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Mosin-Nagant (GFL2)/Profile
| Mosin-Nagant (GFL2) | Story | Profile | Quotes |
"I can't sleep yet, I still have work to do..."
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Journals
Record 1
In Griffin, the elite Tactical Doll codenamed Mosin-Nagant was well-known for her marksmanship. While she had great pride in her pedigree, she was secretly worried about the age of her frame. When Griffin was restructured, her fear of being rejected led her to choose reassignment to a different position. As a result, she joined POL-03’s Department of Public Security, where she adopted her former codename as her new name.
Despite her sunny, cheerful attitude and straightforward way of speaking, Mosin-Nagant is actually a highly rational Doll, to the point of being a pessimist at times. Her lively imagination often leads her to overcomplicate simple issues and lose herself in exploring potential worst-case scenarios. In addition, her long service record in combat assignments has made her clumsy and inept at interpersonal relationships. There was a period when her new role as a public security Doll almost crushed her with despair, and the nigh-unbearable stress of her position caused her to lose her way for a while. Drowning her sorrows with alcohol was a regular occurrence during that period.
However, the part of Mosin-Nagant that delighted in helping people and giving her all never once changed. After seeing a Doll colleague of hers being reset, Mosin-Nagant finally pulled herself together and decided to confront her problems head-on. She changed her attitude and actively worked to better her situation, even if the work was thankless and arduous. Her habit of overthinking things helped her deal calmly with unexpected developments, and her diligence meant that she handled even the smallest details with the utmost care. Eventually, her outstanding skills and unflagging determination won her the trust and respect of her new colleagues.
Even after becoming the leader of a PubSec squad, the specter of “negativity” occasionally rears its ugly head in Mosin-Nagant’s neural cloud. Despite that, she continues inspiring the people around her with her cheerful smile and passionate actions.
Record 2
Mosin-Nagant stared hard at the “Griffin Restructuring: Personnel Intent Form”. Her fingers unconsciously pinched at the edges of the paper.
“It’s okay, it’s okay…” she muttered, like she was trying to encourage herself. “Staying in Griffin shouldn’t be a problem. I mean, I meet all the requirements for it.” Her confidence grew as she spoke, until she clenched her fist and punched the air, as though victory was within her grasp. Then she picked up an old coin from the table and flicked it lightly into the air—
—Hang on. Before the coin could even reach the apex of its journey, her expression had frozen solid.
“I meet the requirements… but only just, right?” Her brow furrowed as she stared at the coin spinning end over end in mid-air. “My frame isn’t the latest model, and there are many comrades in Griffin who are more capable than me… If I were in charge of hiring, I’d definitely pick someone who was a better return on their investment.”
Mosin-Nagant tried to catch the falling coin, but due to her distraction, it slipped between her fingers with a sharp clink and skittered under the table. “(Groan) I can’t even catch a coin…” Mosin-Nagant bent down and felt around on the floor, a bitter smile on her face. “Should I go get my manual dexterity recalibrated?” After picking up the coin, Mosin-Nagant remained crouched below the table, her face shrouded in shadows. Her voice grew quieter as she spoke. “What if I don’t get any of my backup options after missing my first pick?”
Mosin-Nagant suddenly bolted upright, her eyes as wide as saucers. “—What if I can’t even get a job at all?!”
She began pacing around the room, her footsteps growing more and more frantic. “What if. and I’m saying IF… what if the Reassignment Department doesn’t want me either? Will I really end up as a roadsweeper?” She suddenly froze and grabbed her face. “…And what if they aren’t looking for roadsweepers? I’ll become an unemployed drifter… That would be a total disgrace.”
Mosin-Nagant slumped into her chair, like all the strength had gone out of her. She stared blankly at the form for a long time. In the end, she picked up the pen and forcefully ticked the box marked “Reassignment”. As she filled out the rest of the form, she tried her best to console herself.
Record 3
The beer was bitter, but not as bitter as how she was feeling.
While she knew working in PubSec wasn’t going to be easy, she hadn’t expected it to be this hard.
Mosin-Nagant muttered to herself, “When I greet them, they ignore me. When I make suggestions, they don’t care. When I comment on something, they tell me to shut up. When I keep quiet, they say I have a bad attitude… Why is it so hard to work with the people around here?”
Fortunately, the bar was always open to her.
While the people here weren’t very sociable either, at the very least you could pay for basic respect—be it a drink or blessed silence.
