Arc of the Revolution
Chapter 6: Dust Gear Arc 2
Sons of Menagerie
It is easy to forget conflict, in times of peace.
It is easy to forget hatred, in times of acceptance.
However, to forget about the mistakes of the past, as much as we want to, will only make repeating them inevitable.
While people today would mention that the tensions between human and faunus during those times have been greatly exaggerated, that is not the case.
So, how, how did it all start? How then did Remnant, the name itself hinting at our world's fragile state, manage to nearly trap itself into a spiral leading to its own death?
It had all started when Humanity had attempted to force the faunus into the island of Menagerie.
Most films would portray this diaspora by showing how faunus were loaded into bullheads, packed like sardines, and shipped off at gunpoint. That was not the case.
Most of the early refugees had entered those aircraft willingly.
At first, we, the faunus, thought it would be everything we finally wished for. A place free of the discrimination that haunted us. A place where we could rule and govern ourselves, a place governed by faunus, for faunus.
A place where we could actually eat the same things the rest of humanity could. A place where we could work for ourselves, and actually provide for our families. A place where faunus children wouldn't be called animals by their peers and teachers. A place where we could make our own decisions for ourselves.
We had thought it was a place where we would finally be free to live and prosper.
It was no utopia, but a prison.
The first mistake would be that none of us never really thought about what the Kingdoms would want in return. The Kingdoms, after all, had, even taking into consideration the inflation of lien, sunk billions into Menagerie. We had been briefed that, since Menagerie was still under construction, the Island would work as a pseudo-company town, where labour, dust mining, would be exchanged for the services rendered, supplies given, and infrastructure built.
What we didn't know was that the majority of Menagerie's land was infertile. The main resource the Island had was the purest, highest quality dust that side of Remnant.
There was no industry yet, barely any trees, and we lived in columns and columns of cheap housing. Most of the funds provided went into a series of walls surrounding the settlement, and dust mining machineries.
We realized there was only one way the Kingdoms wanted, and could be paid. Dust.
Dust mining, up until now, still remains one of the most dangerous, yet most needed tasks known to Remnant. The higher the purity of dust, the greater its effects, and thus, the greater its volatility; the most obvious example of which is Red Dust, commonly used for explosives.
While those with aura unlocked might shrug off the effects, imagine the kind of damage a typical red dust explosion would be able to do on a person without his aura unlocked.
While logic would follow that greater risk equaled greater reward, we soon realized that the Kingdoms that were 'aiding' us held all the cards: food, clean water, facilities that were able to refine dust and make it usable for energy, clothes, and other basic necessities.
We, on the other hand, had unrefined dust that was more likely to kill us than prove a good meal. While we held the more valuable resource, our demand for theirs was inflexible, theirs for ours was not, as the Kingdoms had other mining operations going.
The second mistake was that we failed to understand that the Kingdoms had profited from our very absence itself.
In those days, faunus were trapped in a vicious cycle, a self-defeating prophecy. To simplify, discrimination in those days were attributed to the faunus being unskilled work, being pickpockets, thieves, lowlives, and lazy freeloaders. Due to said discrimination, faunus were overcharged in purchasing even the most basic of goods and services, and denied training and education, causing said faunus had to resort to pickpocketing, and thievery to survive.
There was heavy civil unrest on both sides, stemming from the growing hate of humanity against the faunus parasite; and the growing resentment of the faunus against human oppression.
This of course, led to an increasing number of Grimm attacks. Like water to a thirsty man, Menagerie was seemingly tailored to everyone's concerns. The faunus would allegedly be free of discrimination, and the humans would be free of the faunus parasite.
For months, as the faunus were moved to Menagerie, the Kingdoms experienced an all-time low in crime rates and Grimm attacks both, and Menagerie was initially lauded as a success.
However, the conditions in Menagerie slowly worsened. The dust supplies were even richer and purer than geologists, and dustologists had noted, and the death toll from accidents had risen. In addition to that, Menagerie was a new settlement, and its defenses were constantly tested by the Grimm. Then, when all was as its bleakest, the scrip used as the de facto currency was devalued.
Was it the Kingdoms' intentions to do so from the very beginning, to secure a large amount of cheap labor they had total control of?
Was it simple corporate greed; to minimize costs and thus, maximize income?
Was the value decreased simply because the drastic increase in the faunus population overwhelmed whatever supply Menagerie had?
Or was it a mixture of all of the above, or some other reason?
The faunus cried out, the price of the dust they were mining were supposed to outweigh whatever costs they were incurring. It was then that it became evident to Menagerie's inhabitants just how weak we were in terms of bargaining power. All our necessities came from one source, and all the mined dust could only be sold to the same.
What could the faunus do? Quit working, and go on strike? The Kingdoms still maintained their other dust mining operations, and while losing Menagerie would hurt, it was something they could afford. Leave Menagerie and go somewhere else? Good luck crossing the Grimm, the oceans, and the Grimm who lived in the oceans.
Faunus, human? What did it matter, we were always eager to grasp weapons.
Like a cornered beast, the Faunus had bared their fangs.
As the emotions felt by Menagerie's inhabitants doubled Grimm attacks on the Island, the United Councils had decided that, to at least maintain peace in the Kingdoms, they had to censor the news. As a result, when the faunus had overrun the Kingdoms' garrison and declared war, the human populace was caught entirely by surprise.
Forgotten grudges and hate had renewed themselves overnight. To an ignorant humanity, further goaded into a frenzy by state-controlled media, billions of taxpayer lien had gone into feeding and trying to assist a people that desired nothing more than to end them. Overnight, extremists had gained political power, and another question was asked:
"Do we turn Menagerie into their prison? Or their execution grounds?"
Everyone knows the war crimes committed within what is called by humans as the Faunus War, and the faunus as the Faunus Rights Revolution. With, each side viewing the other as subhuman, perhaps such atrocities were to be expected.
Aside from the typical rape, looting, torturing, and usage of prohibited weapons, humans had started mutilating faunus, taking trophies. In particular, faunus beast parts, ears, tails, claws, wings, fangs, and sometimes even skins were turned into cloaks and keepsakes.
The faunus responded by mutilating human bodies into mockeries of animals. They had cut and disfigured ears to shape them into cat or dog ones. In particular, as a mockery of the Winchester Family traditions to name their members after birds; the faunus had broken bone, and sewn skin to make the bodies of Winchester Huntsmen to make it look as if they were avian creatures in flight.
