The cold air pierced the layered suit of black nano-composite fibre based armour on the stranger's body, like needles against their skin. Their leather cloak was tightly stretched across narrow shoulders, down to where it ended in tears at their elbows and waist. From there and downward, it did naught to cover up the titanium-composite, chameleon-skin plating that clung to her insulated bodysuit, the chameleon-skin design long failed in place for frosted over arctic camouflage marking. Snow flurried onto the white hood and large, ceramic-plated and tarped backpack on the large of their back. The stranger's metallic-mesh boots crunched against both fresh snow from the storm that raged around them, and the packed, hard almost ice material from prior storms, leaving deep imprints in the three-quarters of a meter snow. The helmet contained within the cloak bore a wide, trapezoid-shaped visor, spanning from across the temples, and down to the lower face, made of layered nanolaminate alloys and various composite metals. Along the left breastplate, the phrase "honor virtutis praemium" was engraved, into the breastplate. A quiet noise of two meaty creatures slapping against each other would sound out, the small game in the form of rabbits and squirrels that hung from their backpack swishing around with the movement of their body. The forest around the stranger was almost silent, as if in a way, it feared this human.

The stranger in full body armour was accompanied by an American Foxhound. A taller thing, just tall enough to trudge through the snow, with a thick white coat of fur, brown eyes and a clipped left ear. A set of bags hung along a K9 Harness on its body. The four small headlamps mounted along the stranger's temples was the only thing illuminating the path ahead, in a dull almost yellow glow. The trees around them towered above by dozens of feet, thickly strung together to the point of obscuring the moon's dull glow. Navigating these woods was impossible without having scouted out detailed trails earlier in the year when it was brighter, warmer and sunnier. Warmer just meant above -3 degrees Fahrenheit. Average temperature for these woods in the summer was roughly 23 degrees Fahrenheit, and during the winters it could be anywhere from -3 to -30.

That was not to say surviving was impossible, as our Stranger, we'll call her Jane Doe, has lived here for twelve years, only leaving in the early spring to trade with the Atlesians to the far West, more toward the Coast of Solitas.

Jane had missed her one opportunity to leave for the city of Atlas and was forced to stock up and have her caravan travel behind her. Were it not for the metal beast she called an M13 Armoured Personnel Carrier, her caravan of three may not have made it for even a month. That warthog, along with the saving grace that it ran on H2O, kept them alive during the harsh winters of the Infinite Forest, a giant forest that spanned nearly a tenth of Solitas, along the inner continent, close enough to Atlas for a journey that lasted roughly half a week, and that was if the weather was behaving. As Jane trudges through the snow, an M12 loaded with equipment toting a heated trailer carrying sensitive gear.

At any point after they left the forest, they'd be fresh meat for bandits, were it not for Jane's training and weaponry. As it seemed, bandits weren't very content with being shot by Hollow-Point/Armour-Piercing 7.62x51mm, 12.7x40mm or 14.5x114mm cartridges.

The inside of Jane's helmet was padded with black foam made of various materials, one of which being Kevlar. Along the visor that covered her entire view, was a radar in the lower left corner, beside it several blank circles beside it-the list of allied units based on an Identify-Friend-or-Foe tag system that was not yet existent. Along the forehead area was her shield bar, currently offline, tinted red rather than baby blue, a hollow rectangular bar that warped along into an almost semi-circle like curve due to her head not being flat. By the upper left was her SRS99-D. Below it, an MA37 Assault Rifle, and beside that, on the upper right, were two M6D Magnum Pistols. A weapon that looked like an overly futuristic looking machete covered in plating and other strange devices-mostly things such as a small brick of metal where a bullet might've been able to be loaded in, a line of padding across the dull flat side of the blade, similar to a rifle grip, a barrel poking out of the hilt-connected was under the pistols. Her magazine counter for her rifle was just below the schematic-like image of the sniper rifle, above the assault rifle's image, with a series of tabs on the lower right, one a single line that represented the VDF-Comms Channel, another that represented the Atlesian Comms, a poor signal led to bountiful amounts of static plaguing the channel. The VDF-Comms channel was simply silent. Not a single voice, not a single decibel of static, only an eerie silence.

"... This is Sergeant Arthur Debraux, requesting Atlesian support-" the Atlesian Radio Channel suddenly burst with activity, various bands emitting a distress signal.

