Oh lord, this took forever!
So, yes, I've returned from the dead. What can I say, School and Graduation was insanity-inducing and I was focused on other things. Also bit by the lazy bug a few times, but what can you do. Let's get to it shall we?
Midday, the Kingdom of Bright Moon, and more importantly the various rebel camps that surround it bustle with activity. Rebels of all variety were training in combat drills, planning attacks against the ever-present Horde, or just coming back from missions, botched or otherwise, and, new, bright-eyed recruits streamed in from across the kingdoms, all the while, old veterans made morbid bets on who'll live long enough to become one of them. All and all, there were more people than John would typically be comfortable with, although it would be expected, given the size of this place and the fact that a war is going on. However, it seemed that anonymity was not something he was allowed to keep, as everyone and their blithering mother seemed to want a goddamn interview. To be fair, it made sense, it didn't take much of an explanation for John to realize that Adora was some kind of rebel war hero, and he was recruited almost entirely because of her blessing, it was a natural reaction for people to be somewhat curious, especially given his armament. But these people were pushing it.
"No, I'm not answering any questions, FUCK OFF!"
"But sir, I just want to…"
"No, I aint fucking hearing it, Господи, Вот почему я стараюсь оставаться анонимным!" (Lord, this is why I try to stay anonymous!)
Ten minutes, it took exactly ten minutes for him to become sick of this place. Not wanting to spend every other waking moment swatting gnats, he immediately headed for the edges of the camp, all the while being hounded by ever more lemmings.
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...
"Where is He?" Adora wondered as she and her two friends searched the camp, having found neither coat nor rifle of him after his talk with Angella. Whatever she told him might not have been the most encouraging as it seemed as if he didn't want to be seen afterward.
"How do we know he didn't ditch? He already admitted that he wasn't interested in joining until you unintentionally forced his hand." Glimmer responded, still rightfully suspicious. "He could have just run once he had his stuff, and the perceived hazard was gone."
It seemed as if his attitude was already rubbing off on people, Adora knew that Glimmer had every reason in the world to be suspicious of him, but from what she gathered, he wouldn't just run off without reason.
"Common, Glimmer, you're being a pessimist. He said he'll stay, and I have no reason to believe he won't."
Glimmer shrugged in response, "I guess, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did. He doesn't look like the type to stay in one place for long."
"What makes you say that?" Adora questioned.
"He had five bags on him, most of which, dedicated to survivalist equipment, the others had trinkets, books, personal journals, and alcohol, in that order, mind you."
She opened her mouth, attempting to protest, only to realize midway through that Glimmer was right on all accounts. "You have a point."
"Look, we've been wandering around for half an hour now, why don't we just ask someone if they've seen him. He doesn't exactly blend in with everyone else here." Bow reasoned, points for efficiency.
Glimmer shrugged, "Worth a try I guess."
Adora looked around, quickly finding someone that might know something about their missing vagabond, a satyr, with a couple of noticeable scars and a broken horn carrying a crossbow that has seen better days. Old veterans like her usually saw more around camp than others, so she made a good first candidate.
"I'll ask her…" Adora said as she walked over to the old soldier.
"Excuse me, madam, you happen to see someone pass through here, big guy, green coat, perpetually tired, looks half-dead?"
The old soldier nodded. "Yeah, I saw 'im. The old bastard was being harassed by the juvies. I'm honestly surprised he didn't try to kill one of 'em. The wonders of restraint I guess."
Concerning, but at the very least it confirmed that John is, or at least was, here. And if she saw him here, she might know where he might be now, or at least a general direction.
"Would you know where he went then?" Adora asked.
"Ah yeah…" she pointed in a general direction, "He went that way, mumbling something to himself, I guess he just wants to be alone or something. I wouldn't know, but I know better than to pry. A man's past is their own business, especially if they're soldiers."
Adora nodded, "Thank you, madam."
The old soldier chuckled, "Ah, no need for thank you's, just break a few bots for me the next time you're out fighting."
Adora could help but crack a small smile at their response, "Will do."
