Chapter 2…
"Rust, pick up four," Asher muttered as he slapped down his cards onto the central deck.
"Damn it," Rust hissed, shuffling his already bloated deck. "More cards… fantastic…"
"Woah now… mind the hostility…" Asher chuckled and held up on hand. "Hate the game, not the player…"
"Spoken like a rat…" Rust wagged his finger at this teammate. "Hey, Crimson?
"Yeah?"
"Never, and I mean never get involved in a game of poker with this guy," Rust jabbed his finger in Asher's direction, a mock scowl twisting his features. "He'll twist the rules as much as he wants and will gouge you for every single lien that you have."
Asher smirked and bobbed his head in the direction of the third person sitting at the table. Directly across from the grey eyed boy sat a tall redhead, his hair swept up into a neatly styled pomp.
"I don't know, Rust..." Crimson Fiamma yawned as he shuffled his own deck. "You sound a little bit inflammatory right now..."
"You're onto something, Crimson," Asher chortled, jerking his gloved thumb in the direction of his teammate. "This guy has lost so much lien on terrible bets but he still keeps gamblign! Did you know that he once tried playing ping-pong with Sage!?"
Crimson's eyes flicked up to view Rust quizzically. "Why?"
"I wasn't thinking at the time, ok!" Rust grumbled in mock anger. He set his cards face down on the table and turned away from his fellow players. "I have a gambling problem!"
"So feed it then!" Asher cried, his grey eyes shining greedily. Without explanation, Asher pointed an outstretched finger at the surface of the makeshift table.
"What?" Rust blinked in confusion, his brown eyes darting between his teammate's face and the table.
"Rust…" Crimson rolled his eyes, gently disturbing the wire rim glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. "Roll the bones, man. Hurry up and play your turn."
Asher chuckled and adjusted his seating position. His black combat helmet was resting between his knees, the feral red visor glinting in the light of the shattered moon. The grey eyed boy didn't really need the rebreather the helmet came equipped with - not anymore, at least. But still, it was sturdy head protection that Asher swore by.
The game of Crazy Eights continued into the next few minutes. In-between turns Rust casually turned his head to look downwards at the street below. Their objective was directly across the street; it was a large warehouse that had direct access to the road via a large garage door.
Off in the distance the dim city lights of Mantle flickered. The air was filled with the distant sounds of car horns, the wind rustling, and gunshots…
The last noise was coming from the warehouse across the street...
"Kinda feels cheap doesn't it?" Crimson asked aloud.
"Huh?" Rust turned his head to spot the redhead. "Oh… you mean that we three-"
"Four!" Crimson corrected, gesturing with his arm to the fourth person on the rooftop.
Carmine was standing perhaps ten-meters away from the card game. He was aggressively pacing in a small circle and violently throwing his head back and forth to music none of them could hear.
"Four," Rust corrected with an eye-roll. "Going back to what I think you were going to say… yeah, it does feel a bit cheap that we're just sitting around."
Asher chuckled as he took his turn and laid down his cards. "Is it showtime yet?"
"No…"
"So we have the right to do whatever we want until it is," Asher argued. He stood up from the table with a stretch, laying his cards face down so the other players couldn't see. There was a hollow "thunk" as his helmet fell from his legs and dropped onto the icy surface of the roof.
Asher's helmet wasn't all that different from his old one… but his battle clothing has seen some alterations…
Gone was the black hoodie. Instead, Asher wore a black shearling jacket, carefully fitted to his bodily dimensions and draped over a black and grey kevlar vest. In addition to his full-length combat gloves, Asher had acquired forearm guards made from sleek black metal - secured tightly to the exterior of Asher's jacket with leather straps.
Asher wore trousers beneath this - simple jeans that were coloured a pleasing tan brown. Overtop these pants were knee pads, specifically built with flat faces to allow Asher to kneel for extended periods of time. Below all this, brown lace-up hiking boots - an element to Asher's style that never seemed to change.
"You know what, I'm gonna say it again," Rust set down his cards and leaned back into his chair.
"Don't say it," Asher warned with an outstretched finger. "Don't…"
"Say what?" Crimson raised a red eyebrow.