The common belief is that these trophies were taken while the victim was kept alive, either with forced resuscitation with shock dust, or thanks to the healing provided by the victim's aura. Some had actually survived the war.
The events at Menagerie would echo throughout the ages as an example of an inhumane, yet, completely legal model of capitalism and discrimination.
Those lessons would not be learned, and would lead to yet another conflict.
In the near future, companies would make use of various methods, from keeping faunus workers on perpetual contractual worker status by firing and rehiring them to avoid paying benefits, to opening what were more or less sweatshops to ensure great returns.
What choice did the faunus have, after all? Humanity, technically defeated in the war, still despised and feared the faunus.
The cutthroat competition of many dust mining and refining companies would try and replicate such methods to gain cost leadership advantages.
One model would surpass them all.
Menagerie can be said to be the prototype model of the infamous Schnee Labor Camps, a model that the Schnee Dust Company's Founder, himself a veteran of the Faunus Rights Revolution, would later 'perfect'.
Heritage of Hatred, Chapter 2 by Woad Galker, edited by Weiss Schnee, and Blake Belladonna
"E-eto... S-Swirly Fishcake-kun," stuttered the indigo-haired, pale-eyed beauty who was staring at the love of her life.
The two of them stood atop the walls of the Kingdom-Hidden-In-The-Backside-of-Vale, gazing into the sunset.
The boy, no, the man with blonde hair and an orange jumpsuit clenched his fist.
"Don't worry, Sunny Place-chan!" the man shouted, "I'll definitely protect Hidden Backside Kingdom, believe it! That's my Huntsman Wa –"
Winter Schneeyanked out the scroll playing that obnoxious cartoon out from her soldier's hand. The buffoons didn't even notice her presence as she approached.
The Atlesian soldiers watching what seemed to be the latest episode of Swirly Fishcake made pathetic attempts to stifle their gasps as they snapped hasty salutes.
She was an Atlesian specialist. Hell would freeze over before she would let this affect her composure.
Rather, she herself felt some sympathy for these men. They were smack dab in the middle of headquarters, surrounded by walls almost half as high as the ones in Vale, and, if she were honest, this was a waste of time.
The man succeeded once, but failed to replicate his success.
Still, General Ironwood believed it was worthy of pursuit. He pointed, and she obeyed.
Back straight, face betraying no emotion, Winter spoke.
"I understand that we are here in Camp Omega for nothing more than to collect parts of his research." she said, "But soldiers of our caliber would not have been deployed had this task not been of the utmost importance."
She could see their slack faces slowly harden into the professional countenance of Atlesian soldiers. Good, convince them of the importance of their cause, relate with their grievances, appeal to the organization we'd sworn allegiance to, and butter them up.
"We are soldiers of Atlas: the greatest standing army, and finest fighting men and women on Remnant." shecontinued, "We must be vigilant for threats to the safety of the Kingdoms. Remnant needs you, her heroes, alert, regardless of whatever task we are sent to."
"General James Ironwood personally selected each man assigned to this task-force. He believes in you, and expects much." Hogwash, his aide's aide had picked whoever was free. Winter thought.
Despite her personal thoughts, she gave the men a small smile, and took the pleasure in the slight blush that heated up their cheeks, "And so do I, men of Atlas. Is this understood, soldiers?"
"Yes, ma'am!" shouted the soldiers in reply, eager to please.
"Carry on, then." shereplied, and took some gratification seeing the men pick up their weapons and resume patrol.
Her scroll rang.
"Ma'am," came the voice of her aide, "It is as you and the General expected; the beasts are coming."
She smiled. Of course those filthy opportunists would try to attack when they noticed the defenses were decreased. Still, she did have some stress that needed working out. Hand on her sword, she walked to her command room.
She had some... pest extermination to see to.
White plated boots, black fatigues, white sleeveless coat worn over a black hoodie, gauntlets, shoulderplates and chestplate, sheathed sword at his hip, rifle slung, and all shrouded beneath a frayed, white cloak.
And a bone-white Grimm mask was covering his face. The mask, despite everyone's efforts, was still too damned loose.
The uniform, most especially the cloak, combined with the harsh weather, and the low light of the evening rendered Jaune Arc nearly invisible in the snow as he crept up behind a lone security guard.
The man's uniform was the same as the prisoner-beating guards in the pictures Keppel Azure "Kaz" Miller had shown him the night before. This man was a guard under the employ of the Schnee Dust Company controlling Camp Omega.
A careless step snapped a twig, and Jaune swore in his mind.
The man's head snapped up, and began twisting left and right.
Fuck, he could hear me this far?!
While normally, his sisters would kill him for his pathetic attempts at stealth, I mean, shit, he left obvious marks all over the snow, he felt that the light snowstorm blowing amongst the mountains covered up any mistakes he'd made.
The snowstorm was sudden, it was as if winter had come early.
If there was one thing his family's training had been able to beat onto him, it was the endurance to move quickly while carrying more than his weight in gear.
Jaune... Jaune didn't want to kill anyone, but if need be... He flipped off the safety of his rifle.
He risked a quick look behind him. At his back were around ten members of the White Fang, some of them giving him a thumbs up for taking point.
He'd volunteered to take point. He'd checked everyone's aura levels, and if you squinted, he had nearly triple the aura reserves of their average grunt. That, and unlike everyone else he was actually wearing heavy armor, so it wasn't really a difficult choice to make.
He'd been shot a few times back when his family still trained him. He could take a decent amount of shots before his aura even plunged into the yellow, and that was assuming his armor or shield didn't block the shot.
Speaking of which, his shield literally advertised his family and identity to everyone who could see it, as much as he hated not using it, he had to keep it hidden. He'd looked at the generic, unremarkable rifle he'd picked up, this would have to do.
He still brought Crocea Mors with him, though. Better safe than sorry.
Signalling his allies, they moved in to surround the lone guard, and when they did...
"Freeze!" Jaune grunted, as he man jumped back in surprise.
Jaune's rifle was trained at the guard's chest. As bad of a shot as he was, no way he could miss this close.
The closest Fang grunt jumped, and with a swipe of his claws, grabbed the guard's scroll. No one was raising the alarm, not when they were this close!
"Jaune, wait, stop, dammit, it's me!" The guard blurted out.
Jaune froze. He knew that voice.
And as if to verify his recent discovery, Jaune also knew those sunglasses.
"Kaz? What the fuck?"
The tension evaporated as the guard, now identified to be the guy who came up with this operation in the first place, removed his hat and revealed his horrendous mullet to the world.
