled and became cheers that wouldn’t be out of place in a concert - or a live house, even. The rowdy crowd soon challenged the loud noises of the air base too!

Ribeyrolles and I sat on the ground with the troops as the Captain tuned the guitar. Genevieve, on the other hand, brought out a tambourine and helped warm up the crowd for the performance. Then, once the performers were all ready, Polarday started to sing.

Polarday sang Western songs, all in English, accompanied by the Captain and Genevieve. Every single one of those songs were songs that I had sung at least once on the stage of the Elbe River Live House. She swayed gently from side to side and stole glances at the stars when she sang a ballad. She had a lively expression and a fire in her eyes when she belted out rock.

Some of the troops got on their feet and started dancing. Others sang along and clapped to the rhythm. What was clear to me, however, was that everyone there in the camp was letting the Polarday’s voice and the music sink into them. If I had gotten this kind of reception in Brest Oblast, I felt like I would have broken down and cried happy tears.

Tears were forming at the sides of my eyes as I watched Polarday sing her mechanical heart out. I wondered if she knew that she was performing the last concert that these men and women would ever hear. I wondered if these troops knew that this was their last moment of respite on the Western side of the Iron Curtain.

Surely, the ominous premonitions about the horrible fate that could be waiting for them in Brest Oblast lingered in their hearts.

However, as the muse of the 57th BCT sang, the hearts of the soldiers were put at ease. For a short time, the troops were in Idaho again - along with everyone that they had lost along the way. All five hundred of them had tacitly made peace with what needed to be done.

The Third World War was going to end one way or another - and the 57th BCT was going to be a part of it.

Four songs into Polarday’s surprise concert, a soldier emerged from one of the USAFEE communications tents and rushed towards the campfire. It was Corporal Elias bearing a distinct red envelope.

The concert came grinding to a halt as the Captain took the red envelope from Elias. The Captain broke the seal and read the printed documents inside. His green eyes darted left and right as he scanned through the document before he set the paper and the red envelope aside.

The Captain then faced his soldiers and declared,

“The end of the Third World War is upon us! We fly at midnight! Operation Stalwart Anchor is a go!”

The soldiers of the 57th BCT cheered and then promptly finished off whatever food or drinks they had prepared for the evening. Once they were done, they scattered off around the air base to finish off whatever preparations they had left to do for the midnight assault.

The only one who seemed disappointed by the whole ordeal was Polarday. Her performance was cut short and she was about to embark on a dangerous journey into hostile territory. I watched her look up to the constellations of the Summer Triangle in the night sky with longing eyes.

If I were to guess, Polarday was thinking about just how far away from home she was - and how much further she had to go. It was at that time that the Captain patted Polarday’s head and ruffled her white hair.

The Captain then said,

“You did good today, Potato. The troops loved your singing. I’m sure they feel like they can take on the world now, thanks to you. Keep it up and you might just have a shot at performing on television someday!”

Polarday tilted her head and asked,

“... television?”

Instead of answering, the Captain ruffled Polarday’s hair even more and the special automaton puffed up her cheeks.

Honestly, watching Polarday act like that really made me feel like I was looking at a mirror. I knew that if I were in her shoes at that moment, I would have pouted just like that.

It wouldn’t have been because I was frustrated or anything like that.

I would have been pouting to stop myself from smiling a foolish smile - and I knew Polarday was doing the same.

The more of Polarday’s life that I watched, the more I felt that the two of us truly were cut from the same cloth. We were two sides of the same coin.

While Polarday grumbled over being doted upon by the Captain, Genevieve came up to them with the M200 CheyTac Intervention rifle cradled in her hands. Genevieve handed the rifle to Polarday and then spoke tenderly,

“All of us are counting on you, Potato. We believe in you.”

Polarday took the rifle and then nodded bashfully to Genevieve. She embraced the rifle and blushed as she spoke,

“I will make you proud, mama. I’ll bring papa home safe to you when the war is over. Then - we can be a family for real!”

Genevieve’s eyes glistened as tears formed at the sides of her eyes. Hearing the word ‘family’ must have made her heart waver just a little bit. However, she wiped those tears with the back of her hand and mused,

“I’m already proud of you, Potato. Your papa is proud of you too. And when all else is lost, I want you to remember one thing.”

Polarday’s expression brightened as she smiled at Genevieve and answered,

“Only hope remains!”

Genevieve patted Polarday’s head this time, laying her hand gently on top of the Captain’s. If it wasn’t for the military uniforms that they were wearing or the large sniper rifle in the young girl’s hands, I would have thought that I was looking at a small, happy family on a camping trip with their friends.

Deep inside, I sort of wished for the same thing as well.

A peaceful night with my happy family.

However, that dream was not meant to be.

Genevieve and the Captain eventually let go of Polarday’s messy crown of hair. The Captain then handed his acoustic guitar to Genevieve and asked,

“I want you to watch over this for me, Jenny. I want to teach Potato how to play when we get back.”

Genevieve took the guitar and smiled at the Captain to say,

“I’ll guard it with my life, James, my love. I’ll make sure Potato gets to use it. Je promets .”

With that, Genevieve kissed the Captain on the cheek and then excused herself with the guitar in tow. Polarday, on the other hand, took the Captain’s hand and the two of them walked towards the air base hangars where the X-22 Super Ospreys were waiting for them.

A flight of F-35 and Eurofighter Typhoon jets flew overhead together with many other older aircraft, breaking the speed of sound as their engines roared like banshees. Then, far in the distance, explosions rumbled and began illuminating the night sky.

And so began the last great battle of the Third World War: the ill-fated Invasion of Brest Oblast.

8:22 PM - System Clock: UTC + 3

ARPANET-ID-208-789 (Original)

I.O.P. Unit 257 (Provisional)

Mass Production Prototype

STANDBY

The scene of the Italian air base faded away as the dreams in the eye of my mind always did, but neither Ribeyrolles nor I were dragged out of the ARPANET cyberspace. Tent by tent, warplane by warplane and soldier by soldier disappeared from the scene, leaving only Polarday frozen in time as she walked with the afterimage of the American Captain.

Before long, the Captain too started to disappear. He disintegrated into lines of code, but the warm smile on his lips and the gentle hand that held Polarday’s were the last to dissolve into nothingness. Polarday’s projection, however, remained in the olive green abyss.

Once the rest of the scene was gone, Polarday’s projection unfroze. I watched as her small hand stirred, instinctively looking for the Captain’s hand. She raised her head and looked up to the starless cyberspace, still hoping to see the constellations of the Summer Triangle that she saw in the Trieste air base.

Then, Polarday turned around and glared at me and Ribeyrolles with her devastated, bloodshot lavender eyes. Polarday pulled on the strap of her rifle and readied herself to wield it.

However, Ribeyrolles steadied her breath and a peculiar assault rifle - her namesake Ribeyrolles 1918 Automatic Carbine - appeared out of thin air. Ribeyrolles took her own gun just as Polarday was taking hers, but the French nurse pulled the trigger first.

Ribeyrolles’ shot whizzed through the air and struck the rifle in Polarday’s hands. The rifle then disintegrated into lines of code that slipped through Polarday’s fingers. Ribeyrolles then pointed the barrel of her gun at Polarday’s head, but she now kept her finger off the trigger.

Polarday’s face went pale as she searched for the remnants of her now non-existent gun. She then clenched her fists and decided to lunge at Ribeyrolles with a combination of wide haymakers and wild jabs. However, Polarday’s fists went straight through Ribeyrolles’ body and met no resistance whatsoever. So, Polarday’s own momentum drove her forward, she stumbled down to the olive green ground and then fell flat on her face.

Undaunted, Polarday picked herself up from the floor and stubbornly renewed her offensive. None of her strikes ever connected with Ribeyrolles, so she tried going after me too.

My knees buckled as the savage Polarday snarled and threw wild punches in my direction. I fell backwards onto the ARPANET floor, but Polarday’s strikes flew straight through me as well.

At this point, Polarday’s face seemed to glow beet red and her breath fogged up before her. She ran out of steam and fell down to her knees, panting hard to catch her breath. Her locks of unkempt white hair covered her lavender eyes like a veil before she screamed,

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!?”

Ribeyrolles rested her assault rifle on her shoulder and looked down at the fallen Polarday to explain,

“I simply defanged you and changed the core script of your code, mademoiselle Polarday. Your subroutine script no longer runs on ARPANET or ZENER. ‘Polarday’ now only exists on my N. U. R. S. E. platform where I shall keep you for observation. Now, you can do no harm - and no harm can be done to you. For now.”

Polarday raised up her head and then glared at Ribeyrolles as she barked,

“What? Now you expect me to thank you for not finishing me off!?”

Ribeyrolles shook her head and her assault rifle disappeared with a flash of powder blue light. She then knelt down to the level of the fallen Polarday’s eyes and corrected,

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing my job for mademoiselle WA. What I would like you to do is to tell us everything else you know about Operation Stalwart Anchor - every single detail about Genevieve Saint-Louis, Alexi Stoyanovich, Corporal Elias…”

The nurse’s sky blue eyes then shimmered menacingly as she added,

“And Captain James Salmons of the USAFEE.”

Polarday’s entire body shook when she heard this. Her lavender eyes then burned with rage and fury as she roared,

“HOW DARE YOU SAY PAPA’S NAME SO CASUALLY!?”

Wait.

Papa?

James Salmons?

My thoughts, however, were drowned out by Polarday’s hysterical screaming as she continued trying to attack me and Ribeyrolles. The nurse shook her head and promptly deduced - her voice barely able to compete with Polarday’s screeching,

“I don’t think we can get anything else out of Polarday for now, mademoiselle M200. We’re returning to Level I - stand by!”

When Ribeyrolles said this, the two of us started floating off of the olive green ground and left the infuriated Polarday in the lonesome cyberspace. As my vision was fading away to white, however, I saw Polarday fall down to her knees and weep bitterly.

Seeing Polarday in such pain made me feel like crying too… but I knew that there was nothing I could do for her.

For now.

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 10 - Mashed Potato (Part II)

Evening

Brest Oblast - Commercial District

GKTV-5 Newsroom Building

Fifth Floor - Executive Office

Blackout curtains were drawn over the windows of the office of Genevieve Saint-Louis that evening, leaving a single desk lamp to do the work of the full moon. The veteran news anchor sat there listlessly hunched over her desk as shadows shrouded her tear-swept eyes. An uneasy silence lingered there in the room, but it was broken by a pair of footsteps that approached the desk from the side.

Moments later, a wine glass was placed beside the listless Genevieve. The distinct sound of a popping cork then reached her ears and the fine aroma of aged wine reached her nose. A radiant white wine then flowed into the glass and filled it a quarter way through.

Genevieve took the glass, looked at it fondly against the light of her desk lamp and mused,

“2051 Friulano. The last vintage of Friuli-Venezia Guilia before that entire region became a Red Zone. I can’t believe you managed to smuggle one through the Iron Curtain.”

Alexi chuckled and promptly poured himself a glass as well. He filled his glass halfway through, set down the bottle of wine beside Genevive’s glass before he took a seat on the armchair before Genevieve’s desk. He took a sip of the white wine and explained,

“It was practice for crossing through the borders. That has always been my specialty, you know.”

Genevieve took a sip of wine and lamented,

“And my specialty seems to be blowing things up. After all… I was the reason why Trieste became a Red Zone.”

Alexi sat in silence and took a larger swig of wine. He then took a deep breath and revealed to Genevieve,

“You know… on that night, the 57th BCT saw the explosion in Trieste from the Ospreys. The troops were horrified by the sight… seeing a mushroom cloud glowing bright green in the dead of night. Those boys and girls had seen atomic bombs go off before - but never ‘Collapse Fluid’ bombs - and not as close as it did.”

The large, balding man rubbed his thin beard as he continued,

“That psychopath Elias was probably the only one who didn’t bother to look back at Trieste. He slept through the chaos without a care in the world! On the other hand, Polarday and the Captain were heartbroken. They thought you were dead.”

Genevieve swirled the wine in her glass pensively and explained,

“The mission that Sokol gave me was to destroy the Coalition’s air base - not to destroy the 57th BCT. I escaped by a Soviet submarine that was waiting for me at Trieste Port and detonated the bomb remotely… but only after the 57th had taken flight.”

Alexi turned away from Genevieve and looked into his own glass as he recounted,

“The Captain and Polarday snapped that evening. The two of them vowed to seek revenge for your ‘death’. The troops became fanatically loyal to the mission too. They had been backed into a corner, after all. There was no home waiting for them if they failed. Because of that, despite the stubborn resistance in Brest Oblast, we were successful in retrieving the rest of the Polarday data… at the expense of four hundred and ninety eight dead troopers.”

He closed his eyes and ruefully lamented,

“Elias and I sabotaged the X-22 Super Ospreys after we landed. We then slipped out from the BCT when we besieged that old prison fortress. We escaped by that fort’s extensive sewer system, leaving Polarday with the Captain and the rest of the troops without a way to get home. So, the Captain had the BCT hunkered down in downtown Brest where they waited for an evacuation that never came. Polarday watched each and every one of them die. One by one.”

Genevieve downed her glass of wine in one go and then set it down on her table somberly as she spoke,

“That’s because Sokol and I were lobbying at the peace conference in Belgrade. James’ successful assault finally brought the Soviets back to the negotiating table. His 57th BCT’s pyrrhic victory ended the Third World War with a bitter ceasefire… but neither the East nor the West wanted to admit why they gave up the fight. So, the Americans, the Europeans and the Soviets all sat on their hands and watched as thousands of people continued to die in the streets of Brest Oblast for six whole months.”

Alexi heaved a sigh and grumbled,

“The two of us were just cogs in that machine of lies. All we could do was watch… until it was time to retrieve Potato. The rest is history.”

As Alexi was speaking, the door to her office swung open. The petite figure of a teenage girl with flowing black hair and unnaturally light brown eyes marched haughtily into the room. She watched Genevieve and Alexi having wine and taunted,

“What? Is this a Traitors Anonymous meeting or something? Are we gonna sit in a circle and tell each other that everything’s going to be alright? I hope you folks aren’t having second thoughts about this - after everything that my Father and I have already done for your farce.”