The old soldier bowed her head and moved on. Not far behind were Glimmer and Bow, reconnecting with Adora after her brief conversation.
"Well, we now have a lead. Let's get going."
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...
It took a while, but at long last, John escaped the pursuing lemmings. The site he found proved encouraging, it was at the absolute edge of the rebel camps, and the surrounding trees proved to be good vantage points. If he put the effort into it one or more could be converted into decent watchtowers, sniping spots, hell, a hunting blind could work if the local animal populations were close enough.
"Better start digging."
He put his bags down and opened up a compartment on the side, pulling out an old, small, wood-handled shovel with a black splatter across the blade. He shrugs, not paying any mind to the implications, and immediately goes to work.
An hour passed before he stopped, pulling out an off-white rag from his inner coat pocket and wiping it across his slightly sunburnt brow, now standing in a shallow, squared hole alongside a sizable pile of dirt. It was times like this, just standing there overtop an unfinished job, working on something with no purpose other than just making himself somewhat comfortable reminded him of better days.
"John, there you are!"
"О, черт возьми!" (Oh, god damnit!)
Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to last, as his three biggest pains in the ass as of recently just found him.
"Man, we've been looking all over for you! You just disappeared after your talk with Angella..."
As Adora prattled on about what he already gathered, her eyes drifted over to the hole he was standing in.
"What're you doing?"
"Digging a foxhole, gonna put a tent up over it," John replied, deadpan as ever.
Almost as if it was on cue, the three that stood before him tilted their heads at his answer.
"W-why? You do know that we were going to give you that room in the castle right? Not to mention there's plenty of spare tents in the camp itself, why sleep out here?"
"Я не заслуживаю удобной кровати после того дерьма, которое я натворил." He thought to himself, almost immediately after they brought it up. Not wanting them to get any further involved with his past than they already were, he hastily crafted a lie. (I don't deserve a comfy bed after the shit I've done.)
"Comfort's not my thing."
The trio all looked for one another to say something, all of them at a loss for words. Each of them waiting for one of the other two to speak up and say something their gazes periodically stopped at John.
"Look, if you're going to gawk at least help me dig."
Adora and Glimmer were both at a loss for what to do or say, as Mr. Dulka continued to elude them with his odd, well everything, being absurdly antisocial one moment, to just tired the next. Amid their confusion, Bow spoke up.
"Got a shovel?"
John nodded "There are some spare entrenching tools with my stuff over there haircut." gesturing in the vague direction of his bags, "Don't touch anything else."
Although Glimmer and Adora were not as keen, Bow was compelled to build some bridges, so to speak. He made his way to the bags and dug out a small shovel. much like most of John's equipment, seemed just as old as he was. But that wasn't the only thing odd about it.
"Never seen a shovel like this before."
"Да, it's an entrenching tool. You don't have these?" (Yes)
Bow looked back at the entrenching tool, it was short, the blade itself was hinged, and as he unfolded it he noticed that there was a pick head as well, attached to the same hinge. As he looked, he noticed stained cloth wrapped around the handle, and just poking out of the wrappings was a piece of rusty metal wire.
"What happened here?"
John shrugged, "impromptu repairs."
Bow had nothing to say in response to that, although the three could tell that he didn't need to voice the fact that he wasn't taking the answer at face value. As Adora's already present concern grew. Their trains of thought, however, were interrupted as a messenger made their way through the bushes.
"Excuse me, Princess Glimmer, your mother needs you and your friends in the War Room."
Everybody present was soon looking at John who at first failed to notice, initially thinking that he would not be involved.
"What're you looking at me for? You have a job to do, I won't hold it against you, I can finish this up on my own."
The messenger glanced between each person present until their gaze laid upon John, "Um, actually sir, Queen Angella has requested your presence as well."
As he said it, Adora noticed John deflate a little, clearly not expecting the response as he dropped his shovel.
"Oh, ну дерьмо. I'll be on my way, just gotta pack up my stuff." (well shit)
The messenger gave a quick salute before returning from whence he came, with Bow and Glimmer in tow. As Adora made for an exit, she stopped and looked back at him, unsure if she should confront him about his lying habit, until he looked up from his equipment.
