The hum of turboprops blared through dusty night air as disgruntled Gibson mumbled about how he was tired… Too tired. His OV-10 painted in green camouflage lazily flew on by as he constantly rubbed his eyes. He even was stirred awake every now and again by Bismarck literally shouting as loud as he could into his own radio. That didn't stop the torture of lack of sleep gave him. He consistently complained to himself until, slowly, over the grand distance, small flickers of light hit his tired eyes. Taking this as possible evidence, he yawned and then radioed in his report with a bedraggled voice,
"I have sight on the possible city. Do you need to me investigate further Bismarck?" Please God, don't make me… it's a two hour fly back. The pilot's near dead mind reeked irritation.
There was dead air until the the onboard radio crackled to life, "I'd recommend so, it was reported it to be relatively large, turn on your night vision and take a look."
"Roger that." the pilot replied. Fuck me.
The hum continued until he reached over the city and…. Yup, lights. Multiple actually. More are even being turned on? What the hell?
As he flew over he saw more houses continuously flip on their lights which was most of the city in the general vicinity he was in. He wasn't high either. The outline of his plane was completely visible. Sonuvabitch, I gotta turn. Gibson panicked slightly. He was halfway expecting someone to be a dumbass and shoot at him. He had to contact Bismarck,
"I'm confirming here that this is the place. Everyone is waking up. I'll be heading back now. I think I caused more noise than I should've."
"Let's hope they don't get a good sight on you. Head on back, we have work to do tomorrow…" Bismarck called back. Things were just getting started back at base. From the Protectrons building, to them setting the defenses on their HQ on Remnant. Barbed wire, fencing, and of course turrets. That's not considering the robot workbench that's yet to be constructed, "My days never end do they?" Bismarck groaned.
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Sand was thrown around, half the improvised ground crew look near dead tired as they immediately tried to get whatever sleep they could get after the OV-10 stopped. No attempt was made to taxi it into the rushed, temporary hangar. Gibson, looked from the distance at his fellow buddies, they were all heading to the same tent. The barracks.
"God damn fucking planes." Gibson grumbled like an old man who wasn't given his applesauce, "How the fuck do I get out!" He couldn't see, and the night vision didn't help. Trying to see with only a small tube as your point of view, and said tube literally being long enough to actually hit your stomach is something that pissed the pouty pilot to no end.
After an incessant struggle with the harness and a few swears later on varying levels of vulgarity, Gibson finally did it! He was free!
Closing the large canopy, Gibson slowly but surely dragged himself back to the tent. Sadly, the sleeping arrangements weren't ideal.
Having your robots literally place your sleeping quarters right next to all the angle grinding, welding, and plasma cutting of metal is almost impossible to sleep to. Still, when you're tired, you are tired. Doesn't matter where it was, the beds were soft (A very big plus), and welcoming. Even though the sound was unbearably loud, It eventually muffled to silence as sleep took over Gibson.
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"Reports of an unidentified flying object were seen over Menagerie. Flying from the desert over, it quickly turned and flew back into the distance. The strange aircraft was caught on camera by many onlookers..." The TV hummed as T perused through the dust shop flipping through heinous amounts of gun magazines. Sadly—the designs—they were all… Erm…Disgustingly bright. As in design choices that looked so shit that even Pollock would sneer in disgust.
Pink sword that looked like some fucked up lovechild between a katana and a Greatsword? Check! Shotgun with an axe at it's stock. Yup. These designs were all impractical. But nonetheless when he looked to his right. A girl wearing headphones and a red hood over her head was enjoying the designs a lot more than she should. She was having these strange small convulsions… Actually… Why was she staring at him?
He traced her eyes and noticed that she was looking at his piece. A Pancor Jackhammer that hung lazily on it's two-point sling across his back. Eugh… He forced a smile and turned away from the neurotic girl She seems to have an extra chromosome or two.
After torturing himself with the terrible magazines that populate this store. He was gonna head out for tonight and catch some shuteye. Placing the last magazine down, the door rang as multiple feet clattered into the building.