"I tried to tell you through." Kaz said, pointing at the earpieces and receivers they had all attached to their scrolls, "But the damned weather is fucking with the signal."
Jaune blinked. That would explain a lot. Kaz hadn't checked in for 20 minutes now.
"Uhh – what's with the uniform, sir?" asked the man who had swiped, and was now returning Kaz's scroll.
"Guards really are incompetent fucks." Kaz said, grinning fiercely. "Caught a couple of them isolated from their patrol, pissing in the snow. Think they were trying to spell their names. Caught them with their literal pants down."
"More than one?" Jaune's eyes lit up, "Does this mean that we have more of our guys in their uniforms?"
"You bet." Kaz smirked, "Already sent em in. The comms actually work a little if we're this close, and they report that security's even lighter than we expected."
"How much lighter?" Jaune asked excitedly.
Kaz gave him an even wider grin. "Barely no one at all."
Wait, what?
That can't be right.
Even in their wildest, most optimistic calculations, they expected to face 200 defenders spread thin across the base, and that by now they'd have been spotted. No guards, what the fuck?
"Can you contact them?" Jaune suddenly asked.
If Kaz was about to question him, he deigned not to after seeing the look on his face. "Yeah, I can, Jaune."
"Tell them to be on the lookout for a trap." Jaune requested. Kaz's easygoing mood sharpened, and he nodded.
"Sir," a White Fang soldier asked Jaune, "Group C has already reached the wall as well. Your orders?"
When Kaz had introduced Jaune to the rest of the Fang team, he had presented Jaune as a specialist that had the support of Adam Taurus himself. Apparently that was enough.
"But he's a human!" some of the hardliners had cried.
"Adam FUCKING Taurus!" Kaz had screamed back.
Apparently, Adam's name carried a lot of weight, as immediately, some of them had begun deferring to him rather than Kaz. Kaz was actually glad they began doing so.
Lazy bastard.
Their plan was simple. Camp Omega was in the shape of a square, separated into five sectors. The barracks and headquarters were at its center, factories and laboratories of some sort at the east, the north, and the south.
The faunus housing was at the west, and that's where they were approaching from.
Each passageway within the camp was made in a way as to corral all those who'd entered into a series of chokepoints and overlapping kill-zones, each having automated heavy machine gun and anti-air emplacements mounted on the walls supporting them.
With the loss of most of their combat droids, they expected the security forces to be spread thin across the camp, and so, by concentrating their forces at one point, one direction, from the West, they hoped to be able to break through.
Group A, led by Jaune, and B, led by Kaz, both numbering 40 men divided into smaller teams, would have to suffice.
At the same time, Group C, the largest one, would scale the walls and either disable or take the heavy guns. Assuming they were able to punch through, their medical personnel would detach themselves from the combat groups, and begin ferrying faunus to the airships that would land right in the enemy's camp.
They held no delusions that they'd be able to sneak through. When Omega would counterattack, they would use Omega's own captured defenses to weather out the assault, and retreat, step by step, and hopefully escape along with the airships.
With disguised faunus in the enemy's ranks however, breaking through their defenses would be even easier.
Jaune hesitated. They expected a light guard, but they didn't expect nearly no one at all. Was this a trap? Still..., if they managed to take the guns, and the fortifications, they pretty much won.
"Go." Jaune spoke at last, and the soldier scurried to relay his command. They thought he was some sort of leader? He had to act like it. They were in the Grimmlands, after all. If morale broke now, and they were all dead.
"No other choice but to press on, eh?" remarked Kaz.
Jaune nodded his agreement, even as he tried to ignore the intensifying itches on his palms.
All so predictable, Winter thought.
The animals had already begun targeting the guns on top of the walls; the same guns that prevented them from truly overrunning the camp.
She stationed a good number of her finest men to man those walls. They would not fall easily.
There was also the matter of the ones that simply charged in through the gates. Still, those were easily dealt with. Even the pathetic guards her father had hired could fend them, let alone her seasoned Atlesian soldiers.
The enemy attack was halted; their nigh-unstoppable advance turning into nothing more than a slog that cost them blood for every step.
Good, Winter had thought. She had brought it as a precaution, but she indeed preferred not to display the prototype if it could be helped.
Turning her gaze to the tactical display, she noted with satisfaction that the icons marked as hostile were slowly wiped out one by one...
"Anti-Air guns, taken with minimal resistance, sir!"
"We've taken the western walls. Barely any resistance, only four to five on patrol."
Jaune acknowledged their reports as he and his group ducked under a hail of heavy machine gun fire from the 3rd chokepoint they'd run into.
They'd passed through the gates, disguised faunus already dispatching whatever guards stationed there. The base had paved roads, covered in heavy layers of snow. While their cloaks ensured they were still difficult to see amidst all the white; it wasn't the near-invisibility they had outside Omega's walls.
Their disguised men had managed to easily neutralize the crews manning the first two fortifications. They'd reported only a few men, taken completely by surprise.
All of the men they had defeated thus far wore the gray uniform of the SDC's Camp Omega Security Forces.
This was the first defense they'd run into that actually gave them some trouble, and even then it wasn't much, if the panicked screaming and wild, inaccurate gunfire was any indication.
Still, it was pretty damn loud and had Jaune not been hit by worse before, he would say it was intimidating. Still, the loud noises of gunfire could draw a lot of unneeded attention. If the enemy didn't know they were here, they sure did now.
Jaune was pretty sure that if he were alone he could take these guys with his sword and shield. His shield and armor, and hell, his aura had taken tougher blows in the past.
As he and his men took cover, the machine gun suddenly went quiet.
"It's clear!" came Kaz's voice. The faunus had snuck in and took them from behind.
Jaune stood up, and inspected the bodies.
Kaz had knocked the guards out and detained them. Good. Avoiding casualties was the only real condition he had for joining this mission. Given that most of the Fang soldiers that joined him were those of the younger and more idealistic demographic, most had agreed.
They wanted to prove they could succeed with as little bloodshed as possible.
Still, to have such few troops this close...
"I don't understand," muttered Jaune aloud, "We're practically only a few blocks away from their headquarters, and still no real resistance. Group C didn't even encounter any real problems taking the walls."
Even Kaz was wary now, "We haven't even encountered any robots yet. Our scouts are getting jittery too. It's like a ghost town, they say."
Still, if they were walking into a trap, wasn't it too late to spring it? They'd carved their way in through the west gates, and pretty soon, they'd hit their destination. They held all the cards now, in fact, they just needed to call the airships down and –
"Wait," realized Jaune, "Can we contact the airships?"
