En-Route to Atlesian Battleship.

Sixteen US Rangers, thirteen Canadian JTF-2 Operators and a Finnish sniper readied weapons, patting down their gear and racking the bolts to feet rounds in. The teams, split evenly between two MV-22A1 Osprey combat transports, watched as they approached what could very well be the most impossible sight back on earth, but incredulously real here, on Remnant. One of the Rangers eyed their Osprey's right-side gunner, manning an M134 Minigun. The gun had been continuously burping for the past several minutes.

"Christ all-fuckin'-mighty, the sky's thick with these demon-birds!" The Gunner whined as empty shells dropped from the ejection port onto the floor below with clinks. The howls and cries of said 'demon-birds', black, raven-like creatures with bone skull plates similar to the other Grimm. The other Gunner stayed silent as he too swept the sky with a continuous barrage of Minigun fire.

The sound of the birds dying was simply muffled by the hail-fire from the guns. And the screaming of missiles outside also eased off the tensions of the NATO troops present aboard the Osprey. The pilot and co-pilot cheered and the gunners, now able to cease fire, turned to the crew. The one on the right, grin on his face and eyes hidden behind his helmet's visor, said "Fuckin' A! F-18s flying in to cover our asses!"

"Get ready to land! Thirty seconds!" The Pilot called out. The troopers aboard made final checkups, loading weapons, thumbing off safeties and standing up. The team leaders all stood up and walked to the backs, by the hatches. They felt the Ospreys decelerate and lose altitude... And one of them, a Ranger captain, looked to his boys and girls and said "Alright! Once this ramp drops, you kick ass and take names! I don't care if it's some big fuck-off Grimm thing, or if it's a simple human, YOU IDENTIFY AND LIGHT THEM THE FUCK UP!"

"Hooah!" The Rangers and Canadians called, grinning as they arranged their masks and helmets.

As the back hatch popped open, the squads saw the clusterfuck of dogfights going on outside. F-18s, protecting transports and A10 Warthogs. The massive deck platform of the bird-like vessel ahead saw combat already, under the shape of a young girl with a motherfuckin' scythe fighting a man with a cane and a girl with an umbrella. Their colors, as per usual with Remnant, varied...

"ALRIGHT, LADIES AND GENTS! GO!" The Pilot gave a thumbs up as the bird landed... And the squads of soldiers streamed out onto the deck, rifles up and surrounding the fighting trio. Two technicians present with them went to the bridge of the air ship with gear quickly. Ruby gazed upon the surrounding soldiers with awe and a smile, before looking at Torchwick... Said man waved forward his adjutant, who sighed, then dashed out to make an exit.

"Woah, lil' lady! Hold it right the-" One of the soldiers started, aiming his weapon... But he soon found himself with a stab in the gut from a rapier within the Umbrella... Two of the soldiers swore, took aim and lit up the running bitch. Her associate found himself aimed at with a dozen more weapons as the second Osprey landed, with the rest of the unit mobilizing to cut off the girl.

Red smiled at the soldiers, then stowed her weapon as they walked up to her, raising her hands. She gave a nod to them and said "Your gear is awesome, you guys!" with a smile. The soldiers looked to each-other, then to the girl and some smiled behind their masks. They swiveled about toward Torchwick and surrounded the man. Without even thinking twice, one of the men in the squad sent the butt of the rifle into the ginger's head's back, knocking him out. The soldiers pinned and cuffed the man, before picking him up.

One of the soldiers turned toward Ruby and walked up to her, then asked "You friendly?"

"Yep." Ruby nodded. "Those guys did something and hacked this warship's access to the Atlas mechs on the ground, I think..." She warned, hands still raised, then asked in a friendly demeanor "Are your techs going after that?" and stared at the man. He gave a nod, then looked to see his team, with a few cuts and bruises, having apprehended the heterochromia girl. She had a 5,56 wound in her thigh and one in her shoulder and she was glaring at them, but was being hauled on two soldiers' arms toward the Osprey.