"That's... six kilometers, Northeast. Just inside the forest." Jane mused. She activated her external speakers, listening for noise.

Jane was graced by the sound of gunfire, rapid, almost fully auto. Screams, roars. She activated her internal speakers. Her caravan team was about a hundred meters behind. She stopped, spun on a heel and waited as the dull rumble of a 'Hog engine got louder and louder, until the hood of the 'Hog came into view. The broad hood, accented by reinforced corrugated plates, the cracked headlamps, and eventually the window baring vent-like barriers along the front windshield. A large, almost trailer home like trailer/carriage rolled behind it, light beams pierced the light snow that fell from the heavens through slitted windows. The din of classical music via an old-fashioned gramophone like device created by their egghead was muffled, however still leaked from the inside of the 'cab' of the carriage. The whole trailer itself was larger than the M12, which itself spanned ten feet across, and twenty feet long. The trailer was roughly double the length, so maybe forty, forty-one feet. Wider, about twenty, twenty-one feet wide. However, more lightweight materials allowed the M12 to drag it along.

Jane trudged over to the warthog. It had been modified, with an armoured cab and rear bed-carriage, long, lithe lamps with three legs folded up against the body were strapped along the body by webbing and Velcro strips. Heaters, unused. The caravaners that Jane was with made them out of scrap glass and circuitry they find. Lots of scrap if you knew where to look. Atlesian Military dumping grounds for trashed projects, junk from their factories, including: bugged, warped or damaged in any way. Occasionally, they'd find a crashed Bullhead. Bandits would get cocky and use an RPG or Surface-To-Air Missile Launcher, often destroying an Atlesian Gunship Bullhead and leaving the scrap due to the maze-like structure of the forest.

Jane opened the driver-side door and was met with a woman, a petite thirty-year-old Faunus, two fox-like ears poking out from her head, splayed to the sides by a ball cap. A set of kneepads and elbow pads, along with a gray scale-type layered ballistic vest, hidden by a white duster. Jeans dotted with patches and holes took place on her lower frame.

"Jane, what's the hold up?" The Faunus asked. She was Jane's left hand, a mechanic who could keep up with her own crazy head. Not a small feat when you have the knowledge of half a century of equipment schematics and history in your Neural Implant.

"We're diverting course, Atlesian Military under attack, six K-M, Northeast." Jane relayed to her. To say the Faunus was mad would be an understatement.

"What the fuck, Jane? We don't have the time or supplies to stray off course!" She roared. Jane grunted in response.

"I'll worry about that. You worry about getting us six kilometers, Nevada-Echo." Jane closed the door and began trudging toward the gunfire. Her dog, Cole, bounded through the snow, on her heels. The 'Hog's damaged headlights flickered on, and it began to push forward, past Jane. She stayed close behind, using the depression in the snow created by the 'Hog to allow Cole to move quicker.

After a few kilometers and a half hour of jogging, the gunfire seemed to be on top of them. The snow was painted red, corpses of Atlesian grunts splayed across the floor, frozen creatures of Grimm (primarily Beowolves and Creeps.) among the dead, husks filled with the black smoke that made up the fowl beasts, unable to return to their master.

Jane slowed her pace, the 'Hog parked up ahead. She trudged over to the driver side door.

"What's the hold up?" Jane called to the Faunus girl, Autumn, whom drove the vehicle.

"This is as far as we go! There's Bullhead husks and giant frozen chunks of only half-dead Grimm creating a blockade!" Autumn called back. Jane hit the door twice to give her a clear Affirmitive, and lowered herself close to the ground, inching forward. She drew her MA37 Assault Rifle, scanning her surroundings with her VISR.

The rifle was covered in bulbous armour plates, to protect the interior, contrast to the standard design. The plates were coated with a hexagonal texture, eerily similar to Covenant tech, albeit with a dark gray colour, and various bits of wires and holes dotting the body. The magazine loaded had an orange band taped along the end, marking it as an Incendiary, and thanks to the help of their Techie, an ex Atlesian Army Corps Engineer named Bennie, Jane's rifle was made compatible with both Dust-based munitions and gunpowder-based. It had the standard stock, albeit lined with extra padding, an extended barrel covered in venting holes along the far end, and a smooth iron sight system, an ammunition counter poking out of the left side, toward the back by her, its holographic display cracked, flickering with the number 32.