Kaz's face twisted into a grimace, "No, we can't. Weather's jamming up any signal. Looks like we'll need to take and hold position until it clears, or we might get lucky and they decide to just randomly drop by."
"I see." Jaune mused.
Jaune Arc frowned. Something was seriously wrong with this situation.
Winter Schnee frowned. Something was seriously wrong with this situation.
She stared at the tactical map. Her forces held their ground, but were steadily being pushed back.
They weren't the average beasts, but the more intelligent ones, it seemed. The ones that held back and waited until they spotted holes in their defenses.
Her Atlesian regulars were already stuck in combat against the beasts at the south gates, yet Omega's security forces had failed to come to her aid, even upon her request.
Still, some had responded to her orders. It was only those in the West Quadrant that had disobeyed.
Her eyes narrowed. Insubordination. When she was through with this attack, she would ensure those sad excuses for mercenaries would face the full wrath of Atlesian Military Justice.
She still had some Atlesian regulars she'd hoped to keep in reserve, guarding headquarters. She could have them move to join the battle, as well as pass through the western quadrant to round up Omega's truant guardsmen.
"Blue Twelve," she spoke into her scroll, "Double-time to the south gates, but pass through the west quadrant. Take whatever men you find to join you."
"And should they resist... persuade them."
"Get down!" exclaimed Kaz, as Jaune and the rest of their group complied, getting the hell out of the road and finding cover and laying prone on the snowmounds to the sides.
"Kaz? What's up?" whispered Jaune. They could see the housing already, they were so nearly there!
One by one, however, the faunus, or at least those with faunus ears perked up, staring suspiciously into the air.
Something's here, realized Jaune as he readied his rifle. He didn't want to use his sword, but he wasn't afraid of wielding it if need be.
Eventually, they could hear the sound of running; of boots against snow and concrete. Some of the faunus began snarling quietly, and Kaz himself looked a lot more nervous. Jaune peered into the snow, and eventually saw why.
There, out of the cold winds that obscured their vision, came men in distinctive high-tech silver helmets and body armor. He recognized those designs, high traction boots, dust-augmented armor that increased body strength, high-powered dust rifles, helmets that had varieties of functions... like those used by...
Jaune had to stifle a gasp. Everyone in Remnant knew who these were.
Soldiers, Atlesian Army.
There were around thirty of them, fully equipped, heavily-armored and from the looks of it, fresh.
Jaune and Kaz both led elements from Groups A and B, each group had forty men, amounting to eighty men in total, all scattered around the mounds.
"Quick, men, hurry up!" barked what looked to be the Sergeant in charge, "We have orders, round them up! Take them all, forcibly if you need to!"
Why was Atlas here?! Round them up? Take them?
Jaune didn't need to look around him to note that his allies' faces were twisting into mute horror.
They couldn't let that happen. If they relocated the faunus to a more secure location, they'd have a fucking hostage crisis in their hands.
Jaune met Kaz's eyes.
Kaz nodded.
They had no choice, they had to take them out. These men were too powerful not to give it their all.
Why then, Jaune thought to himself, am I hesitating?
They weren't spotted yet, and the soldiers were headed this way.
Like Jaune, the rest of their group was sporting white cloaks as well, and right now, it was proving to be a good move.
The snow was still blowing, covering Jaune and his companions with a light layer of snow, obscuring their forms even further.
The soldiers were marching close now, caution thrown into the wind in favor of speed.
They couldn't see them, Jaune realized, even this close.
The soldiers were almost within their optimal range.
Jaune's palms were itching beyond all belief now; his heart hammering in his chest. He didn't need to look behind him to know that the others all had their weapons trained on the Atlesians, just waiting for the first shot.
"We fire all at once." whispered Kaz into his receiver. Whispers of "Aye", "Roger that", "Understood", and "Copy that" sounded off in Jaune's earpiece.
"On my mark." whispered Kaz. The Atlesians were within Jaune's sights already. Jaune's finger hovered over the trigger.
One of the Atlesians marching in formation stopped and looked at their direction, directly at Jaune. The man narrowed his eyes as if to make sure, then he –
"Mark."
Jaune pulled the trigger.
Winter Schnee's eyes widened.
With nary a word, report, nor plea for aid, the icons representing the reserve force she sent to the West had been wiped out in a matter of seconds.
Their military-grade scrolls interfaced with their goggles in their helmets, and so fed information directly to their commander's tactical maps. If they saw someone they classified as an enemy, she would damn well know.
These men were soldiers of Atlas, but they'd been defeated without even getting a good glimpse of their assailants.
All their aura levels were deep in the red, so it was likely most were either dead or unconscious.
The beasts had managed to encircle Omega, despite her committing the bulk of her forces cordoning them off in the South?
It wasn't completely unheard of. Some breeds of those lesser beings were specialized for stealth, after all.
Still, she'd deployed Omega's security forces to serve as some sort of defense, or perhaps more accurately, as an early warning device. Did that mean the monsters got this far undetected, or did it mean they'd already torn through the pathetic security teams she had stationed there?
Still, what would those monsters be doing in the western quadrant...?
Winter snarled. Of course the beasts would strike there, that's where the faunus laborers were housed!
She bit her lip. She needed to strike quickly before her forces would be caught in a pincer. As loathe as she was to admit it, the general was right when he bequeathed the prototype to her retinue.
Still, at the very least she would assist in the collection of its combat data.
She sighed. What a waste of resources.
"Deploy White-One." Winter Schnee had spoken to her scroll. "Show these fiends the might of Atlas."
Jaune sighed a deep breath of relief.
The bullets he had fired at the soldier had pierced his arm, but it wasn't enough to kill the man or seriously injure him. His aura went on overdrive to protect him, deflect the shots, then heal any bruises, and so after a couple of well-placed shots, he fell unconscious not because of blood loss, but of aura exhaustion.
Simply put, the weapons the Fang were packing were deadly to civilians, but against aura-awakened Atlesian soldiers, who were wearing state-of-the-art dust-augmented body armor that could hold up against Grimm attacks?
He'd need to empty whole magazines of bullets into a vital point to really kill one; or, as was the case when fighting huntsmen, channel aura within your blade and stab.
Aura was a hell of a drug.
When Jaune realized that he'd actually need to try to kill someone, he gleefully set his rifle to full-auto, and joined his friends in a merry contest of "Shoot the Atlesian". Despite Jaune's best efforts however, the victory ended up going to some guy who managed to shoot an Atlesian in both his nuts.