To the Tribal, this was making him paranoid. He was having New Reno flashbacks again.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a Dust shop open this late?" A voice spoke.
The Tribal paused for a moment just to confirm, not go overboard with what he was going to do
"Please, just take my Lien and leave!"
Fuck it. The Tribal knew this was going to Hell soon. He had multiple ideas concocted in his wastelander mind of his Just gun them all down? No… Take the leader for hostage?
Sadly thoughts like these didn't last when he had some dude pointing one of those toy guns in his face.
The goon yelled with a fiery fervor, "This is a robbery!" this approach didn't get the illicit response he was expecting.
The Tribal's eyes snapped towards the man as he whipped his 223. Pistol from his holster. This left the man no time to react as a round barreled it's way through his head.
Quickly placing the weapon back in it's place, the tribal slung his Pancor Jackhammer from his back and sprinted to the front of the store to flush the rest out.
Lunging over the counter that the little bitch of a clerk hid behind, he dropped kick another goon in the face. The man fell to his knees with a shriek as he smashed against the glass counter.
The orange-haired head honcho turned tail and ran as he finally realized what was going on. the others gave him a menacing glare Pfft. New Reno druggies are scarier than this...
Wrenching his head left, he was going to have to clear five more of the men—scratch that—four. The crazy girl just sent a guy out the window flying. All that was left now was over confident bitches that were ready to be slain.
Three men with guns, and one with an overly bright red sword were at the ready, Taking heed of the scenario, the tribal unleashed a burst on the three who couldn't aim their rinky dink toys in time.
Their organs became one with the wall that would satiate the needs of a fucked up artist, the final goon gave a swing of ferocity that was mere inches away from the Tribal's face.
Sad stories end sadly. The last goon's face was puréed as he was blasted to smithereens.
Four down, one more to go. The thought raced through the Tribal's mind, no time was wasted as he launched himself out of the shattered window towards the last target.
The city lights were the only illumination as the orange-haired man fought with his cane against the oversized scythe that the girl wielded. What the fuck? He threw the pure bewilderment away quickly after seeing the girl actually get her ass handed by him.
His Jackhammer still had six shells left, so far the only issue now was the orange-haired pretty boy was basically making the girl jump into his line of fire every single time.
The girl was nimble for sure. Way too nimble. Leaping and soaring through the air she was committed to her speed. clanging against the man's cane was surely an awe-inspiring sight.
Sadly she made a mistake
With one wayward swing the orange-haired man parried the large scythe sending it flying away from him.
He rushed in and landed a uppercut to her face sending her back a few feet
Fuck. The Tribal raised his shotgun again, just as the man snapped his head to meet eyes.
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For Patton, waking up in the middle of night for no reason whatsoever was a bad omen. On Earth, this usually entails getting chased by raiders who were doped up so much that they just ate bullets like some zombie Jet addict, or he would walk into a Deathclaw den and nearly become human filet mignon. But here, this feeling was more of apprehensiveness.
Maybe it was the fact it was Patton's and Blake's last day in the hotel room and he was worried about how Blake would react to actually having to tough it out in the wild and actually be in a tent. But hey, she was in a terrorist group, surely they prepared for this kind of shit.
Maybe I should get some air. It was a smart choice in Patton's mind. The stale moldy air of the shitty room actually leaving his nostrils and him sucking in fresh air. To prevent as noise possible he did a very slow roll off the bed and landed on all fours.
His hand grabbed around the nightstand before finally snatching his helmet (He always felt safe with it). Flat on his belly he dragged himself across the disgustingly damp floor until he made it to the door.
Patton (Successfully) snuck away and Blake didn't even raise an ear. Mission accomplished mother fucker.
