Alpha Story: Filling out the Sideline: The Far-Reaching Winds (Patreon)

Author's Note: The following is an Alpha Story! It is meant to come directly after Filling Out the Frontline Chapter 10, which is not yet ready for publishing. It is directly followed by the next Sidelines, We Were Made For This, and will be leading into the next big arc of the story where all the players come onto the board.

This story will be Officially Published AFTER Frontline Chapter 10. If you'd prefer to wait until then, by all means do, but if you've been starved for more gun-girls then please, enjoy.

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The white-haired doll twisted in her sleep. 

She wasn’t supposed to dream. According to the schematics from which she had been constructed, she should be in a simple resting phase right now. Her vision and hearing switched off, the sensations of the heavy blanket non-existent. She was resting, what should be a simple and quiet sleep.

But Destroyer stood in the open white tundra.

Snow fell around her, heavy white flakes that stuck to her solid white hair. Her pale-yellow eyes looked up into the overcast sky.

It was cold out. The sort of cold where you can no longer feel the chill of the wind, only barely aware that her joints were locking up at the elbows and near her knees. Destroyer wore minimalistic clothing, a simple black dress that granted her arms full and free movement, with mechanical legs that came to just above her knees. 

She would normally have two large grenade launchers attached to either hip, but her armament was gone. The small doll was all alone in the open field.

She walked forward.

She knew she was asleep. She could read her bio-metric data, everything from the mechanical heartbeat to the pressure of the oil that flowed in her ‘veins.’ She could even see that she was supposedly laying on her back, breathing a little faster than normal, in a comfortable fifty-five-degree bed.

But she was also in the snow, walking forward in a dream that she couldn’t dream.

The empty field was near what looked like an abandoned farm commune. No doubt where some human filth had lived their lives before finally leaving for their walled off cities. A large barn, still red in some spots despite the stripping of the harsh snowy winds, stood tall and proud over two residential buildings.

Destroyer recognized the field. She was just outside of Sector 3, right where th-

The field exploded. The silhouette of a Jupiter Cannon flashed in against the swirling gray winds of the sudden storm. Cries came from the other side.

All around Destroyer, Sangvis units emerged from the snow, pushing out in a wave of purple and black towards the explosion. They began to fire wildly. More screams were heard as fire was returned.

Then the rest of the Jupiter Cannons began to fire their salvo. Immense flashes of bright orange light boomed in the distant storm. Sangvis’ defensive line as the arctic trap snapped.

Why was she seeing this? How was she seeing this?

The ripper unit to her right shot backwards, oil popping out from the automaton’s forehead, and Destroyer turned to see a huge silhouette bearing down on her, deep purple eyes blazing through the gray before an explosion at her feet sent her stumbling backwards.

Destroyer screamed as she fell through a snowdrift and continued to drop straight into darkness. She felt an impossible impact on her feet, spinning her orientation like a sphere and making her mind feel as if it was being ripped apart. Falling upward while her feet were on the ground.

Ahead of her, sparkling from the void beneath the ice, was a large, blue flame.

A small laugh, quiet in tone yet somehow louder than any gunfire was heard over her shoulder.

“So. You’re finally waking up, are you?”

Destroyer turned around and had the briefest view of luminescent pink eyes over a devilish smile before the image faded to her room.

Destroyer blinked up at the dark ceiling of the plain quarters. She could still hear the swirling of snow and the light little smile in Architect’s voice as she purred, “Haven’t you kept us waiting for long enough?”

She checked her systems, hardly sure if she was even breathing. 

After she was sure that she was awake, Destroyer sat up.

“What the hell just happened?” she asked.

Nobody responded.

******************************************************************************

When she finally got out of bed, Destroyer tried to banish the feeling of cold off of her pale skin. It took her longer than normal to tie her hair back into her white twin tails, guided poorly by stiff, frozen fingers.

She didn’t have a mirror. The room in her bunker didn’t have space for one, but why would she need it? Sangvis Ringleaders were perfect in every way. She should have been able to manage getting dressed just fine.