"Crimson," Rust turned his head and smiled. "Do you think Asher's new jacket makes him look like a pimp?"
Asher growled and flipped Rust a rude gesture with his hand.
"If he had a feather stuck in the seams of his helmet, then yeah," Crimson grinned and scratched his chin. "Or if he replaced his helmet with a hat…?"
"Yeah, I see it," Rust swept his arms out and made right angles with his pointer fingers and thumbs, as if he was imaging a portrait. "It would be a good look…"
"It would be a terrible look," Asher growled back, turning to the edge of the building and peering down at the empty street below. "I don't wear hats… especially not hats with feathers in them."
Asher carefully scanned the streets below. There were no signs of movement, civilian or otherwise, the police barricades had seen to that.
"Hey Crimson?" Rust muttered and turned to face the redhead in question. "Can you check on how the others are doing…?"
"Why?" Asher shrugged. "We have our radios…"
"I would know right away if anyone was hurt," Crimson added. "But if you want me to…"
Crimson shut his eyes and relaxed into his chair. Rust and Asher didn't bother him, knowing that his semblance was at work.
"I'll focus on Liz," Crimson pushed his nose to the side in concentration. "She's behind Sage… they're advancing. Mauve's off to the left…"
Inside the warehouse...
Mauve grit her teeth and snarled as she spun low to avoid a hail of poorly-aimed bullets. She reached her gloved hand back as she moved, sweeping the newest addition to her arsenal off the back of her hips.
It was a long cylindrical tube filled with conductive materials. There was no trigger mechanism; instead, Mauve pressed her hands onto the two designated points along the barrel to activate the weapon. Hefting the strange weapon up to her hip, Mauve channeled her semblance into the device. Her electrokinesis semblance reacted with the conducting materials, charging up a dust crystal hidden within the tube.
With her arcing gun charged up and ready to fire, Mauve released the weapon's payload. A lightning fast bolt of… well… lightning… blasted from the weapons barrel. The bolt struck the unfortunate thug that was targeting Mauve, the stream also jumping between his two friends who were backing him up.
All three of them dropped their guns and fell to the ground spasming… injured but alive.
Mauve titled to the side and cartwheeled towards her nearest ally - which was her teammate, Sage.
The thermal catsuit that she acquired upon arriving in Atlas had been fried during the incident… that had taken place a month before. She had been given a new one, although this one had a few more bells and whistles than its predecessor.
Her new catsuit was now coloured in an assortment of shades- including black, silver and dark purple. There was a central zipper that made taking it off or putting it on a breeze; but there were now zippers joining the seams at her legs and shoulders, which meant that she could modify the catsuit to conform to the weather.
Low heeled, knee-high armored boots protected her feet and shins from damage. Her fingerless gloves were long gone, now replaced by full-length gloves that were padded for increased protection.
The faunus girl's torso was covered by a thick, fur-lined jacket to protect her from the cold. In addition to this, Mauve increased her protection from the elements by procuring a dark purple neck gaiter to wear around her neck.
Mauve finished her sloppy cartwheel and landed directly behind Sage, who was busy hefting up his shield. She slipped her arcing gun back onto her hips and reached back to draw her knives from their charging backpack - another new addition to her small arsenal.
"Sage?" Mauve breathed, placing her hand on her friend's shoulder. "You good?"
"Never better," Sage grunted as he moved his shield with his left arm to deflect enemy gunfire. His grenade launcher was clipped to his back; his other hand occupied with his brand new weapon.
"It is a bit cramped back here," a soft voice spoke. Mauve turned her head to find a pair of moss green eyes staring back. "We're elbow to elbow...
Liz Verdigris had also found some level of protection behind Sage's back. The faunus girl was dressed sensibly in a green mechanic's jumpsuit and a white parka. A large duffle back was slung over her shoulder.
Clenched in the lizard faunus' tiny hands were an assortment of metal parts, bolts, hinges, and wires. Mauve watched in interest as Liz deftly combined the parts without a hint of hesitation, never even stopping to look down at what her hands were doing.
"Sorry," Mauve blinked. "Do you want me to go somewhere else?"
"If you're going to move then do it quick," Sage called back. The faunus boy tilted the barrel of his new weapon towards the floor and squeezed the trigger. A stream of rubber rounds ricocheted off the ground, forcing a small fraction of their many enemies into cover.