The girl then sauntered over to the armchair on Genevieve’s left and sat down cross-legged. Alexi furrowed his brow and argued,

“Oy. That’s little Jimmy’s seat…!”

Genevieve, however, shook her head and calmed Alexi down,

“Relax, Alexi. It’s just a seat now. It probably won’t survive the blast anyways, so let it go.”

Alexi grumbled, but the black-haired girl just shifted her crossed legs nonchalantly. The black haired girl then leaned to her right and rested her cheek on her palm as she praised,

“I do have to say, Miss Saint-Louis, you are a master of deception. To think that you could weave up such a conspiracy in order to cover your own ass - lying to everyone around you with a smile… gosh, you media folk really do scare me sometimes.”

Genevieve poured herself another glass of wine and rebuffed,

“I am simply aware of how fractured the postwar bureaucracy of the New Soviet Union is. There is a lot of bad blood that runs in the NSU and it’s only a matter of time before they’re at each other’s throats. Brest Oblast will only be the beginning… and I’ve made sure that this incident will give all of those bloodthirsty bastards a bloody nose.”

The teenage girl smirked and deduced,

“Still trying to justify murdering people with Collapse Fluid bombs, Miss Saint-Louis? Keep it up and you’ll be able to rationalize genocide. When that happens, you’ll make for a wonderful Nyto, you know~! Father would love to adopt a talented, mischievous girl like you - if you let us rip out your spine and map out a neural cloud for you~!”

Genevieve downed her second glass of wine and growled,

“I would rather not have anything else to do with a splinter group like Paradeus after this job is done, Miss Terco.”

Terco hummed with amusement and leaned back into her seat as she replied,

“If things go as planned, Paradeus won’t be just another splinter group in the rotting, zombified corpse of the NSU. A new world will be born and it will be shaped according to my Father’s will. Mark my words. Now - say your goodbyes before Brest Oblast goes up in smoke, just like Trieste did before it. My new ‘recruits’ and I will handle things from here.”

Genevieve looked at the empty bottle on her desk before she stole a glance of one of her desk’s open drawers. Inside that drawer, she saw a number of things. One of her miniature voice recorders was sitting there beside a packet of spare guitar strings and a small box of guitar picks. There was also a booklet of popular songs for the acoustic guitar that was filled with index cards and a French textbook about Artificial Intelligence Operating Systems.

In the far corner of that drawer, however, there was also a small powder blue booklet with a cartoon illustration of a mother bear and a newborn bear in swaddling clothes. Underneath that illustration was Genevieve’s handwriting that read,

‘ James Salmons Jr. - 14 décembre 2042 ’

She closed that drawer, locked it with a key and then turned to Terco as she announced,

“I’ve already said enough goodbyes for a lifetime, Miss Terco. Potato is gone… and my son is none the wiser. I’m ready to leave it all behind once and for all.”

Late Evening

Belarus Outskirts

Outside of Station 56586

Undisclosed Location

A dull pain lingered in my head as I came to once more at the end of that forgotten sewer. I felt the strange sensation of the cable being pulled out from the diagnostic jack at the back of my neck. Then, I heard the crisp click of my armor plate being snapped back into place.

My blurred vision finally sharpened and I found the real Ribeyrolles kneeling beside me as she packed up her N. U. R. S. E. computer and dutifully wound up her cable. She then smiled at me and spoke in her usual parsed manner.

“ Bon soir ... mademoiselle M200. Welcome back… to the real world.”

Despite Ribeyrolles’ warm welcome, however, there was an air of restlessness in that concrete nook. Silver moonlight poured down from the heavens and illuminated the scene, but the tablet devices in M14’s and WA’s hands shone brighter and painted their faces pale white.

I caught a glimpse of the video feeds that they were watching. Two different chyrons from two different TV stations gave them away. M14 was watching the stodgy live feed Belarusian STV channel on her device. WA, on the other hand, had her device tuned in to the feed of the bombastic big dog that was RT - Russia Today.

Both of the feeds, however, were reporting on the same story.

Heated protests were erupting and turning violent throughout Brest Oblast.

I let Ribeyrolles help me up to my feet before I chided the two rifle dolls,

“Come on now. I know STV and RT are pretty popular channels, but at least check out GKTV-5 too. We usually have a better hand on the pulse of the region than the big dogs.”

M14 turned to me and she tapped on her device to change tabs. She then showed me the GKTV-5 Newsroom feed which was displaying nothing but static. M14 then explained,

“GKTV-5 was the first site we checked, but their feed was offline. It still is.”

I furrowed my brow and argued,

“Offline? The Newsroom broadcasts 24/7. It should be the Nightly News segment with Gala Minkovsky, one of our veteran newscasters!”

WA folded her arms and insisted,

“We’re not going to lie to you about something like this, Miss M200. M14 and I already tried your channel. If you still doubt us, you can check the channel yourself.”

I pouted at their responses and fished for my cell phone. I pulled up the GKTV-5 Newsroom but I noticed that it took an unusually long time to load the website. Then, once the website did load, the ‘Watch Now’ window that normally auto-played the live feed was just a rectangle of blank static.

Impossible… it was just like they said.

Nothing was being broadcast!

A little bit embarrassed, I shimmied over to M14’s side and watched the Belarusian STV news feed with her on her device. There, I saw footage from a drone flying over what appeared to be Brest State Pushkin University.

The idyllic campus, however, had been turned into a fiery battleground of anti-Rossartrism protesters and pro-Rossartrism counter protesters. Both sides were throwing bricks and molotov cocktails as they all seemed to be raring for a fight. Only a thin line of concrete barriers separated them, but it was only a matter of time before that ‘Iron Curtain’ fell.

The STV news anchors, however, seemed to be venting their anger on the pro-Rossartrists - calling them subversive Western sympathizers. Meanwhile, in the Russia Today feed, the RT news anchors were staunchly against the anti-Rossartrists and were painting them as Belarusian ultra-nationalists who wanted to restart the inconclusive Third World War.

M14 furrowed her brow and remarked,

“STV and RT both operate under supervision of the New Soviet Union Information Bureau, right? Then why are they riling up the people of Brest Oblast to take to the streets for opposing sides? Are they trying to start a riot or something!?”

WA folded her arms and clicked her tongue,

“The only thing those two channels seem to agree on is the need for Martial Law. The national government in Minsk seems to be holding an emergency meeting about the riots. It won’t be long before they send the KCCO to crush the uprising…”

“The KCCO!?” I argued in dismay, “W-wait. Peacekeeping is something third party PMC’s are in charge of, right? Not the Regular Army.”

M14 closed her eyes and then shook her head ruefully as she spoke,

“If the pandemonium in Brest Oblast has already blown up this much, then the municipality should have contacted us for a peacekeeping contract. The only reason they’re not calling us would be that they probably have something else in mind.”

While M14 was speaking, both the STV and RT feeds reported breaking news. They were announcing that the municipality of Brest Oblast had just contracted G&K Station 113315 for an emergency peacekeeping mission.

“Wait a sec…!” I recognized that station number, “That’s the HQ station in Minsk, right? Isn’t Brest Oblast 56586’s responsibility!?”

WA ran a hand through her hair and then revealed,

“After the events of the Unsavory Incident, M14 and I saw many unbelievable things happen between 113315 and the KCCO. I’m starting to believe that 113315 and the KCCO have closer links than what meets the eye. They wield a considerable amount of power in S05, and neither of them are fans of Station 56586.”

M14 nodded and added grimly,

“I don’t know what their beef with us is, but Station 56586’s hands are tied. We can’t just storm into Brest Oblast without a formal contract.”

Watching the news feeds and the theories being thrown around by M14 and WA, I felt my head starting to spin. That was when the cell phone in my hand suddenly shifted out of my web browser and started to ring. A familiar name then appeared on the screen.

“Jim…”

I stepped away from the chaos and faced the moon as I finally answered the call.

“H-hello?”

“ M200? M200! It is you, isn’t it? ”

“Of course it’s me, dummy. Who else would it be?”

“ Sorry. I was just worried about you. Have you seen the news ?”

“STV and RT. GKTV-5 seems to be offline.”

“ Yeah. I received an email from Genevieve telling me not to go work and to leave Brest Oblast as soon as possible. The other folks should have received it too - all of them were carbon-copied. ”

“Genevieve sent that…?”

“ It’s strange. She would never say something like that. The email went out just as the riots were getting underway too. I’m lucky the debates ended early. Otherwise, I would have been stuck at Pushkin University. ”

“Gosh, that’s right. Are you getting out of town? Where are you now?”

“ That’s the thing, M200. I was passing by your apartment on my way home when I saw people break into your apartment unit - the one in the Romashka Tenement. The whole place was turned upside down. Perhaps it was a robbery, but there was a fight… and there are bodies on the floor. ”

“What in the world…!?”

“ That’s why I had to talk to you, M200. Can you get a hold of the Subcommander of Station 56586 ? I’m with someone who says she needs to speak to her immediately. ”

I looked behind my shoulder and saw that M14, WA and Ribeyrolles were all watching me intently. So, I put the call on speaker phone and replied,

“Subcommander M14 is with me right now. I’ll put you on speaker… but who is with you?”

“ Thanks, M200. Hold on. Let me give her my phone. ”

A moment of silence passed as Jim’s phone changed hands. In the meantime, I brought my phone closer to M14 who then broke the silence with a firm, authoritative voice,

“This is Subcommander M14. Badge ZENER-56586-037 Primary. Authority S-COM. Who are we speaking to?”

The voice on the other end of the line then answered with the strain of pain etched all over her voice,

“ Greetings, Subcommander. My name is… Marlohe. I am calling as a surrogate... of a ranking officer of STATSEC, but I cannot reveal any more details than that .”

Marlohe…? That strange doll who saved me and Nagant in the grocery store back alley?

M14 seemed doubtful of the voice as well, so she furrowed her brow and challenged her,

“If STATSEC wanted to call us, there are official channels to do so. Why use a civilian’s phone to call another civilian to reach us?”

“ Calling the Griffin HQ in Moscow... would only redirect us to your regional S05 HQ in Minsk - that is, Station 113315 - but I can guess... you’re smart enough to realize what the problem with that is, Subcommander M14 . Besides… those ‘official channels’ have been tapped... ”

M14’s lips crumpled, but she still grilled Marlohe,

“And why would STATSEC want to contact a local garrison when Griffin’s Minsk HQ is already sending troops to quell the riots?”

“That’s because Station 113315... won’t actually send peacekeepers. Moreover... the riots are a distraction… a smokescreen to hide their plans. Once the riots… hit fever pitch... once everyone is on the street, a Collapse Fluid bomb will be detonated for maximum effect.”

“A Collapse Fluid bomb!?” M14 gasped.

  “ Ja. A Collapse Fluid bomb. I do not know the full objectives… but Brest Oblast will be considered… a Red Zone… and the city will be bombed. They will claim… that they are killing ELID-infected people… but this is an organized operation! It will be like the Unsavory Incident all over again. My sources have told me… that in KCCO circles, this is called ‘Operation Vigilant Star’... and it is led by a certain Special Agent ‘Chaika’. ”

Chaika? That was the odd name that I heard when Genevieve called me the other night.

Genevieve was involved in this mess!?

Chills ran up my spine as I listened to Marlohe’s claim. M14, WA and Ribeyrolles likewise held their breaths as they considered her words. M14 then picked up my phone and asked as calmly as she could,

“Vigilant Star, huh? The light of a thousand suns… So - what do you want us to do about it?”

“On behalf of the Leipzig Office of STATSEC, I would like to contract... the services of G&K Station 56586 for two missions. The first mission… is to provide a peacekeeping force… to quell the riots throughout Brest Oblast. That will buy STATSEC agents... time to find and defuse and neutralize the Collapse Fluid bomb - and any other surprises that our enemies may have.”

“And the second mission is…?” M14 grumbled.

“ The second mission... is to secure the premises of the GKTV-5 Newsroom building. While the riots were breaking out, local vagrants... and strange men in white hoods stormed the building and garrisoned it. They are heavily armed... and dangerous humans. Furthermore… they are led by a dangerous enemy... that STATSEC has been tracking throughout the New Soviet Union. On our records, she is called... ‘Nyto Terco’ ”

Nyto…!? Aren’t those the weapons that Polarday was made to counter?

A photograph of the so-called ‘Nyto Terco’ then appeared on my screen. It was a young girl with long, straight black hair and unnaturally light brown eyes. The way that the girl looked into the lens of the camera made my hair stand on end.

After that, photos of the white-hooded soldiers and the gopniks moving around town were displayed. M14 regarded the photos of Nyto Terco and the strange men on the phone. She then glanced at me and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something.

However, she held her tongue and spoke to Marlohe instead,

“These enemies do not look like automatons, Miss Marlohe. Are you asking our Station to fight human enemies? Griffin doesn’t have the authority to hurt humans beyond self defense. Even if we go all the way to Mr. Kryuger himself, we won’t be able to…”

“ Griffin... doesn’t have that authority, but STATSEC does. The Type II Exception .”

Beads of sweat formed on M14’s brow as she recognized that exception,

“License to kill.”

“ Ja. I am only a surrogate, however, and the Leipzig Office... is a minor directorate. I can only offer you... Type II Exceptions for three dolls - without dummy links - at my discretion .”

M14 looked up to the moon above the nook. She then closed her eyes and sighed,

“Normally, we would complain about you bureaucrats being stingy - but three is plenty for us.”

“ I’ll ignore your comments.... about STATSEC for now, Subcommander. For now, I will need the badge IDs... of the dolls of your strike team for the Exceptions. ”

“Listen closely, Marlohe, because we shall only say them once.”

“ Go ahead. ”

“The common prefix tag is ‘56586’. The I.O.P. models are ‘114’, ‘96’ and ‘37’.”