While the Soldiers of Atlas were better equipped and better armored, it didn't mean much in an ambush where you could barely see shit. The Atlesians were scurrying around and firing blindly like drunken fratboys pretending to be headless chickens while the disciplined fire from the prone, hidden Fang had cut them down, one by one.
We were lucky¸ Jaune mused. They had caught the Atlesians unawares, in the gloom of evening, in the middle of a snowstorm, without cover, and the soldier he shot happened to be the officer in charge.
So far, no one was dead, not on their side, nor on Atlas's. That in itself was probably a miracle.
Jaune now realized why his Father and Rouge hated fair fights. This was just too good.
Jaune finished dragging the detained, unconscious soldier by the side of the road, where hopefully, they'd stay safe, and out of the way.
He gave a wistful look at the soldier's armor. He would've loved to have a set. Dust powered armor might be just what he needed to pass Beacon, but each one was a complex piece of machinery that required a bodysuit to interface with, and technical know-how to put on.
He had to convince his sisters Indigo and Viola to get him one.
Jaune eyed their rifles. They were indeed much powerful than what he had slung on his shoulder, but that was exactly the problem. He might actually kill someone with a rifle so powerful.
"That's the last of them." Jaune declared. "Kaz?"
"Fucking... dirty... shitbags." grumbled Kaz, wielding a permanent marker like a brush as he illustrated yet another phallus on an Atlesian's armor.
"What happened?" asked Jaune.
"Payback," he continued grumbling. Kaz pointed to a smoking hole in his pants, proudly displaying his underwear to all, "Bastard nearly shot me, and he shot me here of all places."
Jaune shrugged. All things considered, it was a pretty nice piece of underwear.
Then he stopped, as if he realized something important.
"Wait a minute, those aren't even your pants!" Jaune exclaimed, realization dawning on him, "Don't those clothes belong to the guard you... stripped... and left naked in the MIDDLE OF A SNOWSTORM?!"
"These are spoils of war, Jaune!" Kaz declared proudly, then gave an uncaring wave, "Don't worry about em, they have aura. They'll be fine."
"Well, if you say, so." muttered Jaune as he looked up the high gates.
The faunus were confined within gates and walls nearly as high as the exterior ones.
Jaune frowned, it looked like the gates and walls were just as capable of keeping people in just as well as it could keep them out.
Well, they would be using these defenses to protect the faunus as they boarded the airships, so in a way, it was poetic justice.
Jaune gulped. "Let's go."
The snowstorm still hadn't let up. It was a certainty that the faunus enclosure was still under heavy guard, so the added cover from the snow was a much needed asset.
The last thing they needed was a goddamn hostage situation in the middle of the enemy's base.
Jaune stared into the columns and columns of identical cubes that serves as housing for the faunus laborers.
It looked exactly like the aerial shot of the place Kaz showed him the night before.
But in absolutely no way did it prepare him for this.
The first thing that struck him was the smell.
It was indescribable.
It was like a mixture of smells had blended together to form some cacophany of odor, somehow managing to capture the pungent smell of piss and shit, the bittersweet, artificial smell of antiseptics and medicines, the putrid scent of rot, several day old fish, smoke, and...
And blood and dust.
It was... hard to describe how dust smelled. Yellow dust smelled of ozone, or like nitrates. Poets would say they smelled of the storm. Depending on the purity, location it was mined, and whether it was cut or turned to powder, dust smelled different. Red dust smelled either sweet like burning pine wood, or pungent like rotting rotten eggs, like sulphur. Although those were the extremes, most dust smelled something in between those.
Light blue ice dust, and blue water dust couldn't really be smelled, but were rather felt. Mere contact with ice dust chilled the body, and crushing it froze the air. Vacuo tended to import large amounts, and travellers carried them to keep food fresh.
If Jaune could describe how those smelled like, he would respond with 'fresh', as vague as that was.
All of those smells and more merged together, such that a human such as Jaune was having a difficult time identifying the individual smells.
For the faunus?
Some of the younger faunus behind him fought the urge to retch. If it was bad for Jaune, what more for those with enhanced senses of smell?
Kaz himself was pale, but refused to shake.
Jaune on the other hand, felt like shaking, but blamed it on the damn cold weather.
As hip as the sleeveless white coat of the Fang was, if there ever was a next time, he was taking one with sleeves, thank you.
Still, he had to admit that the sleeveless white coat, together with the shoulderplates on the black sleeves of his hoodie looked pretty cool.
Like ghosts in the wind, Jaune and the rest of the faunus dispersed. All were in position, the guns were held, they'd left people behind to man the chokepoints and fortifications.
All that was left was to find the refugees and get them on board the airships.
Although given the damned weather, leading to a lack of communications and visibility... they'd have to get there, secure the faunus, then wait for their rides to get here.
Jaune bit his lip.
Worst case scenario, the guards had already received word or found out who they were, and had already taken the laborers hostage. In which case, regardless of casualties, they'd have to engage the guards, then escape, and that was hoping that the weather cleared up in time.
It was horrible, but it was also unlikely. The harsh weather was a double-edged sword. It prevented them from communicating across long distances, but it stopped their enemy from doing the same. It concealed their presences, yet also prevented them from leaving.
Then there was the other problem, for whatever reason, the fucking Atlesian Army was here in an SDC Labor Camp in the middle of nowhere.
And for whatever reason as well, said fucking Atlesian Army also wasn't actively out to get them, and hopefully still didn't know that they were here. Signal this close within the base was a lot better than outside, so it was likely that they could contact their Headquarters.
They needed the sky to clear up. Soon.
The faunus residential quadrant was large, filled with columns and columns of windowless housing. Jaune had seen the pictures of their interiors. It would make jail cells shared by four or five inmates look comfy. Families were crammed into those rooms, and privacy was an intangible – well, even a more intangible concept to them, along with sufficient food, hot water, freedom of choice, and wi-fi.
Kaz mentioned that children were born in this dump. Jaune felt his cheeks heat up despite the cold. Given the complete lack of privacy, that must've been awkward as all hell.
Kaz's arm shot out and clutched Jaune tightly at the shoulder. Jaune gave a smile that betrayed more confidence than he actually felt, before they parted, Jaune headed left, and Kaz right.
Groups A and B had all split into teams of four, allowing them to scour every alley, as well as pass on the word to quietly assemble for boarding the airships. If they encountered resistance, then four men each would be apt for firefights in narrow alleyways, as well as to allow for other teams to flank and pin down their enemies.