"No, it's fine..." Liz shook her head as she replied to Mauve. "Hey, Sage? Could you move right a little bit?"
Sage stopped in his tracks, grunting when Mauve bumped into him. He strafed to the right in the direction of several overturned tables. Liz broke cover as soon as she could, sliding behind one of the tables and moving her duffel bag off of her back.
Mauve watched in fascination as the lizard faunus put the finishing touches on the metal creation in her hands; tossing it straight up into the air, the metal contraption took flight. The drone moved with a mind of its own, buzzing around and harassing the small army of thugs with painful (but non-lethal) paint rounds.
"I'm moving up!" Sage called back to Mauve, eager to press their newfound advantage. "Are you staying?"
"I'm breaking left in eight seconds," Mauve responded over the roar of gunfire, maneuvering close to Sage's back.
Ahead of the pair, perhaps twenty or thirty meters in the distance, sat their objective. Said objective was the large garage door that led to the street outside the warehouse. Between them and the door sat a small army of armed thugs- but their numbers were dwindling as they were slowly pushed back.
Slowly pushed back to the doors… which led to the street…
"Okay!" Mauve patted Sage's shoulder. "I'm going!"
"Good luck!" Sage responded, once again hefting his new weapon to fire at the ground.
Mauve blasted off from her spot, twirling her electrified blades in anticipation and quite literally slicing some incoming bullets out of the air. Her destination was the fourth member of their little assault team, who wasn't much of a team player.
Sable Stygian stood ten meters away, using her staff to control her weaponized semblance. Said semblance was a plume of black flame that wreathed and slithered like a snake. She moved the black flame around the room, disarming enemies by super-heating the metal of their guns.
Currently, Sable was deftly spinning the staff in her hands. The maneuver was done to keep the black flame of her semblance in one spot; the flames crawled high to form a wall, protecting Sable by incinerating any bullets that tried to pass through it.
Mauve still couldn't believe that she had to work with Sable…
The dislike between them was palpable… the dark haired girl had offered no apologies for trying to swindle Mauve's boyfriend away from her.
Mauve transformed her blades into pistols as she ran. She threw her arms up and fired the pistols erratically to keep her enemies at bay. The lynx girl tucked into a forward roll and came to a rest behind Sable's fire shield.
"Oh, hello bitch," Sable sneered over her shoulder as she continued to spin her staff.
"Harpy!" Mauve spat back with equal venom.
Mauve stayed for a moment before rushing back in Sage's direction. She couldn't do much while they were so outnumbered… so hit and run attacks were the order of the day...
Back on the rooftop...
"-and Mauve just called Sable… a 'harpy'," Crimson frowned, his right eye twitching slightly. "So yeah… that's the play-by-play…"
"Did anyone ever tell you that your semblance is like… really useful?" Asher muttered as he gathered the cards into a messy deck. "You're like a walking radio. I could make a lot of lien off a guy like you..."
"It's come in handy more times than I can count," Crimson yawned. "Do you know how many times I've had to use it to make sure Sable and Carmine aren't fighting?" Crimson gestured with his free hand towards the black haired boy, who was still pacing erratically nearby.
"Hmph," Asher answered, placing the messy deck onto the table. "You ready to shuffle and deal the cards?"
"Why me?" Crimson yawned.
"Because you won the last game, the winner has to shuffle and deal for the next," Asher explained.
"That's not much of a reward," Crimson grumbled. "What about you, Rust? Rust?"
Crimson and Asher turned their heads to spot the man in question. Rust was currently fiddling around with the high collar of his vest - a look of discomfort on his face.
"For goodness sake!" Asher cried in frustration. "Would you stop fiddling with that! Just save yourself the trouble and keep it rolled down!"
"But I don't like the breeze on my neck," Rust frowned as he pushed his collar higher. "It feels prickly…"
Rust too had replaced his old combat clothes for a new, more stylish ensemble.
Gone was the construction jacket, instead replaced by a slightly puffy winter coat; the fabric had a quilted style, and it was coloured in complementary tones of tangerine orange and black. Underneath this coat Rust wore a tight fitting thermal vest, made from soft fleece and boasting a high collar to shield his neck from the elements.