Unfortunately, someone was bothering her even in her isolated little corner.
“Hey you—“ a thuggish voice slurred, interrupting her thoughts. The speaker thumped on the table. “Go somewhere else.” How many times had she been asked to move already tonight? Mosin-Nagant had lost count. Anger blazed up in her heart, but after remembering the locals’ attitude towards Dolls, she picked up her glass and retreated to an even darker corner.
Just as she was about to order another drink, she saw the patron from before standing in front of her on unsteady feet. Reeking of alcohol, he slammed a crudely made beer mug down in front of her— “Dincha hear me? Get lost!” The drunk jabbed a finger at Mosin-Nagant, almost touching her nose.
In that moment, all the unfair treatment she had endured over the past few days merged with the sense of powerlessness that came from being told that everything she did was wrong. When that happened, something inside her snapped.
She didn’t look up, only stared hard at the beer that had splashed out of the mug and onto the table. Her reply was not loud, but it was incredibly clear, filled with a cold hardness she didn’t even realize. “No.”
The drunk didn’t seem to have heard her, or perhaps he hadn’t expected a reply like that from her. “Say what?”
Mosin-Nagant suddenly jerked her head up and stared straight into his eyes.
“I said, no. This is MY place. If you wanted it, you should have come earlier.”
A cold, choking silence began spreading through the bar. Clearly the drunk had not expected the girl who had always yielded in the past to stand her ground. After cursing under his breath, he actually stumbled away.
With the crisis averted, Mosin-Nagant leaned back into her chair as all the strength fled her body.
What she didn’t expect was that the barkeep, who usually never said anything to anyone at any time, silently handed her a fresh mug of beer.
“On the house.” The man was as taciturn as ever, but he nodded to her.
She took her time downing that beer.
Like a pebble tossed into a stagnant pond, that little victory had sent faint ripples through her heart.
Could she actually change herself?
Record 4
Mosin-Nagant stared at the ceiling, her body spinning freely in her office chair. Her neural cloud replayed her conversation with her new friends at the bar last night—
“Hiiii! Over here, Mosin-Nagant!”
“My name’s Chelsea, and this is Flinn. Thanks for that intel you gave us a couple of days ago!”
“Yeah, yeah! We’ve been searching for those guys for a really long time. Thanks to you, we managed to take them in. I heard you used to serve with Griffin. Mind telling us your story?”
“Oh, and feel free to come talk with us more often in the future, not just today. The other Dolls from your precinct aren’t exactly great conversationalists.”
…
For a moment, the hubbub around Mosin-Nagant made her imagine that she was back in Griffin, surrounded by her buddies/
Talking and being around others really did warm the heart. Mosin-Nagant couldn’t help but wonder how lovely it would be if her own squad were like that.
However, her repeated attempts to pierce the wall of silence around her chief and colleagues had met with failure time and time again.
“Less talk, more work!”
“As a Doll, I expect you to listen to on-site directions and behave as the Guidelines dictate. No going off and doing your own thing, got that?!”
“But…”
“No buts! Didn’t you hear the chief? Mind your own business and stay in your lane.”
…
With her passion and sense of duty crushed by reprimands and regulations, Mosin-Nagant felt more lost and frustrated than ever before. In the end, she chose to run away— She ran from the fire that pulsed in the bottom of her heart. She ran from the ever-mounting complaints in her precinct. She ran from all the responsibilities that weren’t hers. Even when Chelsea begged her for help, she hesitated, and then ran from that as well.
Mosin-Nagant thought she would run away forever.
At least, until she went to the bar for her usual meeting with the others.
The look in their eyes that met hers was utterly unfamiliar.
“Hello. Can I help you?”
It was then that she realized their neural clouds had been formatted—the excessive complaints and delays in clearing cases had led to their entire squad being deemed unsatisfactory.
For Dolls, having their neural clouds formatted was as close to death as it could get.
All those smiles that they had shared, those memories of high-fiving each other, the way they bared their souls to each other in the middle of the night… All of it was gone, like it had never been.
She froze on the spot. Her drink fell from her trembling hands and splashed on the ground. In that singular, frozen moment, an even more chilling thought came to mind: If… if her own squad ended up receiving too many complaints and their clear rates didn’t make the grade…
Drops of cold sweat began forming on her back.
From that day onward, Mosin-Nagant stopped running.
