A/N: I own nothing, at all. So this one doesnt have much Titanfall in it but sets up future events fairly well I think, also shows off some of Steeles new toys. hope you enjoy.
Lights bright and strobing through the dark, turning the room into brief flash frames of activity. Sound thundering in his ears and his chest. Steele wasn't quite sure exactly where he was or how he got there, he knew that Yang had brought him here once the rest of the team begged off somewhere between the pub and the first club. Speaking of, he had lost track of Yang as well, somewhere around his 7th – or was its 8th? - shot. He could remember dancing, by himself, with Yang, with a procession of random ladies who's names he never got. One of the perks of being a Pilot was the basically unlimited stamina, the party never stops. Until it does.
The party stopped hard for Steele when he found himself at a table with a woman, perhaps in her late 30ies, dark hair, green eyes. She had come up behind him on the dance floor, spun him around and dragged him to the table without a word. She slid a syringe into the middle of the table, the contents instantly recognizable as Pilot issue stims. He sobered instantly, looking at the woman in a new light; for he to have the stim meant that she was one of the Apex crew that came over when he did.
"you don't know me, but I know you: IMC 80842-35-NFS, Nathanial Forrester-Steele. Tell me, how's Greene doing these days? I saw him at the portal, there was a moment I thought he had died, seeing Justice on your back." She seemed normal, for a Pilot. But he knew that she was a few crossed wires held in place by a few loose screws away from well adjusted. The fact that she knew his old servant number was alarming; more so was the fact she knew his birth name, something he had left behind on Unity, something that he forgotten- buried in the trauma. Steele kept his mouth shut, taking the stim and holding it up with a question on his face.
"strong, silent type huh? That's fine by the way, the stim is to help you sober up. You see, I have a few questions for you. My guy on the inside tells me that you have skill and brains, that you're good, real good. Tell me, what do you think about Torchwick?"
Now that was an interesting question, Torchwick was making big moves with the amount of robberies he was conducting. No one person had need of that much dust, no one gang even. It was not business as usual for the criminals of Vale, but it was only Torchwick making the plays, so it wasn't a gang war. It wasn't to make dust prices go up; he could just burn the supply if that was the goal. It wasn't about inciting fear, mass robberies did that regardless of what was stolen. It wasn't about money; he never took any.
Light-bulb moment. "Torchwick is working with the White Fang. He can't be planning to sell all that dust; too many ways to make money more effectively. He isn't getting ready for a gang war… he's helping get ready for a real war, isn't he?"
She clapped slowly. "there you have it. Torchwick and the Fang are nice and tight these days, but there is someone pulling the strings… my client. I wont lie, they have a plan, and I don't like the sound of what little I've been let in on. I want you to rock the boat, I want to see how they think and react to things. Greene was smart, he would have taught you the importance of getting inside your target's head. There is an SDC warehouse here in Vale, a distribution center. Tonight, in about two hours; there is a backroom deal going down. SDC workers are selling dust out of the warehouse to a local gang, thing is… these under the table sales have the full approval of the SDC, they don't have any separation if something goes wrong. Nothing will, because no one is dumb enough to go after the SDC. This warehouse is in what is technically Torchwick's territory. if a bunch of gangsters show up dead in his hood, he must be seen doing something about it. If he does nothing than that's a signal of open game on his territory, I want to put pressure on him, see if he's the weak link.
So, here's the deal. 10K up front and another K for every body you stack. Make it messy, make it look like a bunch of bangers from another gang came through. But do it right, no witnesses. There is a car out back- I know you know how to drive- in the trunk is a case full of guns. There is a envelope in the glove box with the address and a scroll that's been modified to accept false ID, you pull this off and I might have a lot of work for you. Before you say that you have a contract already, I read yours, only time you agreed not to take another job is on time that you should be at beacon, time that he is paying you for. Nothing in there that stops you from taking a weekend job."
Steele didn't have to think too hard about it, hurt the SDC, put some pressure on the Fang, and make a stack of cash. Fuck if being a mercenary didn't have its perks. He was going to take the job; he would have taken it without the paycheck- he had pride in being a proper soldier- just to bring the fight to the SDC. Ideologically he would rather be fighting for the Fang, but they were on the wrong side of this fight, and they had decided to sell out if what she was saying was true. Despite the job sounding too good to be true, he didn't think it was a trap. There was an unwritten code of honor, you didn't lie to another pilot, you didn't lie to a client; you were only as good as your reputation. The issue was that she was either lying to him, or to her client, either way she was untrustworthy. He just needed to find out who she was lying to.