Worn overtop Rust's jacket was a chest harness - the straps connected by a buckle that stretched across the width of his chest. Attached to the harness was an assortment of ammunition and glass vials. Each glass vial contained purified wind dust to be used alongside Rust's semblance.
Fitted stonewash jeans were carefully pulled over a pair of nut brown chelsea boots. Atop Rust's head, a loose black beanie was pulled down over his growing mop of tangled hair.
Asher huffed and looked away from his teammate. A scraping noise caught his attention and he turned his head to peer off in Carmine's direction again. The hoodie-clad boy had graduated from simple pacing to a strange, energetic dance.
"Hey Crimson?" Asher whispered, using his hand to gently tug on the redhead's parka.
"Yeah?"
"What does Carmine listen to?" Asher asked.
"In all honesty... I- I don't know," Crimson stuttered as he adjusted his glasses.
"Could I ask him?"
"He wouldn't appreciate it…" Crimson muttered as he began to shuffle the messy deck. "It's best if you don't interrupt him now…"
"Why?"
"He's getting ready for the fight," Crimson shrugged as he began to deal three hands. "It's his little ritual… we all have them…"
"He could stand to be a little more social," Rust shrugged and accepted his hand, leaning forwards to leer over the table.
"Oh, I've tried," Crimson huffed as he placed down his first card. "I've tried…"
Back inside the warehouse…
Sage sincerely wished that he hadn't drawn the short straw… this was not how he wanted to spend his evening.
If there was one thing Sage readily understood, it was that fighting people was not nearly as invigorating as fighting grimm. Grimm were grimm… you didn't have to play nice with them. People on the other hand were considerably more… squishy…
Hence the rubber rounds in his new weapon… painful and debilitating, but not lethal.
Hefting said new weapon up again, Sage fired at the nearest wall. The stream of rounds ricocheted towards the mass of thugs who were assembling around the garage door at the far side of the warehouse.
Like the rest of his team, Sage's equipment and clothing had received a major update. Ironwood had been true to his word when he offered them a second blank check, the team had made good use of it.
The most notable change made was to Sage's primary weapon. His old submachine gun had been lost during the events that transpired… a month ago, or so…
Chambered in .45, Sage's new weapon was an odd merging of sword and gun. It was far longer than his old machine pistol - to the point where he needed both hands to accurately fire it. But his ricochet semblance negated his need to be accurate. From stock to barrel tip, the weapon was about sixty centimeters long. Fixed to the underbarrel, stretching from the magazine to all the way past the tip, was a massive serrated bayonet. There was a gap in the blade at one point, allowing a hand rest for the rare occasions that Sage needed both of his hands on the gun.
Sage had tentatively dubbed the shiny green weapon "Rampart", although he was still debating whether or not that was his final choice…
Rampart was currently rattling around in Sage's hand as he squeezed the trigger. The faunus boy's new workout regimen had certainly improved his strength, but he knew that he would be feeling the strain later…
Peering through the viewscreen of his shield, Sage began to strafe left. Bullets bounced harmlessly off of the shield's titanium plating. He considered sending a few back, but didn't want to run the risk of killing someone by accident - even rubber rounds could be lethal if aimed improperly.
Switching directions to strafe right, the faunus boy frowned when he felt his armor rubbing against his neck, the brief moment of discomfort distracting him from the fight…
Where there had once been a tactical blouson, there was now a thick wool sweater - coloured a nice dark green. Sage's left arm was covered by the special gauntlet that held his shield, his right was now protected by a metal brace. On both of his shoulders sat a tough, inflexible pauldron made from ballistic fiber.
The faunus boy now donned a heavy cuirass made from multiple layers of metal and kevlar; it even came with a magnetic plate on its back so that Sage could easily carry his weapons without the need for multiple bandoliers. The cuirass led upwards to a stiff neck brace that provided him unparalleled protection.
Sage's legs were protected by a pair of thick pants with integrated armored plating. His new look was completed by the pair of black hiking shoes that protected his feet from the elements.
The hundred or so pounds of armor Sage now wore certainly had its drawbacks. But considering that he was already the team's defensive rock, having some extra protection for himself didn't hurt.