Patton though for a moment thought what would people would do at a moment like this, it was four-in-the-morning, people would either be still asleep or someone was out having a smoke from a disgraceful night of partying. Or just dead—that works too. That was until he heard a noise that sounded way to familiar
Sonuvabitch…
Gun shots, not the dinky hey-guys-look-at-my-cool-new-toy Remnant weapons… But an actual weapon. Each shot came one after another, some faster than the other, but none the less, whatever this was, shit was hitting the fan
Sucking air in between his teeth, and ending with an audible sigh, he was honestly getting tired of shit always happening. He was seventeen and already wanting retirement. Tough crowd.
Sprinting across the street the sound grew much louder, and peeking around a corner he saw what he expected and a little something more. The Tribal was gunning down guys in suits. That seems reasonable… Mostly. But what caught him off guard was that girl… Holy shit.. It's her! Why the fuck is she in a shop at four in the fucking morning?!
Wiping whatever thoughts that were already concocting in his head, he had business to do. Materializing All-American in his hands he ran back away from the ruckus and went into a nearby alley.
Finding a roof access was easy, but the ladder was hinged up so no regular joe-schmo could hop onto the roof. Sending a 5.56 it's way he blasted the ladder free and clambered up each rung.
Running up the metal steps he eventually hit the roof of the building, just perfect, the height basically let him view everything that was happening, even some of the goons that haven't entered the fray were hidden in adjacent alleys, that just wouldn't do—they were gonna cause a problem and if he could get them to freak the fuck out by shooting them in areas they thought were safe that would be dandy. The Tribal could turn those who ran into spaghetti sauce as they were shredded with buckshot. That's if most were dumb to actually run into the Tribal's sights.
Taking slow breaths, he lowered his heart rate as he laid the front grip of his All-American on a brick rampart and took his first shot.
It was an alleyway straight across from him, one goon who thought he was safe in cover was unlucky to be standing there. A 5.56 tore through center of mass and crumpled the man over.
The rest of the goons hiding? They didn't like it one bit, and broke for it, some were actually smart and ran deeper into the alley, avoiding them so Patton and the Tribal couldn't be able to gun them.
Most though went full retard and charged into the center street where the Tribal, Ruby, and Patton were at. The only unique person whom he partially recognized was the orange haired man he saw at the docks. Taking a quick shot at him as he ran he missed and wasn't able to give a good follow-up shot before he was able to break sight.
Damn it. It didn't matter, now he basically had to be the guardian angel for the Tribal and Ruby. The cluster fuck they were now dealing with wasn't pretty, dealing with 30 goons at once, Ruby looked a bit bedraggled That's what you get for not going to bed properly missy!
Patton sent twelve more shots their way, the giant furball of goons were in mass hysteria, they knew they had more than two people attacking them, but they couldn't find Patton. The lot of them were just randomly shooting up into buildings into his general direction not accomplishing anything as Ruby pounded them down and the Tribal was lawn-mowering them.
When their large numbers were seriously being threatened as they were cut down they decided to actually split it and run.
Looking right How nice, just in time. The flamboyant goon was climbing the ladder of a building to board some weird jet-vertibird and was about to take off.
Not on my damn watch. He dematerialized his All-American and instead replaced it with his Anti-Material Rifle. This thing was a dream with HEIAP ammo, and to Patton, this was fucking heaven to actually use it against a vehicle to see how badly he can fuck it up.
Without even thinking he fired at it's engine. Three things happened
He missed—only slightly—and it fucked up the cooling and nacelle so badly that if they didn't take off now and go land somewhere safely it was game over.
Scared the everliving shit out of the occupants of said vehicle.
Pretty sure it just cleared Patton's sinuses.
Patton was smart to not take another shot at the engine. If this was Earth, he wouldn't have to give a damn. But there are actual people inside these buildings. Causing a whole aircraft to blow up right beside an apartment isn't the most survivable of things.
Someone for some reason was already dumb enough to slap autopilot on after a hit like that and leave the cockpit to engage Patton. But what Patton saw.. Holy…
She was hot—Fucking hot—that described her better. Lucious black hair, Voluptious thighs that would make a teenager go fucking wild, and amber eyes that looked as devious as equally seductive. Sadly he couldn't tell if she traded her brains for appearance since he was pretty sure that exposed engine seems to be mighty lonely without it's water cooling. She was letting it sit running and it was getting hotter and looked more prone to melting and just turning to shit.