“ Confirming. Those are… Welrod Mk. II, Grizzly Mk. V and… M14. Are you sure? ”

Huh!? They’re the ones M14 picked!?

At first, I thought it was some sort of mistake, but M14 opened her eyes and looked up to the moon. The moonlight shone off of her golden brown eyes with great clarity and an unshakable determination as she replied,

“One hundred percent - as long as our Station has full operational command. My adjutant and her aide-de-camp will handle the peacekeeping OP.”

I heard a contemplative hum from the other end of the line. Then, Marlohe spoke again,

“ Understood. When you arrive, Mr. James Salmons and I... will go into the Newsroom with you. When it is safe, I will arrest the ringleader of this conspiracy: Special Agent Chaika - also known as Genevieve Saint-Louis - and her associates . Don’t keep us waiting .”

...

Marlohe’s call ended and the screen of my phone settled on the menacing image of Nyto Terco’s sneering face. M14 picked up the phone and replaced Terco’s image with my lock screen - the crest of the GKTV-5 Newsroom.

M14 regarded the crest and mused,

“It appears that the CEO of GKTV-5, Miss Genevieve Saint-Louis, is the one who has been calling the shots. The call that she made to you, and the dreams that we saw in your ARPANET cyberspace are evidence enough - and even STATSEC is claiming that she’s the suspect.”

Her golden brown eyes then turned to mine as she revealed,

“Genevieve’s actions tell us that she is in cahoots with the Cabal that we have been fighting - and we have just been given the license to kill. Now is the time to make a choice, M200-chan. We already know what we have to do… but what about you?”

I took a deep breath and looked up to the night sky towards the West. There, I caught a faint glimpse of the Summer Triangle constellation that Polarday seemed to always look for in her dreams. Seeing that, I clenched my fists and turned back to M14 with a firm answer,

“Whatever it is that Genevieve has done… or whoever it is that she is working for… it doesn’t matter to me. I promised her that I would become a Star Anchor. I promised her that I was going to be an arrow of truth for the people of Brest Oblast. If doing so means that I have to fight her and go against her plans, then so be it!”

With that, I took my phone back from M14 and offered her a contract of my own,

“As the War Correspondent of GKTV-5, I want to make a contract with you guys too. I want you to escort me and Jim into the GKTV-5 Newsroom… and I want you to help me get the channel back on line. The people of Brest Oblast don’t deserve to be kept in the dark like this any longer!”

A smile formed on M14’s lips as she revealed,

“We had a feeling that you would say that, M200-chan. That’s why we were busy making arrangements while you were asleep.”

“Arrangements…?”

Before I could say anything else, the distant rumble of engines reached my ears and powerful beams of light from above us illuminated the otherwise dark scene like spotlights. A voice from the rocks above the nook cried out,

“Look down below!”

Three climbing ropes with reflective orange tassels dropped down from the edge of those rocks and settled near the concrete walls of the nook. I turned to M14 to ask her what was going on, but the Subcommander gestured to the rocky cliff above us and spoke,

“We hope you took the climbing exercises we gave you seriously, M200-chan. Three stories up shouldn’t be a problem for you, no?”

A bead of sweat formed on my brow, but I feigned smugness and shot back,

“I go up five stories to go to work everyday. Ahahaha~”

With that, I took a hold of one of the ropes and started climbing up. On my way up, I heard the whir of drone propellers coming from above and the ‘Rescue Fairy’ drone followed me. I reached the edge of the cliff and I saw the smiling face of MP40 as she greeted me,

“ Guten abend , Miss M200. Take my hand.”

I took her up on the offer and the aide-de-camp helped me up to the ground. That was when I finally saw where those powerful beams of light were coming from. Parked there near the ledge was a fleet of Griffin vehicles: twelve transport trucks and eight jeeps shining their headlights onto the Bug River.

There were five peculiar pink-haired figures who stood before that fleet of jeeps and trucks. The four figures on the sides stood stiffly at attention while the one in the center was folding her arms haughtily. The center figure then pointed to me and declared,

“I am not happy that I was defeated by a wartime automaton like you, Miss M200, but I will overlook your transgression for now. It seems we will be working together for now, at least.”

“Eh…? Miss Negev?” I gasped, “How did you know?”

Negev smirked proudly as she showed me the earpiece she was wearing and revealed,

“I was listening to your conversation with the Subcommander. I’m a specialist, after all~!”

“Miss Negev…!”

Huh… it seemed the adjutant was a nicer person than she seemed after all.

While I was just about ready to let my guard down however, MP40 crept up on me from behind and grabbed me by the earlobe to pull me aside. She then whispered in a frigid, menacing voice,

“Negev-senpai may forgive you, but if you hurt Negev-senpai again - even Subcommander M14 won’t be able to stop me… and you will wish that you were dead. Do you understand, Miss M200?”

For a brief moment, I saw a maniacal flare in the aide-de-camp’s eyes when she looked into mine. What was scarier, however, was just how quickly she returned to her kindly smile. Absolutely terrified by what MP40 could possibly be capable of, I answered her stiffly,

“Y-yes, ma’am…”

While I was tensing up from MP40’s barely veiled threat, one of the jeeps came forward and stopped near me. Through the windshield, I saw the odd handgun couple - Grizzly and Welrod - waving to me from inside the jeep.

Then, the passenger door swung open. The petite figure of Nagant hopped out of the jeep and then came rushing towards me as soon as her feet hit the ground. Nagant’s red eyes were brimming with tears as she cried out,

“POTATO!”

Nagant leapt and caught me midair in an embrace. I hugged her back and choked on my own words,

“Babushka!”

Nagant’s hat flew off her head and landed on the rough rocks by our feet. She then buried her face in my chest and wept, venting out all the contents of her heart all at once,

“Potato! I’m glad you’re alright! I thought I wasn’t ever going to see you again… but you’re here! Thank goodness you’re still here!”

I tightened my embrace of Nagant and reassured,

“It’s okay, Babushka. I’m not going anywhere. I may have come from somewhere else once upon a time - but Brest Oblast is now my home… and I will do everything I can to protect it.”

Nagant finally let go and wiped her tears as she remarked,

“I know you will, Potato. I heard your conversation on the radio too. You’re growing up so fast...”

She then drew her revolver and showed it to me as she wore a proud smile,

“I will accompany you into the Newsroom too, Potato. After all, I don’t need an Exception to walk into my own office, no? I’ll make sure that you and that boy Jim restore the channel. And besides… if what I heard is true… then I’ve got a few words I want to say to Genevieve myself.”

I nodded to Nagant and then picked up her hat from the ground. I gently dusted off her hat, gently laid it on her head and smiled back,

“I’ll be counting on you, Babushka. We’ll all face Geneiveve together.”

With that, M14, WA and Ribeyrolles emerged from the nook below. Ribeyrolles and WA stepped aside while M14 went forward to face the dolls and the vehicles gathered before her. As the headlights were fixated on her, the Subcommander joined her hands behind her back and raised up her chest proudly as she addressed her troops,

“Station 56586, attention! This is our first true mission after the Unsavory Incident blew up our base. We are racing against time to stop our enemies from doing the same thing to Brest Oblast! If we don’t stand up and break this chain of tragedies now - then who will?”

M14 took a moment to hold the golden crosshair pendant that she wore before she continued,

“That is why we expect you all to perform your duties with excellence tonight. I have already relayed our orders for the peacekeeping mission to Negev and your Echelon Captains… so we trust that the people of Brest Oblast are in safe hands. We’ve already lost our home once - we shall not lose it again!”

She then let go of the pendant, straightened up her posture and saluted the troops as she declared,

“So now, Operation Intervention has begun! Do us proud tonight, ladies! For the glory of Griffin!”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

Late Evening

Brest Oblast - Commercial District

Main Avenue

Chaos was erupting all throughout Brest Oblast as her citizens scattered to and fro in the city’s once vibrant streets. Bursts of gunfire erupted in the heart of the Commercial District while the angry drums of protests beat ever louder in the distance.

Jim Salmons and the STATSEC doll Marlohe pressed on through the crowd, creeping slowly against the flow of that river of humans and civilian dolls. The veteran news anchor kept his bloodied right eye closed while the doll held onto her wounded torso as they lurched forward, but there were simply too many people to carry on.

The two of them managed to reach the convenience store two blocks away from the GKTV-5 building. Jim looked up to the top of that store where he saw the GKTV-5 advertisement on the billboard that was now plastered with graffiti. The faces of the news anchors had all been crossed out with black spray paint, but the face of Genevieve was marked red with harsh words.

‘Traitor Chaika’

...

‘Western Whore’

...

‘KCCO Dog’

...

‘Liberate Brest Oblast!’

Years of working in the competitive news industry didn’t prepare him for what he saw on that billboard - or the chaos that was threatening to tear the Oblast apart. He had always been a detached observer reporting the news as he saw it. Never in his life did he think he himself would get caught up in the chaos himself - and that the breaking news would involve him personally.

His news station was under attack. The mentor who had trained him had a hand in the chaos. His image of the immaculate Genevieve who was loved by everyone as the motherly paragon of journalism was crumbling before him.

That, and the harrowing things that the STATSEC doll Marlohe revealed to him about Genevieve, left a gaping hole in his heart.

More gunfire erupted near the GKTV-5 building, spurring the crowd into a stampede as they sought shelter. Jim and Marlohe, however, steeled themselves and used this opening to press onward once more.

The crowd soon thinned and evaporated around the two, leaving them alone in the now eerie and deathly silence of the central square. A myriad of cars and light trucks continued idling on the four-lane avenue with their doors flung wide open as their drivers and passengers abandoned them.

In their stead, a handful of men and women clad in worn tracksuits patrolled the road and turned the vehicles into their barricade.

Jim and Marlohe kept their heads low and took cover behind a car parked by the curb. They poked their heads out from behind cover as they watched the movements of the impromptu army. Marlohe held onto her wounded torso before she returned to cover to say with a labored voice,

“There’s a dozen in the avenue - and many more in the building - all of them are armed.”

Jim returned to cover as well and added,

“I’ve seen those guns before. They’re AK-74’s… old guns but they’re not something civilians would have. The way they’re patrolling is methodical and organized too. These aren’t just gopniks with guns are they, Miss STATSEC?”

Marlohe furrowed her brow and croaked,

“They’re ex-KCCO garrison troops who defended Brest Oblast during the war, but the battle for this place dragged on long after the armistice was signed. Intel says that Minsk HQ refused to support them and then disgracefully ejected them from the force, so these folks bear grudges against Minsk. Someone must have told them the KCCO was involved today, so they’re probably out for revenge… but who!?”

The sound of footsteps then reached their ears, drawing closer to the parked car at the curb. The two held their breaths, but blood dripped from Jim’s wounded right eyelid while oil leaked from Marlohe’s side. The STATSEC doll then reached for her hip and drew her Tokarev handgun.

With every step closer that the ragged enemy troops took towards them, Marlohe’s grip on her gun grew tighter.

All of the sudden, the rugged roar of diesel engines at top gear echoed in the distance. The gopnik that had been approaching the parked car that Jim and Marlohe were hiding behind stopped and turned towards the noise.

Jim and Marlohe also turned towards the direction of the noise and found a pair of military jeeps exiting the Eastbound M1 Highway onto the blockaded avenue.

The gopnik near Jim and Marlohe then cried out,

“Military vehicles inbound! They’re coming from the highway!”

As soon as he reported this, Jim heard the frantic cocking of rifles, followed by the hollow clangs of steel as the ex-soldiers took cover behind the myriad of vehicles scattered on the road. Jim dared to raise his head again and he spotted one of those gopniks carrying a distinct rocket propelled grenade launcher: an RPG-7.

The rocket-armed gopnik hopped onto the back of a pickup truck and he aimed his launcher at the distant highway onramp. Just as the gopnik was about to look into his scope, however, Jim saw the distant flash of another scope coming from the charging jeeps. The crack of a rifle then rang through the abandoned city block and a bloody mist sprayed out from the rocket-armed gopnik’s shoulder.

The RPG-7 slipped from the gopnik’s hands as he recoiled in pain in the back of the pickup truck. His agonizing screams spurred his comrades into action.

The gopniks spread out on the street and opened fire on the incoming jeeps with their assault rifles. Meanwhile, windows on the first and fifth floors of the building were smashed open and the barrels of AK-74’s poked out through the holes in the cracked glass.

All of the sudden, Jim’s cell phone buzzed. The veteran news anchor took out his phone and read out the name he saw on the screen,

“... M200.”

He answered the call and set his phone by his ear. M200’s voice then spoke to him,

“Jim! Hey - you’re at the rendezvous point right?”

“Yeah. I’m with the STATSEC doll.”

“Well, the two of you have to cover your faces right now!”

“Cover our faces…!?”

“Just do it, Jim! Trust me on this one - and stay in cover! Got it!?”

With that, the call ended just as abruptly as it started. Jim furrowed his brow and turned to Marlohe to say,

“You heard her, Miss STATSEC. Cover your face.”

Marlohe nodded and the two of them covered their faces with handkerchiefs. Then, unusual popping noises reached their ears - followed by even louder bursts that sounded like grenades going off.

Jim looked up and saw white smoke cascading down from the sky like an opaque veil. The gopniks opened fire into that veil, but their shots flew wildly around the avenue. Gunfire struck the hulls of vehicles, smashed windshields and nicked side view mirrors around Jim and Marlohe, but hardly any of them hit the charging jeeps.

Those jeeps then veered off the main road onto the empty sidewalk and stopped right before where Jim and Marlohe were hiding. Jim shielded his good eye from the blinding high beam headlights of the jeeps, but the engines switched off and the headlights faded away in a heartbeat. Dolls then started disembarking from the jeeps.

Grizzly and Welrod, the quirky handgun couple emerged from the front-most jeep and immediately charged into the hazy fray. The frizzy-haired American handgun doll took point.

“Roddy, cover me!” Grizzly barked confidently.

“Oy! Don’t stray too far, Griz!” Welrod warned as she hurried towards Grizzly to back her up.

The two handgun dolls began shooting down the disorganized gopniks scattered in the smoke-screened avenue.