"Kid, don't be late for my sake. Just get going, I'll catch up."
Apprehensively, Adora nodded and shoved off. Meanwhile, John packed his things into his assorted bags and, not one to be caught with his pants down, counted his inventory as he went through. With the last entrenching tool packed up for transit, he got up and threw his bags back on.
"Work begins."
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...
The War Room, the most important place in any armed force, here, every decision could be the difference between victory and horrific defeat, Queen Angella knew this well as she was here when the First Princess Alliance was formed, she was here when it fell, and when it rose again with the legendary She-Ra at its head. For the first time in a long time, the Rebellion looked like it had a chance to win this now decades-long war. There was only one problem that came to mind.
"Mermista, I'm sorry, but I believe that is my seat."
"Yeah, don't you find it helpful to shift perspectives sometimes?"
Many of them were still kids, a fact that became detrimental more often than not, especially when arguments would often escalate to greater heights than necessary. But, at the end of the day, despite their bouts of immaturity, they're still the best hope Etheria has at defeating The Horde and finding peace.
"Hey, Mom! We're here."
And fortunately for Angella, It seemed Glimmer and her friends were intercepted by the courier she sent for them. However, it seemed as if it wasn't entirely successful, as their new resident Guerrilla Warfare practitioner, Mr. John Dulka, was nowhere to be seen.
"Glimmer, you wouldn't know where Mr. Dulka is, would you?"
Glimmer almost immediately put her hand to the back of her head, "Yeah, actually. John was digging something and he said he'll be here soon."
"I'm sorry, who…?" Mermista chimed in.
The entire room froze as the bickering ceased, eyes slowly turned onto Angella as everyone started to get a grasp on the new revelation. The fact that not only that this mystery person was considered important enough to allow in on one of these meetings, but the fact that they were only hearing about this now of all times.
"Right, I forgot to mention him. John is a special case, as we know almost nothing about him aside from the fact that he's not from here and that It's honestly hard to describe him without just seeing him in person. Anything else is only speculative at this point, and it doesn't help that he has outright refused to glean any information, personal or otherwise."
Mermista paused to process what the Queen said. "... And nobody in all of Brightmoon finds that suspicious at all?"
Angella sighed, "As I said, he's a special case. Though I doubt he's with the Horde if that's what you're concerned about. When we mentioned the Fright Zone, he said and I quote: Noone is enough of a…" Angella paused, confusion clear as day on her face.
"What, no one is enough of a what?" Mermista prodded.
"That's the funny thing, we don't know." Angella continued, "When he said it to Bow, part of the sentence was said in some foreign language. A language that we have no references, nor roots for. Though I can assume he said something along the lines of 'idiot' as when we said it, he practically cringed."
Mermista seemed satisfied with the Queen's explanations, even if she still had some doubts internally. Still, she would see for herself soon enough and figured proper judgment would be best left until then.
"Now, where was I?"
Bow, finally making his presence known, spoke up. "I believe you were going to talk about the recent bot attacks."
"Right, as Bow mentioned, the Horde's robots have been attempting to traverse the Whispering Woods as of late." Angella began. "As we should all know, the Woods is still recovering from the aftereffects of Horde weather manipulation that occurred shortly before the Battle of Bright Moon, most trees are still frozen and what's still living is a mess of flooded bogs."
"And that's where I come in! Bust some 'eds, yeah?" Frosta rescinded, slamming her ice-covered fists together.
"H-hold on, it's not that simple!" Glimmer hastily added
"Uh, I'm pretty sure it is, sparkles."
"Mermista, I don't have time for this!" Glimmer responded with a snap. "We need to think this through!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I guess we should just sit on our hands and just let them trample us under a legion of bots." Mermista retorted.
