Well, say what you will about committing robbery, it was never boring. It'd be worrying if it was. Adam was given a White Fang mask and a hood, which he wore, before they actually started. Their target was an SDC dust silo, where dust would be stored and refined after mining and before being shipped off to wherever it was sold. And this was the perfect time to steal from the SDC, for one reason.
Economics. If they stole the dust from the mines, that would only hurt the workers. Miners were technically subcontractors who were paid by the amount of dust they got in. And it was only counted after the dust had been put into a silo for refinement/storag, or more accurately their pay would be withheld if it was intercepted. So hitting a dust mine would only screw the workers out of their pay. And stealing it from the SDC when it's being carted off does nothing as well, because it would already have been paid for, and they were only making the demand go up.
So, they attacked the silos. And the SDC knew that, it was why the silos were equipped with legions of model 130 Atlesian Knights, on top of whatever security guards they paid(though they stayed out of the refined dust containment facilities). Meanwhile, dust trucks had relatively light guards, and the delivery trucks had nothing. That was essentially because dust wasn't exactly a good thing to steal. The only purpose one would have would be to use it.
And for what? If you needed fire dust to warm your home or electricity dust to power it, you'd rob a dust store. A dust truck would only invite unnecessary attention and it'd take way too much work. So those targetting trucks were often the ones who wanted to distribute the dust in the slums, namely, the White Fang.
Anyways, that was why they were attacking the silo. It was a large complex, with the dust stored in, what else? Silos. There were three areas, initial confinement, refinement, and refined storage. Refining dust was actually quite the interesting process. While initially, it'd be as easy as sifting out small rocks and pieces of dirt, dust refinement had become a lot more complicated, to extremely potent results.
Essentially, dust was put in rotating chambers that would seperate dust from its impurities. And without the impurities, dust became a lot stronger, and made a lot less byproducts (example, 90% fire dust would also create smoke, while 99% fire dust wouldn't).
That was almost entirely unrelated, Adam noted. They were here to steal the dust. The facility's initial confinement was for unrefined dust.
Unrefined dust was fucking useless.
Ok, that was a bit harsh. But it was incompatible with most technology nowadays. The fire dust in there would create too much smoke, the ice created with the ice dust would be fragile, the wind would be inconsistent and blow out dust and debris, and it went on and on. And the SDC, combining the philosophy of cutting any corners they could while also protecting their dust, simply didn't have much security at all for their unrefined dust.
Because why the hell would anyone take it?
Meanwhile, refinement mostly had civilian engineers who would look as the dust was automatically refined. They'd care for the machinery, take care of malfunctions, and all that business. The refinement area was the only one with human personnel, including guards, but that was mostly to cover their asses due to the fact that they actually had human assets in the refinement center. On top of that, the refinement center's non-staff areas were avoided because it was extremely dangerous. An accident in there would result in the facility as a whole exploding and because it was automated, it wasn't exactly made for people to go through it. So them turning it into a battlefield was basically asking for the whole place to go out burning. And finally, there was the refined storage area. That was where most of the guards, who were robots or civilian movers in hazard suits, were. Because while the White Fang hardly stole enough to even make a dent in the SDC's profits, the shareholders really didn't like the fact that their silos kept on getting ransacked.
Theoretically, the refined storage area was just as dangerous as the refinement. And, believe it or not, it was. The storage areas containing dust weren't ever patrolled for security by anything other than knights and cameras. And that was because the air was highly toxic. Incredibly toxic.
Like, 99% of their security agents before they instituted robots had cancer levels of toxic. The only reason they had civilian workers moving around the dust for shipment was because they were cheaper than robots (in comparison to human security guards, who would need training, equipment, benefits, and higher pay). And that wasn't going to last for long either, because robot tech was getting better.
And the dangerous levels of dust in the air also would theoretically serve as a deterrent for the White Fang.
It didn't. What was expected, truly? All it really made them do was wear masks.
"These masks are stuffy." Adam maintained, chafing in the mask. They were in a small building overseeing the silo, uniforms on them. On top of his mask, he wore some casual long pants and a nice leather jacket he found in a store (those spent savings were worth it). And to cover their face, they all wore white full-face masks that served as gas masks to protect them from the, as mentioned before, hazardous air. While the masks were white ceramic, the insides were rubber and leather. And that made for unpleasant wearing.
Thank god aura prevented this get-up from breaking.
"Yea, are you sure these are clean, Trifa? Cause I think I can smell silk in this." Meanwhile, on top of the gas mask, Yuma was wearing a normal leather jacket with a fur collar along with some jeans. The jacket was cut in the back so his wings could breath, with the flap on the back that was unconnected to either sleeve holding a few weapons. Anyways, his question was asked with a shit-eating grin which recieved a flippant flipping off.
"Screw off, Yuma." She sighed before turning to Adam. "Sorry, I forgot to make one for you and all." Adam raised an eyebrow, though she couldn't see. She probably guessed the surprise or something. "While picture books would have you believe otherwise, I'm actually quite adept with ceramics. Yours is the one Yuma was stuck with for a while." Ah, that explained it. "Asked if I was into choking when he wore it, insufferable bastard." Trifa sighed.
