"Move move move!" The sargent yelled as several grenades landed into the rebel's foxhole. The squad of 5 jumped out as they exploded, two of them getting gunned down as they scrambled to get back, jumping back in to take cover from the Atlesian androids that pinned them down. The ground was barren, dirt, stone, and wood scattered through the battlefield, as fires burned everywhere, and gunships and fighters flew through the orange-tinted night sky, raining hell down on the rebel forces. As the battle between the rebels and Atlesian military raged on, a man continued to stand tall, on a hill behind the rebel lines. As snipers tried to pick him off, he waved the banner of the rebels: A six-striped red, white, and blue banner, alternating colors in that order. Meanwhile, on the battlefield, a rebel, barely an adult, kept his head down behind a mound of dirt, waiting for the machine gun fire to stop pelting the dirt and stone walls that kept him safe from harm. The four remaining member of his squad laid and crouched beside him, waiting for the blizzard of bullets to end.
"We ain't makin' it outta this one, Sarge!" A blonde-haired, blue-eyed man said, clutching a minigun in his hands.
"Gunner, shut up!" A black-haired, grey-eyed wolf faunus said, holding a revolver and longsword.
"He's right though," A blue-haired, green-eyed girl said, holding two smgs, "There are too many of them!"
"Lil' Commander," The old, grizzled sergeant shouted over the sounds of battle to the youngest of the group, a brown-haired and brown-eyed boy, no older than 18, "Any words?"
The boy sat up, leaning on a stone wall for support. "We'll make it out, we have to!"
"How do you know!?" Gunner yelled.
"I've been with all of you for nearly a year now, you won't give up so easy! We must live, for our friends, families, and brothers and sisters in arms! We must keep fighting, to let those Atlas bastards hear the Cry of Freedom! And Sarge!?"
"What is it!?" The Sargent yelled, lowering his rifle as he looked at the boy.
"Fuck you for using that nickname!" The rest of the squad laughed.
"Well said, Jason!" The black-haired girl shouted.
"Thanks, Blade!" Jason said picking up his rifle from where he lay and kneeling behind the wall.
"What's the plan Sarge!?" The blue-haired girl asked.
"When that gun stops to reload, we get the hell out of here! Blade, Gunner, use your semblances to cover us! Ocean, you and I clear a path with ours! And Jason, you run like hell! Got it!?"
"Yes Sir!" the four rebels yelled.
"On my signal!" As they prepared their semblances, Jason kept an ear out for the gunfire near them to stop. Soon, the distinctive click of a machine gun running out of bullets was heard.
"They're out, Sarge!" Jason yelled.
"Go go go!" Sarge yelled, standing and charging towards the rear lines, his normally red eyes turning green as he looked around in the dark, scouting a path. Ocean followed, summoning water from her hand to blast away any obstacles in their path. Gunner fired his minigun with flawless accuracy, completely controlling the recoil as he fired, while Blade combined her revolver and sword into a spear and created a shield of grey energy, blocking bullets as they ran. And Jason ran like the devil itself was on his heels.
And, effectively, it was.
"Specialists!" A rebel yelled, before screaming out in pain.
"Shit! Move it!" Sarge yelled, continuing to lead the squad to the rear lines of the Rebels. Other rebel squads moved out and started running, often getting cut down by machine gun fire or Atlas specialists, former huntsmen and huntresses that had become dogs of the military, able to slaughter a squad of rebels in seconds. After a minute of straight sprinting, they jumped into the trench where the rebels had set up their front line. A Major walked up to them.
"Sargent, report!" He yelled.
"Specialists have joined the fight, we're being pushed back, as far as I could tell, Sir!" Sarged yelled back, standing at attention.
"Damnit, we'll have to fall back!" The major yelled. "Thank you, Sargent, you may fall back, but I suggest you wait until we start the covering bombardment!"
"Understood Sir, we-"
"They're here! Everyone run! Ru-!" Another rebel was cut off from finishing his message, as the Atlas specialists reached the trenches, mixing the blood of rebels with the mucd that had gathered at the bottom of the fortification.
"You heard the soldier, move!" The major yelled, drawing his sword and charging at a specialist who just jumped in.
"Come on," Jason said, "We can't get cut down here."
"Squad fall back!" Sarge yelled, jumping over the rear of the trench, the rest of the squadron following suit. They ran through the war-torn forest, Nearly completely decimated by just three days of fighting. As they ran, a Bullhead flew over them, and a specialist in a white uniform, carrying a saber, jumped out. She had white hair, strands of which whipped in the wind as she used a glyph to charge the squad.
"Shit!" Gunner yelled, barely managing to duck out of the way of her blade. Sarge stood up and fired at the enemy, only to have his shots blocked by the former Huntress.