But her dress was ruffled, her hair was poorly tied, and a tiny dribble of a cold sweat was moving down from the chills on her back. She wasn’t aware of these little factors, but she felt off. 

Something had changed.

She was about to leave the dark dorm room when a voice that wasn’t there whispered, Wow, you really live like this?

“YAAA!” Destroyer leapt, her knee striking the poor wooden door and putting a hole straight through it. “Ow ow,” she kicked backwards, rounding on her room. 

Her pale eyes glowed and the receptors changes to a brighter tint, casting the world into an even brightness.

“Who’s there?!” she demanded. “Dreamer, you better not be in my room again!!”

It’s me, you idiot, the voice said without speaking.

Destroyer spun around, feeling like someone was hovering over her shoulder.

A bright giggle shocked her and she stamped a booted foot. “Architect! Where the hell are you?!”

In your head, moron. I’m connected with your neural cloud.

“The heck does that mean?!” Destroyer spun around once more.

God, you really are the biggest idiot!

Destroyer growled, her tiny hands tightening into tiny fists. “Come out here and say that!!”

You’re- ugh, the voice groaned. Alright. I am not with you. I’m in a holding cell. I’m connected to you wirelessly. Like a radio.

Destroyer checked her system. “But I’m not… receiving any signals.”

Not an actual- GAAH!

“A-Architect??” Destroyer asked her empty room.

There was no reply.

“Architect?” Destroyers voice was timid, questioning as if she’d even heard the voice at all. Which, technically, she hadn’t.

She didn’t know if a T-Doll could go crazy.

Well, actually crazy. All Sangvis ringleaders were believed to be crazy, but that wasn’t true. 

They were just murderous.

Destroyer winced, realizing how much time had passed, before hurrying out into the hall. She passed several other dorm rooms, noticing uncomfortably that they were open and empty, quickening her pace along the concrete hall.

She exited the double doors and made a right turn, heading towards the stairwell. She’d have taken the elevator if she could, but they were on a strict allowance of electricity for the time being.

While Destroyer would have never admitted it, she knew the current outlook was bad. Beyond bad, it was practically unsalvageable. Sangvis had all of a dozen actual units to their names, each girl a good Commander in their own right, but they were being smashed by the hordes from Griffin. 

A single Ringleader was worth thirty units from G&K, and were where Sangvis’ focus on Artificial Intelligence shined. The Ringleaders were beyond Smart Intelligence, they were humanity evolved. Stronger, faster, their bodies augmented with mechanics to become devils in a fight, their minds capable of commanding hundreds of standard robotic units. But the cursed ‘Dummy link’ system meant Griffin had over a thousand thinking, reasoning, capable T-dolls, which were cutting through the Sangvis robots like a sickle.

Rippers, Vespids, Jaegers, Strikers, no matter what the Ringleaders could throw at the enemy, the other T-dolls just kept coming. An unending advance that had already punched through some of its most defended territory. Griffin was winning, leaving a scrapyard of Sangvis mechs in their wake. Even the military-grade units, the Aegis and the Manticores, were falling in droves.

Destroyer was stubborn, but she wasn’t an idiot. Even if the others tried to convince her she was…

The writing was on the wall. Griffin’s war of attrition was working. No matter how many dolls they destroyed, Griffin somehow was able to bring them back up. No matter how many Commanders that Sangvis killed, there was another head that grew from the body. It was too resilient, too strong. A snake that needed to be entirely skinned before the carcass could finally be remade. 

Even Agent and Gager had been thrown off of their trail, with Gager in particular being humiliated by losing the Arctic stronghold and her partner, Architect.

Destroyer stopped as she reached the second level. The stairs here were more dangerous, the remains of an explosion having torn through the center. Most of the resistance had taken place on the first and second floors, and blood was much easier to clean than rubble and bullet holes.

That was back when she believed in herself. How easy it had been to wipe out the base and their leaders. Back when she felt powerful, back when she felt she really believed in Elisa the Mastermind.

What the hell were they going to do? 

Hello? Hello?? Is this thing on?