"... Wow, you took Neo out faster than my sister could." Ruby quipped. "Actually, you guys took her down. Sis had her butt kicked."

"Yeah, two of our guys have stab wounds where the sun don't shine." One of the soldiers hauling Neo spoke in annoyance. Ruby cringed, then sighed. She yelped, holding down her skirt as a gust of wind nearly knocked it and them over. Looking at the sky as the thundering roar of jets sounded off, she saw a perfectly aerodynamic aircraft, seemingly more futuristic and slim than anything the Atlesians had, bobbing and weaving as it dodged Nevermore quills from 3 of the demonic birds.

"Wow..." Ruby could simply utter, an ear-to-ear grin plastered on her face.

"Eagle Two-Two, watch your tail section. You've got three bogeys." One of the radiomen spoke in warning into his comms device.

The soldier that greeted Ruby said to her "We're getting you out of here." before gazing to his fellow squad leader and calling out "Stay with the Techs! We'll take the prisoners and the kid outta here!" words to which he received a thumbs up. The other squad leader rallied his troops with a circular hand motion, then showed them to follow. They moved for the Atlesian warship's bridge... And Ruby felt a hand urge her into a chopper.

The F22 Raptor pilot, callsign Eagle 2-2, or to many simply known as Eightball, meanwhile, focused hard on evading close quarters combat with half a dozen other Grimm flyers whilst she herself was being tailed by three such birds... Dumping flares to confuse them, then rolling to the left, before pulling a G-Heavy turn, the pilot went diagonally up into the sky, with the hovering birds swiveling about and firing their quills.

Thankfully, looked like the birds were really affected by Flares and chaff. No good hits were scored on the bird. One or two quills came close enough to nick paint, but Eightball knew too well how to dodge incoming projectiles. Hell, she'd been in Afghanistan during the Commie Uprisings there. Flak really wasn't something to scoff at... She growled, then spun about toward the creatures as they held position, then locked on with AIM-09 Sidewinders... The weapons cases expanded from the wings and emerged from the craft's belly. Locking onto all 3 targets, she called out "Fox-3!" before thumbing the launch button. Six Sidewinders unlatched and thundered through the sky.

Two explosions and a pair of Sidewinders following a wounded Nevermore. Now it was Eightball's turn to chase... She grinned, then revved the Vulcan mini-gun. The cover of the gun on the right side of the plane unlatched and opened. As the two missiles exploded behind the Nevermore, washing it with burning-hot shrapnel, 2-2's gun burped. A one-second burst of 20mm HE ammo gutted through the bird like it was nothing, splitting the body in half. The pilot flew her bird through the black mist of the dissipating Grimm and locked onto another pair of birds tailing two helicopters.

One of said Helicopters went down. Like the Grimm fuckers weren't bad enough... "Signal 1, Signal 2, get your birds out of the combat area! I'm about to engage the Grimm that took out 3! Eyes open, danger close!" She called out via Radio, before rolling upside down and pulling her stick back. The bird entered into a high-speed dive and the woman already had lock-on tone. "I GOT TONE! FOX-2!" She grinned, then shot. A missile decoupled and lanced toward the target, leaving a contrail of smoke from the plane to its target... And struck center-mass. The Grimm vaporized and she pulled up and away. "All clear, Signals!"

On the ground, the Romanian National Guard unit known as Signal waved at the American bird, grins on their faces. They advanced down the paths of Beacon's courtyard, to greet students fighting on the deck with an assortment of semi-SciFi weapons against Grimm and what looked to be Atlas mechs that were hacked. Surging forth, the squad of Guardsmen joined up racking the bolts of their rifles and lighting up several Grimm and Mechs...