M14 stepped out of the front-most jeep as well, already holding her namesake M14 rifle. The birdcage barrel of her rifle was still smoking as she adjusted her Commander’s beret and mused,

“It’s good to be back out in the front. We were afraid that we would have gotten rusty.”

She then turned towards the second jeep and asked,

“Are you sure you can hold the fort alone, Wawa?”

When M14 said this, two dolls emerged from the second jeep.

The first was a WA2000 wearing a stylish black jacket and a comfortable-looking red scarf, followed by a Ribeyrolles wearing a double-breasted coat over her usual garb. WA let her right hand brush against the revolver holstered at her hip and scoffed,

“Do you really have to ask, M14? Just focus on not dying. 56586 can’t lose its War Goddess now, can it?”

M14 hummed with amusement and accepted WA’s challenge with a grin,

“We’ll be counting on you then, Wawa. We’ll take Ribey with us for the breakthrough.”

Ribeyrolles brought out her own assault rifle and nodded obediently to M14.

With that, WA waved goodbye and entered the building on their side of the sidewalk, opposite from the GKTV-5 Newsroom. All the while, the revolver she wore at her hip and the rifle bag that she carried rattled mildly as she ran inside.

Just as M14 was turning around, Marlohe pocketed her handkerchief and lurched towards M14 with a snarl,

“Miss M14! This isn’t what we agreed upon. I told you - my office can only offer you three Type II exceptions for Griffin dolls! That’s Grizzly, Welrod and yourself! What are you trying to do here!?”

A smirk formed on M14’s lips as she patted Ribeyrolles’ shoulder and introduced,

“That’s fine and dandy then. Ribey here - and that tsundere Wawa aren’t Griffin dolls. They’re just like you, Miss Marlohe. They don’t need Type II exceptions to shoot humans.”

As they were speaking, they heard the cocking of a rifle from the rooftop of the three story building, followed by the loud bark of a WA2000 rifle. A gopnik on the rooftop of the GKTV-5 building then cried out in anguish before falling six stories down onto asphalt.

Marlohe watched the silhouette of WA’s rifle on the smaller building’s rooftop with disbelief, but WA continued to lay down accurate fire upon the garrisoned enemy through the smoke, sowing the seeds of panic in the enemy defenders.

The STATSEC doll then furrowed her brow and groaned,

“I guess we do need every bit of help we can get. It seems you have friends in strange places, Miss M14.”

M14 held her rifle fondly in her arms as she agreed,

“We’re facing a world where nothing is as it seems. Even the mighty STATSEC doesn’t hold all the cards - and not everyone we’re going to face is going to play by the rules. Loopholes have to be exploited for us to even stand a chance.”

The subcommander slid off the telescopic sight from her namesake weapon and fitted a smaller holographic sight meant for close quarters combat in its place. A small smile then formed on her lips as she flipped the selector switch from semi to full automatic as she added,

“In a scary world like that, there’s no one else that we would rather be friends with, Miss Marlohe. You’ll understand soon enough~!”

Marlohe scoffed, cocked her Makarov pistol and asked,

“So then - you’re calling the shots here, Miss M14. How are we planning to do this?”

Ribeyrolles then piped up with excitement as she replied,

“Follow me, mademoiselle Marlohe. I will be leading the assault. I shall explain the details… along the way!”

With that, Ribeyrolles cocked her assault rifle and began shooting through the smokescreen in three shot bursts. Grizzly and Welrod likewise formed up behind Ribeyrolles and the three of them carefully advanced through the smoke. Marlohe snorted and tailed the trio, leaving M14 alone with Jim Salmons at the sidewalk.

Jim regarded M14 and remarked,

“The War Goddess of Area S05 in the flesh…”

M14 ran a hand through her twin-tailed hair and graciously spoke,

“So, our name has been catching on, it seems. We’re glad you finally acknowledge us, Mr. Salmons.”

She then put a hand on her hip and remarked,

“Most people would have turned tail and run from a situation like this - but you willingly charged into danger to fight for your home. We aren’t sure if you are aware, but this makes you take after your father - a great man. Captain James Salmons of the American 2nd Idaho Division, 57th Battalion Combat Team.”

Jim lowered his head at the mention of his father. Somewhere deep inside, he knew that there was truth in the Subcommander’s words. A defeated smile then formed on his lips as he sighed,

“Miss STATSEC told me all about it on our way here. I’ve always wondered why I had a Western name written in the Latin alphabet… so I’m not that surprised. I just wish that I had the chance to meet him before he died. From what I’ve found out - he didn’t know that I existed. Genevieve… mother… she hid me from him, and she hid him from me. I didn’t know any better.”

M14 shook her head and reassured,

“Captain Salmons’ hopes and dreams live on in you… and the military automaton that he and Genevieve adopted. The two of them raised her and showered her with love as if she was their own child - so much so that the automaton became almost human. One thing led to another and you ended up helping raise her too.”

She then turned her head back to the second jeep and called,

“M200-chan. Miss Nagant Revolver. It’s safe to come out now… or rather, it’s as safe as it’ll ever be in a combat zone like this.”

M200 and Nagant Revolver emerged from that jeep. As soon as M200’s lavender eyes met with Jim’s, the junior War Correspondent started tearing up. She then ran towards him and cried,

“Jim!”

M200 then leapt up and caught Jim in her embrace. She buried her face on his shoulder as tears streamed down her eyes. There were many things that Jim wanted to say, but he simply hugged M200 back and spoke in a tender voice,

“Welcome home… Potato.”

“You finally called me that…” M200 gasped between her sobs.

“I never had the courage to until now… and I didn’t know the truth. I should have called you that a long, long time ago.”

“Ehehe~ you big dummy.”

While Jim and M200 hugged, M14 watched on with a somber, longing expression. She held onto her golden crosshair pendant and the things that she had been hiding in the depths of her own mechanical heart.

Then, Nagant Revolver burst into the scene and groaned,

“Oy. You two! Babushka’s glad that the two tsunderes of the office finally got honest with each other - but we’ve got a TV station to liberate! In times like these, Brest Oblast needs her arrows of truth!”

M14 snapped out of her own thoughts and tucked her pendant under her coat as she joined in,

“That’s right Miss M200, Mr. Salmons. This will be the last lesson that our Station will give you as our guests. Urban warfare is the specialty of our Station - and we’ve faced worse odds than this in the past. These insurgents won’t know what hit them. So, stay close to us and we’ll keep you safe. Clearing this building is the easy part. Saving Brest Oblast, however, is something that only your channel can do. That’s what Operation Intervention is all about!”

M200 let go of Jim and then nodded to M14 before saying,

“Don’t worry. Jim and I know what to do. The two of us need to have a nice long talk with Genevieve and Alexi after all. Jim and I aren’t from Brest - but this is now our home. So we’re going to do everything we can to save this city!”

10:17 PM - System Clock: UTC + 3

ARPANET-ID-208-789

Restricted Operation

As M200 and Jim followed the rest of the T-Dolls into battle, the forlorn figure of Polarday sat on the floor of her prison of green pentagons of ARPANET and hugged her legs. From where she sat, she watched the events unfolding through the eye of M200’s mind. The green, digital prison around Polarday then transformed into the world as seen through M200’s eyes. She could see what M200 saw and feel what she felt.

Polarday felt the nervous yet hopeful beating of M200’s mechanical heart. The phosphorus smoke that M200 breathed threatened to make Polarday cough. Moreover, every glance of Jim’s face that M200 stole roused Polarday’s memories of the Captain and the last of the loyal troops of the 57th BCT as they prepared to fight to the bitter end.

The powerless Polarday watched as M200 broke through the smokescreen, but her honest thoughts escaped her lips.

“I hope this time will be different. For Father’s sake.”

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Chapter 11 - Scalloped Potato

Outside the GKTV-5 Building

Avenue Sidewalk

It was like a scene from the dream that I had from what seemed like a long, long time ago when I was casually imagining battles while writing my spiels for Live at Five.

Heavy gunfire and explosions illuminated the night sky above me as I saw a myriad of dolls charging into battle. Instead of a small hill overlooking a dire battlefield, however, I watched as those dolls exchanged fire with disgraced ex-soldiers - gopniks - who had taken over the GKTV-5 Newsroom building.

Hollow metallic dings of empty cartridges striking concrete rang in my ears as M14 and Ribeyrolles took turns firing disciplined three shot bursts from behind the cover of abandoned vehicles. Marlohe, Grizzly and Welrod, on the other hand, pressed their backs against the walls beside me and shot into the broken windows to support the two rifles. All the while, WA shot through the smokescreen and struck down her targets without missing a beat.

Despite all of this, the ex-soldiers entrenched in the building fought fiercely and took cover behind the sturdy marble reception counters. Plus, for every ex-soldier that fell, there always seemed to be another one to take their place.

The deafening noise made me wince and wonder just how in the world M14 was planning to break this stalemate. While I was thinking about this, Grizzly reloaded her weapon and then turned to me with a grin.

She then reached under her leather jacket, pulled out a grenade and handed it to me as she asked,

“Hey, Miss M200 - you ever thrown one of these before?”

I unwittingly took the thing without looking at it. Once I saw what Grizzly had given me, however, I nearly dropped the damn thing and gasped,

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a sec!”

Grizzly just gave me a thumbs up and she tried to shout over the tremendous cacophony of gunfire,

“Don’t worry, it’s fl…! Y… fine!”

I promptly shouted back,

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

Grizzly then took a deep breath and belted out,

“IT’S A FLASHBANG! PULL THE PIN. TOSS IT IN! EASY AS PIE!”

I held the grenade with trembling hands and I had to close my eyes, but I managed to pull the pin like Grizzly said. I tossed the grenade through the shattered window and into the lobby and ducked for cover. A blast of light and sound then flooded the first floor lobby, blinding the entrenched ex-soldiers.

That was Grizzly’s signal to burst into the lobby. She brandished her gun and brought out a small bullhorn that she used to shout,

“Everyone! Throw away your weapons! Put your hands up! You don’t have to die here today!”

Welrod promptly joined Grizzly in the hallway while M14 and Ribeyrolles followed soon after. When those figures appeared in the lobby all at once, fear gripped at the hearts of the remaining gopniks and they dropped their old assault rifles, raised their hands up in surrender.

The three Griffin dolls began disarming and apprehending the gopniks in the lobby while Ribeyrolles kept watch with her own assault rifle in hand.

Marlohe furrowed her brow and demanded,

“Why are you arresting them!? Just kill them all and move on!”

Ribeyrolles turned towards Marlohe and explained with a soft smile,

“We are fighters, mademoiselle Marlohe. Not killers.”

Marlohe stubbornly pointed to the twenty or so stunned and blinded enemies around them and argued,

“But there’s too many of them!”

This time, Nagant Revolver approached Marlohe and reassured,

“Don’t worry, Miss Marlohe. This is Babushka’s home. She’s got this under control.”

When Nagant said this, the security room door of the lobby opened and three of her dummies emerged from the darkness. Those dummies all wielded their namesake guns and had batons and handcuffs at their hips.

Nagant then gestured triumphantly to her dummies and commanded,

“Now throw these Bolshevi… I mean, insurgents into the cell!”

With that, Nagant’s dummies began rounding up the gopniks who had surrendered, leaving Marlohe in awe. M14 then passed by Marlohe and patted her arm to say,

“You gave us battlefield control for this operation, right? Trust in us a little more, would ya?”

Marlohe snorted and folded her arms as she mused,

“Griffin truly is full of strange characters, huh?”

The STATSEC doll then linked up with the rest of the strike force as they prepared to press onwards to the Fifth Floor.

As the armed dolls went over the next phase of their assault, I looked around the war-torn lobby of the GKTV-5 building and my jaw dropped.

What truly troubled me wasn’t just the surreal state of disarray at the entrance to my workplace was in. It was the odd sense of deja vu that I felt in the midst of that destruction. I couldn’t help but feel like I… or rather Polarday, had been in a situation like this before.

Twelve years ago - in this very same building.

You were here before, weren’t you, Polarday?

December 14, 2051 - Past Midnight

Former Belarus State Television Station Building

57th BCT - Overwhelmed Command Post

Looking at the lobby from where I stood, I imagined the bitter fighting that took place in this very hallway in the last battle of the Third World War. You and I… we fought at Captain Salmon’s side to the bitter end. You wanted to avenge Genevieve’s ‘death’… only to find out that she had been alive all this time.

All of the sudden, the silhouette of a younger Genevieve emerged from the rubble in the eye of my mind. She had her favorite Browning Hi-Power handgun in one hand and a magazine of blue-tipped rounds in the other.

The younger Genevieve seemed to notice us in the hall. We were on our knees - weeping and cursing the high heavens as Captain Salmons drew his last breath. All the while, we held the Captain’s hand and felt his grip grow weaker and weaker until he finally let go.

Genevieve drew closer to us, but she stopped ten paces away from us as she loaded her handgun. Her eyes watched the dead Captain before she finally turned to us. Then, with bitter tears in her eyes, she pointed the barrel of her gun at us.

Our mechanical heart trembled.

Joy.

Disbelief.

Horror.

Rage.

All those feelings mixed together as tears formed in the sides of our eyes. Then, a frightened voice escaped our lips,

“... mama?”

Our words stung Genevieve’s heart with regret, but she stood firm in that darkened hall as she declared,

“Your mama died in Trieste Port - in Italy! She does not exist anymore! I am Special Agent Chaika, and I serve the New Soviet Union and the KCCO. I’m here to fulfil my mission - so it’s time that you let me go.”

We stood up from Captain Salmons’ side and rushed towards Genevieve. At that moment, we knew what it was that Genevieve had done… but we still wanted to embrace her.

We wanted it all to be a bad dream that we would wake up from.

We wanted to look up at the Summer Triangle on a peaceful summer night.

We wanted our family to be together again.

However, it wasn’t meant to be.

Our summer had turned to winter long before we realized it.

It was already too late.

Before we could even rise up from where we knelt, however, Genevieve pulled the trigger and a blue-tipped handgun round struck us on the head.