"Okay, everybody! The bad vibes are becoming overpowering, why don't we just calm down." Perfuma added, desperately trying to defuse the situation
Neither Mermista nor Glimmer seemed to pay Perfuma any mind, all the while, Bow attempted to break up the incessant arguing with a well-placed dose of sane thought. "Mermista, unless you plan on rounding up everyone in Brightmoon and marching on the forest, Glimmer's right. Taking on those bots head-on is probably exactly what they want us to do."
"Which is why you're going to sit down and rationally walk through this because we are not going to just go running into one of the most dangerous forests in Etheria to 'Bust some 'eds'." Glimmer continued. "Besides, even if, and that's a big if, charging in without a plan works this time, I'm pretty sure it's not going to work a second time."
"Do you even have a plan!" Frostia interjected, "You keep going on about doing it right, but you seem to be just as clueless as the rest of us!"
*BANG!*
All at once, the War Room went dead silent, Each princess turning towards the source of the noise that only a crack of thunder could serve as a comparison. Centering the attention to the source of the noise was what looked like a middle-aged man with an impossibly tattered and old coat from the amount of wear and tear, which nicely complemented his facial features consisting of a collection of ragged scars both relatively fresh and long faded and a short, disheveled beard. All made complete with what seemed to be an eternity's worth of weariness in his eyes.
"Привет всем, it seems I've come in at the right time, cause I can already tell that you people are a goddamn mess." (Hello, everybody)
The princesses all needed to take a few moments to be sure they were processing this correctly; This was the newcomer that had just been brought into the fold?
Mermista was the first one to break the silence, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"
"Ah right, we haven't been acquainted yet, name's Dulka. Let's get the bloody pleasantries out of the way, what the hell are we dealing with here?"
Caught off guard with how quickly the man was willing to brush this all aside, Perfuma failed to think of anything to say, looking over towards Glimmer and Angella for an answer, both of which only shrugging in response. Almost confirming the idea that they might have to get used to this sort of thing.
"As we were saying…" Angella began "The horde's machines have been more active in the Whispering Woods following most of the place being flooded and frozen over."
John nodded, "Ah, I see, you're at a tactical disadvantage due to freak weather, I've seen this kind of thing before. Anything else I should know about the location, tactical details, strategic importance, etcetera?"
"Well, for starters," Angella continued "Even without the place now being caked in bogs and ice, the entire forest is a labyrinth - very difficult to traverse and near impossible to make any sort of a foothold there. You must've seen some of this yourself; that is where you ended up crash-landing, yes?"
"Да-да, I remember, it's easy to get lost in, but so are most forests. What's so special about this one?" (yes, yes)
"Uh, John," Adora interrupted. "That forest is literally the only reason we haven't been swamped by Horde soldiers yet."
John just adopted a blank stare, looking off in no particular direction as he pulled his heavily worn workhorse gloves off, revealing his partially disfigured left hand and its, somewhat crude, mechanical fingers before putting his hands flat on the table as Frostia let off a quiet 'Woah.
"Well, shit. Nature really screwed you guys over…"
"Mother Nature did nothing of the sort!" Perfuma interjected at John's apparent heresy.
"What the hell do you mean by that you goddamn Luddite! Can those fucks control the weather or something?"
"... As a matter of fact, they can. Or at least could." Perfuma sheepishly chimed in, avoiding eye contact.
It didn't seem possible for the already deathly pale man to lose any more color in his face, but lose color it did at Perfuma's statement, as he put his partially mechanical hand into his unkempt hair.
"Дорогой бог, это чертовы Некронов снова." (Dear god, it's the bloody Necrons again.)
The room went quiet again as John muttered to himself in his bizarre tongue, leaving whatever thoughts he was musing to himself hidden behind a wall of language. There was a point where they would have gotten Entrapta to attempt a translation, since even their local language expert, Bow, was stumped, but due to recent events, that wouldn't work anymore.
"Well, yeah, they nearly leveled the woods, as of now they've been pouring into what's left, and we currently don't know why, but my mom thinks they might be trying to map the place out." Glimmer explained, in a bid to ignore the previous language barrier.