Groups A and B, the search forces numbered forty men each, eighty men total. This meant that they had twenty teams, plus whatever men the Fang already had on the inside to round up more or less a thousand injured faunus laborers.
Shit, this is gonna take awhile.
The rest of their forces, Group C, already took over the West Quadrant's defenses.
Just as they'd planned, every time they'd pass by a gap, four men would peel off their formation and enter. If those faunus had any animal ears, they would be tensed in anticipation.
Either victory or death awaited behind each corner.
Jaune's body grew cold, and it wasn't because of the weather.
Where was everyone? They'd gone through several blocks already and still, no one.
They'd even entered several houses, to look for people.
If Jaune still had doubts that Kaz was lying to him regarding how they were treated, they were all gone now.
Jaune just wanted to burn the whole place down now.
Still, whatever personal effects and belongings they had were still there. Old, dilapidated, smelly stuffed toys that were stained with dirty tears and dust, no, not that dust, the boring dust, and soot. Pillows stained with the same thing the toys were stained with. Books with yellowing pages, the covers either torn or somewhat surviving the test of time.
In some other rooms, Jaune had even come across old portable music players. Those had become obsolete since scrolls were invented.
Jaune felt a hand on his shoulder.
He turned back to meet the masked face of one of the three that made up his four man team.
This one was with Kaz when the LT introduced him and Olive to the faunus in Vale, and of his three teammates, he was the only one that wasn't a doctor or a medic.
"Movement", the slightly older faunus had whispered, while pointing to some sort of clearing.
Jaune narrowed his eyes to see what he was pointing at, and gasped. There, near the walls, he could see faunus quickly and fearfully entering a series of warehouses.
By the looks of it, the faunus that entered the warehouse were the last ones in.
The nearby warehouses were used to store mined dust. And as if – no, the SDC probably viewed the dust as more important than the ones who mined it; that warehouses were far better fortified than the rest of the buildings in this quadrant.
The warehouses even had their own walls, not as freakishly large as the outside walls, these walls were meant to keep humans and faunus, not Grimm out.
They probably heard the gunfire, and tried to hide!
If Jaune were to pick a place to hide and wait for the gunfire to stop, he would probably pick the dust warehouses too.
Hell, for some weird reason, it had air conditioning, as if this Schnee-devised hell wasn't cold enough.
Kaz's men on the inside had already begun directing several block's worth of laborers to assemble for boarding. Several teams over the comms alerted Jaune that they'd secured more or less a full tenth of the laborers.
He needed to haul ass.
Moving quickly, Jaune, with his team in tow, got to the warehouses and kicked the door open.
Only to run headlong into armed men, Omega security, with their guns toted at their faces as soon as they entered.
Jaune blinked, then crossed his eyes to look at the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes.
The mask was the best thing ever.
The four man team that burst through the door found themselves surrounded by angry, armed guards.
Looking around wildly, Jaune realized that these guards had ushered the faunus in this warehouse for the perfect trap.
The guards had been lying in wait around the entrance, and they couldn't fire back either. Right behind the guards were the laborers, thin, gaunt, male, female, and adult and child. If any one of them missed, the stray shots would no doubt kill someone.
These damned guards were using their own charges as bait, and now they were using them as hostages!
Fuck!, Jaune realized, We're so, so fucked!
Jaune could take hits, especially from what looked like a normal rifle, but up this close, on his bare flesh?
That was going to hurt. He just needed to make sure they didn't hit anything vital.
The problem were his lightly-armored companions, and while their auras weren't small, they might as well have been nothing compared to his. One shot, and they were finished!
"Don't move, or we'll shoot! I swear! I'll kill you, I'll – ", screamed the guard, threatening to splatter Jaune's brains out on the walls.
I can't use my rifle. Thought Jaune, as his hands inched closer to the hilt of Crocea Mors. But I can use my sword. I'll need to tank this shot, then...
One of the faunus children tried to reach out for the guard holding Jaune at gunpoint, screaming, "Be careful, Mister Gaston!"
The rest of the events feel like it happened in slow-motion.
The guard, Gaston apparently, turned back, eyes widened, and mouth opening to shout something.
An opening!
Jaune's hand shot to his hip and, in one fluid motion, drew his sword and struck Gaston's rifle away.
Jaune had only meant to swat the gun away and force an opening, but he had gotten way too used to striking and parrying huntsman weapons.
The end result was that he had exerted way more force than was necessary.
The result of which was that Jaune cut the rifle cleanly in two, and forced Gaston off his feet and onto his ass.
As this happened, two of the White Fang soldiers behind Jaune moved far faster than he'd thought them capable.
The one to his left had seemingly grown fuckhuge red claws and, sliced her opponent's weapon to shreds.
The other one, to his right, had ducked way low, only to clock her enemy's chin with a magnificent side kick, the heels jutting out of her boots – wait, heels?!
To his credit, this Gaston tried to get up to his feet, but Jaune had no intention of letting that happen, and before anyone managed to react, his white sword was poised to pierce Gaston's neck.
Everyone in the warehouse began shouting.
"Drop your weapons, and surrender the hostages!" screamed Jaune first.
"Mister Gaston!" wailed the faunus child second.
"Forget about me! Shoot!" cried Gaston to his comrades third, then turning to the faunus behind him, he shouted, "Run! Don't worry about us!"
"Help me!" screamed the remaining White Fang mook who was still held up by a guard.
"We're not letting you hurt the faunus!", cried Gaston's fellow guards.
"Everyone, like, shut up!" cried the twins in unison. How the hell did they get here?
In contrast to the frenzied screaming that happened moments ago, everyone, the guards, the Fangs, the faunus laborers, everyone, just stared slack-jawed at each other, eyes darting to and from each other.
The silence would be broken seconds later.
"We're not going to let you hurt them!" screamed Gaston.
"Hurt them?!" cried Jaune incredulously, "We're not going to let you hurt them!"
"Oh my fucking God." Miltiades Malachite, known in the near future as the Red Unlucky Twin, buried her masked face in her hands.
"Gaston, we can't shoot! Our guns are gone!"
"I still have a gun!"
"Oh, God, guys, he still has a gun! Jaune, please help me!"
"Mister Gaaastooooon!"
"OKAY, OKAY, LIKE. TIME OUT!" shrieked Melanie Malachite, aka the Lucky White One, with her hands in the air, shaping a T. "TIME. OUT. TIME OUT. TIME OUT!"
The interior of the warehouse was again deathly silent, all eyes focusing on that one stiletto-wearing White Fang-garbed faunus with totally fake headband bunny ears.