It didn't matter, the flamboyant man was already on the roof with Ruby and the Tribal close behind. Ruby was able to quickly traverse her way up there. The Tribal on the other hand—he showed signs of slowing down. He arrived of course, but he was breathing way too heavily.
Patton shook his head out of all this idling. This was utter bullshit and he knew it too. He decided to do something that would really shake those two.
Cycling the bolt on his AMR, he aimed towards the tail of the the Jet-Vertibird-Thing. In particular, he was going to hit the shoot the rudder. While everyone was distracted he peered through his scope—steadying his breath he was ready to take the shot, that was until his scope was filled with bright light.
Instantly, he threw his head back, "Holy fucking shit!" he saw the aftermath of the explosion, it seemed Ruby was fine, and that the Tribal was… Fucking damn it. He was in his power armor. But now there was someone new? How did they get there? He fucking had no idea.
A woman wearing a strange cape with a purple inlay, a dress shirt, thin pencil skirt, and the normal office leggings. She… She didn't compare to the hottie up in the weird jet-thingy, then again, he didn't have a good view of her.
He saw the weird purple shield of "magic" dissipate, and with a swing of her wand, bright purple energy flew in a crazy pattern striking all over the aircraft. For Patton, this was fantasy level shit he's seen in old holotape movies. He just wished he had popcorn and a Nuka-Cola nearby.
The black-haired hottie seemed to trade positions with the orange-haired man, she was attempting to do something similar to what this weird witch woman did, but nonetheless, she was cut off by something even greater.
BRRRRRRTTT!
A metric shit ton of bullets tore along the tail section. This made Patton jump as he initially didn't notice the Tribal's Vindicator Minigun going fucking nuts on the tail boom of the aircraft.
Patton's plan to just blast off their rudder was demolished as the Tribal basically had so many bullets punch through the vertical stabilizer and rudder that he literally tore it off. The elevator didn't have much luck as half of it seemed to be rendered inoperable and only a small portion of it would move.
The pilot must've been scared shitless as the vehicle whipped around and took off. The left engine was already turning red and on fire as it began limping away.
The deed was done, all was saved, and there was cake.
...Well, Patton wished that happened...
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The Tribal sat there, head on hand, bored as fuck as he heard the small girl reprimanded. Do I really need to be here? I just defended myself…. And did a lil' extra too.
Talking, talking, talking, talking… When the fuck will they be done? He was sure he was gonna get some prison sentence, or some shit like that.
He gazed around the bland room, one light bulb, all white room, and a door. Reminds him of old Holotape movies.
Getting up to attempt to leave the door opened; what showed was the women from earlier that "helped" during the skirmish.
She paced back and forth with a look on her face that screamed, "You dun goofed."
With a near growl she spoke vehemently, "Unlike her, you're an adult, you should know when to back away. But strangely enough, you went on a killing spree. Things like this would lead to huge legal is-" The bitch woman was interrupted
The Tribal already felt a vein pop and a brain aneurism coming on, that woman talked to him like he was child and goes all "Blah blah you killed people blah blah." shaking his head the Tribal upstanding her, "What do you mean "legal"?! Men literally out to kill you?! I was getting shot at! People were actually trying to kill me!"
The witchy-bitchy woman rubbed her temples in pure frustration, "You're lucky." She groaned and opened her eyes, "With all these legal allegations that could come of this, people now can almost make self-defense and turn it into a murder case, now imagine that to twenty men?" She paused once more, she was red-faced holding in her anger, but suddenly cooled off as if she just relieved herself, "But nonetheless, someone is here to see you…"
The Tribal paused…
See him? Did Patton come around. Holy shit! Yes! Patton will save his a-
"So you're the man? It's a pleasure to meet you." A man with equally gray hair entered the room as the witch left with a sneer on her face.
"Yeah, you didn't know?"
"It was a rhetorical question. " The Gray haired man spoke softly.