"It was a good one, admit it!" Yuma was smiling under his mask. Even if Adam couldn't see under it, he could definitely tell. Trifa, to that claim, could only sigh. Trifa, besides the mask, was wearing a skin-tight catsuit, mostly for stealth and speed purposes. Her role in the raid would be to go ahead of the group and sabotage. Meanwhile, Yuma & Adam (Yuma's penchant for long range combat and surprisingly good marksmanship pairing well with Adam's close range capabilities, with Blush not really being all that accurate) and Sienna & Ilia (Sienna's experience making up for Ilia's relative lack thereof) would cause chaos outside of where the dust was, attracting knights.
The guards were instructed to guard the civilians in the refinement center and wouldn't even have the gas masks to enter the Refined Storage facility anyways.
"Hey, I just got some drinks." Ilia came in, wearing a standard uniform. While Yuma was in his late 20s and Trifa was in her early to mid 30s, Ilia was still a kid, mid teens, to be specific. Orphan, as well. And after being expelled from her prep school, she was still living on the stipend she was given for White Fang work on top of any part time jobs she picked up. So she didn't have clothes they could afford to have torn in combat like Yuma (he found the jacket in a thrift store and thought it'd look neat), Trifa (had hobbies, she wouldn't elaborate lest Yuma overhear), and Sienna (who had plenty of savings from her days as an active huntress).
Adam simply didn't give a shit if his clothes were torn.
"Ah, thanks." Yuma took his beer, popped the bottle open with one of the claws on his wings, and downed it. "So, is the boss lady coming?"
Ilia winced. "Yea, no, there's some stuff she needs to do. Administrative stuff, you know." While Adam was a bit disappointed at the loss in manpower, he supposed this was normal, considering how Yuma didn't feel the need to kick up a fuss. He merely offered a nod.
"Yea, makes sense. Alright, so I guess all three of us will head in as a group while Trifa here goes ahead with sabotaging the place for us." Ilia seemed to have different ideas.
"Look, Yuma, you and Adam are probably good enough to act as the vanguard. I can also help with sabotage! I could go on ahead and deal with the security systems and all." Ilia seemed determined to be more useful in the mission. Despite definitely being younger than him, Adam could guess that she was treated like the small team's collective little sibling. And part of that treatment meant less risky roles.
They gave her combat deployments because she was somewhat proficient and she constantly asked to join, but they always paired her with someone. Yuma was probably going to say something patronizing in a shitty attempt to reason with Ilia. Adam simply spoke where he saw fit.
"Your weapon is loaded with lightning dust, correct?" Ilia nodded, curious as to where Adam was going. "The 130 knights, from what I've heard, have one fatal flaw: electrocution. While Yuma has lightning dust rounds loaded in his guns and I simply can cleave through them, with but a touch of your whip, a knight could be destroyed. Aside from that, you aren't a particularly strong defender, from what I've seen." To keep his skills up diversify his experience, Sienna made Adam spar with Ilia, Yuma, and Trifa. It also helped him get a hold of their fighting styles. While Ilia was skilled in the use of Lightning Lash, her only recourse against bullets were to put her aura up. "While you could instantly de-activate the ones that come in close, Yuma and I could decimate the ones outside your range. This way, the risk to any of us is minimized while still making full use of our offensive capabilities." Adam spoke in a measured tone as he explained his logic. The three others were stunned, only for a moment, however.
"Yea, what he said." Yuma nodded.
Ilia, meanwhile, seemed resigned. A bit frustrated, but that was partially because she didn't have a good counterpoint. "Fine." She crossed her arms.
"Good enough for me." Trifa shrugged. She was at the window, looking down at their target. The plan stayed the same: Trifa goes in and screws with the security cameras with her webbing before Adam and the rest come by and destroy the knights that come by to try and fix the sabotage. After a bit more prep time, they'd begin the raid.
It'd turn out a bit more challenging than they thought.
A few minutes after Trifa entered the facility, the three others decided to head in and act. Before heading in, they got prepared and took out their weapons. Adam did a last minute check on Wilt and Blush and Ilia retracted and expanded Lightning Lash. When they heard Knights down the corner. He looked towards Adam and decided to strike up some pre-fight conversation.
"You know, some people ask me, why do I bother keeping my wings around? They're big, clunky, and probably the reason I get stares and denied a job. Well, first, cause it reminds me of my ma, she had wings like these. And cutting these off would be like cursing her out. Well, I've done that, but it'd feel pretty dickish to just cut em. On the downside, I got to stretch a lot to wipe them clean every morning. Plus, I have to sleep on my stomach. But, in the end, it's all worth it, you know why?" Yuma smiled, looking at Adam with anticipation burning in his eyes.
"Because you can take pride in how you've managed to hold onto your ancestry?" This felt like it was building up to something like that. Yuma laughed.
"Well, yes, but also!" Yuma pulled out two shotguns, one in each hand. And his wings bent over to pump them, unnecessarily (but also dramatically) ejecting an unfired shell. "I can do this." His smile turned predatory when he ran around the corner he began firing shot after shot at the SDC security knights. While normal buckshot would only dent the armor the knights came equipped with, the buckshot was laced with lightning dust.