She followed the clues her former friends had left behind and rooted out the thugs who were hiding in the city.
She began walking beats on the streets with the most complaints and trained herself to communicate with the local residents. She burned the midnight oil to redraw patrol routes. She marked every single potentially problematic location and came up with ways to deal with them. She refused to let herself be deterred by the cold faces of her colleagues. She strove to greet them every morning and share what she knew, even if they only acknowledged her one out of ten times.
And in the end, her effort and drive were rewarded. Though she still felt afraid and confused from time to time, she no longer turned her back on the things that mattered. This was the beginning of Mosin-Nagant’s transformation into a squad leader renowned for her tenacity and professionalism.
Record 5
“Our shift’s been over for a long time now, so how come Leader’s still in the file room?” Papasha said as she poked her head inside and looked around.
“I know, right? She’s been at it for several days already,” Clara sighed. “It’s probably because she’s trying to nab those fugitives.”
“But didn’t the chief say that the neighboring precinct would be handling the case and all we’d have to do is support them?” Galina quietly added.
The office briefly fell silent. Mosin-Nagant was always like this—she wouldn’t let go of anything that might pose the least bit of a threat to the people’s safety.
“Leader’s going to wear herself out at this rate,” Papasha said worriedly. “Let’s help her out!”
“Don’t you think Leader stayed back by herself precisely because she doesn’t want us to get involved? I bet she’ll tell us to leave if we join in…”
“Hehe, that’s not up to her to decide…” Clara snapped her fingers. “As it turns out, it’s been almost a year since Leader joined us. I’ve got an idea.”
“Whew… Well, I’ve got a lead, at least.”
Halfway through another all-nighter, Mosin-Nagant stretched her arms as she rose from her desk.
“This line of thinking sounds like it could work out. I’ll confirm the suspects again tomorrow and then hand out assignments to everyone!”
“Still… Is it just me, or is there something a bit wrong with everyone lately? Clara and Galina have been acting all mysterious, and even Papasha disappears the moment she knocks off…” A hint of sadness flashed across Mosin-Nagant’s eyes as she pondered these developments. However, her face soon beamed with a bright smile again. “Oh, I get it. They must be doing some kind of secret team-building thing because they’re afraid of adding to my workload.”
“Oh well, that’s alright. As the squad leader, I can understand my squadmates’ needs! I’ll just handle the mission by myself. It’ll be fine! Hahaha!” Mosin-Nagant clenched her fist to encourage herself.
“What mission are you talking about, Leader?”
“Leader, according to the Guidelines, a squad leader isn’t allowed to conduct a potentially dangerous investigation by themselves without authorization!”
Mosin-Nagant scratched her head in confusion as she heard the voices from outside the room.
“Hm? Are those Clara’s and Papasha’s voices? …Did I do so much overtime that I ended up hallucinating?”
“What do you mean, ‘hallucinating’? This is backup from your squad!”
As Galina chimed in, the office door swung open and colorful streamers flew in from the outside, raining down on Mosin-Nagant’s head.
“Happy anniversary, Leader!” Galina said as she waved the streamer cannon in her hand. Meanwhile, Papasha had a tiny cake with a single candle on it, and Clara held up a file.
“Leader, we already checked out the targets you were going to investigate. Our reports are compiled here.”
“Ah! Wait, so you weren’t organizing some kind of secret team-building thing? You were actually—“
Mosin-Nagant facepalmed, seemingly having just recovered from the lively scene before her.
“Yup yup. Do you like your ‘first anniversary of joining the squad’ surprise?”
“Next time, you’re not allowed to secretly do overtime while keeping it from us.”
Memories
Private Meeting Logs
Comrade Commander! The annual "Ant Market" is back!
It's the largest flea market event of the year. With enough luck, one may find some real oddities!
So... Could you sponsor me with some funds for the event, Commander?
Aha, thank you so much, Commander. Just wait and see all the goodies I'll bring back.Reforged Glory I
Comrade Commander, here’s the list of procured items from the Ant Market. Please have a look.
Vinyl records, antique pocket watch… Not bad, quite a haul, huh? Wait, what’s this “other” thing? You bought something with your own allowance?
I should make it clear in advance: it’s nothing extraordinary, so please don’t laugh at me.
This medal… Is there anything special about it? It’s in terrible condition for a collectible.