A woman with a beret, sunglasses and a coffee-themed color palette of clothing, an orange-ish brown shirt, a pair of coffee-brown pants, combat boots, a belt of ammo and a gigantic fucking Min-Gun in her hand, appeared ahead, sending a wave of bullets down range at the advancing Grimm. She looked at the Soldiers joining up with her and her team, then asked "You boys friendly!?" with worry.

"Yep!" The squad leader answered with a quip "We're killing the things shooting at you, so I'd expect we are!"

"Well, thank God you're here!" The girl snarkily returned and grinned, burying a squadron of Mechs and several Grimm under lead. Other Huntsmen and Huntresses moved over to join them, probably part of the Coffee Gal's team. One of the team soldiers set up a SAW on a collapsed pillar that now served as cover and fired. Atlas human soldiers appeared from behind a wall, rifles in hand and joined up with the squad.

The Atlesian Sergeant present gazed upon the Romanian NATO officer, then spoke "You guys aren't part of our army!"

"Nope! We're the better variation, Snowy Boy!" The Officer grinned, settling his foot on the pillar and setting his arm on his knee for a better, more supported position as his 5,56 rifle tore into Grimm and Mechs. The Pulse Rifles of the Atlas military joined in the cadenced firing, both to and from the Mechs. The Atlas Sergeant, clad in standard red Atlas armor, fired away.

Whilst bigger and bigger Grimm and Mechs emerged, the squad was running out of ammo... But that didn't faze the NATO Lieutenant none... He grinned as the ground began to rumble behind them. And as an Atlas Paladin Mech, a big fuck-off tank of a Mech, appeared from behind the walls ahead, a cannon thundered in the far back. The round, a 120mm Armor Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot round burst through the automated machine's internals, sending it tumbling to the floor as the round itself embedded into the ground.

The Coffee Gal swiveled her head about, ceasing fire, then took her sunglasses off as she saw them... The Armored Fist of the NATO forces had come in. Six M1A2 Abrams TUSK tanks formed up. Their 50cals thundered. Unmanned CROWS systems fired, rounds ejecting on the top of the Battle Tanks. The SAW gunner to their right grinned, then stood up to his feet, shouldered his M240B and screamed at the top of his lungs "ABRAKADABRA, MOTHERFUCKERS!" as he lit up the remaining Grimm, sweeping the area ahead in a 30 degree arc...

The Romanian Lieutenant chuckled at his subordinate, then nodded to Coffee Gal and her team, then showed them to move to the side. The line of armored vehicles proceeded through the center of Beacon, advancing toward the tower, where the combat was thickest. The Airspace above, or at least the Grimm in it, was starting to clear. As a multitude of assault helicopters, heavy-duty combat aircraft and the likes moved in.

"Wow..." Coffee gal noted, looking to the officer.

"Yep... I'm Marius, by the way." He nodded to the girl "You are?"

"Coco. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Marius." She smirked "You're... Not a bad shot."

"Not so bad yourself, Coco." The man tipped his helmet to the girl. "Let's move, people. Rally is within the city center. Civilians, Huntsmen, NATO and others meet there and evacuate." Before he saw a pair of soldiers dragging a battered old man, with grey hair and torn, fancy clothing, as well as a cane, toward them. He had a few minor wounds, but nothing compared to the troops on the stretchers behind him. About 20 people had been wounded or had massive burn marks across their bodies... Thank god for modern medicine, they'd be fine if they got to the Battlegroup in time.

Helicopters moved in, CAS and MEDEVAC. Just in time...

... The Vale City Center, specifically, Heroes' Square, had been militarized. Sandbags, black tents, a dozen infantry platoons and thirty-odd armored vehicles positioned themselves. A cadenced thunder of Machine Guns, Autocannons and other tools in the NATO arsenal echoed all around. Grimm, Mechs and the likes were being destroyed en-mass as their attempted advance on the FOB was ground to a bloody halt by the rockets, guns and troops of NATO.