And that essentially made every single pellet supercharged with electricity. Supercharged enough that it short circuited a few knights upon hitting them. The knights, to their credit, instantly turned towards the intruders. A good 7 of them turned their hands into blades while the other 3's fingers began rotating while shooting.
Adam barreled in front of Yuma, spinning Wilt like a windmill to block all the shots coming towards the gunslinger. Ilia finally rushed out of the corner and began using Lightning Lash to whip at the knights. After a few moments, Adam sheathed Wilt and went on the offensive once more, dicing Knight after Knight while Ilia short circuited them with her whip. Yuma, surprisingly to Adam, actually conserved him ammo as Ilia and him made quick work of the bots with their respective weapons.
Soon, they were but scrap on the floor.
"Alright, that's one patrol down." Yuma sighed, loading his shotguns and pistols after the fight with the help of his wings. In a facility, there'd typically be around 5 groups, each made of 10 130 knights. They were looking to keep the gunfire outside of the dust rooms, so they didn't blow themselves, and the entire building, sky high. It was also a massive noisemaker and Adam knew better than most how annoying noise was in the morning (the junkyard had trucks moving in to dump waste constantly).
"How is Trifa doing?" Adam asked. Apparently they stopped using communications for things like this after the Undersnow Footprint Act was made public knowledge, which gave everyone in the White Fang a paranoid streak.
"Hmmm, given that I don't hear any explosions, let's say good."
While Trifa may or may not be fine, they probably should've been worrying about themselves. Becuase right behind them, cutting off their exit, was a man in heavy white armor wielding a machinegun. And with him was a unit of customized knights, way different from the standard SDC ones, with a different paint job and better maintained armor. And they unloaded ammo onto the group of three. Adam, while able to deflect shots with his 'windmill' technique, would probably just get hit if he tried to deal with the constant stream of gunfire that was a machine gun. Plus, he couldn't close the distance. Yuma might've been able to take out the knights, but the man's armor had a ceramic shell and would just ignore the electric shock. And Ilia had the worst of both worlds, being unable to close the distance while also having their weapon be ineffectual.
So, they ran deeper into the facility.
"What was that!?" Adam let the words rattle out of his mask in between running breaths.
"I dunno! I've never met those types of people. Maybe it's the Atlas Military? Maybe they sent a specialist or something?"
"What do you mean we can't enter the facilities!?" Ironwood smashed the table of his office as he was on the phone with an SDC representative. He had just gotten an intelligence report that members of the White Fang were conducting a raid on an SDC warehouse right at that moment. The others seemed remarkably adamant about simply stationing knights and soldiers around the building, while Ironwood saw no point in doing that. A perimeter was useful, yes, but why not send troops into the silo?
It'd be one thing if they didn't have the knights, but they did. If it was human soldiers, Ironwood would gladly play it safe. No use risking their lives here. But with knights? The metal that made its shell cost a fraction of one lien, the circuitry costed half a lien, the fuel (electric dust) costed one lien per day (they were incredibly efficient), and the bullets were 10 rounds per 1 lien. And they could always scrap what was destroyed. Often enough, all it took to bring a Knight 200 back to working quality was replacing a wire or dented metal.
Then he realized why they weren't entering the facility: The SDC were stonewalling them so hard that Ironwood felt the SDC snowflake should turn into a white cinderblock barricade.
"I said, we cannot let you enter the facilities. The SDC have everything under control, the Atlesian military is not needed here." Ironwood calmed his breath for a moment and contained the urge to yell. Yea right, they had it under control. What was the SDC's track record for not getting robbed? Oh yea, the raids were overwhelmingly successful for the White Fang. The SDC might as well just give it out for free. The only real saving grace for the SDC was the fact that the White Fang's dust raids didn't even put a dent in profits. The amount of dust stolen was often for the poorest of the poor in Mantle, the ones who actually needed dust to warm their homes.
Ironwood sighed, this assignment was a nightmare.
"And why is that?" He finally put out. Might as well gain some information on why this middle manager seemed so confident in an obviously doomed situation.
"Well, we've hired an elite task force in order to beat the White Fang." Wait, what? A private contractor? Oh, he meant mercenaries.
"Hunters?"
"In a sense." Ah, ex military security contractors, that's what he meant. To be specific, hunters who've gone into the private sector. They technically had the authority to work as law enforcement while also being private forces. This basically made them for hire supercops, in a sense. Ironwood sighed, for all of the power of the military, they couldn't just enter that factory without the express permission of its owner (aka, the SDC) or a warrant. And a warrant would take longer than the raid and those rules existed for good reasons.
"Shit shit shit!" Trifa wasn't having a good time. Sure, she'd definitely faced worse before, but being ambushed was still pretty bad. She'd been going through the halls, webbing security functions and having a good time, when all of a sudden she was being shot at by some random fucker with a rifle. She tried running but was blocked off repeatedly, until she was cornered in one of the facility's warehouses. Large crates filled with dust were stacked high in the shelves, with small particles gradually leaking out and going into the air.
