A/N: Crap, uploaded the wrong chapter. This is the actual work, and sorry for any confusion.
They can't win a fight now. Their best chance of getting out alive is to appeal to the human side of these people, if they even have one.
Pyrrha issues a little prayer, and stares Yang down until her teammate winces and steps back.
"Please let us go," she offers. "We're – looking for our team, who got stranded in the desert with no water." Not a lie.
The people in white exchange looks, an ordinarily subtle gesture magnified by the bulk of their suits. None of them speak, which Pyrrha takes as permission to continue.
"Our team could be dying without us," she says. "They're young, almost still children." She's still not quite lying. People grow up fast in the desert.
"Please," Yang adds, and Pyrrha can tell that the pain on her face is genuine. "My sister –" her voice breaks, and Pyrrha waits.
She can't hear them, but judging by the way they turn to each other, there's a conversation happening. They're still human, no matter what the Cities do to their own. No matter how inhuman the soldiers appear.
One of them steps aside for a moment, and that's all they need. Pyrrha runs, trusting Yang to follow her. They can't shoot now without hitting their own, and a moving target against the flat white sand and reflections of the sky is almost an impossible shot unless they've trained for these conditions. They likely haven't.
Pyrrha can't hear shots, but that doesn't mean anything. Their weapons could be silent, or they could be pursuing with melee weapons. Pyrrha doesn't stop, does her best to lose any pursuers in the maze of the dunes before slowing down, breathing heavily. Yang joins her as she keeps walking, briskly, the fastest she can sustain after their sprint.
"They didn't shoot," Yang says, one hand flying out to smack a fly longer than an inch out of the sky without pause.
They didn't shoot. They didn't attack a fleeing enemy when they had the overwhelming advantage of numbers and firepower. One of them stepped aside to let them go.
Mercy is rare in the desert. Each enemy you let go comes back. The Grimm don't understand the notion of retreat, simply fighting on until they collapse, and the people of the desert learn that quickly. There is no room in a fight for intimidation or surrender.
But these people, these monstrous people who killed billions without batting an eye, showed mercy. Pyrrha doesn't like that. It means they owe a debt to the descendants of those who are responsible for their condition, responsible for the Grimm, responsible for everything.
The truck comes into view. Nora slides off of the roof and rushes over, hugging them both briefly before demanding,
"What happened?"
"We need to get farther away from them," Pyrrha says. "Drive and we'll talk."
When Pyrrha is huddled in the front seat of the truck, her heartbeat slowing down at last, the tears come. She isn't supposed to be crying, not when they made it out alive. But the tears of something, fear or relief or horror, keep coming.
"Specimens," she manages. "They called us specimens."
Yang frowns at her.
"You're not making any sense, Pyrrha. Take a few deep breaths."
"We're experiments to them," Pyrrha says. "Just – something to be used, rather than someone. That's why they didn't shoot. They couldn't damage something valuable, could they?"
"They let us go; that has to mean something," Yang argues.
"Yang, we weren't worth killing."
Yang takes a step backward and snarls something under her breath. Blake flinches, then nods slowly.
"We're like – insects, or something, to them," Pyrrha continues. "We're a curiosity at best, or a nuisance if we do the wrong thing, but we aren't even worth a bullet."
They can't negotiate with people who don't think them human. There's no option of treaties or reconciliation. Their only choice is to keep fighting a centuries-old war.
…
Ruby makes short work of the fence in their way with her wire cutters, then continues forward, stopping periodically to look for any reason the fence might have been built. There are no remnants of buildings here, not even faint traces of foundations, and no craters. The fence is eight feet tall and topped with barbed wire, which seems like too much to protect empty land.
"Who knows why there's a fence," she mumbles aloud. "It's from before the war, anyway, so there's nothing to worry about."
"Why would a fence survive this long out here?" Jaune asks, jogging a few paces to catch up with Ruby. "It's strong enough to stay upright for about a century, at least, and didn't get damaged in the war."
"It's odd, but nothing inherently concerning," Ruby insists. "Besides, we need to find people, and finding stuff made by people is a pretty good way to do that."
They keep walking, following faint patterns in the underbrush that are almost worn away by weather. Another sign of habitation, but they don't look recent. It could easily be a road from before the war.
Ruby scans the horizon, but pays particular attention to the hill ahead of them. It's an easy ambush spot, with trees scattered across it. Trees scattered across it in an odd pattern, a bit too randomly. Natural groves would be most visible on the leeward slope, rather than indiscriminately placed.
"The hill isn't natural," she comments. "Probably dirt covering an artificial structure."
They approach the hill and begin scanning its base for any entrance. Ren wordlessly gestures to them, then to a steel door set behind too-convenient brush.
"Found a way in," Ruby says, then begins to shift the dry foliage aside. "Just a deadbolt lock. I'll open the casing and take off the fastenings from this side."
"Should we?" Jaune asks. "There's writing on the door, and it looks like warnings." He brushes some of the leaves aside and squints at engraved markings half-worn away. "Yeah, I don't think we're supposed to enter."
"Or they're just leaving a vague, overdramatic warning to make us think that it'll be dangerous," Ruby says. "Intimidation. Besides, it's a hill. If there are Grimm or something inside, they're long dead by now."
Jaune turns to Ren, who shrugs, then sighs.
"All right, open it up."
Ruby opens the outer panel in a matter of minutes, then teases the screws out with a pair of pliers until she hears a faint thud from the other side of the door. She pushes the door open; it's heavy and clearly hasn't been opened for a while, but doesn't resist.
They step into the darkness, switching on flashlights. Beyond them is a concrete tunnel, sloping steeply downwards. Ruby starts along it, trusting her team to follow.
None of them notice the symbols on the inside of the door. A small circle, flanked by three larger segments, painted on in a sickly yellow that almost glows. Ionizing radiation. One word in glowing light blue. Salvamini. And the marks of claws, cut deeply into the metal of the door.
A/N: For those completely confused, Ruby and her team found a nuclear waste disposal site. They're one of the few structures actually designed to survive apocalyptic scenarios, and the process of constructing them, as well as setting up warnings that will be understandable thousands of years in the future, is fascinating. Feel free to leave a review if you want to chat about nuclear physics.