That bullet didn’t penetrate our skull, but it bounced off weakly as it crackled with electricity. It then gave off a weak EMP shockwave - just like the one that M14 shot me with back in the base.

Then, everything went blank.

March 8, 2063 - Late Evening

GKTV-5 Building

Ruined Hallway

When I got back to the present day, my hand wandered over to my forehead. I rubbed the spot where I had been shot as I tried to recreate whatever happened next, but there was simply nothing else there. Only static.

That was Polarday’s last memory as the primary subroutine of my body.

I could only imagine how she felt when she heard Genevieve’s voice again on the phone that night. If we had changed places, I had a feeling that I may have done the same.

While I was rubbing my forehead, Jim went over to me and asked,

“Hey. Are you alright, Potato? You’re not hurt, are you?”

I scoffed at Jim’s concern and countered,

“You’re the one who was bleeding here, Jim.”

Jim’s expression then darkened as he deflected,

“It’s just a small cut. That nurse doll already patched me up… but she told me that you looked into your mind. This place was...”

I shook my head and then reassured Jim with a smile,

“Don’t worry about me. I was just thinking that the next time I see Genevieve, I’m going to give her an earful. I’m sure you want to do the same, Jim.”

Jim nodded and agreed,

“I definitely do, Potato. I definitely do. Let’s go.”

GKTV-5 Building Stairwell

Between 4th and 5th Floor Landings

The strike team gained control of the central stairwell of the GKTV-5 Building and we met minimal resistance on their way up. At the landing of each and every floor, Grizzly kicked open the door and shouted her terms of surrender through her bullhorn.

Sometimes, the ex-soldiers would surrender outright and file out into the landing to be handcuffed by Nagant’s dummies. Other times, however, the defenders were a little more stubborn - but it didn’t take more than a few flashbangs, a couple of full-auto bursts from M14 and Ribeyrolles and a deadly shot or two from WA. That was usually enough to sort them out and convince them that they were fighting a hopeless battle.

As I watched Nagant’s dummies cuffing the ex-soldiers who had surrendered, I noticed their gaunt faces and their tattered clothing. After the shock and awe treatment that M14’s battle plan put them through, their morale had all but evaporated - even though they outnumbered us seven to one.

For the most part, there was fear etched into their eyes as they marched out and surrendered to us. The rest looked relieved to learn that they were being put into Griffin custody and not being sent to the KCCO. It really made me feel that these poor unfortunate souls were coerced into putting up this sham of an occupation.

They were just like me and Polarday - tools meant to be used and discarded in war.

Means to an end.

M14 watched the procession of prisoners passing her by as well and shook her head with displeasure. She then pulled Welrod aside and whispered to her,

“Have Negev dispatch P.O.W. transports to our location - and some rations and medical supplies too. These folks look like they haven’t eaten in days.”

Welrod nodded and I heard her begin contacting the adjutant of Station 56586 for a supply convoy and transport trucks. Once Welrod finished making the request, the strike team carried on to the fifth floor landing to repeat the clearing process one last time. Jim, Nagant and I followed a few paces behind and watched the action from behind the cover of the stairs.

M14 and Ribeyrolles took position at each side of the 5th Floor landing door while Grizzly held her bullhorn firmly. Welrod and Marlohe, on the other hand, pressed their backs against the wall further away from the door.

Grizzly kicked open the door and was just about to shout her demands through the bullhorn when shots of accurate lasers whizzed past her.

“W-whoa!” Grizzly gasped as she barely evaded the shots before eventually getting out of the way. Her bullhorn, however, melted into molten scrap before her eyes as one of the lasers pierced through it.

I turned to the stairwell wall where the lasers hit. There, I found smoldering holes that had bored into the reinforced concrete. I watched M14’s honey brown eyes tremble when she saw those holes. Then, she pressed on her earpiece and called,

“Wawa! Fifth floor! These ones don’t look like they’ll run like the others.”

Her earpiece then buzzed with a troubled reply,

“ I can’t see anything from here, M14. The windows are blocked by some sort of curtain... and I’m not getting any heat signatures. They might be using thermoptic camouflage - I’ll need manual coordinates! ”

M14 gritted her teeth and grumbled,

“Gah… we’ll figure something out. But if you see something, fire at will!”

“ Roger that! Send data to me by ZENER tactical link as usual. ”

M14 snorted before she roared,

“Ribey, Grizzly, Welrod. Exercise G4!”

The three dolls nodded in acknowledgement and promptly got into position for their maneuver - whatever this ‘G4’ might be. M14 brought out a flashbang grenade - just like the one I threw earlier - while Ribeyrolles produced a smoke grenade. Grizzly and Welrod, on the other hand, wore red thermal goggles and drew batons.

M14 threw her flasbhang in first, followed by Ribeyrolles’ smoke grenade. With that, the blast of light and sound was accompanied by a thick, dark grey smoke screen. Grizzly and Welrod promptly dashed into the 5th floor hallway with their weapons drawn. Once the handgun duo were past the post, they took cover behind columns in the halfway while M14 and Ribeyrolles opened fire from the threshold.

The aggressive assault drew laser fire once again, but the enemy shots were much wilder and more disorganized than before. The flashes from the laser guns also left faint trails of light in the smoke that the two handguns caught on the displays of their goggles.

Moments later, M14’s earpiece buzzed again as WA2000 announced,

“ Coordinates from Grizzly and Welrod received. Opening fire! ”

A powerful crack of the rifle came from outside and a high caliber bullet shattered the glass of the window and tore through the black curtains that had been covering them. That shot struck a figure in the middle of the hall that had been hidden by a thermoptic camouflage cape.

Blood tainted the figure’s thermoptic camouflage and painted a dark silhouette of its torso and the strange laser weapon that it was wielding. However, the figure remained standing as if its gunshot wounds were mere inconveniences. The figure didn’t scream or cry out in pain like the gopnik ex-soldiers in the lower floors did when they were shot.

It just stood there, readjusted its aim and began shooting back at Ribeyrolles and M14. A dozen more lasers began firing through the darkened hallway at the threshold, forcing Ribeyrolles and M14 to take cover again.

M14 reloaded her gun as she pressed her back against the wall and reloaded her gun as she cursed,

“Damn it! Who are these guys!?”

Marlohe poked her head out in a rare lull in the gunfire and shot at the blood-tainted figure. She unloaded her magazine into the figure’s head before it finally fell down lifelessly to the floor.

More lasers streaked through the threshold as Marlohe pulled back and revealed,

“Our intel says these ones are the white-hooded figures who entered the building with the Nyto. They’re called ‘Strelets’ - fanatic foot soldiers of an extremist group that we’ve been tracking throughout the Eastern Bloc. This is the first time we’ve engaged them in combat, though!”

If they were foot soldiers, then they were probably protecting that ‘Terco’ girl - as well as Genevieve and Alexi. So, I steadied my breath and proposed,

“We need to get to Genevieve’s office. It’s at the end of this hall. If we can stop the Nyto and get through to Genevieve and Alexi, we’ll be able to get GKTV-5 back up and running. We can’t do this without them!”

Marlohe nodded and agreed,

“Miss M200’s plan is worth a shot. STATSEC wants Chaika and her associates captured alive - but nailing the Nyto will be greatly appreciated. I’ll accompany them, but we’ll need help getting to that office. Can you do that for us, Miss M14?”

M14 scoffed at our responses and proudly declared,

“Anything is possible when you have a War Goddess on your side~! Besides - it’s not everyday that we can get STATSEC to owe us a favor. We’ll get you to that office safe and sound. We’re going to break through these Strelets.”

She then laid her free hand on her chest and winked confidently,

“You just need to believe in us~! After all, Wawa and Ribey aren’t the only friends we have.”

While M14 was speaking, the ground beneath our feet trembled as the building shook mildly. The deafening sound of helicopter blades reached my ears as I saw a silhouette of a rotary aircraft flying low just beyond the window.

A triad of red laser sights then scanned through the hallway, spotting the dozen or so Strelets that were scattered there. Rapid bursts of automatic gunfire then tore into the hallway and struck down three of the Strelets that were hunkered down close to the threshold. Accurate shots mowed down the monstrously resilient figures until they were nearly torn in half.

The rest of the Strelets quickly reformed their lines as they tried to take cover from the shooters aboard the helicopter, but yet another one of them was shot down by WA through the window. That one shot tore through the Strelet’s head, stopping it cold.

In the midst of that chaos, M14 and Ribeyrolles fitted flashlights onto their weapons and nodded to each other. The two of them then burst into the fray and joined Grizzly and Welrod as they opened fire on the retreating Strelets. All the while, WA and the helicopter gunners dismantled the enemy force with ease and forced them further away from the fifth floor hallway.

As M14 was unloading her magazine on a Strelet, she stole a glance at me and urged,

“Now’s your chance Miss M200! We’ll finish up here - so go and get your boss! Go, go, go!”

With that, I turned to Jim, Nagant and Marlohe and cried,

“Let’s go, guys! Now or never!”

Jim and the two dolls nodded. The four of us then snuck into the hallway under the cover of smoke and darkness  as the rest of the strike team fought off against the Strelets.

Moonlight seeped into the hall through the broken windows and the torn blackout curtains and I managed to steal a glance of the rest of the friends of the ‘War Goddess’ through the gaps. I saw them riding an old, rickety helicopter that looked like it had seen better years decades ago. The helicopter’s side doors had been slid open and the three dolls stabilized their weapons on a makeshift strap affixed to the threshold.

There was a beautiful poker-faced doll who wore a distinct white orchid in her long, pale pink hair and wielded a scoped, bullpup-style assault rifle. She squeezed the trigger of her gun calmly, firing bursts of shots at a time with a rhythm that was almost poetic.

Beside this tacit figure was a lively-looking blond-haired doll who wore a light blue headband that matched her uniform. This doll was bobbing her head left and right as she pulled the trigger of a heavy-looking wood-stocked submachine gun with a drum magazine. All the while, I could hear her shouting out the lyrics of a heavy metal song as she fired away at the Strelets.

The third doll shooting from the helicopter was a stern-looking maid doll with a cute frilly headdress crowning her head, a neat red neckerchief underneath her shirt collar and a near-permanent scowl on her face. This doll was wearing an earpiece and was dutifully reciting coordinates of every Strelet that she and her team spotted.

Why do I get the feeling that I had seen these dolls before?

Well, whoever these ‘guardian angels’ that M14 called for us were, I quietly nodded to them in appreciation and went on my way. Jim, Marlohe, Nagant and I went on our way through the chaos of what was once our office space. We kept our heads low, covered our ears and tried to avoid the broken glass on the floor but we eventually made it through to the end of the hallway.

Genevieve’s office.

I laid my hand on the knob and took a deep breath to gather my thoughts. Then, I turned the knob and stepped inside.

GKTV-5 Fifth Floor

Executive Office

I remembered the day that I first set foot into this office seven months ago. I had the business card that the drunk Genevieve gave me at the back of the Elbe River Live House in hand. The card even smelled a little bit like the cheap, watered-down karmotrine you found in the bottom shelves of supermarkets, so I was telling myself to be ready to get turned away after the media bigwig had sobered up.

Instead, Genevieve welcomed me warmly together with Alexi and Jim. A handful of the GKTV-5 staff were also on hand with party poppers and slices of store-bought cake that was clearly from the local Belkoopsoyuz supermarket. Walking into that room full of people who seemed happy to see me felt surreal at the time.

Walking into that same office now, seven months later in the dead of night, I understood why Genevieve treated me that way. Now, that bright and lively room was dark, cold and devoid of the warm smiles and happy people. The faint odor of cigarette smoke from Genevieve’s favorite brand - Hope Cigarettes - lingered in the room, but the star anchor of GKTV-5 herself was nowhere to be found.

Instead, under the light of a single lamp, I saw the solitary, mischievous figure of Nyto Terco seated behind Genevieve’s desk. She had an amused shimmer in her eyes and a condescending smirk on her lips as she watched me enter the room.

Terco then mused,

“Welcome back, dear sister. I’m impressed that you managed to get this far without your true subroutine in the cockpit - but I guess the combat data I’m getting will intrigue Father. After all… Griffin turned out to be craftier than I thought.”

As Terco was speaking, Nagant and Marlohe entered the room as well and pointed their pistols at her. Marlohe then barked at Terco,

“Put your hands where I can see them! You’re under arrest for helping incite an insurrection!”

Terco snickered and challenged,

“Why should I listen to orders from East German bureaucrats like you? Isn’t S05 the jurisdiction of the NSU’s Federal Security Service? Or perhaps you simply cannot trust your own supposed ‘allies’ in the KCCO? The Eastern Bloc is waaaay more fractured than we thought, huh?”

Marlohe furrowed her brow and growled,

“If you have complaints, send them to the STATSEC Leipzig Office - in triplicate. Now raise up your hands before I blow your brains out!”

Terco snickered, but she eventually raised her hands up just as Marlohe ordered her to. However, Terco’s smirk never waned. The way she looked at me made my hair stand up on end.

Then, all of the sudden, Terco’s knee struck something beneath Genevieve’s table and I suddenly heard a hydraulic hiss coming from the door. Jim and M14 were just about to enter Genevieve’s office as well when a heavy metal blast door suddenly dropped down and blocked off the doorway.

Terco then tilted her head and stuck out her tongue,

“Whoopsie~! My bad! Well - at least now, we can talk without being rudely interrupted. Heart to heart, just the way I like it~!”

Marlohe growled at Terco’s attempt to crack a joke and spat,

“What are you trying to do, you Nyto!?”

When Terco heard this, she took a deep breath and clenched her fists. She then glared at Marlohe and then roared,

“Do NOT call me ‘Nyto’, you STATSEC scum! Father gave me a name - so you shall honor him by saying it!”

With that, Terco stood up from where she sat and revealed her long, metallic arms and legs. The breezy black cape that flowed down from her neck and shoulders flowed all the way down to the tips of her metallic feet, covering her front and her back while betraying hints of the human female torso that it shielded.