It wasn't going to help much, given how the one security contractor who seemed to coordinating (or at least leading on the field) the knights was wearing a gas mask.
"Here, kitty kitty kitty!" A creepy voice rang out as armored stomps shook the ambient dust on the floor. This part of the warehouse was dimly lit. It was the farthest place from the break room, so employees rarely went here to grab dust to ship off. That meant the area was particularly thick with the substance and also that the lighting was incredibly dim. Trifa was able to see, thanks to night vision, and it seemed like the contractor had it as well, from the glowing green eyes behind their gas mask.
"Shit." Trifa muttered lowly, her mask muffling her. Knights were coming in as well, their machine gun hands shifting to blades as they searched the dim warehouse. There were 14 lanes that were split by large shelves that held the crates of dust. Trifa was hiding in a small corner made up of those crates, though if needed she'd jump up and climb. That wasn't an ideal situation either, the crates were wooden and she wasn't confident in their silence or structural integrity.
"Well, the boss said I could do anything in this area, so, why not?" The groaning and shattering of wood was heard from across the warehouse as a crate was sliced apart. Thinking back to the brief glance Trifa got at the security agent before having to retreat, he probably carried a longsword. They were probably keeping their aura out of it in order to not activate any dust, that was useful.
She could also see a slight glowing from the security agent. Part of it was the ambient glow of aura, but here, it was also from the aura partially activating whatever dust touched them. The concentration of the stuff in the air wasn't enough to cause an explosion, but it was enough to make them slightly glow/feel a slight shock/feel a bit warmer or cooler/and etc. Her ambient aura was also making her slightly glow.
If Yuma was here, he'd make a dramatic monologue about the dramatic choice at play. Either forsake her protection in order to not get caught or paint a sign on herself and go in with aura.
It really wasn't that much of a choice.
She put down her aura, she could call it back any moment she needed, and pulled out her knife. It was a serated combat knife, nothing fancy or anything, but it was good enough for the task at hand.
"Oh Arachne, please don't cut this web." She gave a small prayer before turning the corner. A knight was there alone, good. The Atlesian Knight 130s for the SDC were different from the standarad 130. These ones had better guns, more hostile and lethal aiming measures (barely legal, but it was accepted either way), and, as a way to save money, less armor. But Trifa had limited options here, because if she caused a spark, that was practically asking for the entire place to explode.
So, she did what she could, and stabbed her knife directly into the CPU. She activated Piercing Fang (An auric art she'd learned) and thrust with all her strength, even embracing the knight as the red light on it dimmed, marking its deactivation. She pulled out her blade and let the knight clatter down.
Yea, even if it took less than a second, the ambush was heard. She used her web to fling herself onto the shelf before the knights and security came by. She heard several clunky footsteps, one of them human. There were nine robotic footsteps, there's were evenly paced, while the human one walked a bit slower and at a less uniform rate. She could also hear rather unsettling breaths coming from the mask of the contractor. Their weapon was a rifle, though that was useless here. This area may not be cared about, but an explosion was both medically and financially inadvisable.
Spotting a knight down below that was heading to the spot where the attack was heard, Trifa lept down and stabbed straight into the CPU, destroying it instantly, before leaping back up. It seemed that her strategy was noticed after this, as the knights began pairing up and looking upwards.
Shit, this was bad.
She really hoped the others were doing better.
The situation wasn't going well. Yuma, Adam, and Ilia were backed into a corner as knights and that armored merc (they had a small conversation about how the military were rarely allowed into the building, so it was probably private contractors) were holding them down with stupid amounts of firepower. Given that thye were behind cover, their enemies weren't firing, but the second even a hair popped out, they were bombarded with a hailstorm of lead.
"Wow, I thought we were getting an exciting assignment. C'mon, put in a little more effort! Put as much effort as your father did in fucking an animal." The gruff voice coming from the armored individual echoed through the empty and bullet ridden hall. "The Grimm put up more fight than you primitives."
"Ilia." Adam was pressing himself against a metal crate, Ilia and Yuma by his side. He whispered, to not cue their enemy as to his idea. "Do you have any spare electric dust?"
"Yea? What for?" Ilia grabbed out a small vial. Adam took it wordlessly.
"Yuma?" The bat in question tilted his head. "Gravity dust rounds?" Yuma thought for a moment before nodding, taking out a shotgun shell and taking out the buckshot, which was made entirely of gravity dust laced pellets. Adam put the pellets in the lightning dust container before shaking it. After a moment, he took the buckshot out and handed it over to Yuma, who shrugged and inserted the pelelts. Yuma had an idea as to what Adam was thinking, he was just praying that it wasn't batshit insane.
"GET SCREWED, BOTS!" Yuma popped up and pulled the trigger, letting the electromagnetic dust infused buckshot shoot out and activate mid-air. Gunfire rang out, but instead hit the small storm of buckshot. Adam sprung from cover and shot out Wilt, successfully hitting the mercenary's gun and knocking it a bit off kilter for just a moment. That, combined with a handful of knights also being deactivated with some of the magnetic buckshot hitting them, allowed Adam to blitz forward, grab Wilt, and blast the armored face of the mercenary with Blush.