"Uhm, yeah, right, right. Does anyone have a goddamn map around here? Last time I checked they're necessary." John slurred out as he knocked himself out of his stupor.
Having his face half-buried in his hand John almost didn't see the projection manifesting in front of him, hovering just above the table. Surely enough a holographic map of the Brightmoon area was displayed, Angella focusing on the Whispering Woods.
"Wait, hold the fuck up, you people have holomaps?"
"... Yeah…?" Bow cautiously asked, not seeing where he was going with this.
"How? You're using sticks and stones to fight robots and laser weapons, how in the living hell do you have a holographic map?"
Bow racked his brain for an answer to John's question, but he couldn't think of anything that might satisfy the perpetually confused vagabond.
"I don't know, ok, it's been like this since I was a kid and you're the only one I know who's ever questioned it."
John had a hard time processing the statement, staring him down hoping to find any trace of insincerity; but the vacant look on Bow's face, sadly, was all the affirmation he needed.
"Christ, you bastards must be more technologically fucked than South Sudan. Whatever, let's get down to business, Да?"
"Right, that being said," Angella announced. "These bots might be working to create a map of their own; the Horde having a precise route through the woods would leave us critically open."
John just started staring again, as he slowly raised his partially mutilated left hand to his face and gave off a long depressed sigh, as some of the color went out of the room with it.
"Ok, I really need to stop trying to find logic in this. If I may ask, are you sure they're trying to scout the area? Information like this usually means life or death."
Almost immediately, the war room filled with confused looks from John's concerns, as they debated with themselves whether he was being serious or just hyperbolic.
"I mean, I wouldn't know what else they would be doing there, save for maybe trying to locate some First One's tech." Perfuma guessed.
"Even that seems like quite the stretch to me. Plus, I'm sure they would have found something by now, with the number of bots they've got." Glimmer reasoned.
John sighed as he began rubbing his brow as he stared at the map, his eyes visibly straining at the holograms as he mumbled to himself while swiping away at projected images.
"I guess sketchy intel is better than nothing…"
"So, what're you thinking Mr. Guerilla Warfare?" Asked Adora as John continued to stare.
"I can't really help much here on a strategic front, the most I can suggest is a scouting mission, you know, so we can get a clear read on what the living hell…"
"Ok, seriously, can you please stop that?" Glimmer interrupted.
"uhh...Stop what?"
"Swearing! Can you please stop swearing so much?"
It hadn't really occurred to John; it was practically subconscious of him at this point, and from what he could tell these were kids he was talking to. Well, teenagers and one kid to be specific, but the point stands.
"...Um, a-anyways." John managed to spit out after stammering for a second. "Scouting op, get a read on things. I'll assume everyone is okay with that, да?" (yes)
"That would be the best way for us to begin, yes," Perfuma confirmed.
"Right, glad we're on same page. So I'm going out there, this is a cannon fodder job and I certainly apply as that, any other poor souls you sending me with?
"Erm…" Angella said, momentarily taken aback by his question and bluntness. "We aren't intending to use some of our guard, or you, as fodder, John."
John just looked at Angella with obvious confusion, "Look, i-it's fine if you want to send me out alone, you can just tell me. I just need to know now so I can prepare accordingly, bigger groups attract attention and I need to compensate." He concluded, blank-faced as ever.
There was something about how he phrased it and his willingness to do it on his own, consequences be damned, that came off as unnerving to most of the princesses. He casually called himself expendable without so much as a double-back, almost as if he just... didn't care what happened to him, as he just stood there, waiting for an answer that never came for a question that should have been simple.
"Oh christ-on-a-crutch, whatever, I'll just get going. If you're going to send someone along, have them meet up with me at the camp's edge around eleven-hundred, if nobody's there I'll go in alone, да? Is everybody happy with that?" (yes)
Not having fully grasped the idea of him so willingly throwing himself into the grinder, the princesses didn't offer many retorts in light of how little mind he seemed to give it; straight to business with him, which all things considered, would be beneficial in that they needed to get a read on the bot's movements as quickly as possible. Still, having so little regard for his own life was morbid to think about, especially with the prospect of many of the horde's grunts likely caring a similar mindset…
"John," Angella began "Where is this coming from? If this is just a matter of simply 'getting a read on things, why do you make it sound as if being killed is a certainty?"