Jaune blinked. The bunny ears were white, yet her hair was black. How did he not notice this?
On the other hand, Jaune didn't fail to notice how the Fang uniform seemed to compliment the Twins' lithe, petite figures.
The Lucky Twin pointed her finger at the downed guard, "You. First." she said.
Having his weapon cut cleanly in two did nothing to diminish Gaston's indignation, "We're not going to let you kidnap and hurt these faunus!"
Melanie then moved her finger to the faunus child, now crying to what looked like his mom.
"M-Mister Gaston's a nice man!" the faunus kid cried, "He tries to stop the other guards from picking on us!"
Jaune gaped. Now that nothing was threatening to blow its hard, hot load into Jaune's face as he knelt submissively, it was starting to make sense. Instead of using the faunus as human... no, faunus shields, the guards elected to stand between their charges and who they perceived to be threats. They used themselves as shields!
Guards actually guarding people they were supposed to protect?! That wasn't how it was supposed to work!
"Wait," interrupted Jaune, "You mean the guards don't oppress and beat you?"
A thin, bruised man with bandages on his arms stepped forward and placed a hand on the faunus child's shoulder. He looked to be his father.
"Guard Captain Gaston Alabaster doesn't." the man's weary voice rasped. "We beg of you, don't hurt him. He's only done his best to protect us from the other guards."
Jaune closed his eyes.
"We're not here to hurt anyone, if we can help it." Jaune spoke, "We're here to get you laborers out."
The eyes of all the faunus laborers gathered there changed from wide-eyed panic, to hopeful attention.
"We have airships ready." continued Jaune, "We'll get you guys out of here and into Vale."
Whispering broke out in the crowd. Some began smiling, mouths began twitching upwards.
"We'll get you somewhere safe!" Jaune pleaded, "You just have to come with us!"
A lot of the faunus began moving forward eagerly, yet some remained hesitant.
"You're White Fang." Gaston said, finally recognizing the uniform. "You're here for them."
Jaune nodded.
Gaston turned back to the faunus, and shouted "Go with them! They'll get everyone normal lives again!"
Whatever hesitation remained with the faunus vanished, and they began running, or in the cases of those with injuries, shambled out, ushered by the other guards, the remaining grunt, and the Malachite Twins.
Only the child and his parents remained with the guard captain and Jaune.
"Mister." the child begged, "You're not going to hurt Mister Gaston, right?"
"Please! He may be a human, but he protected and bled for us!" cried out the mother.
"You're White Fang," the father whispered, "I understand you have much hate for humanity, but please, not all of them are evil."
"Everyone, it's fine." intoned the guard with a resigned smile, "Whatever good I've done doesn't wipe out the bad. For the longest time, I'd just stood by and watched my comrades oppress you; and when the higher ups command me to stand down, I do."
Gaston's unremarkable brown eyes met the monstrous slits of Jaune's bone-white Grimm mask.
"Do what you want with me, just get them to safety."
Jaune sheathed his sword, to the surprise of the four.
Jaune pulled off the mask. It always was loose and uncomfortable anyway. Along with the mask, he pulled off his white hood.
The child, the father, the mother, Gaston's, all their eyes went wide.
With his face freed of those stuffy things, he turned to Gaston.
"I'll need your help loading the faunus into the airships."
Their eyes were still wide, but he could see the corners of their mouths as they tilted slightly upwards.
Jaune simply gave them a wink and a sheepish smile, and put the mask and hood back on.
The snowstorm ended, and the skies cleared up.
Wind blowing snow all around, the airships had finally touched ground.
Night had arrived, and the moon was high in the sky. While nearly everyone here was a faunus, some had been in captivity for so long that their eyes and nightvision had deteriorated. The White Fang had begun using the torch functions of their scrolls as makeshift signals to ferry the laborers in.
By now, nearly half were loaded and strapped in their seats.
Not very long now. Jaune mused. There were more wounded than usual, and so their personnel took longer than estimated. No matter how much you shouted, shambling amputees could only move so fast.
It was like they couldn't get a leg up on the competition, eh? eh?
Kaz's reports, and Gaston's estimates both agreed that they were still far from loading everyone on.
The way the Fang received Gaston and his men was... frosty, to say the least. Still, the bunch of laborers vouching for the men got them some grudging acceptance.
The minutes clocked but still, nothing, and that grudging acceptance was slowly turning into approval, as suspicions decreased and the man still hadn't ratted them out to their bosses.
But still, Kaz and Jaune checked in with the faunus camping out every fortification on the way to the Western Quadrant every five minutes, and still nothing. No sign of a counterattack or reprisal, nothing.
Even in their most optimistic planning, they hadn't expected this.
Did Atlas seriously have no idea they were there? Or was Atlas simply letting them go?
They'd been here for hours in total, and while the enemies they'd detained were still gagged and tied, for sure the fucking Atlesian Military would've picked up something was wrong.
Standard procedure for Atlas was to use its robots for any anomaly. Robots could be recovered and recycled after they won or lost, anyways, making them invaluable for meat shields, for scouts onto enemy controlled terrain, as sacrifices to delay superior enemy forces.
Even if the Atlesian Army felt that its enemies posed no threat to its human personnel, they still sent robots.
So why aren't they?, thought Jaune. Even in the unlikely event that Atlesian technology was hindered by the snowstorm, their communications should be working fine now. Someone's got to have noticed.
There was a change in the wind, and he could feel two familiar presences take their places to his left and right.
"They're not doing anything." cheerfully spoke Melanie, who had taken her now customary place at Jaune's right, "Like, seems their reputation is way exaggerated."
"Don't jinx it." sternly reprimanded Miltiades at the left, "They could just be distracted by something, or they could be, like, planning some trick."
"Thanks for following me." Jaune interrupted before they could begin arguing in earnest, "It's a huge help, I appreciate it."
Twin pairs of sea-green eyes turned to Jaune as his eyes furrowed.
"But if you two are here, who's with Junior?"
Normally, any red-blooded male would be ecstatic to find his family jewels in the tender and loving grasp of a beautiful, well-endowed woman with beautiful eyes.
Hei Xiong Junior would beg to differ.
Junior squealed into the air as his crotch was trapped yet again in the vice-like grip of another furious, though, slightly older blondie, with sky-blue eyes instead of lilac ones.
"Tell me where he is and I'll let you go!" shrieked Viridian Arc as she tightened her fist, shoving a picture of Jaune in the Club Owner's face.
"I don't know!" cried Junior, "He could be in Atlas right now; I really have no fucking idea!"