Ilia saw what was happening and came out of cover as well, pushing the advantage and whipping at the remaining knights with Lightning Lash. Yuma pulled out a pistol and nailed the ones she couldn't reach. Meanwhile, Adam was now engaging the heavily armored merc, who, instead of pulling out a melee weapon, was fighting with their armored fists.
And to be fair, the man's training probably did a lot to even the odds, given that Adam had approximately none. Adam slashed and hacked, but it slid off the armor with the help of aura. The aura was actually turning away the blows, likely an auric art. Adam snarled as he sheathed Wilt once more, backing up as the armored man unleashed a flurry of kicks and punches. Ilia and Yuma were useless here, their weapons unsuited for heavy armor like this. Well, unless Yuma pulled a rocket launcher out of nowhere, but even his absurd carrying capacity had limits.
"Hmmph! Wish Titus wasn't sick." The merc remarked as he continued to fend off Adam's blows. Adam noted that Titus probably was good at melee, given how this one seemed to be used to acting as fire support. Either way, the fight wasn't going either way. Some more knights had come by and were engaging with Ilia and Yuma, who were taking cover and picking them off slowly. Adam's slashes were fast and plentiful, but he couldn't get past the armor. Meanwhile, while the merc was effectively invincible, he couldn't exactly push that to his advantage. Even if his armor protected him, he could still be pushed back by the sheer force Adam (and Blush) put in Wilt.
Adam snarled, irritation bubbling. His form began leaking red, bleeding energy, and it ate the light around them. FOr a moment, all anyone could see was black and the glowing red of his hair, clothes, and blade.
CRACK!
A glowing Wilt smashed against the armor. The merc did some quick thinking and moved to block with his shoulder. But it didn't matter, Adam tore through the ceramic-metal pauldron anyways, tore through cloth, and revealed bright pale flesh. Yuma immediately took his shot and nailed the flesh with a lightning dust bullet. And while the bullet itself flattened, the electricity coursed through the mercenary's body, and knocked them unconscious.
Adam's breathing was heavy, his untrained semblance did that to him. Sienna remarked that his unchecked anger let his accidentally release his semblance, which was bad in both fights and in domestic situations. Before he could let his still leaking anger get the better of him, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Yuma, though obscured by his mask, was looking at Adam, practically staring through the mask and into his eyes.
"You good?" Yuma could sense something was wrong with Adam, he was barely holding himself back. His hands were shaking, rattling Wilt in its sheath. His breath was heavy, grasping for fresh air.
"It's fine." Adam steeled himself and turned to face the future, hoping that the patch he put on his anger wouldn't break once more.
"..." Yuma wasn't convinced, but he shrugged it off. They were on a mission, no use getting bogged down right now. "Alright, Ilia?"
"I'm good." With all of them (minus Trifa) accounted for, they moved on.
While Yuma was reloading a few of his guns, Adam was thinking about who they were facing. These mercenaries were probably hunter trained. Most security contractors were under the employ of Big Iron Securities (Big Iron, for short). And most security contractors were either huntsmen or ex-military. Adam was going to bet ex-huntsmen, while the SDC were definitely cheap, it was a tad funny how specifically cheap they were. They'd cut down on salaries and workplace safety, but they'd spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on union busting or lobbying. Adam could guess that they'd also spend a similar amount of money on security.
Anyways, if they were facing ex-huntsmen, they were probably in a team of 4. They had beaten one (they tied up the guy and left him in a corner).
"Where are you~!?" A sing songy voice came out from a large room. It was at quite a distance, so it was barely above a whisper, but they heard it. They looked through the door, seeing a dark room. Well, it would be dark, but their night vision allowed them perfect sight into it. And in there, they could see a few knights patrolling the lanes of the warehouse in pairs. They could even see another one of those mercenaries, though he wasn't wearing armor.
Instead, he had a gas mask, a military vest, a long sleeved shirt, and army pants. He wielded a mecha-shift longsword-rifle, from the looks of it, and seemed to be looking upwards.
The three of them exchanged looks before entering the room, the shadows in specific. While Knight 130s had night vision, they took a moment or two to confirm a target (which is modified to an instant firing before checking for the SDC) and there were only a handfall or so of them, while the warehouse had plenty of space. The person they'd have to look out for would be the mercenary, he seemed to be crashing down a few of the warehouse shelves, destroying what cover they could use.
Half of the bots were directed to the door, the only exit out of this place, while the other half began surrounding the merc. That essentially confirmed that there was an outside operator controlling the knights. Yuma sighed and analyzed the situation, they were probably were looking for Trifa, who was probably still skulking around. The best way to help her out here would be doing what he did best.
"Boo!" Yuma rolled around the corner and smashed into the group with his bat. They reacted instantly, the ones that were shielded by their metallic brothers turning hands into blades and running out. Ilia and Yuma sighed, going with it. Adam went to shoot Blush, but Ilia put a hand on his arm.
"Dust in the air, we'll blow up." Adam nodded, alright, that was limiting, but whatever. While Ilia went around a shelf to flank the enemies, Adam pulled out Wilt and engaged.