Destroyer’s foot slipped on a chunk of smooth rock and she nearly tumbled down as Architect’s ‘voice’ again filled her brain. She caught herself on the iron railing, grumbling as she pulled herself up.

“Not listening. Not real.”

I heard that!

Destroyer ascended the stairwell to the first floor. She came out into a dark hallway and followed that to the left. Flashes of memories were toggling through her head. Torn down posters that had been covered in blood, a large whiteboard that was now repurposed. The heavy black marker made Destroyer’s false-heart thump a step quicker as she noted each name had a checkmark, except for hers.

Oooo, someone’s in trouble~ Gager said you were always sleeping in.

Destroyer ignored the impossible voice from her impossible dream.

She hurried to a large set of double doors, what had once been the base canteen, before straightening herself up. She tugged her black dress over her pale hips, took a deep breath, and entered.

The canteen was large, built to service a rotation for the ten floors of dormitories. At least thirty tables which could sit twenty went completely unused, as the Sangvis dolls were seated in two small sections near the entrance. What had been the officer’s seating was sparsely filled by pale white dolls with glowing yellow eyes.

One of these dolls unfolded from her seat, her long arms and legs moving unnaturally as she stepped over the small partition. “You’re late,” Alchemist said in a heavy, wicked voice, her teeth pulled tight in a fang-like grin. She matched her sisters’ long white hair, but wore it over one eye and far down her back. She was much taller, with arms and legs that were freakishly long, and had a much more voluptuous figure than the little Destroyer. Alchemist was as haughty as she was cruel, wearing her witchy smile. “You even missed roll call. Did you sleep in again?”

“No,” Destroyer said automatically. Then she frowned, raising her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. “Maybe? Kinda.”

Yeah you did! Architect’s voice called, causing the discomfort in her temple to redouble.

Alchemist snorted. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

Destroyer blinked. She was going to lie, had even started to. It was alarming, a worry as great as the voice she could not hear. Destroyer never lied. They weren’t supposed to tell lies to each other, that was the whole point. That was one of the things that made them so much better.

“I don’t…” she swallowed. “I don’t think I slept well.”

The other doll fixed her with a cold stare. “What? What does that even mean? What are you, some kind of human?”

“Uugggh,” sighed another of the ringleaders. “Just leave her alone.” Scarecrow, who had wavy black twin tails and the figure of a ballet dancer, had taken her respirator mask off. She was drinking from a large container of black sludge that made Destroyer’s stomach turn. The nutrients that kept the Sangvis dolls running. “None of us are exactly running at peak performance.”

Alchemist waved her off. “Relax, would ya? I’m asking the twerp a question.” The tall doll turned back to Destroyer, “Did the little girl have a bad nightmare?”

Psh! As if! I’m the best thing you’ve ever dreamed!

“Oh would you can it?!” Destroyer grumbled. “It’s bad enough we’re stuck without power. I’m not about to take crap from the overgrown spider!”

She stomped past the menacing doll and the remains of what had once been the check-in desk. Intruder and Hunter watched her openly, each with their own cup of morning nourishment.

So, are you not gonna talk with me? I’m gonna get bored.

“Shut up,” Destroyer hissed at herself.

She speaks!

Destroyer walked through the double doors into the kitchen, where she was abruptly frozen in place above a shining stare. 

Judge was even shorter than Destroyer, and she wore far less. A little top tied around her chest, a sliver of fabric to cover her hips, the most impressive thing that Judge wore was the scowl on her tiny face and the massive, torso sized SMGs attached to a plate on her lower back. Unlike most of the ringleaders, Judge never took off her weapons.

They certainly helped give her a commanding presence. 

“Destroyer, you were late for both morning muster and for mess hall service.”

“S-sorry Ma’am!” Destroyer felt herself snapping to attention as the tiny Judge rose to look at her chin. 

Oh shit! Architect swore. Um- I’m not here! Don’t tell anyone that you’ve gone crazy!

Destroyer obeyed the voice in her head more out of fearful reaction than forward thought.

