Poland, Katowice, 03:00.

The night sky glows orange as the bombardment pounds the industrial outskirts.

Katowice is no longer a city... it has become a crater field stitched together with tracer fire, screaming jets, and collapsed apartment blocks.

Michael Visscher kneels behind a shattered wall, his G95KA1 slung, one hand on his field tablet, overriding URNC drone protocols mid-firefight. Every few seconds, he forces an enemy mech to pivot and turn its autocannon on its own squad. Forcing a Self-Scuttling.

His voice is steady, even if his eyes scream exhaustion.

"Executing Protocol Gamma-Six... done." Michael then turned to his Polish Grenadier, "Janek, left flank. Your hometown's not surviving this night."

"Not my first city lost, Dowódca!" Janek laughs darkly, firing a grenade launcher into a half-collapsed tram depot.

The Aleksandr brothers flank him. Viktor is suppressing URNC units with his LMG, while Vasili repairs the squad's railgun mounts and patches Michael's cracked tactical uplink.

Then... movement. Too coordinated to be a normal patrol. Too fast.

Wellington Sharpe spotted it first and alerted Michael and Vasili.

"Contact! Rear! Multiple hostiles, closing! It's a pincer!"

Michael barely spins around before a URNC assault group erupts from the debris... 7th Werewolves Detachment, elite Rossartist hunters. Their objective is clear: eliminate Michael Visscher, the symbol keeping the Dolls' hope alive.

Bullets chew through the wall. Viktor returns fire, laughing through the noise.

"You picked the wrong fucking German, Rossartrists bastards!"

But the numbers overwhelm them. URNC troops surge like a tide, ignoring the rest of TF Europa 10... every barrel pointed only at Michael.

Vasili realizes it first.

"They're not fighting us... IT'S A FUCKING EXECUTION ORDER!!!"

With it, Lieutenant Vasili Aleksandr alarmed the Firebase at Eastern Germany...

"BROKEN ARROW, I REPEAT, BROKEN ARROW!!! THEY WANT MICHAEL DEAD!!!"

The command goes global.

French and German HQs hesitate for half a heartbeat, then give the order.

"Bestätigt. Alle Artillerie und CAS, volle Sättigung! Verbrennt das Gitter!" [Confirmed. All artillery and CAS, full saturation! Burn the grid!]

And hell falls from the sky.

Missiles, JDAMs, rail-barrages... the city shakes. The air turns red and molten.

But the Werewolves and URNC Forces keep coming, bodies burning, still screaming Michael's name.

"PREPARE TO DIE, MICHAEL!!!"

"YOUR DEATH WILL SERVE THE GLORY OF THE URNC!!!"

"VICTORY FOR THE URNC!!!"

Viktor's LMG jams. "CKYA!!!"

Janek's grenades are spent. "Kurwa... Grenades' Empty!"

Sharpe's rifle overheats. "When you can't even trust your own country's weapons..."

When Michael's P13 CZ runs dry, he exhales... pulls his combat knife.

The five of them form a tight circle, steel and blood ready for the last stand.

"It was a good run, boys," Michael mutters, his voice dead calm.

"Aye... It was an honor." Sharpe replied.

"Slava Yevrope..." {Glory to Europe...} Vasili with grim acceptance in Russian.

"Party's on!" Viktor without fear.

"Polska nigdy nie upadnie!!!" {Poland will never fall!!!} Janek with his warcry and pride for his Nation.

Then... the storm breaks...

Gunfire cuts off... not by silence, but precision. Each shot clean, deliberate...

A voice whispers over comms...

"Target acquisition complete. Permission to clean house, Commander?"

Michael freezes. That voice shouldn't exist here...

...

Alva. AN-94. 

Then the world becomes surgical carnage.

Headshots, joint shots, execution bursts. The Werewolves start dropping... fast.

From the smoke steps Team DEFY, reformed and lethal... but their eyes aren't on the enemy.

They're on him. Their Commander.

Alva (AN-94) with her calm, perfect aim, but her gaze locked on Michael, trembling at seeing him still alive.

Voymastina (AK-15) with her mechanical efficiency, tearing through the flanks, killing anyone who even looks Michael's way... All of which are URNC that wants his head on their silver platter.