I found it by the jeweler’s stall, right in front of the furnace… Though it’s hard to swallow this fact, most medals without an owner do end up on the market for various reasons.
And in the eyes of the merchants, most are valued merely for their silver or gold, save for a few exceptions.
Thus, being melted down and recycled is the ultimate fate awaiting the vast majority of these battered medals.
You mean, this one almost got…
Yes! To me, medals are the essence of honor forged from the courage of soldiers.
Though broken and forgotten, that significance shouldn’t be consumed by the uncaring flame.
You’re right. A soldier’s legacy always deserves its respect, even if it may never regain its luster.
Merely holding this medal makes me feel the lingering warmth of that soldier… and a trace of their unwillingness to accept this fate.
Unwillingness? So we do share the same feeling about this. But what can we do?
Perhaps we can try restoring it. Recover as much of its original appearance as possible.
Do you seriously mean that, Commander? Is this old medal really worth the time and effort spent to restore it?
It does. It embodies more than just history, it’s also your will, your unwillingness to let it disappear and fade away.
Sentiments like that are what truly bestows this medal with meaning.
My sentiment…is it really that important, Commander?
Of course. This sentiment to guard and preserve past legacies is exactly the merit of the medal. You always seem to unearth these “significances” buried by time.
Very well, if the Commander says so, I will join you in protecting this honor.
Mmm. I’m sure it’ll shine brighter than it ever could in a crucible.
Reforged Glory II
Wonderful. Bringing the medal to the armory for restoration was indeed the right choice.
Like a slumbering star, with enough care and attention, it will surely shine again.
Come give it a try? It needs gentle wipes.
I won’t break it, will I? Time has already made it too fragile.
Don’t worry. As the old saying goes, time and patience will heal any wound. I believe in you.
I’ll give it a try then. Commander, you must watch out for me.
A little nervous, huh? Let me help you.
Thank you, Commander. I think I’m just saddened by this medal’s past.
Had this medal not been found by me, it would have been melted in that crucible. Does that mean the legacy of the soldier it represented will also be lost to history? Does honor also fade with time?
Time washes away many things—names, faces, legacies…
Is oblivion the final destination for all then? Are our efforts meaningless?
No. Names and legacies might be forgotten, but the spirit represented by that honor will live on.
Spirit?
Yes. That stalwart, incorruptible spirit, and the heavy price paid in its name…
As long as someone still remembers its significance—someone like you, willing to still her steps for the honor of a soldier they’ve never met—
Then their honor and legacy will never truly vanish.
You mean… He… still “lives on” because I remembered?
Yes. Memory is a torch that need be passed on, and you have just lit one. See, it’s responding to your heart… This very glimmer is the proof.
Mosin-Nagant, this dedication to “remember” and this valiant perseverance… are in themselves the most dazzling embodiments of honor.
Comrade Commander… Thank you, for protecting this glimmer with me.
Not just this glimmer… I say, we are guarding something even more crucial. Something equally in need of being treasured and remembered.
You… you mean?
Say… This very moment? Or… this mutual feeling of camaraderie and vigilance?
Yes… Commander. I will remember all of this by heart—this moment, your words, and this warmth.
Reforged Glory III
The restoration’s finally complete, Commander. The medal’s really shining once more.
Yeah. Its rebirth is all thanks to your persistence and gentleness.
Commander, it’s the courage that you gave me… Huh?
What is it? Something’s on it?
Look, Commander! While still a little blurred… the erased serial number is somewhat readable now!
Looks like we’ve got a clue on our hand now. Want to dig deeper into this, Mosin-Nagant? Maybe we can track down the original owner via this.
You think there’s still hope? Maybe we shouldn’t waste our effort, it’s been so long, the medal’s owner might no longer be alive.
Are you hesitating, Mosin-Nagant? Even just for the sake of this stalwart sentiment—
I get it, Commander. I’ll look up the archive for campaigns related to the medal.
Good news, Commander! I found a follow-up report on a decorated individual. They mention this medal’s serial number and its owner!
Oh? The owner is still alive? Where is he?
He is! It’s an old veteran currently residing at a nursing home in the suburbs not far from here.
A nursing home? Looks like we still have a chance to return this medal to its rightful owner.
You mean, you plan to go to the nursing home together with me, Commander?
Of course. Not only will we go together, but I will also bear witness to the moment this legacy you’ve protected is returned to its owner.