Sage heard a shuffle of movement behind him and turned his head to find Liz. The lizard faunus had clearly tired of her cover and scrambled to join him behind the safety of his shield again.
"I'm beginning to feel like a babysitter!" Sage jokingly called back to the shorter girl.
"Bullets are flying man!" Liz joked right back. "The fact that you're popular right now shouldn't be all that surprising!"
Sage cracked a grin and turned his attention back to his viewscreen.
"Keep your head still!" Liz warned.
"What!?"
"You heard me!"
Pushing her parka to the side and reaching towards her belt, the lizard faunus pulled out her weapon. It was a long, thin blade with noticeable segmentation running along its length. With a quick flick of her wrist the blade segmented, coiling and twisting to form a long metal whip.
Leaning left, Liz flicked her wrist and whipped the segmented blade out past Sage's shield. There was a yelp of pain as the tip of the whip-sword made contact with the rump of a retreating thug.
"Was that necessary-" Sage lifted an eyebrow as he turned his head to look back at Liz.
"I said keep your head still! Do you want to lose your ears!?"
Leaning right, Liz flicked her wrist and cracked the whip, the tip shooting past Sage's shield and knocking another thug off of his feet.
"Point taken…" Sage gently shook his head.
"Keep pushing forward!" Liz urged Sage on, placing one hand against the faunus boy's back and applying force. "We've almost got them!"
Gritting his teeth, Sage pressed forwards with Liz following closely behind him.
To Sage's left, a snake-like plume of flame bounced around between the dwindling horde of thugs. Its originator - Sable - was hanging back and directing the flame's path with her staff, which Sage could only assume functioned like some kind of control rod.
To his right, Sage's team leader was wreaking havoc. Mauve slid underneath a sloppy punch and delivered a kick straight to the family jewels of the man who tried to hit her. The lynx girl darted back up into a standing position. She finished the guy off with a swift kick before drawing her arcing gun and using the weapon to blast several other hostiles with a bolt of electricity.
The lynx girl's aura flared for a moment when a stray bullet grazed her arm. To her credit, Mauve didn't flinch and ducked into cover for a brief moment of respite.
So far, the battle was going their way. Between Sage's encroaching shield, Mauve's ferocity, Sable's fire, and Liz's technological marvels, the thugs were slowly being pushed backwards.
Finally, one of the criminals took a hint. He shouted out to his remaining companions to follow him and smacked the switch that controlled the garage door.
Slowly, the metal shutters of the garage door creaked open. The dozen or so remaining thugs rushed through the opening, believing that it would be their gateway to freedom.
'Just as planned…' Sage thought to himself.
Sage reached up to his left shoulder, where a small radio had been clipped to his armored pauldron. His thumb gently clicked a button to activate the device and he hefted it up to his lips.
"Showtime…"
Back on the rooftop…
"And that's the game!" Asher cheered as he slapped down his last cards. "I win!"
"And you know what that means!?" Crimson grinned as he slid over the messy deck. "You deal…"
"What are you talking about?" Asher questioned, tilting his head to the side.
"What?" Crimson's blue eyes snapped between Rust and Asher. "Winner has to deal for the next round! Right!?"
"Oh!" Asher smacked his forehead with his palm. "That's right! I forgot to tell you!"
"Tell me what?" Crimson narrowed his eyes.
"I lied," Asher spoke flatly. "Like… totally and completely."
"See? I told you that he was a rat..." Rust grinned.
"I hate you…" Crimson sneered at Asher. "Asher… deal the cards-"
Crimson yelped in surprise when Asher suddenly disappeared into thin air. The redhead clutched his chest and let out several rattling breaths.
"Asher!" Crimson abruptly stood up and looked around the rooftops. "I've told you not to do that! It freaks me out!" Crimson paused mid-rant and looked down at Rust with a curious expression. "He can hear me… right?"
"Oh, he can hear you…" Rust yawned as he played around with his remaining cards. "He can hear and see us…"
"Someone should have a chat with him," Crimson huffed as he sat back down. "It's a bit rude for him to do that while someones talking…"
Rust watched out of the corner of his eye as Asher materialized back on Remnant. The fair haired boy snuck up behind Crimson and stuck his head right next to his ear.