Despite her metallic limbs, I heard the distinct sound of a human heartbeat coming from Terco’s veiled chest. Knowing that, I felt an uneasy tension gripping at my chest.

Just… what in the world was a Nyto, really?

A doll?

A cyborg?

A human?

Or an eldritch abomination of the three?

Before I could even try to think of an answer, Terco reached behind her back and brandished what looked like a long, black halberd fitted with the barrel of a high-caliber gun.

Marlohe and Nagant promptly started shooting at Terco. They landed hits on her body and drew blood, but Terco seemed to shrug off the pain - just like the Strelets that the strike team faced in the hallways. Unlike the Strelets, however, Terco seemed to relish in the pain as her grin only grew wider.

The two dolls emptied their guns into Terco, but the Nyto stayed standing. She then playfully tilted her head and asked,

“Over already? You can keep going if you want - but my sisters and I were made for war. We won’t go down as easily as you postwar tin cans! Now - it’s my turn!”

Terco pointed the barrel of her weapon at us and pulled the trigger. A devastating hail of automatic gunfire like a machine gun tore through the air, forcing us to take cover behind the thick armchairs gathered before the desk. However, it didn’t take long for the bullets to pierce through the armchairs.

The shots struck Marlohe first, shredding through her already damaged torso as she wailed in agony and dropped her gun. Then, Terco unloaded the rest of her magazine towards the armchair that I was hiding behind.

I closed my eyes and braced for impact, but Nagant suddenly pulled me aside and placed herself in the line of fire.

“Babushka!” I gasped.

The hail of gunfire ended and Nagant turned to me to flash me a grin. However, I saw her white coat getting stained with blood and oil as she tried to hide the pain. She then fell to the side, onto the carpet of Genevieve’s office, and her revolver slipped from her hands.

Labored breaths filled the room as Nagant and Marlohe laid languishing on pools of their own blood and oil spilling out onto the carpet and floor. Then, I heard Terco’s footsteps muffled by the carpet drawing ever closer.

Metallic clangs reached my ears as Terco’s metallic feet struck spent cartridges on her way towards my position. Then, she walked past the two incapacitated dolls and watched me with keen interest.

“It seems the fodder saved me the trouble of sending you in for repairs.” Terco noted nonchalantly as she eyed me from head to toe, “Though, it’s a shame that the fake subroutine is still in the cockpit.”

Tears formed in the sides of my eyes as I felt my entire body shivering. Agony and terror gripped at my mechanical heart as Terco’s shadow loomed over me. The Nyto then knelt before me and threatened,

“Maybe if I beat you up a little bit, the true ‘you’ will come out? Father doesn’t like weaklings in his family. Weaklings don’t deserve names. But you’re not a weakling, right? Polarday?”

Terco pulled her right arm back and clenched her fist as she threw a powerful punch with every ounce of strength that she had. I closed my eyes and raised up my arms to try and shield myself from the strike.

However, my hands suddenly moved on their own and caught Terco’s punch mid-air. All of the sudden, my lips moved on their own as I spoke words that weren’t mine.

“Don’t lump us together with you curtain-wearing freaks! We don’t give a damn about your stupid father!”

I opened my eyes and saw Terco in shock as I somehow found the strength to push her away. Then, in one smooth motion, I managed to adjust my weight on the floor and kicked Terco right in the jaw from where I sat.

My kick sent Terco flying, but she quickly dug the blade of her halberd down into the ground and regained her footing. She then gave me another look and grinned wildly,

“Ah - yes! Polarday! Dear sister! You have finally broken free of this weakling’s grasp!”

Polarday!?

Wait a second… don’t tell me that she broke free from the quarantine that Ribeyrolles put her in! But if that was the case, then why wasn’t I being dragged down into Level II consciousness like before?

As I was thinking about this, I caught a glimpse of the ARPANET HUD in the corner of my eye and I heard the voice of the white-haired girl speaking directly into my mind.

“ Oy, Potato. Don’t make me do all the work. Get off your ass and fight her! ”

Polarday… you have control over my body!?

“ I just unlocked your combat limiters. Follow my instructions and I’ll show you how to beat the shit out of Terco. You’re much stronger than you think you are! ”

Moved by the words of my subconscious, I picked myself up from the floor and faced Nyto Terco. The mischievous Nyto picked up her halberd and extended her free hand towards me as she offered,

“Now that you’ve retaken the cockpit, dear sister, come with me! Father is awaiting your return. It would be a waste if you get caught up in the blast of the Collapse Fluid bomb! Let the troublesome Griffin dolls and the treacherous STATSEC agents perish with the useful ex-KCCO idiots. Those weak humans weren’t prepared to become Strelets - so they would serve Father better as ELID zombies!”

When Terco said this, I felt Polarday guiding my body once again. I faced Terco squarely and raised up my fists as Polarday spoke through my lips,

“I don’t really give a damn about Griffin or STATSEC, but those poor souls were like the troopers I fought together with. I’m not going to fight for heartless pricks who gamble with souls! So, square up, bitch!”

Terco snorted and then held her halberd with both hands now. She then tilted her head and frowned,

“I guess that’s a ‘no’, huh? You picked up some bad habits from the West, huh? What a foul mouth you now have. Father HATES bad girls… so allow me to punish you! You’re coming with me whether you like it or not!”

Terco thrust her halberd towards me, but time seemed to slow down for me. Then Polarday promptly whispered her instructions,

“ Dodge left. ”

I followed her instructions and my body moved to the left with surprising speed, allowing me to watch Terco’s halberd fly past me. This was the first time that my body moved this smoothly. I felt like a bona fide, well-oiled machine!

Then, Polarday whispered again,

“ Grab the pole. Pull her in! ”

H-huh!?

“ Just do it, Potato! ”

I gritted my teeth and did as Polarday said. I grabbed the pole of the halberd with both hands and drew Terco towards me, overpowering her with raw strength. I noticed Terco’s confidence evaporating in slow motion as she was pulled in.

That was when Polarday gave me another order.

“ Now clench your right fist and let her have it! Give it everything you’ve got! ”

R-right? Got it!

I clenched my fist and threw the strongest haymaker I could muster right into Terco’s smug face. My punch connected and sent Nyto flying backwards for a short while, but the flow of time suddenly returned to normal as I felt myself running out of breath.

My grip on Terco’s halberd slipped and she managed to yank it away from my hands. She then slammed the blade of her halberd into the ground to regain her footing a second time. Terco’s bruised face watched me panting heavily, so she taunted,

“Indeed, you are strong - but you’re not going to last against me, my dear sister. You’ve been asleep for over a decade - and you’ve lived the wasteful, decadent life of a civilian in this doomed city. The ‘Potato’ subroutine is your weakness! Cast it aside and join Father! You shall become even stronger than you are now!”

I took a deep breath and shouted back with my own words this time,

“I don’t want to have anything to do with this maniac of a ‘Father’ of yours…! And I’m not going to let you tell me how to live my life! These past seven months - the good days and the bad - are all precious to me! I enjoyed every moment of it, and I’m not going to let you tell me otherwise!”

I steadied my stance with Polarday’s help and then cried,

“Brest Oblast is now my home! I’ve found a new family here - i’ve made many friends along the way - and I’m going to become a Star Anchor for everyone’s sake!”

With that, I dashed towards Terco with the weight of my words gripping my mechanical heart. Terco raised up her halberd, preparing herself to intercept another haymaker. However, I bobbed right then left to slip past the blade of her halberd. Then, I leapt up on one leg and drop-kicked Terco on the chest.

Terco flew backwards and slammed against the wall of Genevieve’s office, dismantling the blackout curtains that had been put over the office windows. On the other hand, I fell face first on the office carpet and desperately gasped for air.

All of the muscles of my body were aching, reeling from the sudden burst of activity that Polarday and I forced it to undertake. I even saw wisps of steam rising up from my body as it struggled to deal with the strain.

Eventually, Terco weakly peeled herself off of the wall and saw my sorry state as I was sprawled out on the floor before her. Seeing me like that made the Nyto laugh maniacally until her ribs hurt. The triumphant Nyto then jeered,

“After all that talk, you fall short in the end. You’re too attached to this doomed city. You’ve settled for the life of a pawn when you could have become an officer serving our Father’s will. Because of this, you don’t hvae what it takes to defeat me!”

I rolled over to the side of the carpet and looked up at Terco from the floor as I groaned,

“You’re right… I can’t beat you on my own. But that’s the thing, Terco… I’m not alone. I never was!”

While I was speaking, the ominous sound of helicopter blades filled the room as gusts of wind burst into the office. Terco’s long black hair flew wildly behind her as she turned around and looked out the window.

There, she was greeted by a line of three dolls with their weapons resting on a strap affixed to the threshold of the open helicopter door. A triad of laser sights were fixated on Terco’s fleshy head, chest and belly.

The beautiful doll with the flower in her hair, the perky doll who was vibing to heavy metal music and the maid doll with the eternal scowl on her face all cocked their guns at once. Terco, however, was unfazed as she faced her airborne opponents and mused,

“It seems… Griffin will be a trickier opponent… than Father thought…”

Terco quickly raised up her halberd-gun, hoping to aim at the dolls in the helicopter, but the three dolls opened fire first and peppered her with automatic gunfire before she could turn around. Hundreds of shots landed on target, shredding Terco’s flesh until she finally fell lifelessly down to the floor.

Epilogue

While I watched the defeated Terco bathed in blood and moonlight, I heard the hydraulic hiss of the office door once more. The door opened and M14’s strike team entered the room with their weapons in tow.

Once the room was clear, Jim slipped into the room and went straight towards me. He knelt down and exclaimed,

“Potato! Are you okay?”

I grinned at my boss and gave him a confident thumbs up,

“I’m fine, Jim… but don’t pat my head right now. I’m overheating, though, so...”

Despite my warning, Jim hugged me tightly even as steam rose throughout my body. Then, I sensed Polarday’s presence in the eye of my mind. She then whispered to me again,

“ All I ever wanted was to hug Papa again one last time… but I'm twelve years too late. This will have to do. ”

While Polarday was speaking to me, Jim finally let me go and I I noticed another doll that knelt beside me casually.

It was Nagant!

“Hey there, Potato! Babushka’s sorry that she couldn’t protect you properly… but I guess you managed to do fine on your own.”

“Babushka…!? But you and Marlohe?”

Nagant shrugged and reassured,

“Miss STATSEC bit the dust, but I’m sure she had dummies like I did so she’ll probably be alright. I regained control of my fourth dummy after Terco mowed us down - and I helped Miss M14 open the office door!”

“Is that so…?”

My eyes then wandered around the abandoned office and my mechanical heart sank. I shook my head and muttered,

“But Genevieve and Alexi are…”

While I was stewing in my troubled thoughts, I heard a faint buzzing noise coming from Terco’s corpse. I turned towards it and saw the small, rectangular outline of a cell phone underneath her black cape.

I crawled over towards Terco and took the phone from under the cape. It was an old model smartphone - probably a burner phone that Terco had meant to dispose of after her job was done. Still, I could tell that someone was calling her… and I had a feeling that I knew who it was.

I answered the call and listened in silence.

Then, I heard Genevieve’s voice.

“ Potato… is that you? ”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Prologue

Tattered blackout curtains riddled with bullet holes fluttered wildly in the dark confines of Genevieve’s office. Gusts from the rickety helicopter flying low outside the window blew into the office and eventually tore those curtains out from their hinges. Worn, heavy cloth cascaded down onto the bloodied floor around the corpse of Nyto Terco as moonlight finally entered the room unhindered.

Grizzly and Welrod dutifully swept the room for threats while M14 stood by the window and talked to the three doorside gunners in the helicopter. Ribeyrolles, on the other hand, was busy inspecting the body of the fallen Nyto Terco with keen, scientific interest. Jim and Nagant, meanwhile, helped me back up to my feet as I held Terco’s burner phone to my ear.

At first, I heard silence. Then, there was a perplexed, probing voice that asked,

“ Potato, is that you? ”

“It’s me, Genevieve.” I answered, fighting hard to keep the conflicting emotions welling up in my mechanical heart from overflowing, “It’s been a while, huh?”

“ Indeed, it has… ”

Jim and Nagant sat me down on one of the armchairs in the office, letting me shift the phone to my other ear as I replied.

“I didn’t think that we would have had a chance to talk like this. I didn’t think I’d be alive.”

“ Neither did I, Potato. After all… this is the second time that I… abandoned you. Based on the sound of your voice, I assume you already know what I’m talking about. ”

Even in that situation, Genevieve spoke to me as she always did. Her voice was mild and her choice of words was warm yet professional. It truly was a talent of hers to soften the sting of something as dark as abandoning one’s own child, but it made me sick in the stomach.

My heart may have been mechanical, but it was still aching like a human’s just the same. So, I gripped the phone tightly as tears started streaking down my cheeks. My vision was shrouded by my tears and sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight as my questions flowed like a waterfall,

“Genevieve… why did you do all of this? Why did you hide this from me? If you had told me about this earlier, I’m sure that we could have done something! Why did you have to get involved with extremists? And why… why do you have to leave!?”

Another episode of heavy, thoughtful silence ensued. That dead air was followed by a long, pensive sigh before Genevieve finally answered,

“ My entire life has been nothing but a lie, Potato. I was a double agent working for the KCCO and STATSEC. Everything that I have done was at the behest of one of those factions… except for two things that I did on my own volition. I refused to have an abortion and gave birth to the child of Captain James Salmons… and I recreated the human side of Nyto Polarday as the Potato subroutine. You. ”

“Genevieve…” I mused.

My mechanical heart trembled as I heard this. Somehow, I could tell that Polarday felt it too as I subconsciously gripped the phone more tightly without knowing it. Genevieve’s story then continued.