One of the knights tried lunging, but Adam simply thrusted into its chest, sucessfully busting its chip. He pulled Wilt out to block a series of robotic slashes from the next knight, returning the favor with a stab. He had done the math as well, simply slashing a knight in half was a recipe for disaster. He had to be surgically precise.
Meanwhile, Yuma wasn't having as bad of a time, he just had to apply enough blunt force to bust the internals. And he did that with gusto, wielding Pun-isher (He insisted on pronouncing it like that) with two hands and smashing into the sides of incoming Knights. The ones by the door were coming from their flank, trying to envelop them. But just as they were going to crash into their back and make them fight enemies from all sides, the robots tripped on a suddenly set up webbing.
"Need some help?" Trifa came by and pounced on the downed robots, gutting them with her knife, making sure to not tear any wires.
"Thanks, now let's take care of this guy." Though it couldn't be seen, Yuma smiled viciously from under his helmet. This was what he lived for.
Meanwhile, Ilia had gotten around and was now fighting with the merc, who wielded their longsword with surprising grace. They were practically dancing with the impractically long implement.
With Adam, Yuma, and Trifa coming at his flank, the merc probably knew they were fucked, and put their hands up.
"Alright, alright, fun's over." They groaned and the group could practically see the man roll his eyes. The group looked between each other and shrugged, this was to be expected. They were hired guards, they weren't exactly her for anything other than money. To his bosses, they could argue that they were saving equipment from damage by surrendering. And to his clients, it could be argued that he was preserving the silo from further damages by stopping the fight (despite the fact that he caused most of the damage). "No amount of money is worth dying to animals."
Ok wow. Adam snarled but said nothing, as did Ilia, they had better things to worry about. Trifa webbed the guy up and walked away, while Yuma flipped the man off as they walked off.
"Was that necessary?" Ilia groaned.
"Yep!" Yuma seemed proud of the fact.
"Alright, that was tough. I actually got cut a few times, and shot. One second." Immediately, a few bullets and spurts of blood gushed out of her body from various places (arm, leg, and side). Those wounds immediately began closing at unnatural rates. Adam stared at the wound sand then looked up at Trifa. "What?"
"Nevermind." Adam shook it off, that was weird, but he supposed there was weirder. He thought for a moment, they had beaten off two mercenaries by now. They were definitely huntsmen, or at least hunter trained. The mechashift weapon practically screamed it. And since they were working together, Adam was going to assume these freelance hunters were on a team together. A team of four. That means there'd be 2 more. Wait, didn't one of them mention that a member was sick? Ok, make that one more. And that one was almost certainly commanding the knights, which wasn't exactly going to be fun. There were still about half of them left, given how many they destroyed. And the person they were against almost definitely knew how to use them to great effectiveness.
Adam kept those worries in as they walked into the dust room. It was better lit than the one they fought in earlier and had large crates filled with dust.
"Alright, how do we bring them?" That was the one thing Adam didn't know, what was their getaway here?
"Good question." Yuma's remark got a smack on the shoulder. "Owww, ok, fine. We'll just take a truck and lose the coppers from there." Adam sighed, that was suboptimal to say the least. Honestly, an overt attack in general was a bad idea. He was told that the Atlas military were surrounding them and they'd have to break through the defensive line in order to escape. And then there was the process of fighting off pursuers, finding a suitable hiding spot, taking the dust away, and then checking for any bugs before finally taking off their suits.
Adam sighed and picked up the crate, only to stumble at the odd weight. "Huh?" And then, he heard the whirring of a motor.
He realized what was happening.
"It's an ambush!" Adam jumped back as a blade broke through the wood of the crate, spilling dust all over the floor. The gang all pulled out their various close quarters weaponry as Knights began breaking out of the crates. There were still plenty to just run away with, but now they were split up and fighting. Ilia in particular was having a bit of trouble, limited to running through approaching knights with Lightning Lash and suffering a few blows.
A few more dropped from the top of the shelves, trying to smash into him from the air. Adam hopped back and ran the divebombing knight through. There were around 30 knights in total, which, for 4 hunters wasn't that much. But they weren't hunters. Yuma was a good shot and strong, but he definitely wasn't a hunter. Trifa was good with a knife, but she had limited durability and her feats of acrobatics couldn't even compare to some of the insane shit hunters pulled off. And Ilia was just as trained as he was, that is to say, barely.
Adam grunted as he felt the searing pain of a blade jabbing into his side. His aura fended it off, but that only made the pain uncanny, with no blood to show for the intense stinging feeling.
"Damnit." Adam sighed, this really wasn't a good situation. Yuma, even for all of his manic laughing, was still having trouble. His main strength was in firepower, firepower which was made a moot point with the dust in the air.
Wait, that was it!
Adam pulled out Wilt and began spinning it. Normally, this wouldn't have done anything more than cause a bit of a gust, but then he channelled the power and pain from the blows he recieved and put into Wilt via his semblance. The light was swallowed by his ambient anger, allowing only for red and black to be seen. Dust gravitated towards his windmilling blade, causing it to light ablaze, freeze, emenate arcs of electricity, and be swallowed be blades of wind. Adam ran past the knights surrounding him, attracting more and more of the airborne dust to burn into nothingness on his blade.