"When you live as long as I have, you tend to realize that Murphy's Law always applies."
"Meaning?"
He sighed with clear annoyance as he put his hand to his face, "I'm a pessimist, I usually assume the worst will happen if it can happen."
That summarization had answered plenty of questions the gathering of princesses were already pondering. While John certainly seemed to know what he was talking about, they had to wonder what his attitude would end up causing for their cause's mentality.
"Now, can we get on with our lives already?"
Angella could only sigh, "Very well, you're free to go Mr. Dulka."
John quickly bowed his head, before pulling his possessions together and heading off, all the while humming something about a "USSR", whatever that was, until he was out of earshot, leaving the War Room in complete silence.
"Uhh… Should we be concerned?" Mermista, being the first one to break the silence, raised the question that was on everyone's mind.
Adora shrugged, "I don't think so, this is actually the best mood I've seen him in since we've met."
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Amid a man made desert, rises immense monoliths of decaying steel, slowly corroding from the steady march of industrial progress. Wreckage from a bygone era, they break through the clouds and smog like false sky-scrapers shrouding all within their oppressive shadows. Factories, producing countless weapons of war, bellow infinitely, as they spew out chemical contaminants, choking all good life that may have lived here once, all who have long since given way to the marching of soldiers and machines.
It is here, a hellhole known as the Fright Zone, The Horde stages its conquest of the entire planet, producing weapons, armor, machines, and most importantly, soldiers in its neigh eternal conquest.
Among the dank hallways of the Zones' maze-like interiors wanders two particular individuals, a sour catgirl and a cheery scorpion woman, both of whom, Force Captains of the Horde, tasked with leading it's unnumbered armies against the Rebellion and its resurrected Princess Alliance. One of them, however, has recently taken on the duties of being Hordaks' second-in-command after she put his previous second, Shadow Weaver, out in the open as a filthy traitor. That was only a couple weeks ago, and Catra is still getting used to the new administrative duties, as anyone would, given the absolute bloody state Shadow Weaver left it in after her nigh obsessive personal mission of getting Adora back with the Horde, something her former best friend knew was a lost cause long before now. All it did in the end was put the mask-wearing psycho in a holding cell, how appropriate that her obsessions were what made Hordak start to question her loyalty in the first place.
But, that was no longer her problem. As of now, her biggest problem is putting pressure on the Alliance, as it's only been a few weeks and they're already regaining lost ground. She knew that if they didn't put the screws back on those pastel bastards they might be able to recover from her attempted deathblow. But, unfortunately, a certain technophilic nutcase wanted her to see something and wasn't willing to wait, and seeing how she would probably try to break into her office again through the vents, let's just say it would save her some frustration.
"I wonder what Entrapta wants to show us?"
"Scorpia, how many times do I have to tell you; I don't care what the psycho is showing us, I just don't want her to destroy my quarters... again." Catra finished with an annoyance-filled snarl.
"Oh come on, you know that was an accident that last time."
Catra rolled her eyes at the statement, it's not like Entraptas little outbursts made her job any easier, though it was more than slightly obvious that Hordak turned a blind eye to most of her insanity for some reason, probably just goodwill from being useful, but it wasn't her place to know.
"Hey, we're here."
Catra immediately snapped out of her musings as she looked about the room to see all manner of tools and metal plating littered about the floor, and in the center was Entrapta, propped up on her two cybernetic hair-stalks as she seemed to be taking apart a larger variant of the standard horde robot. Well, there were no visible fires or gaping holes anywhere in the room, Catra could at least be at ease knowing the usual side effects of her work haven't happened yet, emphasizing the yet.
"Ah, Catra you've arrived."
"Let's get this over with, what do you want?" Catra immediately responded, unamused as ever.
"Right, I was working on those orders you gave me, the mass deployment at the Whispering Woods, they're all there, just give the word and they'll clear out anything still living.