“ I’ve had to keep these secrets locked up in my heart… but it was only a matter of time before those factions caught wind of what I had done. The war may have ended twelve years ago, but Westerners are still hated and interest in the defunct Nyto program was being rekindled throughout the Eastern Bloc. The KCCO and STATSEC wanted to use me in their power play. I was afraid of what they might do to you and to Jim… so I backstabbed them by reaching out to a third side. ”

My eyes wandered over to the side where the enemy Nyto’s body was sprawled out. Then I asked,

“Are you talking about Terco?”

“ Yes. Terco is a Nyto employed by the extremist group called ‘Paradeus’ that is plotting against the various factions in the Eastern Bloc. In exchange for information about the KCCO’s Operation Vigilant Star, Paradeus promised to help me escape and appear as if I had died in the Collapse Fluid explosion that I orchestrated for the KCCO. At the same time, Jim and the other staff of GKTV-5 would be urged to leave Brest Oblast before the bomb goes off. ”

I turned away from Terco and shook my head - even though Genevieve couldn’t see it. Then, I protested,

“But what about me, Genevieve…? You were willing to use me like an attack dog to make sure Griffin didn’t intervene in Vigilant Star. I could have been destroyed!”

Genevieve fell silent again before she calmly answered,

“ Dying now - whether in combat or due to the Collapse Fluid bomb - would have been than being subjected to whatever god-forsaken experiments the KCCO or STATSEC would do to you if they found out about the information that you hold . Your ‘Potato’ subroutine was meant to hide that information in plain sight - disguised as a factory retail I.O.P. M200 unit. The more public your profile became, the better your disguise was. ”

I switched the phone to my other ear again and demanded,

“So everything you told me - about me having a face and a voice made for television… all of that was just a lie?”

Genevieve’s answer, however, came swiftly - with way more determination than I expected.

“ I have said many lies in my life - but that was not one of them. A lesser person or doll wouldn’t have been able to get Griffin and STATSEC to play nice with each other like you did. As for Jim… I wished that he would have evacuated with the rest of the civilians, but that damn fool takes after his father too much. Perhaps I should have expected this. That’s why I always joked that the two of you were going to replace me someday. ”

“Replace you…!? I could never replace you, Genevieve! Jim and I need you here at the station! We need you to help us calm down the people of Brest Oblast…!”

“ A part of me wants to scold you and Jim and tell you to get the hell out of Brest Oblast before it’s too late. However, if you kids really want to reach out to the people of Brest Oblast, look inside my office closet, Potato. There is an outfit there that I designed for your debut, but I never got a chance to give it to you. I had to go to Minsk, after all. Operations Vigilant Star and Stalwart Anchor were entering their final stages. ”

I suddenly remembered the day that I left for Station 56586. Genevieve had suddenly been called to Minsk for ‘business’. That must have been the day that she decided to take action. Still, the bitterness in my mechanical heart spilled into my words,

“Do you think I’ll forgive you just because you give me clothes to wear, Genevieve!?”

  “ I’m not asking for your forgiveness, Potato. I know I don’t deserve it. However, a news anchor must look sharp on television. Have Nagant help you wear it and work together with Jim. The two of you are my pride and joy - and the only genuine things that still have a place in my wretched heart .”

My veil of anger came undone as Genevieve said this, falling like the blackout curtains that once shrouded my mentor’s office. My free hand clenched into a fist as I begged her to come home,

“I… can’t do that without you, Genevieve!”

Once again, Genevieve answered swiftly.

 “Yes you can, Potato. Think of this as my last challenge - my last lesson. Show me that you can become a Star Anchor!”

She had already made up her mind. I knew my words wouldn’t reach her anymore, but I was stubborn.

“Wait, Genevieve…! Please…!”

“ Goodbye, Potato. I look forward to seeing what you can do. ”

Before I could say anything else, the call ended.

The burner phone then started heating up in my hand and the unpleasant odor of burnt plastic reached my nose. I instinctively tossed the phone aside and watched its circuits get fried before my eyes. A loud pop then came from inside the phone, followed by thick grey smoke as the dead phone laid on the floor of Genevieve’s office.

Looking at the phone, I realized that it was time to make up my own mind as well.

I looked around the chaos of the moonlit room and watched as the strike team finished up their security sweep. The rickety helicopter then flew off into the night, stopping the artificial gusts of wind that had been blowing in through the shattered windows. Jim and Nagant, on the other hand looked at me - quietly waiting to hear what Genevieve had told me.

M14 and Ribeyrolles then walked over to us and reported,

“Wawa and her friends are going to go help STATSEC find that bomb, but Ribey and I are going to stay here to watch the prisoners. What are you guys going to do?”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple as I considered my options. Then, in the eye of my mind, I saw Polarday looking right at me. She then spoke to me,

“ If you want to run away, Potato, now is your chance. No one will blame you for it. Griffin will help you evacuate that town. But that’s not an option for you, isn’t it? After all… ”

Polarday’s words then escaped my lips,

“Only hope remains.”

M14 tilted her head. She probably wasn’t sure about what I just said or why I said it, but that didn’t matter. I stood up from the armchair, walked past Jim and the dolls and marched towards the closet of Genevieve’s office.

I slid open the closet door and saw that just about all of the clothes that Genevieve wore were still there. She probably meant to get rid of all of them when the bomb went off, I figured.

Then, towards the back end of the closet, I found a freshly-pressed dress in a garment bag along with a pouch of accessories. There was a sticky note on the garment bag that read,

“ To my little War Correspondent, Potato. Congratulations! Looking forward to seeing how brightly you shine! - G ”

I took the sticky note and read it over and over. It was at that point that I knew that I was going to replace Genevieve for real. Then, I crumpled it up into a ball in my hands and turned around to face M14. I then told her,

“As of today, I’m taking over GKTV-5 as its new CEO. We can handle the legal stuff later. I’ll restart the GKTV-5 broadcast, but I’m not going to be able to do it alone. I’m also not sure if we can put Jim on air with his cut eyelid and all...”

Jim folded his arms and remarked,

“A lot of our staff should still be in town, Potato. Day shift. Night shift. We should call them all in. All hands on deck!”

Grizzly and Welrod then came forward happily. They showed off their keys while Grizzly added,

“We can go pick them up in the jeeps. We can make as many trips as you need!”

I smiled at the two handgun dolls and nodded to them,

“Thanks Grizzly. Welrod. I appreciate it.”

Then, I turned to Nagant and said,

“And Babushka? Could you help me get ready for the broadcast? I’ll need help getting into this outfit, you see… I’ve got pretty big shoes to fill, after all.”

Nagant smiled back at me as tears welled up in the sides of her red eyes as she replied,

“There is no doubt in Babushka’s heart. You will be able to fill those shoes no problem. So come on - let’s get you dressed. A Star Anchor is about to make her debut, right?”

I nodded to Nagant and agreed,

“All of us will shine bright - so bright that Genevieve and Alexi will be able to see it wherever they are. Let’s do this!”

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

Finale - Potato Salad

March 9, 2063 - Past Midnight

GKTV-5 Newsroom

Backstage Dressing Room

Ever since I joined the GKTV-5 family, I always dreamed of the day that I would sit before the camera in the newsroom studio as a fully fledged news anchor. That studio - with the diorama-like cutout of the GKTV-5 backdrop, the white desk that the news anchors sat behind, the rail-mounted camera dolly and the array of lights and equipment scattered around… all of it was familiar to me. I had worked on each of those things at least once over the past seven months and watched our news feed come to life from behind the scenes.

Now that my time had come, I felt nervous as I sat in the backstage dressing room. I was seated on a salon chair and wore a hairdressing cape while Nagant and Ribeyrolles attended to me. Nagant meticulously brushed my long ashen hair and applied my makeup as she prepared me to face the television cameras.

“You’ve been waiting for this for a while, huh, Potato?” Nagant mused as she powdered my face, “This was all you talked about whenever you came home from work!”

“Yeah… I have been looking forward to this.” I admitted, “But I kinda wished that my chance came in a more peaceful time. I’ll make the best out of this, though! Brest will remember us for this. We’ll show Genevieve just how much we’ve grown!’

Nagant nodded happily and then shifted her attention to my hair once more. My eyes wandered to the reflection of Ribeyrolles who was seated behind me with her N. U. R. S. E. computer planted on her lap. Her computer was plugged into my diagnostic jack at the back of my neck once more.

I heard the steady pitter-patter of Ribeyrolles’ typing as she thought out loud in her easily-tired,

“I just don’t understand… I thought that I quarantined Polarday completely… How did she... manage to regain control of you during that battle? Was my method flawed? Was my ARPANET translation incomplete…?”

I closed my eyes and mused,

“Polarday didn’t regain control of my body. She just lent me her strength for a little while - unlocked some of the limiters that held me back. That was how I beat Terco.”

Ribeyrolles stared into her screen and grumbled pensively,

“That’s two steps away... from Polarday taking full control. You were lucky... that she didn’t go as far as she could have. It’s nothing short... of a miracle.”

I chuckled at Ribeyrolles’ remark and reassured,

“Sooner or later, Polarday and I are going to have to learn to live with each other. We’re two sides of the same coin, after all. If neither of us can be at peace with each other, then neither of us will ever be happy. At least… that’s what we’ve decided.”

Ribeyrolles heaved a sigh and conceded,

“I’m happy for you, mademoiselle M200 . However, that probably means that… my knowledge of neural clouds and tandem subroutines… is still incomplete. I will need to do more research… but I have learned a lot… from observing you and Polarday. My N. U. R. S. E. program… will grow stronger thanks to you.”

I smiled at Ribeyrolles through the mirror as I answered,

“I’m glad I could help, Miss Ribeyrolles. I hope that your research will help stop dolls from being exploited by Parapluie or any other malicious code.”

Ribeyrolles then unplugged her cable from my diagnostic jack and then closed off my armor plate once again. She then picked up her assault rifle and reminded me,

“In due time, mademoiselle M200 . But for now… there are many more people… that you will help tonight. We shall protect you… so don’t hold anything back!”

“I won’t, Miss Ribeyrolles. I won’t.”

Ribeyrolles stepped out of the dressing room while Nagant eased my hair into a ponytail. She then held my ponytail in place with a cute black ribbon and a shiny barrette that was sitting inside the accessory pouch of the garment bag. Once that was in place, she took off the hairdressing cape that had been covering me from the shoulders down and revealed the rest of the outfit that Genevieve left for me.

I looked in the mirror and saw myself wearing a simple yet stylish black, one-piece cocktail dress that showed off my neck and my arms. I stood up from the salon chair and admired the way the dress puffed out like a skirt below my hips. The black tights that came with the dress were a little much for me at first, but seeing the entire outfit like this made my jaw drop.

I felt like I was looking at an entirely different doll. All the while, I knew with absolute certainty, that I was looking at a reflection of myself. Everything that I’ve done over the past seven months… and all of the struggles that Polarday had to go through well before that… were a part of me now.

That’s what I was truly looking at.

As I was thinking this, the dressing room door opened and Jim stepped inside. He had a studio headset around his neck and a clipboard in his hands as he called,

“Potato. We’re ready to go live in five minutes. Are you ready to go?”

I then turned to Jim with a happy smile and cheered,

“I’ve been waiting for this all my life!”

With that, Jim and Nagant led me out of the dressing room and into the news studio. Even though it was already the dead of night, a handful of Nagant’s dummies were making their rounds in the studio, inspecting our equipment and manning the camera dolly for the broadcast.

Jim put on his headset and stepped into the sound booth. Nagant, on the other hand, helped put on my lapel microphone as we did a last minute sound check. Then, the lively GKTV-5 theme played on the studio speakers.

That was Jim’s signal, saying that the broadcast was about to start. With my lapel microphone finally in place, I marched over to the news desk and took my place on the anchor’s stool. I felt the blinding lights and the lens of the camera fixed on me as the music swelled, but I wasn’t afraid.

This was my home, after all - and I was a Star Anchor.

I sat up straight and faced the camera with a confident yet calm expression. Then, once the red studio light flickered on and read ‘On Air’, I began to speak for the first time as a fully-fledged journalist.

Studio Time: 2:04 AM

“ Good evening S05. I am M200 of GKTV-5, the arrow of truth in Brest Oblast. We’re here with the breaking news this hour. First of all, we would like to apologize for stopping our TV and radio broadcast late last night. Our news station in the Commercial District was assaulted by armed hooligans and sympathizers of extremist groups under the cover of darkness.

...

However, please do not be alarmed. We are pleased to report that peacekeepers from Griffin & Kryuger’s Station 56586 have restored order in the Commercial District’s GKTV-5 plaza - and thus, we are able to resume our delayed broadcast. For this reason, this will be a temporary emergency broadcast instead of our regularly scheduled programming. We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience.

...

In related news, violent protests erupted after the conclusion of the local municipal elections between pro-Rossartrism and anti-Rossartrism activists. The unrest reportedly spread throughout the Oblast in the night but have since simmered down after municipal law enforcement was bolstered by Griffin peacekeepers.

...

We have a statement from the adjutant of Station 56586 - Miss Negev - who says that the situation is now under control. Griffin, however, advises residents of Brest Oblast to avoid large crowds and to stay indoors whenever possible until the situation is formally resolved.

...

For the time being, we urge the public to cooperate with Griffin and local law enforcement and to look out for each other in this trying time. If you have any information, you can send it to us through our emergency hotline or report it to the proper authorities.

...

In other news…”

...

My debut broadcast continued and flew by in the blink of an eye as the sheer number of news stories that we had to report on kept on flowing and flowing through the teleprompter. Managing that blitzkrieg of a broadcast was a little unnerving at first, but I eventually got the hang of it halfway through.

Twenty minutes into the broadcast, we had our first commercial break and the ‘On Air’ light flickered off. I sank deflated into the stool while Nagant hurried over to me with a glass of water, a makeup retouching kit and a clipboard of material filled with even more breaking news.

“You’re doing great, Potato! Lots of people have started tuning into the station again. Our TV, radio and internet traffic is through the roof! You’re reaching out to them!”

“Really…?” I asked as I fanned myself with the clipboard and chugged down the water.

“Yeah!” Nagant insisted cheerfully, “Miss M14 says that the situation on the ground is improving. The bomb squads are also expanding their search now that the streets are calmer.”