After a moment, light returned and all seemed to be normal. Adam sheathed Wilt and smiled as a small crowd of knights charged towards him, qatars at the ready.
And then he pulled the trigger of Blush.
And to the surprise of everyone, the dust in the air didn't ignite. For it already had on his sword. Behind the mask, Adam smiled like a man possessed and rushed to grab Wilt's familiar handle. He embraced his blade and began slashing. He tore knight after knight apart, letting them jolt in shock and shut down with his rapid slashes.
They had adapted quickly, turning their qatars into machineguns and firing at the group (taking care to not shoot the crates), but the other members realized what that meant as well. Yuma pulled out his pistols and let a hail of brass fall to the ground as he fired shot after shot. Ilia activated the dust in Lightning Lash and let it live up to its name, shocking knight after knight and turning the tides. Trifa, meanwhile, continued the fight as she had before, but more and more pressure was taken off her as some knights started ignoring her entirely to focus on the far greater threats. And through it all, Adam was tearing through the knights at a far faster pace than the others.
And soon, they were all gone, reduced to mere scrap.
The fight had ended and was winding down. And after a short rest, they got back to picking up crates. And as they were, Yuma had made a curious observation.
"You know, now that I think about it, is ventilation really that expensive in comparison to giving employees gas masks and using robots?"
Ironwood sighed as he sat in his car. He would've smoked if it weren't for the fact that his metallic arm accidentally crushed any cigarette he held it with. He was still getting used to having it. Some days he'd wake up and think it wasn't there at all, only to look in the mirror and be greeted by a half metal man.
But, conflicting with the hurt and pain from the sacrifice, was pride. Because he lost an arm and side, he saved how many lives? It was a reminder of his character.
He sighed and pulled out Due Process, making sure it was reloaded once more. Along with the roobotic arm, as a gift, one of the men he had saved had given him Due Process, a pair of high caliber revolvers. Ironwood personally thought the engravings were a bit ostentatious, as was the name if he was being honest. But it was a gift and it was, despite the engravings serving no tactical purpose, a very good gun. Accurate, didn't brake even when loaded with explosive bullets, and the caliber was high. It was perfect for him, all he needed was one shot.
"Hey, Boss Man." Lieutenant Colonel Tortuga opened the door to his car and sat down, putting two cups of coffee in the avaliable holders. She was his direct subordinate and also the one who would help in field operations on his mission. She wasn't present at the committee meetings, though, not high enough on the ladder for that (though, he somehow was). She was old, older than him. With dark skin and light green hair, she wore her uniform with pride, along with a dark green beret. She was a relaxed woman, seemingly careless with words, and holding a casualness that Ironwood would usually ascribe to teenagers. But in the military, it was actually only really present in the vetrans. Commanding officers and enlisted troops were usually stuffy or uptight, overcompensating in their discipline.
Tortuga, on the other hand, simply smiled. She had decades more experience than he, but apparently she turned down all promotions. She apparently didn't want to transfer out of her current position. Ironwood could respect that, he supposed.
"There is no need for such respectful language when we're alone." Ironwood rolled his eyes as he said it, his rather dry and monotone voice still dripping with as much sarcasm as he could squeeze einto it. "Anyways, any new reports?" And as he grabbed onto the coffee with his still flesh and bone hand (he didn't trust the metal one to not crush the cup and splatter him with the brew), Tortuga did the same.
"Nah, nothing. Heard some gunshots in the factory, but we can't move in." She sighed. "Don't get too worked up over it, boss man, it happens a lot."
"Really? And here I thought the military was afforded respect." Ironwood sighed, but knew that from the way the SDC official seemed a bit surprised he was even contacted, that this was standard procedure. He was too used to being on the frontlines against the Grimm. Maybe this sort of pushback was good for him.
Or incredibly annoying and obstructive. But he preferred to stay an optimist.
"We are, we're afforded so much respect that we're also the police. Seperate branch, but same thing. Thing is, the SDC have buying power, ya know?" Tortuga sighed and sipped her coffee. "Officially, dust storage shouldn't be hazardous. They just get cold feet when we come by, even if the White Fang are currently robbing em blind. Even if they're robbed, they come out looking like victims. But when we're in there, if we take the time to snap a few photos of the safety hazards, they'll be the ones who are ripped a new one." Tortuga chuckled a bit, earning a weary sigh from Ironwood.
"I suppose that is right." He sipped on his coffee and then, immediately, spat it back out. Luckily he was able to direct the spray out the window. "What is this!?"
"Huh?"
"This coffee! What is this?" Ironwood's face was scrunched up and he was scraping his tongue with his teeth.
"Uhh, lemme think. Oh, yea, a salted caramel latte." Ironwood visibly winced with every word spoken, as if it was a deadly curse placed on his family centuries back. Retroactively, Tortuga would wonder if his tastes in coffee was an ancient hereditary curse.