For the Tribal, he didn't know what to think of him. His informal but at the same time down-for-business style look was something he had trouble reading, green shirt, dark green pants, a sweater, spectacles, and a cool looking cane. He had Pimp material, but his attitude was different.
Wetting his lips, the Tribal asked, "So I'm guessing something bad is going to happen right?" There was a pause, and the odd man smiled.
"I believe it's best we introduce ourselves first and foremost, wouldn't you agree?" the man extended a hand to the Tribal with a friendly look "I'm Professor Ozpin, it's a pleasure to meet you."
The Tribal wasn't believing this shit one bit and didn't take the hand. As far he knows he might be one of those shocker things inside of it. He's seen his fair share of cockamany bullshit. From being swindled out of some money to see a dumb ass mummy, to some fuckface trying to make him pay extra for his drink. He wasn't having any of it.
Shaking his head slowly the Tribal peered up with a questioning glare, "Alright Ozpin tell me, what's gonna happen now?"
The door in the bland room opened again with the same woman entering, except she had weird pad with… Everything that happened!?
"I see you still seem to be stiff, I can learn your name later." With that same soft smile he asked, "Tell me, how were you able to do this?"
Great, fucker avoiding my question. Two can play at this game Ozpin. The Tribal's eyes narrowed down at Ozpin, "You'll never get my apple pie recipe…"
Ozpin only raised an eyebrow in slight confusion, "I see… But I'm not here for that. I want to know how you were able to do this, reaction times faster than anyone I've seen before, your endurance because you were shot multiple times and yet you were fine. Most importantly, suddenly summoning weapons and that armor like that. A power truly unique."
The Tribal's nostrils flared, and eyes sharpened, "I told you… My recipe only belongs to the elite of waffle palace, Queen Jemimah will have her vengeance!"
Ozpin looked like he wasn't having any of it, his eyes as well narrowed, "I see, well, any legal allegations that could occur I'm sure of that you can handle on your own: A single man in a shop kills over twenty leaving damages from your guns."
Ah fuck… The Tribal barred his teeth, "I'm going to leave out some details, but, I've lived a life where I needed to try and survive." The Tribal's truth and actually brought a little hope that maybe he won't get fucked over. Sure the details he left out was basically everything but he hoped it would do.
Ozpin's straightened face mellowed back to the same softened smile to him, "I see, well. I noticed your friend in the video…" Ozpin motioned to the pad that the woman was still holding and clearly saw Patton taking shots from the rooftops.
Aw shit…
"He's someone we've knew about thanks to him stopping an attempted bombing on a train recently." Ozpin's smile didn't grow but the Tribal had a feeling that Ozpin was happier than he looked, "In fact, there's video of the entire event while he was there helping you. You seem to know each other well…"
The Tribal was entirely silent with an apathetic expression. He didn't dare answer or else Ozpin would figure more shit out. Ozpin took this as a sign, "No worries, I won't pry further… But I have a position for you, You have all reason to decline, but if you do I won't be able to assist you of any legal troubles that may occur from this."
The Tribal already felt the horrid direction this was going, but he nonetheless felt obligated to answer, "Alright, shoot."
Ozpin nodded, straightening up, he sounded the offer, "I would like to give you a position at Beacon Academy…"
The woman's eyes widened in surprise and interjected, "O-Ozpin, do you really think that's a good id-"
"Glynda, no need to worry." Ozpin reassured her, though she still looked panicky.
The Tribal was now stuck with a decision… One that actually will affect his time on this world and he didn't know what to pick…
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Alrighty, I wanted to steer away from Patton for a chapter, have something new for the Tribal, also this is my 2nd (I think third if you count the train) action sequence in the entire story. Chapter 4 was a mess and I hoped this chapter served as repentance.
I'm having trouble getting the personalities of people like Ozpin down, so I also need your opinions on that guys. Secondly. Before you start thinking "Patton just brought an entire private army." You gotta understand. Setting up an entire base takes a while, with context clues you can tell they won't be called upon or make any entrance for a while.