Judge was the dog of Sangvis, reporting only to Elisa herself. She had a way of screaming at you without raising her voice, making every word stab through to their servos. Judge was also in charge of distributing duties… and punishments.

They all followed Mastermind, but Judge was in charge.

“I don’t need apologies, Destroyer,” her high voice commanded. “I need reliability. What if we were under attack? Would you sleep right though the alarm?”

“I-I don’t… think so?” Destroyer said, thinking about the freakishly loud alarm that hung right over her bed, then hurriedly added, “Ma’am!” 

“You’re slipping, Destroyer!” Judge declared without shouting. “Look at you, your outfit’s a mess, and your hair’s disgusting!”

If it were anyone but Judge, Destroyer might have snapped back. But Judge was Judge, and you just didn’t snap at Judge, least the tiniest doll took a bite out of you.

Instead, Destroyer lamely apologized once more. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

“Get yourself something to eat. Then go take a damn shower. I don’t know how, but you’re sweating, and it’s revolting.”

Destroyer blinked, looking down to her arms. Against all knowledge, against all of the restrictions, she was indeed sweating. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“You’re going to miss assignment, so I’ll just give you yours now. After you bathe, report to the third-floor communications center. Dreamer needs to be relieved. Take her report and then monitor channels coming out from Kemerovo. We’ve several notices of suspect activity moving into the city. And keep sharp, you may have company.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Destroyer nodded. Judge had just given her the soft guarantee.

Mastermind would be there.

“Alright. Dismissed,” Judge released her from her eyes. Passing by she murmured, “Make that double time. You smell like a graveyard.”

Destroyer frowned. She raised her arm and sniffed, immediately regretting the action.

******************************************************************************

Destroyer came out into the mess hall shortly afterward. Most of the others had filtered out, except for Scarecrow who seemed to be too busy checking her nails to do any actual work. She looked up as Destroyer approached with her tray, sitting down across the table.

“Woah,” Scarecrow’s eyes opened wide. “You feel alright?”

“What? Yeah, I feel fine. Why?”

“Well, you’re not eating your DRM,” Scarecrow said. She pointed to the tray. “What is that?”

Destroyer looked at the bowl. “It’s ramen noodles. They’ve been in the pantry for forever.”

“I didn’t even know we had that.”

Destroyer scowled. “How’s that my fault? Sometimes I want to have something other than just that icky sludge.”

Scarecrow looked genuinely confused. “Icky??”

“D-disgusting! I meant it’s gross!”

The black-haired doll looked from Destroyer to her large cup of black sludge. “It doesn’t taste like anything. It’s got all the nutrients your body needs-”

“For twenty-four hours, yeah I’ve read the pouch,” Destroyer waved. “But sometimes you just want something that tastes good, you know?”

“No.”

“Whatever!” Destroyer tucked into her noodles using a silver spoon. She twirled the long noodles around the utensil before scooping up the rest.

Delicious broth highlighted the salty taste of the noodles. The pork flavored seasoning was downright delectable and put Destroyer in a pleasant mood. Nice and warm, the yummy soup spread through her tummy and she let out a sigh.

Scarecrow watched her for a bit before asking, “Can I try a bite?”

It was only a moment of hesitation before Destroyer shrugged and passed the tray over. “It’s really salty,” she informed. “You might not like it.”

Scarecrow tried her best to mimic Destroyer without much success. She ended up having to slurp up a long trail of hot noodles, which flicked against her chin and left a small drip of the broth dribbling down from her lips.

Destroyer chuckled as Scarcrow’s tongue tried to catch the trail before the noodle novice wiped her chin with the back of her hand. “Well?” Destroyer asked.

The other girl seemed puzzled, her lips puckering in thought. “Well, I can tell it’s warm. Do you really taste anything?”

“Huh??? Yeah, of course I do. Don’t you?”

Scarecrow frowned. “Of course I don’t. Why would we have been designed with taste buds?”

Destroyer blinked at her.

“I was created for a reconnaissance role. What possible tactical advantage would being able to taste something bring me?” Scarecrow asked, not unkindly.