Spasibo, Commander! Thank you for guiding me through all of this…
No, I didn’t do much at all—this was your wish to begin with, wasn’t it?
But now, Mosin-Nagant, there is one task one must carry out: be prepared and join me in heeding a hero’s story.
Copy that! Comrade Commander, when do we depart?
Hmm… I still have some tasks to attend to today. Let’s go with tomorrow morning. Before we leave, I’ll let you handle the preparations, Mosin-Nagant.
Tak tochno. I’ll go get ready now.
And patiently await for you to join me as we witness the legacy and the restoration of honor.
Reforged Glory IV
Here you are, Mosin-Nagant. I’ve been looking for you for a while… Are you alright?
I’m fine. Doing the restoration work with the Commander was refreshing and meaningful to me.
Well, I asked the caregiver in private, they said that the veteran passed away peacefully…
Peacefully? A soldier who dedicated his life to honor, yet he was ultimately forgotten by the world and passed away all alone.
Commander, do you still remember my question: everything we did—finding it, restoring it—what was the point at the end of the day?
No matter how bright and gleaming his medal looks now, it will always be overshadowed by his fate of being forgotten by the world! The honor and glory I looked up to was nothing but wishful thinking.
Is that really so? From what I know, someone did overcome time and oblivion.
In front of a crucible, someone stilled her steps for a soldier they’ve never met, pouring all her care and persistence into a broken medal.
But, I wasn’t able to do anything…
You protected it. You made it shine once again. And more importantly…
You saved a symbol from being swallowed by the crucible and gave it back its name and story.
That veteran is no longer a cold, hard name lying in the nursing home’s uncaring files. Because of you, his honor has been rejuvenated.
Commander, I… I just…
It’s not “just”. Remember: history does not vanish, it only falls into a deep slumber.
And, there will always be people as stubborn as you that will, at the right moment, unearth it like a treasure to wake it again—just like how you found this medal.
Thank you for telling me all this, Commander… Thank you for being here…
I’ve always been here, and I will always be here.
If one day… I too am forgotten by everyone… Will you still remember me?
No.
I won’t allow that to happen. Mosin-Nagant—your name, your honor, even every tear of yours… They are engraved in my heart.
As long as I remain, you will never be forgotten.
Tea Time
About Her Teammates
I heard Ksenia complaining about you taking up her break time with volunteer work?
That's correct, Commander. With Ksenia's assistance, the nursing home's roof has finally been patched up after leaking of years.
What I meant to ask is why are you taking up her personal time?
Because I've assessed that through adequate amounts of volunteer work, it can help Ksenia combat the tempting allure of money...
Unfortunately, I can't find any time during her work hours, Commander.About Work
Y'know, I really envy you at times. Despite constantly working overtime, you're always so full of energy.
Are you under a lot of pressure lately, Commander? Is there anything I can help you with?
Just the usual, really. Say, if you ever run into an overwhelming amount of work with no end in sight, what would you do?
I would stop worrying about it and just start working. As long as you approach it positively, eventually you'll find a way. Don't you think so, Commander?
About Animals
I like the kind of animal that's intelligent, loyal, and able to obey commands. Their fur has to be thick, so that their fluffy round ears are nice to touch.
They also need to be big. Yes, they would be able to knock me to the ground easily, but as long as there's honey to feed them, they'll nudge my palm with their wet nose - so cute.Sorry to interrupt, but do dogs even eat honey?
Of course not - I was talking about bears, Commander.
About Her Hobbies
What do you spend your free time on, Mosin-Nagant?
Hmm...I go on walks and try to find out if there's anyone who needs my help.
Now I'm a little curious. Do you expect anything in return when helping others?
Not really, but helping others is a joy in itself, it's already the best reward I can ask for.
About Alcohol
Do you get drunk when you drink, Mosin-Nagant?
Of course not, Commander. As far as I know, my frame's not installed with any module that could simulate drunkenness.
Then how come your personality shifts dramatically after just a drink or two?
Hahaha, how could that be...Must be your imagination, Commander.
About Gifts
A gift that I wish to receive? Yes, I would be happy if you could gift me one of these shiny medals, Commander.
Oh, I see that you're a medal collector. They're beautiful - truly an ornament that embodies human expression.
Emm...Comrade Commander, medals are no mere ornaments. Have you noticed the serial number engraved on their back?
Each number tells its own story, and I wish to track down these tales one by one.