Klukai (HK416)... moving through the shadows like a phantom, whispering through the comms, "You see, mein Michael? We still protect you... you just forgot the why.~"

Centaureissi (G36) her command aura sharp, efficient, but her words burns...

"He is ours. Stand down or die."

The battlefield shifts against the URNC.

TF Europa 10's surviving soldiers stare, weapons raised... unsure whether to thank or shoot the newcomers.

Janek, panting, mutters to Sharpe... "They fight like devils. But those eyes... they're not fighting for us."

Sharpe replied... "No. They're fighting for him."

And they're right. Every G&K T-Dolls, every movement, is oriented around Michael... protecting him, encircling him, possessing him.

The URNC strike collapses. The remaining units surrender or scatter.

Dawn crawls over Katowice's ruins. Smoke, ash, silence.

Michael stands at the center, covered in grime, bleeding from his left arm.

He stares at the Dolls — old comrades reborn as angels of wrath.

Centaureissi steps forward.

"Kommandant Michael Visscher... By your absence, this world bled again. We will not let that happen twice."

HK416 smiles faintly. "All you needed was me... And yet... you made us chase you."

TF Europa 10's rifles raise slightly. Vasili immediately signals everyone to calm down.

The Dolls' optics flare in response.

One wrong move... and Europe gets a second war.

Michael breathes out slowly, lowering his pistol.

"...What did you do?"

Alva answers quietly.

"What you trained us to do, Commander."

And that's when it hits him... he's no longer the man they remember, and they are no longer the Dolls he left behind.

But neither can live without the other now...

...

Katowice, Poland, 05:00...

Michael Visscher sat on a cracked wall, helmet off, face streaked with blood and exhaustion, and just got his wounds treated by NATO Combat Medics... Around him lay silent wrecks of URNC drones and armored troopers. TF Europa 10 was battered, but alive... thanks to their unexpected allies.

The T-Dolls.

Team DEFY was standing there, weapons still hot, eyes locked on him... not as soldiers, but as something far more personal...

Centaureissi arrived with Klukai, their silhouettes framed by the glow of burning buildings... Behind them came newer faces... The Elmo MCV T-Dolls... Sleek, humanlike, wearing expressions far too emotional for standard AI constructs.//

Michael took a slow breath. He looked up at them all, his voice hoarse, but calm.

"... I wanted you girls to live free. Why come back to me?"

There was silence at first. Then Alva stepped forward, lowering her rifle. Her eyes... usually calm... were trembling.

"You don't understand, Michael... Freedom means nothing if it's without you."

Voymastina (AK-15) crossed her arms, glaring at him like a scolding lover. 

"You thought you could just disappear? We searched every world for you, and you're quite foolish to think we'd let go, Moy Vozlyublennyy." {My Beloved.}

Centaureissi stepped forward, her tone controlled, but her composure was cracking.

"Do you think we could live peacefully knowing the URNC exiled you? Knowing they called your devotion a threat? You gave us purpose, Herr Visscher... You made us feel alive..."

Michael clenched his fist... torn between relief and dread. He doesn't know what to feel...

"I didn't want this... I wanted you to choose your own paths, not bind yourselves to me."

"Then why did you make us fall in love with you?"

That silenced him. Even Sharpe and Viktor, standing nearby, stayed quiet... the emotional charge between man and Doll was tangible.

"The URNC tried to erase you. We won't let them." Papasha (PPSh-41).

"We fight for you, Commander... whether you accept it or not." Colphne, the one who treated him...

"Because without you... the network feels empty..." Nagant.

One by one, the Dolls knelt... Team DEFY, Centaureissi, HK416, Springfield, even the Elmo MCV units.

Each carried scars from two years of searching, loss, and fury.

They didn't come for orders. They came for him.

Michael sighed, staring into the morning haze... knowing deep down that what he built once as a family... had turned into something far more possessive and unstoppable.

Michael could only sigh quietly and said...

"...You've just declared war on the URNC, haven't you?"

Centaureissi gave a faint, reverent smile.

"No, Michael. We declared war the day they took you from us..."