"Excuse me?!"
"Arrggh, Gaah!" Junior screamed, "Melanie! Miltia! Help me!"
A fraction of Junior's men had just been loaned out to Roman Torchwick, the other fraction lay in the hospital, halfway to the morgue, and the remaining fraction had apparently learned their lessons not to deal with angry blonde huntresses anymore.
At the bar, two slightly-beaten, naked faunus began to wake from their alcohol-induced slumber. One was a medic, the other was a doctor, and neither remembered how they got there.
Where were their clothes...? Last they could remember, they were in their uniforms.
Weren't they supposed to join this White Fang rescue mission..? All they could recall were flashes of red and white before everything went dark...
"Eh, Junior's probably fine." waved off Melanie dismissively. "Club'll, like, take months to fix. No one should be dropping by."
"Junior'll probably say you guys are square now." remarked the other twin.
"Well, if you say so." shrugged Jaune, as he looked back at the impromptu landing zone. Those that could walk were already carrying what little personal belongings they had, mostly keepsakes. The wounded were being given priority and assisted by the guards loyal to Gaston and the rest of the medically-trained Fangs.
It looked like they'd already won the day. In just... maybe half an hour? They'd be able to get in the air and away from this place.
His palms refused to quit itching, and he bade his men to remain on guard, stoking their fears to the point of paranoia.
The day wasn't over yet.
The itching had reached a crescendo, and Jaune's eyes narrowed.
Whatever it was, it was here.
As if on cue, an explosion shook the earth beneath their feet, and dark smoke began rising from the defenses they'd taken around the camp.
The boisterous, yet hushed, hopeful conversations that had been taking place between the soon-to-be refugees had gone completely quiet. Their faces changed from hopeful to fearful.
Gaston had brought his scroll to his ear, inquiring from whoever he was able to contact about what was going on. Jaune brought a finger to his earpiece and from the corner of his eye, he saw Kaz do the same.
"This is Fox." spoke Kaz to the channel, "Defenses, report."
"Dark Flame Master 1 here, nothing to report!"
"This is Dark Dragonslayer 1, there was an explosion further near the center!"
"Black Knight of Vengeance 1! We've heard gunfire and explosions from Lone Chaos Wolf 1's location!"
"Lonely Avenger 1! Nothing to –"
Suppressing the urge to cringe at the codenames, Jaune tried to visualize what had happened. So far, the ones that were safe were those south, north, and east of their current position. Lone Chaos Wolf made up the easternmost tip of their perimeter defenses.
Panicked voices suddenly shrieked out from the earpiece, "Leader, this is Demon Soul 1, and we're under attack, it's a fucki –"
Damn!
Whoever they were, they were coming in from the east and tearing through his men like butter!
A cold shiver shot its way up Jaune's spine.
A huntsman?! It had to be! What else could tear through so many men that fast?!
"Avenging Sword, oh fuck, we can't stop i –"
"Retreat! Retreat!"
"Blood Apocalypse 1, it's huge, and it's runni –"
Kaz looked to be on the verge of a breakdown. With the exception of the "huge" comment, the speed at which it tore through Omega's defenses seemed to lend further credence that it was a fully-fledged huntsman after them.
"Kaz, Gaston!" screamed Jaune, as man and faunus turned to look, "We have to meet them, we can't allow a battle this close to the airships and the targets!"
Gaston nodded his assent and started running immediately. Kaz nodded to a doctor, apparently their contact within the Redwings Group, to take charge before he too, started moving, his men in tow.
Jaune turned back, and met the twins' eyes. Before he could speak, Melanie beat him to the punch and gave him a saucy wink, as Miltiades lifted her hands in the air and groaned.
As everyone broke into a run, Jaune realized something. Despite the panic chilling his blood worse than the cold ever could, Jaune couldn't help but smile.
At his right was Melanie Malachite, the beautiful girl that helped cheer him up when he was down, along with Kaz Miller, the first person to ever trust and have faith in him.
At his left was Miltiades Malachite, the girl who'd given him advice and counsel just yesterday night, along with Gaston Alabaster, who stood up for what was right, even if his comrades didn't.
And behind him were fifty brave, driven faunus soldiers. All of them ready to bleed to protect their kin.
For the first time in his life, Jaune fought alongside friends.
Comrades.
Who knew what the future held, whether their actions would cause more suffering than good, or whether all they did today was to throw these slaves into another's service.
For the moment, they didn't care about that.
What mattered right now, was that they would stand and hold the line so others could live.
For the moment, they were heroes.
For the moment, we're heroes! exulted Jaune.
Jaune almost believed it for a moment.
Jaune almost believed it, just as a chrome gray fist the size of a fully-grown man crashed through the wall to the left.
Jaune and the group were mid-run when a thunderous crash roared and a cloud of debris swept over them like a tidal wave. The goliath-deterring wall of stone and concrete shattered like glass and fell upon them.
Before he was aware of anything, Jaune found himself on the ground, head low, hands shielding his neck. His aura was barely touched, and he was still well in the green even this late in the day. Judging from the moans and gurgles in the background, he was one of the few that were unharmed.
As Jaune struggled to get back up to his feet, he had heard the Malachite Twins gasp in unison. He had heard Gaston swear, and he had heard various similar profanities from the rest of the men.
Most startling however, was Kaz's reaction.
The smoke and debris had cleared up, and instead of finding cover, Keppel Azure had merely stood still, frozen in shock, eyes wide open and sunglasses removed.
Jaune turned his head and with a gasp, beheld what laid them low.
The wall-crushing metal fist was attached to an even larger arm connected to a mighty torso, bereft of a head, armed with missiles, gatling guns, sensors and other instruments of death, standing upright on two great legs.
It was unpainted, its metal a cold gray; the robot stood like a man, a warrior, a king.
As it shifted its fist to a large, dark cannon, Jaune was reminded of figures from old stories, that of noble, chivalrous knights believed to be holy, sworn to an ancient sovereign before the establishment of the kingdoms.
"Metal Gear," Kaz spoke.
"Paladin." Jaune had uttered.
"Automated Battlesuit." Gaston remarked.
"Damn." Melanie had whispered.
"Shit." Miltiades had cried.
Laser sights red as blood flared from its body, lighting up the cold darkness of night like malevolent stars. It turned its feet, body and arm-cannons to face them, the groan of the metal almost sounding like an inhuman groan.
Looking down at its enemies like an angry god; the Atlesian Paladin-290 had roared its dominance.
Chapter 6 End.