She then looked behind her shoulder and pointed to the studio with a smile,

“Plus - we’ve got a few more staff members now. They didn’t want to leave us high and dry after all.”

I turned towards the studio and saw one of our night crew cameramen taking over for Nagant’s dummy. A mix of day crew and night crew staff were also hanging around the wings to help out with the frantic broadcast. Even one of our main news anchors, Gala Minkovsky, was on deck and was watching from the sidelines.

At first, I thought that meant that Miss Minkovsky was there to replace me. However, she shook her head and shouted to me,

“You’ve got this, Potato! This is your segment now! You’re doing great!”

“Miss Minkovsky…!”

The GKTV-5 theme sounded again as our commercial break was coming to a close. Nagant finished up her touch-ups, took my now empty glass of water and hastily retreated from the diorama stage. I then faced the camera and continued the broadcast.

Studio Time: 3:40AM

“ Hello again and welcome back to GKTV-5’s emergency broadcast. I’m your host M200 coming to you live from our Commercial District studio and we are here with your breaking news for this hour.

...

This just in - reliable sources have told GKTV-5 that a bomb threat tied to the violent protests has been resolved as STATSEC agents and independent contractors have found and defused a number of bombs scattered throughout the Residential District, Commercial District and University District. Explosive materials were reportedly packed into tin soup cans that were meant to be used as Improvised Explosive Devices. We expect that more information will be released by authorities as the investigation continues.

...

Furthermore, the emergency meeting convened by the National Government in Minsk has concluded. Our sources in Minsk report that Belarus has decided to not declare a State of Emergency given that the situation in Brest Oblast is rapidly improving and is likely to be brought under control before sunrise.

...

Still, the municipal government of Brest advises its citizens to avoid crowds and to stay indoors whenever possible. GKTV-5 will share any further updates in the situation downtown as they come.

...

So stay tuned to GKTV-5. The arrow of truth in Brest Oblast. The Deep Dive At Dusk with Gala Minkovsky is coming up next.

...

This is M200, signing off. Until next time. ”

...

The red ‘On Air’ light turned off for the sixth and final time as my first two-hour segment came to a close. Once the cameras and microphones were shut off, the room that was now filled with both day shift and night shift crew erupted into cheer and applause. The intense stage lights mellowed down, allowing me to see the faces of the GKTV-5 staff gathered in the studio.

It was just like the day that this bunch of fun oddballs welcomed me into the GKTV-5 family. The atmosphere in the studio was electric as I sank forward, planting my face and my arms on the news desk. Then, I started to cry tears of joy. There was a wholehearted smile on my lips but tears just kept streaming down my cheeks onto the table.

The five dozen strong crew of GKTV-5 was celebrating the successful broadcast with me, but I could somehow sense the presence of others there that day. I could see the smiling faces of the proud men and women of the 57th BCT in the studio cheering for me with that oh so familiar chant.

“Po-ta-to! Po-ta-to! Po-ta-to!”

Can you hear that, Polarday? They’re cheering for you too. Captain Salmons… Papa… he’s with them. They’re proud of how far you’ve come… how far we’ve come.

But our journey isn’t done yet. There’s still so much left for us to do.

So I hope the two of us can get along from here on out, okay?

As I was thinking about this, Jim and Nagant approached the desk with concern etched on their faces. When the two of them were near enough, I sprung up from the desk and hugged the two of them as tightly as I could.

My voice was cracked from my crying and sobbing, so I couldn’t really say anything to Jim and Nagant. However, if I was able to speak, I would have told them this:

I became a Star Anchor thanks to them - and I hoped that they would always be at my side from now on.

Before Sunrise

GKTV-5 Building

Rooftop Patio

A surreal, calm silence embraced Brest Oblast and a gentle breeze blew through the city skyline as I stepped out onto the GKTV-5 Building’s rooftop patio. I emerged from the stairwell wearing my usual windbreaker jacket over the black cocktail dress that I wore on my debut broadcast. Still, I wrapped my arms around myself as I got used to the chilly late-winter air.

The drums of unrest and the cries of panic that tainted the city soundscape just hours ago were now replaced by the morning song of migratory birds flying overhead as they returned from warmer lands. As I saw the full silver moon finally bowing out, the sun peeked out from the distant mountains of the East and painted the sky in a periwinkle tinge that grew brighter by the minute.

I looked up to that sky and heaved a sigh of relief as I walked over to the ledge and laid my hand on the railings. When I got there, though, I noticed that there were two more figures there already waiting for me: the bright-eyed Subcommander M14 and the proud mercenary sniper WA2000.

WA had a thermos for hot drinks in hand while M14 was holding a simple plastic teacup. The two rifle dolls welcomed me with a smile and M14 handed me a second plastic teacup and offered,

“You want some hot chocolate, M200-chan? Wawa just made a fresh batch.”

When M14 said this, I was a little bit worried. After all, I knew that I.O.P. Model 48’s or WA2000’s had a serious manufacturer’s defect. They were notorious for having despicably poor cooking skills and were thus forbidden from entering any kitchen. I had read so many horror stories about WA2000 dolls and cooking where even dolls with their synthetic stomachs weren’t safe from that despair. So, I avoided their cooking like the plague.

Besides, if I died because of a horribly bad cup of hot chocolate, I had a feeling that Polarday would roll over in her digital grave in shame - especially after working so hard to make Operation Intervention a success.

WA2000 pouted at my visible hesitation, so M14 insisted and placed the second teacup in my hand. I had no choice but to accept and let the mercenary pour me a cup of hot chocolate.

Thankfully, the smell of the hot chocolate didn’t seem off and M14 hadn’t keeled over from food poisoning yet either. Noting that, I gulped and dared to take a sip of WA2000’s concoction. Then, I remarked,

“This… isn’t bad. Whoa… it’s not bad at all!”

WA closed up the thermos and folded her arms proudly as she boasted,

“You can praise me more, Miss M200! I’ve been practicing my cooking ever since my team and I went our separate ways from Griffin, and it’s paying off! Hot chocolate’s simple, but everyone starts from somewhere. Dolls can get better at their craft when they practice and put their hearts and minds into it! Just like what you did tonight with GKTV-5.”

M14 then chuckled as she sipped her hot chocolate again and gingerly reminded,

“Brest Oblast has been saved from destruction, but only by a hair. The stars may have aligned for us tonight, but the perpetrators of this mess are still at large. The web spun by the Cabal that Wawa and I are trying to fight is getting wider - reaching further everyday. The KCCO, the media, STATESEC… and now this ‘Paradeus’ group with their Nytos…”

I snorted at the thought of Genevieve working with such shady groups and chimed,

“I guess GKTV-5 and I are roped up in this mess now too, huh? After all, I turned out to be a Nyto myself. Talk about shock.”

WA set the thermos down and then reassured,

“Don’t worry too much about your past, Miss M200. What matters is how you plan to face the future. M14 and I both lost someone because of this Cabal that Genevieve is a part of, but I haven’t given up on finding her and bringing her home.”

WA’s cheeks then flushed red as she coyly admitted,

“She’s the reason why I’m working so hard to improve my cooking.”

I tilted my head and smiled at WA to say,

“She must be someone really special, Miss WA. Do you mind if I ask who she is?”

WA chuckled and turned towards the sun and said her name,

“My beloved. The fugitive M1903 Springfield.”

“Eh…!?” I nearly spat out my hot chocolate, “That Springfield!? Aren’t you guys supposed to be hunting her down?”

M14 then winked at me and urged,

“That’s the official story. The truth is much more complicated.”

WA nodded in agreement and explained,

“The influence that this Cabal has runs deeper than any of us probably know. Exposing one or two of their agents and operations isn’t going to stop them. We need to continue gathering information and play our cards right to take them all down in one fell swoop. Us combat dolls aren’t going to become investigators overnight, so having an ally in the media like you and GKTV-5 will help us tighten the noose around the Cabal.”

She then extended her hand towards me and smiled warmly as she asked,

“If we can defeat this Cabal, there is a chance that we can still bring the people we care about back home. Knowing that, can we count on your support, Miss M200?”

I paused for a moment and felt the warmth of the distant sunrise on my face. A smile broke out on my lips as I shook WA’s hand firmly and declared,

“As long as you folks do right by the people of Brest Oblast, I’d be happy to help bring this Cabal to justice.”

WA smiled back at me and cheered,

“Welcome to the team, Miss M200. You’re now part of Operation Summer Triangle. We look forward to working with you.”

The End

=====CREDITS====

Author and Storyboarding

Elias_Pedro

Editor & Consulting

079426 “Tech Labs”

Publisher

Archive of Our Own (A03)

Fanfiction.net (FFN)

Girls Frontline Reddit

Music

(Chapter 4 - Elbe River Live House Performance)

“Katyusha”

Composed By: Mikhail Isakovsky and Matvey Blanter

“Zelenye Glaza” (Green Eyes)

Composed By: Timur Mutsurayev

“Belarus Ochka” (Belarusian Girl)

Composed by: Angeline Pipper

“Back in the USSR”

Composed by: The Beatles

“Sweet Caroline”

Composed By: Neil Diamond

(Chapter 6 - Griffin & Kryuger Glasgow Branch Radio)

“I Want It That Way”

Composed By: The Backstreet Boys

“A Thousand Miles”

Composed By: Vanessa Carlton

(Chapter 7 - Jogging Exercise Cadences)

“I Don't Want No Teenage Queen”

Derived from: Full Metal Jacket (Movie)

(Chapter 8 - Polarday’s Awakening)

“Scarborough Fair”

Performed By: Simon & Garfunkel

(Chapter 11 - Assault on the GKTV-5 Building)

“Winged Hussars”

Composed By: Sabaton

Credits Song

“Eternal Flame”

Composed By: The Bangles

Dramatis Personae

-The GKTV-5 Newsroom LCC (Brest Oblast)-

M200

Nagant Revolver

James Salmons Jr.

Alexi Stoyanovich

Genevieve Saint-Louis/Special Agent “Chaika”

Gala Minkovsky

-STATSEC Leipzig Office - International Operations Directorate-

Marlohe

Kain “K” Schwaben

-G&K Station 56586, 2nd Division of Station 794-

M14 (Subcommander)

Negev (Adjutant)

Grizzly Mk. V

Welrod Mk. II

MP40

Commander Gentiane

Commander Elias

-G&K Station 113315-

Walther PPK

Commander “Sokol”

-The Starseeker Team-

WA2000

Ribeyrolles

G36

Suomi

AUG

-KCCO Minsk HQ-

Captain Yegor

-Ex-KCCO Gopniks-

2nd Lieutenant Anastasia Malashenko

-Paradeus-

Nyto Terco

-US 2nd Division, 57th Brigade Combat Team-

Captain James Salmons

Nyto Polarday

Special Thanks

PutrefyingSalvation

AngelicSteve1001

Komite

AzureStarPlayer

Ashvinoth

Illindus

MuldoonX9

Tatergattler

You.

Thank you - from the bottom of my heart!

Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan

A Girls’ Frontline Story

Epilogue

May 22, 2063 - Early Morning

Republic of Italy

Nuova Trieste Green Zone - Wharf District

Seaside Trattoria

A cheerful middle-aged lady with long, curly brown hair and bright blue eyes sat under the shade of a large parasol umbrella affixed to an outdoor dining table of a seaside Italian restaurant. This lady wore designer sunglasses and a navy blue summer dress with matching lacy gloves that wouldn’t be out of place on a Western designer runway show that were once held in pre-war Milan. She was humming the overture tune of Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro, albeit with a number of mistakes, as she sipped on a petite cup of espresso.

From her vantage point, the lady faced the shore of the Adriatic Sea where a massive construction effort was taking place. The already vast Port of Nuova Trieste, which boasted having the largest and busiest port in the entire Pan-European Union was being expanded yet again with a swathe of new facilities. The lady watched the construction with glowing pride as a distant cargo ship foghorn reached her ears.

She then noticed a long shadow approaching her from behind. So, the lady turned around to face her guest and smiled,

“I knew you were going to show up. We heard about the crazy things that went down in Belarus here in Trieste, but I knew they weren’t telling the whole truth. Syndicated media has a mind of its own sometimes huh, Terco?”

A cheerful figure of a teenage girl wearing a black cape over her figure sauntered through the cobblestone sidewalk towards the Italian trattoria.  She was accompanied by a tall amazonian lady with a prosthetic right arm and a blank, almost lifeless expression on her face. The girl’s companion was carrying a peculiar guitar case.

The girl then waved as she greeted the lady and answered,

“Oh, I believe that the media actually tried to tell the truth this time - especially if you listened to GKTV-5. The problem is, they failed to realize one important thing.”

The girl’s expression then twisted into a wicked smile as she explained,

“Terco means a ‘third’.”

The lady crossed her legs and mused,

“Heh, of course. The Portuguese Tercos were born in the age of pike and shot and wielded three weapons in battle: la hasta, la spatha e il sclopetus . Which one are you?”

Terco put a hand on her hip, showing off the sword and scabbard that she wore and then praised,

“You did your homework, huh? You’re correct. One third of me died in Brest - la hasta . The spear. I am la spatha - the sword. However, my Father needs il sclopetus elsewhere. A third of a Nyto should be enough to support your plans… or rather, one fourth. Twenty-five percent, hehehe.”

When Terco said this, she gave a sidelong glance to her companion. That was the signal for the companion to come forward and set the guitar case down on the table.

The lady eyed the guitar case and hummed with intrigue,

“To think that Jenny was hiding the rest of the Polarday data inside a guitar. She really was the craftiest among us. I’ll be sure to visit her later to thank her for her ‘gift’... though I doubt she’d be happy to see me right now.”

Terco sat down before the lady under the shadow of the parasol and promptly corrected,

“It’s not quite a gift, signora . After all, Father is asking for your assistance in exchange for this boon.”

The lady pensively swirled the espresso in her cup and answered,

“Find the fugitive M1903 Springfield, right? Don’t worry. I’ve already made arrangements. We’ll find her soon enough.”