Catra tilted her head, "Ok, is that the only reason you got me out here? I have work to do and I can't afford to bum around, unless I want to anger Hordak, again."
"As a matter of fact, I did have something else!" Entrapta responded, before bounding off to the other side of the room, and grabbing a small remote. Turning to a large screen, she pressed one of the nondescript buttons before it turned on, with an image of woodlands appearing on the screen.
"I've installed cameras on some of the bots, we can now see exactly what they see!"
The scowl Catra usually wore shifted into a confident, satisfied smirk, but seeing the mirth in her eyes was enough confirmation for Entrapta to feel that she had done a good job.
"Just imagine a front-row seat of the action thanks to this."
"Oh! Want me to bring in somewhere to sit?" Scorpia asked, raising a claw.
Catra almost immediately put a hand to her head, "You know what, why not?" she muttered in a slightly annoyed tone.
"Entrapta, just get the bots moving, on the double."
"Right away! This is gonna be FUN!"
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...
Angella didn't know what to say after John left on such a morbid note, she just sat in silence before leaving the decision in the thoroughly unprepared hands of the de facto leader of the Princess Alliance, Adora. She eventually just decided to ignore John's pessimism and brought everyone along, minus Spinnerella and Netossa. Apparently they had problems of their own back home, something about civil unrest or something. Either way, 11 o' clock had come and all they needed to do as of now was just find Mr. Dulka which, one again, was proving easier said than done.
"Adora, you sure you know where we're going?"
"I'm sure Frosta, I figured that he'd wait near this pit we found him digging earlier."
"Why was he digging a pit again?"
"To put a tent up over it."
Almost immediately, Adora knew that "Put a tent up over it" doesn't explain anything, and she could tell from a glance that Frosta was confused. But since she didn't know much else on the matter, given John's insistence on keeping any form of anonymity, all she could do was just reinforce just how little they knew.
"No, I don't know why."
Frosta knew that was probably the best answer she'll get, and threw her arms up in the air in the universal indicator of "Screw it" as they approached Mr. Dulkas campsite. True to Adoras word, it was unfinished and was built around a hole, that seemed to have wooden framing built inside of it, reinforcements of some sort if she had to guess, and a smaller pit surrounded by rocks nearby, its purpose obviously being that of a fire pit. However, there was a notable absence of himself.
"Dangit, not again." Adora chided, "Mr. Dulka! We're here!"
"Would someone mind telling me where he is?"
"Look up, Сволочь." (scumbag)
Perched off a branch above them Frosta and Adora saw him reclined on it's smooth end, again holding that worn, dusty journal. But now, instead of his olive coat, he was wearing a mess of things covered in nets and loose cloth that, from a distance, looked like plants, including a heavily patterned cloak with hood, and a helmet wrapped in some kind of fabric.
"Okay, I get the whole 'erring on the side of caution' thing, but do you really think that something's going to attack you in the middle of a fortified castle courtyard?" Adora asked him.
"Нет, you just caught me at a bad time"
He hopped down from his perch and looked over the princesses that came out, and though it was a lot harder to see his face under the layers of camo paint, his quickly souring expression was more than evident.
"Did you Гандон not hear me say; "Smaller groups are better," and "This is grunt-work?" (condoms)
"It's not like we were going to leave you alone." Adora retorted
"I literally told you..." He suddenly stopped, grabbed his nose, and inhaled deeply before letting go, "You know, I really should have expected nothing less. Fuck it, lets get you kids some camoflauge."
John wandered over to his pile of bags, pulling one aside and digging into its contents.
"Oi, Sparkles!"
Glimmer almost dropped the small bundle of cloth John tossed her. Undoing the first fold she saw it was an aged, dull green cloak, the pattern and loose pieces intended to be camouflage for hiding in a forest.
"What's this for?"
"Take a wild guess. Devilfish! Robin Hood!"