"Deal. Where's the cash?"
"in the car. The rest of the cash will be put in a dead letter drop detailed in the envelope in the glovebox." Steele stood up from the table, catching a set of keys that she threw at him. "remember, do it right, make it messy."
The warehouse was an absolute decrepit mess, three stories high with a two-story outbuilding. Crumbling brick and rusting metal pipes, no one would ever look at it and suspect that the SDC was operating out of it; neither did Steele. he sat outside the warehouse down the street, posting sentry until the supposed gangsters showed up. He had identified to unmarked sentries on the rooftop, his slowly forming implants providing him with a surprising level of night vision. Both sentries were armed, one with a sniper rifle and the other with a DMR, definitely military grade.
A few minutes behind schedule two vans pulled up to the curb outside the gate surrounding the warehouse. Steele had to hold in a laugh as the most stereotypical gangsters he had ever seen stepped out and made their way to one of the side doors, as they approached the doors a pair of guards in SDC uniforms ushered them in. that was everything he needed, he knew this was legit now.
He popped the trunk and loaded up for bear. The client had pulled out the stops on arming him, a weird set of firearms that had him kind of excited. The first was a three barreled rifle, two side-by-side and one upper, the upper was an anti-material 15x120mm anti-material round while the twins were chambered in a 6x50mm. The rifle had two sights, one integrated into the elevated rail and a scope on top. he figured that the rifle was for village defense outside the walls where Huntsmen weren't always available. the twin barrels ran off a single mag in front of the trigger and the upper had a mag in the stock, really it reminded him of an oversized Alternator.
The second gun was a small SMG that he wouldn't take to kill an IMC grunt, the thing was a god damn pea shooter. The reason it had been selected was that the SMG fired HE Dust pellets; she had really wanted him to make a mess apparently.
The third was a nasty looking LMG, large bore, belt fed, high rate of fire, and an adjustable velocity dial. The inscription on the side called in the Deathstalker, he could see why; he could hurt a titan with this thing at high power and deliver silent long-range death to infantry at low power.
Finally, was a small, sleek pistol that came fitted with a suppressor and caseless rounds. There wasn't anything special about it, he liked that. It was a simple, clean, practical, and classic. Backed up by a knife it would be a fantastic CQB weapon, there was no way he was firing that SMG at anything closer than 3m. The pistol was perfect for the up-close work.
He loaded up and posted up on the hood of the car, lining up the scope on the rifle, aiming at the head of each sentry back and forth. He sighed, messy meant no clean shots that would give away that this was professional and not a bunch of thugs. For just a second, he felt bad, what he was doing would paint the Schnee family in a bad light, what he was doing would hurt Weiss indirectly, would hurt his teammate. He banished it with a breath and ran through the numbers. VPD would take 15min from the first alarm, that meant he had about that long from the first shot before everyone had to be dead and him far away from the scene. He switched to the sight for the twin barrels, range 150m, wind was light too his left, a stray paper cup rolling down the street was a good indicator. The opening burst nearly ripped the first sentry in half, the rate of fire on the rifle was around that of the R-99. He briefly let off the trigger to line up with the second sentry before emptying the rest of the mag into him.
Steele sprinted towards the door, slapping a new mag home and pulling out the LMG as he readied to breach the warehouse. He cranked the LMG to full power- killing the sentries made enough noise to alert the whole neighborhood- and stacked up next to the door. He really wished he had weapons he was more familiar with, but he really liked these new guns so far, definitely was going to keep them.
Steele was putting his Aura through its paces; he had seen how the other students at beacon were able to use their Aura to move at near sonic speeds or leap heights that would let them clear a Titan. He crossed the 100m to the door in under 3s and about ten steps. He gave it three heartbeats before he squared with the door and kicked it in, bringing the Deathstalker up and letting loose on the two thugs at the end of the room. He could feel the muzzle blast in his teeth, the rounds picking the thugs up and throwing them into the wall. He stepped into the room, sweeping for targets. He was in a break room, one of the thugs had been in front of a vending machine. He reached in and pulled out what looked like a chocolate bar… it was not.