"Move, get out of here!" Sarge yelled, drawing his own greatsword and engaging the specialist in a duel.
"Come on!" Blade shouted, running past as the huntsman and specialist locked blades. Gunner, Ocean, and Jason followed suit, leaving the two badasses to duel it out.
When they arrived at camp, they were too late. Gunfire ripped through the camp, and fire blazed, bringing light to the rebels and soldiers that now fought in hand-to-hand combat.
"We gotta get out of here." Jason said, seeing the carnage. "Scatter, we'll regroup in Mistral, with however many other rebels you guys can get."
"Wait," Blade started, "Wouldn't it be better if we went as a squad, that way we can stand and fight?"
"If a specialist shows up, even with the four of us, we're going to be killed. If we scatter, at least a few of us could probably live." Jason looked at his squad, all looking like they were depressed. "Look, I don't like this either. But if this rebellion is going to continue, we can't take risks. We don't know how many others are going to make it out. We have to assume we're the only ones that will make it out. If we can, we find other survivors, and rebuild from there. Now, let's move out." Gunner walked up to him.
"Good luck, buddy." Gunner said, Jason giving a chuckle as the two friends shook hands.
"Good luck to you too." He looked at the two girls. "And with the both of you."
"Please," Ocean said, "make it out alive."
"No promises." Jason joked.
"I'll see you all in Mistral." Blade said, walking off to a motorcycle. Gunner and Ocean took two other bikes, leaving Jason to walk to Mistral. As gunfire closed in on him, he sprinted south, towards the ocean just a few dozen miles away.
One week later . . .
The rebel, still dressed in his dirtied grey fatigues, snuck off the boat he stowed away on, making sure to keep out of sight of the security. With his knife and pistol strapped to his right side, and his rifle slung over his shoulder, he left the city, soon moving through the forest, towards Mistral, hoping to meet back up with his squad. However, unknown to him, a man dressed in white robes watched.
"Agent Charlie, reporting in." He said into a headset. "One rebel, male, brown hair. Armed, expect him to fight back."
"Good work, agent." The man on the other side of the com said. "I'll send a specialist after him. Get back here, we need you for the King's plan." The spy nodded, before leaving the rooftops.
Meanwhile, Jason hijacked a bike and took off, speeding towards Mistral.
The next day . . .
The only sound that could be heard in the forest was the motorcycle that Jason rode, trying to regroup with his squad, the status of he didn't know.
"Gods, I hope they made it." He said, continuing his ride. After minutes of riding, he turned as something began to approach. "Oh shit!" He shouted, gunning the engine of his bike as the Atlesian Bullhead approached rapidly. The twin miniguns revved as the bike clocked out at 90 mph. "Come on, come on!" He yelled, trying desperately to move faster. However, it wasn't enough as a sound that could only be described as a very loud lawn mower was heard, as well as the sharp whizz of bullets, and milliseconds later Jason was desperately trying to control the bike as it jerked out of control. The bullhead flew past as he jumped off the bike, sending it into a tree. He looked up and, seeing the Bullhead turning to make another pass, darted into the forest, taking cover beneath the thick mess of branches and leaves, hoping to lose the gunship. Then, branches snapped as he turned around, knowing what just dropped down as he heard the gunship pass over him again.
"Sam." He said, preparing to draw his primary weapon of choice: Bowie, a long knife that had a .410-gauge shotgun built into the hilt with three shells loaded, and a square D-guard to use as a sort of defense as well as knuckles if needed.
"Jason." The newcomer said, standing straight in his uniform: a white military jacket, pants, and boots, with a blue undershirt, and a white beret covering his black hair. Their blue and brown eyes locked gazes, waiting for either to make the first move. Sam sighed. "We don't have to do this, Brother."
"Agreed." Jason said, turning and sprinting away from his older brother.
"Damnit, wait up!" Sam shouts after him, giving chase. The two siblings jumped over longs and swung over brush, in a chase that reminded both of when they were younger. Soon, it was brought to an end, as Jason quickly stopped as he saw the edge of a cliff, cutting off his chance of a safe escape. Sam quickly caught up, both panting from the chase.
"Well," Sam said, between breaths, "There's one way out of this where I don't have to kill you." Jason looked over the ledge, and then back at his brother.
"I see two." He said. Sam looked confused, before seeing Jason reaching for Bowie.
"Don't you fucking dare." Jason drew the knife and attached a grapple hook to the barrel, making it look like it had a spiked pommel.
"See you around, bro." With that, he turned and jumped off the cliff. After fifty feet of free falling, he pulled the trigger, firing the hook into the rock. He continued to fall, hitting the cliff face as he fell, but rapidly slowed until his feet touched the ground. He detached the grapple hook, sheathed the knife, and quickly flipped Sam off before bolting back into the woods, limping with the injuries he gained from the descent.