It was only another second or two that Mermista had the next one tossed to her, John ready to send a third towards Bow. They were perplexed to see at least a dozen of these piled into the bag John had at his feet, but, considering the other items he had brought along, this was par for the course at this point.
"Who the heck is Robin Hood?"
"That's what I'm calling haircut over there. Because I don't give enough of a damn to learn your names. Oi, Dryad!"
Perfuma, catching the cloak tossed to her, didn't take much time in figuring out where John was going with this. "Oooh, Okay!" She began. "We're going to blend into the Whispering Wood's surroundings, great idea!" Perfuma then extended both arms to stretch the entirety of the cloak's length, inspecting it up and done. "Though, these colors may be a little too dull and too dark green for the place."
"Eh, in the underbrush color matters less, as long as the pattern confuses the eye it'll work." Seeming satisfied with the explanation, Perfuma shrugged and slipped her arms into the sleeves before pulling the hood over the top of her head.
"Oi, here's yours King Arthur"
"John?" Bow began. "Not sure we've had a chance to properly explain, but, I'm thinking this might make an issue with Adora, or, rather, She-ra."
"She-who now?"
"This," Adora began, drawing a sleek, sky blue sword that was strapped to her back. "This is the First One's sword, called 'The Sword of Protection...'
"Look, I don't give a shit about your Neolithic fetish, I'm trying to prepare for a military operation here." John interrupted, his extremely thin patience made abundantly clear.
A small part of Adora told her that she should raise the blade skyward and transform right then and there, but figured John made a valid point with this being a more decisive, military operation. Plus, his plan seemed to depend on them being able to stealthily move through the whispering woods, something she couldn't do if she was emitting a radiant glow. Deciding it would be best to relent and put a pin on the topic of She-ra, at least for the time being, she sheathed the Sword of Protection and began to unfold her cloak.
"Now then, I didn't think shortstack would be coming along, and I don't usually carry child-sized cloaks around." He articulated as he dug through the bag, eventually pulling out a wide brimmed steel helmet covered with netting, "But, this might work well enough. Here you go Frost-Punk."
Frosta took the helmet, flipping it upside-down and upright a few times to inspect the design, never having seen any sort of helmet like this, anywhere in the Kingdom of Snows, or anywhere in Etheria for that matter. Placing it on her head after moving her ice tiara out of the way, she conjured her frost powers to form a large fist over hand and wrist, using it as a mirror to inspect the new headwear. She made no comment but everyone present could see her approving smile.
"Alright everyone! Let's move out, we're burning daylight."
As Frosta admired her new helmet, and the rest got their things together, John watched in silence as they prepared themselves. Giving the barest hint of a smile as the familiarity of the situation scratched at the back of his head, reminding him of times both much better, and much worse, snickering as he mumbled to himself.
"Как в старые времена, как в старые времена." (Like the old days, like the old days)
It was calming, being surrounded by nothing more than pleasant silence, as he stood, loading his rifle while his new comrades got ready for a, hopefully uneventful, scouting op. However, his thoughts turned dark, these were political figures, not soldiers. What would happen if one of them got injured or, god forbid, died on the front lines. It would cause a bloody succession crisis, stability would go down the shitter, and this asinine united front might turn in on itself if things get bad enough. But, it's not like they'll hear his concerns, he tried explaining how this was a bad idea before, so what if they kill themselves, it's their bloody decision at the end of the day.
"Hey, John, we're ready."
John looked up from his rifle to see the six-strong group, now wearing camouflage cloaks that barely hid their brightly colored clothes that stick out like a sore thumb. It wasn't ideal, but he supposed that it was better than nothing.
"Давай товарищи." quickly tilting his head to the side towards the woods, signaling to the alliance that it was time to go. (Come on, comrades.)
"Wh-" Adora stopped herself, remembering John's tendency to speak in the unfamiliar tongue. "Uh, right. Lead the way."
"If this plan of his depends on us not being seen I guess I'd be best to avoid using the Runestone's power unless the situation calls for it." Bow announced, the princesses each expressing some variation of agreement.
With unanimous agreement, the group marched into the large entry thicket of the whispering woods.