He had to kick one of the bodies out of the way so he could stack up to breach the next room, the rest of them should be on the other side in the warehouse proper. Swapping out the drum and making sure all of his weapons were ready for the coming fight, he had checked them all before the shooting started but it never hurt to verify.
As Steele readied to breach a burst of incoming fire ripped through the door, he pressed himself into the wall. There was no reason to let them hit him just because he had his Aura to soak it up, let it be tool to keep him alive secondary to his skill. He couldn't make out what they were saying but there was a whole lot of shouting and the sound of people running towards him. he took a step back and lifted the LMG a second before three of the thugs burst through and were promptly cut down.
Steele had turned and dug the corner before the first body hit the floor, taking cover behind a shipping container. As he had entered he had seen a trio of SDC uniforms and a pair of thugs in the center of the room and a pair of guards on the far side of the room, he could guarantee that they were on the move now. He grabbed the SMG, leaping onto the top of the container and emptying the mag into the area where he had seen the group. The three SDC guards were still in position as the high explosive pellets ripped into them, the two thugs had split and managed to fire off a few rounds towards Steele, a few managing to hit his Aura. He fell backwards, acting as if the shots had been effective and readied the rifle.
One of the thugs turned the corner, coming to check if they had killed him. Steele fired the upper barrel. It hit hard, it felt like firing a Kraber unbraced. The round blew through the unarmored thug without seeming to notice him except for the fucking explosion that resulted from the impact, definitely a Grimm killer round, thing could rattle a Pilot in his Titans cockpit. The second thug came up from the other side, Steele sent a second 15mm into his center-mass along with a burst from the twin barrels. There were still two SDC guards in the building, that would account for all of the SDC, the thugs having been dealt with.
Steele didn't wait to give them time to recover, he pushed off into a leap and slid, holding the trigger on the rifle down as he got a clear shot. Suddenly the warehouse was silent aside from his breathing and the crackle of old worn out electronics. looking around he realized that there had been a lot more shooting than he realized in the moment, the walls were absolutely riddled with bullet holes in long sweeping arcs where he had been moving and great big undisciplined spray pattern for the few moments he had been still.
The last thing to do was make sure there were no survivors, but again, he needed to be messy. Greene had taught him a very important lesson, learn your opponent. He wanted to make this look like it was about the Dust, he wanted to hurt Torchwick, the Fang, and the SDC. Motive mattered, it let you know what your enemy wanted, and take it from them, deny it to them, use It for your self. Torchwick was stealing dust for the Fang, so he was going to burn the warehouse down, that would take care of making sure there were no survivors.
He opened up a few of the cargo containers and rigged up a IED from the dust inside the warehouse and a few grenades that the guards hadn't had a chance to throw. As he was setting them, he realized he needed to make it look like the place had caught fire, not been blown up. The SMG was perfect for it, he let loose a few long, sweeping bursts into a few of the containers that looked like some one had been firing at a running target. Turns out that he didn't need the bombs, the SMG rounds managed to light more than a few fires in the cargo containers.
He had an idea; the bombs could be used to destroy the vans that the thugs had come in. he had to move fast, he ran outside and planted the IEDs on the street side of the vans, making it look like they had been hit from the outside, hopefully it would muddy the investigation. He set them off as he climbed back into the car. He checked the time as he drove off, amazed that it had only been 5min give or take 10s, most of that was making the bombs. Time always got weird during combat, seconds, minutes, and hours seemed interchangeable; it was something to do with the forebrain shutting down, letting you focus only on what you needed to stay alive.
This was the hardest part, getting out. This is where you relaxed, where things went wrong, and where your mind tried to convince you that you were out of danger. You started to relax, you started to think about what just happened. He just needed to get back to Beacon without encountering the VPD, go to bed, and pretend like he had no idea what happened here. He parked the vehicle at a garage near the air pad to Beacon, keeping the new guns in the trunk.
The shakes had started to set in by the time he made it back to the dorm, it was easy to pretend to be drunk as he stumbled into bed. He always ended up like this after a proper fight, he just sort of shut down and failed to process what had happened, he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.