The next hour of walking was quiet. APCs, Bullheads and corpses littered the ground, with many more frozen husks lying about, a constant, eerie rattling reverberating off of them. A scream grabbed her attention, followed by the body of a grunt being flung past her at high speeds, slamming against a tree with a loud SNAP. Jane twisted to the direction of the attack and kept silent. The natural camouflage of her gear and being low to the ground reduced her visibility. A woman dressed in a heavy winter coat, baring rectangular plates that pushed out of the coat slightly, some sort of padding, white pants lined with light armour plating, garters added to the outfit. Black gloves rested along her hands, some sort of saber in her right hand, a lightweight, small calibre autopistol in her left. She seemed to dodge and leap back frequently, small projectiles from Grimm whizzing past. A beringal came tearing through the tree line of the clearing of where the mystery soldier stood, enraged. Jane switched out her MA37-C, replacing it with her sniper rifle. Using the smartlink scope, Jane zoomed in close, watching the battle whilst waiting for a good shot. The woman was masked, a pair of goggles along with some sort of scarf-like mouth cover hiding her face entirely.

Jane eased her finger around the trigger of her SRS99-D, ready to fire. Jane hit the Beringal directly in its spine, right below the skull. It fell like a sack of potatoes, gushing the black mist. Sadly, for Jane, her work wasn't done. An enemy approaching quick from her right flank (indicated by a large red dot on her motion tracker) caused her to jump up and take aim at the new hostile.

A Death Stalker was plowing through debris and snow toward her. Its massive stinger lashed out at her, and Jane swiftly rolled to the left, firing two rounds into the stinger as it got stuck in the ground momentarily, backing up and readying another magazine in her left hand. The stinger became dented and damaged, seeping ooze. Jane jogged backwards, firing the last round of her SRS. She clicked the mag release, slapping in a fresh one before tossing it on her back in exchange for her MA37-C. The Death Stalker's thick bony armour withstood the 14.5x114mm round, the shot however dug deep, creating a caved in spot by its eye socket, causing it to roar with anger.

Jane knelt down and began firing in controlled bursts at the hulking scorpion. The rounds dug deep into the bone armour and dug deeper into flesh. The monstrous Grimm snarled and sent its stinger down toward her position. Jane dropped an M9 Fragmentation Grenade and rolled to the left, using her suit thrusters to assist her movement. Just as she predicted, the Death Stalker's tail plunged into the floor, causing the grenade to detonate in a burst of disgusting goop from the stinger.

The enraged Grimm screamed and thrashed its severed tail about, blood leaking out from the wound in a way similar to a fountain. Jane took the moment to reload her assault rifle, place it on her back and get her SRS99-D into her open arms.

The woman from before decided to rear her head, and leapt onto the scorpion Grimm, driving her sabre into one of its remaining eyes. Jane's originally simple shot became difficult as the Death Stalker thrashed around in attempts throw the woman off, being successful in this task.

Difficult did not mean impossible, and a single shot rang out. The 14.5x114mm HE/HP sniper round cruised through the air and burrowed past the eye of the Grimm and exploded within its cranium. The beast gave out a dying squeal, before slumping down, its body turning to mist.

Jane slung her rifle over one shoulder and merely observed the battlefield. Snow continued to fall upon the icy layers of soil, bodies remained still, and all seemed, in a disturbed sort of way... peaceful.

The feeling was only momentarily. A yellow blip on her radar approached her rear, slowly. She spun on her heel and drew an M6D. The woman stood upright, her sabre drawn, shoulders back.

"What do you want?" Jane asked, raising the volume on her internal speakers so she was louder via neural interface.

"By the Kingdom of Atlas, you're hereby under arrest for possession of stolen military-" The woman didn't finish, as Jane simply turned around and began to walk toward the forest. She'd lose the chick before heading back to the Caravan.

The rapidly approaching yellow dot slowly shaded darker and became red. Jane merely stopped. The woman went to hit the hilt against her helmet. Jane spun around and ducked within the time frame of a second, her armour's thrusters allowing her to backtrack quickly.

"Ma'am, I'm going to tell you once, and once only, to back off." Jane shouted. The woman, merely stunned from the speed of the ARGUS-toting VDF trooper, recoiled for a moment. She shook her head and took up a combat stance.