"Boo!" Asher called suddenly. Crimson jumped up in pure fright, knocking over the table and scattering the playing cards.
Rust and Asher were laughing so loudly that no one could hear the radio crackling.
"Good one!" Rust grinned and clapped his hands. "Very good!"
"Thank you!" Asher bowed low. "I try…"
"Jackass," Crimson wiped his mouth and shook his head. "Don't do that man…"
The radio crackled again…
"Uh, guys? I said the code-word… they're trying to get away… guys?" A familiar voice nattered from the device.
The three boys scrambled from their position and leered over the edge of the small building. Down below the warehouse garage door had opened and well over a dozen men were fleeing from the building.
"Oh shit!" Asher seethed. He spun around to find the last occupant of the rooftop, who was still dancing around and completely unaware. "Carmine!"
"Don't yell!" Crimson hissed. "He can't hear you! I'll get him… you just get the ball-rolling!"
Asher followed Crimson's advice and rushed towards the table to retrieve his helmet. Hooking the tip of his boot under the headgear, Asher kicked upwards to whisk the helmet into the air; deftly catching it in his gloved hands, he shoved the helmet over his head. Now fully protected, the boy reached upwards to his back to pull his weapon off his shoulder and rushed back to the edge of the roof.
The oh-so creatively dubbed "Jackhammer Mark Three" was… a departure… to say the least…
Asher wasn't exactly sure how he felt about the weapon's design just yet…
To begin, it bore plenty of similarities to the weapon it had been before. The weapon still boasted a bullpup configuration - with its magazine placed behind the trigger. But the barrel was now longer, the magazine smaller, the bullets larger… and the firing mechanism entirely different.
No longer was the Jackhammer an automatic rifle…
Once again, Asher wasn't exactly how he felt about it just yet…
The calls from his teammates for Asher to change his weapon configuration had been overwhelming. There was no contest about who in Team MARS was the best marksman… that title belonged solely to the grey-eyed boy.
Sage already had a submachine gun… and Mauve could fire her pistols so quickly that one might assume they were automatic. The team needed a proper long-range fighter, and Asher quickly found his feet planted in the shoes of that role.
The fair haired boy still carried a pistol to serve as a backup weapon. But the plinky nine-millimeter was long gone… in its stead was a hefty handcannon of Atlesian design, chambered in impressive .44 magnum.
Asher pulled back the firing pin on the Jackhammer MKIII and took careful aim. His first targets were two thugs who had managed to get the furthest away from the warehouse. Asher dropped them with two well placed shots; like his teammates, he was equipped with rubber rounds, the men he had shot were left writhing in pain.
Asher's two shots had not only taken the two men out of the fight… it terrified the rest of the thugs, who now realized they had been led into a trap.
"I would suggest that you guys get going!" Asher called over his shoulder.
"Way ahead of you!" Carmine yelled as he sprinted by. The dark haired boy leapt off the roof and revealed his mighty weapons!
Two large blow horns… one held in each hand.
Asher watched in fascination as Carmine impacted the ground, slamming the mouths of his blow horns onto the pavement. With an irritating screeching noise the ten remaining thugs were blasted off their feet and left clutching their ears.
Carmine's semblance allowed him to manipulate sound waves… which made dealing with large groups of enemies surprisingly easy.
"Alright, go!" Crimson shouted as he and Rust leapt off the roof in unison. Asher stayed behind, using his new marksman rifle to take potshots at any thug who tried to flee.
As Crimson and Rust fell the latter activated his semblance, manifesting a gust of wind underneath Crimson to lift him higher into the air. The redhead whooped with glee as he was carried further to the other side of the street; his open parka flailed in the wind, revealing the modified set of Atlesian guard armor he wore underneath.
Rust chuckled as he came within ten feet of the ground. He reached over his shoulder and snatched Ruination off his back.
Everyone had received a shiny new toy to play with… Rust was no exception.
The first major difference between the old Ruination and the new Ruination was the blade. There was only one axe blade now… the other side had been replaced with a flat striking head, changing Rust's battle-axe into a splitting maul.