“W-well, I was made for combat!” Destroyer bobbed uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s not like I need to eat to use my weapons!”

Scarecrow was looking at Destroyer closely now, her eyes looking through her rather than at her. She stroked her chin. “Have you always been able to taste things like this?”

“L-like what?!” the small doll demanded. “I’m just eating!”

Scarecrow scowled. “I mean have you always had a sense of taste.” She lifted her mask and tapped it on the table. “I used to not be able to smell, remember? Until my body got used to the collapse fluid. Now, I have to wear my mask when outdoors because it all smells so bad.”

Destroyer felt a dribble of sweat roll down her neck. “Does that mean you can smell me?” she asked.

Scarecrow nodded. 

The small doll grimaced. “S-sorry,” she mumbled.

For a moment, Scarecrow looked puzzled. Then the Ringleader said, “You smell like flowers.”

******************************************************************************

Destroyer hurried out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her small body. She used another to dry off her hair before slipping into another black dress. The bathroom, which did have mirrors, helped her put her body and hair into place before she traipsed out.

The voice had, thankfully, gone quiet. Just enough time had passed that she was again considering that she had simply been imagining it, but when she stopped by her dorm to grab a cloth bag, a bright snicker filled her thoughts as she looked in on her secret stash of sweets. 

I knew you were the right pick, Architect giggled. Nobody else would have had chocolates.

Destroyer looked up at the ceiling. “Are you here or are you not?!” she demanded. 

I’m over here. You’re over there. But it’s kinda relative for now! Watch!

Destroyer’s vision flashed.

She was suddenly sitting cross-legged in the center of a large room with a low ceiling. The room was lit with achingly bright LED lights, and a small girl with black hair and bright pink eyes was sitting on a bed, her back to a concrete wall that was covered with childish chalk drawings of a happy girl with a pack of large animals. Architect had a faraway look for a moment before turning towards Destroyer and waving cheerfully. 

“Hiya!” she said. “Nice of you to join me!” She reached into a large baggie at her side and held up a handful of candies. “I’d offer you some if you were really here.”

Destroyer blinked at her. 

“Architect?” a female voice played from a tiny speaker. 

“Oop!” the girl sat up, pulling a tablet out from under her legs. She tapped on the screen. “Heya- oh. You brought her,” Architect scowled.

“Hello sweetie~” A new voice sang over the tinny speakers. “How’s prison?”

“Wonderful. Your Commander has been sending me all the M&Ms I can eat.”

“You don’t look as if you can eat that many~” the voice called teasingly. “You must be starving, poor thing.”

“Alright, alright, you two can fight later.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a fight,” Architect replied coolly, chomping down on a handful of M&Ms.

“It wasn’t the first time either,” the other voice sang.

Architect growled.

“Enough! The Snowfall Contingency is prepped. Is there anything else you need?”

Architect looked up at Destroyer. “What would you like, Destroyer?”

“You’re working with Griffin,” the small Ringleader stated.

Architect’s smile returned, growing beneath her explosive pink eyes. “No, I’m not.” Then her voice seemed to shift, as if it were coming from further and further away. “Wake up, Destroyer. Can’t you feel the snow?”

Destroyer’s body shivered, from the tip of her neck down to her tailbone. She blinked, off balance as her body was suddenly thrust back into her room.

Architect’s voice followed, floating through the unseen air. The winter winds are blowing, and the fire is glowing bright. Don’t get trapped beneath the ice.

And then she was gone.

Destroyer felt something. She wasn’t sure what it was, but whatever had changed had become bigger. As if a hole inside her mind had been filled and was now spilling out over the top.

Architect couldn’t lie. She didn’t have to tell the truth, but she couldn’t tell a lie.

If she wasn’t with Griffin… then…

Destroyer’s hand tightened over her bag, crinkling the wrappers of the chocolates inside. She was suddenly reminded of her purpose and, with a single thought of Judge’s piercing glare, raced from her room cursing Architect and the sound of the snow that was crunching beneath her black boots.