"Wrong choice." Jane growled as she muted her internals, keeping her external speakers turned up. Jane drew the plated machete from her hip, taking up a half-relaxed stance. Seconds became minutes, and minutes turned into hours. Or, at least, it felt like that.

The woman charged forward and went for a stab to Jane's abdomen. Jane countered by blocking the strike with her own weapon, causing the woman to recoil back. Jane's left forearm guard extended, a small barrel poking out below her inner wrist. She threw a left hook, with a concussive blast releasing from her wrist, and the enemy combatant was sent staggering backwards. Jane spun her blade into a downward grip and charged forward. The woman recovered, dodging a slash from Jane and countering with one of her own. The woman's sabre blade scraped against the titanium-composite plates on Jane's back harmlessly. Jane spun around and threw out a vicious right hook. The woman ducked under and delivered a slash from a smaller blade, scraping against the under-arm bodysuit and composite plating with a loud Screeeech. Jane delivered a set of jabs to the woman's face, followed by a knee-high kick to the chest that knocked the air out of her, and sent her onto her back. The woman grunted and launched herself up, unholstering a small electricity dust-charged Atlesian Army standard-issue M2 Sidearm and fired a volley of rounds at Jane.

Her shields took the brunt, a warning of their near collapse in the form of an annoyingly loud alarm and a red tint to her peripheral vision. Jane unsheathed a set of three throwing knives from her right-side leather casing, throwing each one with deadly precision. Her opponent shared this same precision and rolled to the left. A single knife embedded into her calf, and she cried out, before aiming the M2 at Jane, rapidly pulling the trigger, only to hear a soft negatory 'bleep' and a click. Jane rushed forward, kicking the pistol out of her hand and planting a solid boot onto her chest.

Jane reached into the bag on the rear of her hip, removing a pair of thick, white metal bands that went on the wrists. She snapped them onto the woman's arms, and an energy current flowed in the gap between the bands. Jane pulled the unidentified woman to her feet and keyed her Comms, muting her internal speakers.

"Raven-Actual, this is Raven Zero-One. Move on my location, over?" Jane called out. A green flash in the corner of her visor told her that she was heard. Jane unmuted her internal speakers and decided to interrogate.

"Your name and rank. I want them, now." Jane requested. The woman kept silent for a few moments.

"Winter Schnee, Atlesian Special Reconnaissance Division, Huntress." 'Winter' replied harshly.

"What is an SRD Huntress and a Platoon's worth of grunts doing out by the Infinite Forest?" Jane questioned.

"That's classified." Winter snarked. Jane chuckled.

"I'm asking politely, Schnee. I want an answer, before I start getting impolite." Jane prodded her back with her pistol. The threat didn't mean much to Winter, that was obvious. However, the gun did help persuade.

"We were following a lead on some sort of huntsman or huntress in plate-mail armour with enough skill to take down two veteran huntsmen with their hands tied behind their back. I'm assuming that's you?" Winter answered. Jane snorted.

"I ain't damned a Huntress." Jane quelled the curiosity, and Winter scoffed at her answer.

"Only Huntsmen and Huntresses are that skilled with combat. You're either lying, or-" the roar of the M13 Engine stopped Winter mid-sentence as the M13 toting the camper-styled trailer rolled up. Jane popped open the trailer and tossed Winter in, and one of the crew tossed her a tarp covered in frills and such, designed as a manual camouflage.

Jane attached it to hooks along the trailer's roof and took her place in the passenger seat of the M13.

"So, who is she?" Autumn asked as Cole jumped into Jane's lap from the rear compartment of the cab.

"SRD Huntress. I think she was looking for us." Jane explained the story to Autumn as their vehicle plowed through the snow.

"Well, I mean, you're a sight for sore eyes, with that armour, and the training." Autumn chuckled, taking a long right, the trees thinning out as they began to move onto solid concrete road. The occasional lamppost sent a few beams of light into the cab.

"Could be... Or, Atlas has decided to hunt my people down. I'm hoping that's not the case, or else I'm going to have to break out my executioner's hood and camcorder and go nuts." Jane attempted to joke, pushing Cole into the back so she could begin to inspect her SRS.

"Next stop, Atlas…"