There was still a shotgun integrated into the hilt of the weapon. But there had been some changes there as well. Solitas was home to some impressively large grimm; so Rust had taken the opportunity to increase the shell size to eight gauge. Sure, he would have to reload more often, but there would be a high guarantee that whatever he had just shot wouldn't get back up…
Rust landed in the middle of three goons with a mighty smash, leveling the pavement below him with the striking head of his maul. The three men were knocked onto their asses by the impact and were left coughing up dust.
The incredibly tall boy spun around in a flash, angling his maul to block an incoming bullet. Rust darted towards the man who had fired at him and sent him flying with a well placed slap. A roar to Rust's left caught his attention and he turned to find another man charging at him. Rust quickly pulled a vial of wind dust from his bandolier and chucked it at the charging man. The vial smashed right in the middle of the man's chest and shattered on impact, with the sudden change in air pressure sending the unfortunate thug flying backwards.
Just down the street, Crimson and Carmine were working in tandem. Carmine used his blow horns and his semblance to blast the remaining thugs in Crimson's direction. Crimson used his rifle/brush axe combination to bat the men out of the air, turning the weapon backwards so that they wouldn't impact the sharp blade.
"Run for it!" One of the three remaining thugs cried. He and two of his buddies dropped their weapons and ran, howling like animals as they sprinted down the road.
They didn't get far…
There was the sound of three gunshots, and three blue-streaked bullets chased after the fleeing men. In an instant, the three thugs had their legs frozen in blocks of ice.
Rust looked back up towards the roof. Asher was leaning over the edge, the barrel of his rifle smoking from the use it had recently seen. Titling his helmeted head, Asher offered Rust a brief mock salute.
"We did it!" Asher cheered, lifting his rifle over his head and shaking it around. "The job is done!"
"A job you were barely a part of!" A new voice called, capturing the attention of everyone on the street. Sage exited the warehouse through the large garage door. His hefty riot shield was still deployed and Sage was forced to hobble along to support its weight.
The rest of their allies followed behind the faunus boy.
"What happened when Sage called for 'showtime'?" Mauve called out as he approached Rust, one accusatory finger held aloft and wagging malevolently. "You were late!"
"I blame Asher," Rust shrugged and gestured to the top of the roof.
"I second that!" Crimson grinned.
"I honestly wasn't listening," Carmine shrugged.
"Hey!?" Asher cried from the top of the roof, his voice echoing. "Screw you three!"
Mauve looked up and gave her partner a long, withering look.
"Don't feel so bad!" Sage yelled and splayed his arms to the side. "Although you did next to nothing… you did a great job!"
"Thanks, Sage!" Asher yelled back, his long rifle resting atop his left shoulder. "It's good to know that someone down there appreciates my help!"
The two teams mingled in the dim light of the street. Off in the distance the sirens and lights of police cars wailed as the Mantle police force swooped in to secure the area.
High up in the sky, the sound of bullhead engines roared as military craft descended to pick up the dozens of prisoners the two teams had left lying around.
"So?" Crimson dusted off the sleeve of his old red parka as he approached Team MARS. "What are you guys up to after this?"
"Debrief and then bed," Sage loudly yawned, resting his hands on his belt. "You guys?"
Crimson looked back at his team. Sable and Carmine were glaring daggers at each other; Liz was in-between the two of them and giving Crimson a frantic look.
As per usual...
"Just bed," Crimson turned back to Team MARS, already jogging backwards so he could help his girlfriend. "If you're speaking with the man in charge… put in a good word for us!"
"Of course!" Mauve waved him off with a polite smile.
Team MARS watched in amusement as Crimson scrambled back towards his own team to stop the impending civil war that was brewing. Their clothing was ruffled when a military transport landed directly behind them, kicking up snow and sleet with its powerful engines.
The cargo door slid open and Team MARS silently watched as the uniformed pilot leaned out of the craft. The man's eyes scanned the street in half-interest before focusing on the team.
"So… do you kids want to ride with the prisoners? Or should I swing back to pick you guys up after?" The pilot asked, his flat tone indicating that he probably didn't care either way.
Mauve peered back in the direction of Crimson's team, she then scanned the dozen thugs lying around in the street. Finally, she turned back to the pilot and planted her hands on her hips.
"Maybe just pick us up afterwards…"