Milling about the sky, half a dozen Apache attack helicopters followed six Chinooks into Beacon's airspace. F/A-18 Hornets had swept the skies clear, as did the F-22s in and above. Civilians streamed in from the buildings of Vale and scouting teams went out and came back just as frequently as the tanks and troops that had been wounded or damaged.

Sitting in the command tent, farthest away from the combat, a council of five generals(Engineers, Air Force, Army, Marines and Special Forces, specifically) all of differing nations in NATO, discussed further deployment into Vale's other territories. General Glenn Meyer, a German-born American and a two-star, stared over at the map of Remnant and, more specifically, Vale itself, provided by a local. The brunt of the Battle Group was in the Gulf of Vale, with several assets around the isle of Patch. Their main Supercarrier was just off the coast and two battleships bearing the newest armament available to the Navy, the XM-2000 Railgun Mark 1, in two-barrel turrets, were close enough to hammer the shit out of any target needed all the way to Vale's mountain range.

Half of Vale, including the Industrial, Port and Commercial district were secured. The river leading up to Vale's center-most areas was a contested zone between PT Boats and Corvettes, going against Grimm Flyers and ground forces, as well as what seemed to be an entire White Fang contingent armed with rockets. The western regions were secured, the eastern required a good napalm drop.

"Sirs." One of the Corporals said, saluting. Meyer and the other Generals looked up to the soldier as she nodded, then spoke "General Ironwood, Atlas High-Com, has met with one of our units and is here now. He wishes to speak to us. You specifically." and she stood there, arranging her gear. The Generals all gave successive nods, then Meyer spoke too "Bring him in, Corporal."

A figure, clad in the starkly white Atlesian military uniform, marched in. His revolver was stowed away by his hip, under his coat. And following him, a gruff-looking middle-aged man and a beauty of a middle-aged woman. The crew-cut, greying hair of Ironwood, as well as the patch above his right brow, gave off his rank and age, as well as the experience of the man. But even he seemed to tremble at the sight of over five Generals, all bearing different pins and insignia and all assigned to a Branch.

"General James Ironwood, I presume." Meyer spoke with a modicum of respect. "Atlas High Commander."

Ironwood nodded "Yes... How did you...?"

"Our Technicians, after securing it, have hacked into the CCT's Remnant Internet Access. A lot of info on your planet, General." The Female General in charge with the special forces spoke up, not even lifting her gaze from the map. She was one of a kind among them, the only female. James gave a nod and swallowed... If even the god-damned women frightened an Atlesian Veteran and general, something was wrong with this army.

"What is it you wanted to talk to us about, General?" Meyer inquired, seemingly impatient.

"I wanted to ask about you all... What the hell are you?" He spoke. Meyer raised a brow and the female General looked up, her scarlet eyes seemingly boring into the 3 present elite hunters before her. She scrutinized them, from head to toe, then straightened up and crossed her arms, her expression unchanged. She didn't show the least bit of concern or emotion.

"Us, General Ironwood?" She asked, stepping away from the table, before walking face to face with the man that was a forehead above her and looking up. She then spoke again, sending a chill up the man's spine, as well as the other two, who hadn't spoken a word "We are the armed forces of a world that has not dealt with Grimm, but with its own internal strife against our own kin. An Army, Navy and Air Force no man should ever wish as an enemy. We are the Wolfpack preying upon the vilest of foes... We are the military arm of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, the most numerous and well-armed force currently on your home planet and as much as you or your higher-ups in Atlas may dislike the idea, our forces are here to stay. Any questions?"

James took pause... Staring at the General before him with a sense of awe, a combination of fear and respect, but as well of anger. He sighed, then shook his head. The General gave a nod, then regarded the giggling middle-aged man in the back, who bore a grin on his face and the blonde woman trying to shield a smile with her hand. She nodded to them, then returned to the table and said "If that is all, General... You may leave whenever you please. We've a counteroffensive to begin."

... With no other choice at this point... James Ironwood left to rally what was left of his troops.