"Inexcusable, I can take this thing from the privates, but you? Atlesian Black is far superior." If he wasn't her commanding officer, Tortuga would've cussed him out over him favoring the fucking brick in liquid form over literally anything else. She'd heard from some of her soldiers that it was so thick, that on the frontier, they used Atlesian Black as mortar for brick housing. And god help anyone who only has the brew to drink, they'd probably dry up before touching it.
Statistically, frontier towns with only Atlesian Black to drink suffered more Grimm attacks than others. Apparently, when added to water, even without being heated, the Atlesian Black coffee beans sterilize the dirty water.
It was that bad. Even the fucking bacteria don't like it. The dirt and grime just flee when touching it.
Before an argument could break out and Tortuga could lose any more respect (and she had a lot) for Ironwood, there was a crash. From the building, a truck bolted out. Tortuga and Ironwood only took a second to pause before Tortuga put on her seatbelt and Ironwood stepped on the peddle. Tortuga automatically picked up the radio and dialed to her squad's frequency.
"Alright guys, let's get moving. The target is heading southwest. If you can get a clean shot on the tires, do it. Killing them is unadvised." Tortuga spoke into the radio.
"And injuries?"
"Keep it minimal, but go ahead." As she spoke, Ironwood drove furiously after the truck. The streets had been emptied as the military barricaded the place. And now the barricading cars were shuffling away in order to chase the truck. It probably looked a bit ridiculous, a hijacked SDC truck chased by a small legion of military cars and a bullhead.
But hey, this happened a lot.
Ironwood muttered swears as he hit a pothole and almost slammed his face in the driver's wheel. They should really get the streets checked out, maybe make a national holiday out of it. That was a thought! He swore and swerved and shouted as he pushed his foot on the pedal so hard that he was afraid it'd come out the other end. Tortuga wasn't taking any of this lying down, having pulled out a gun (with a silencer, even if they were in a car chase, no need to wake up anyone) and (because this was a roofless car) began shooting at the truck. But, she was still on a moving vehicle trying to shoot another moving vehicle. And they were being shot at as well by some dude in a mask who had stuck their arm out the truck window, a pistol in hand.
"This is fucking stupid." And they weren't alone. Behind them was a veritable cloud of fast military cars. And in each was at least one person besides the driver that held a pistol or rifle and were firing wildly at the truck, or well, the wheels of it. They were being slowed down by lines of webbing that occasionally stuck to their wheels. And the wheels of the truck weren't being blown to hell because of some other guy in a jacket and mask singlehandedly deflecting all of the shots sent his and the truck's way. It was, to be quite frank, a bit ridiculous.
"You know, I thought this was supposed to be a sleepy position." Ironwood groaned, even in the frontier, battles were a tad slower. In the span of minutes, they'd went from talking in a car to this.
And then he noticed that the katana wielding White Fang member had lept from his spot on the tail of the truck and was going to land on the front of the car.
"Take it!" Ironwood shoved the wheel into Tortuga's hands and jumped up onto the roof to grab the man's red blade with his metal hand. Ironwood chose to not shoot the man's foot, knowing the bullet would only hit the car and blow them all up. Instead, he kicked the White Fang member and tried to pry the blade out of his hands. What he got was a blast from the sheath, which Ironwood only then recognized was a gun. He had to let go and then engaged the White Fang member in a fight. Due to the extreme close range, Ironwood couldn't feasibly bring out Due Process and was stuck with punching and grabbing. Still, even when the man blocked his blow with a punch, the sheer force Ironwood could put into it pushed the blocking swordsman inches and made their arms buckle.
"Got you now!" Ironwood pulled out Due Process and shot the swordsman straight in the chest, blasting them towards the truck with the force. Their aura flashed and protected them, but Ironwood could only imagine the stinging pain from the force of his high caliber revolver.
And then the light around them was sucked into the red on the swordsman's clothes and blade. And as they flew towards the truck, they made one final swing.
It tore up road and vehicle alike, slicing them in half with sheer force. Blasts threw soldiers out of their cars and onto the sidewalks. Ironwood tried to block it with his hand before it could reach the chasing squad, but he was blown aside. Tortuga, knowing standing her ground would be a pointless death, simply hopped out of her vehicle.
A row of explosions rang out, leaving a portion of the street ruined, and a greater portion of the populace awake.
"God damnit." Ironwood sighed, at the very least, he could see no casualties.
After losing the cops and disposing of the truck, they had gotten to work distributing the fire dust they'd stolen to the people who needed it in the slums of Mantle. They were met with bright smiles and many thanks as they handed fuel to the people. And after it all, they got some drinks and food and decided to have a celebration.
"Cheers!" Yuma rose a beer and was met by a bottle of cherry soda (Adam), a bottle of grape soda (Ilia), and a glass of wine (Trifa). Adam, for once, actually had a small smile on his face, which Yuma actively pointed out earlier to his own (and everyone else's) amusement. "To Adam, who managed to save our asses once more!"
"It was nothing." Adam chose to remain humble, ignoring the searing pain that using his semblance created. Every time he let out a blast like that, he relived the painful experiences he was utilizing and unleashing. He's been relatively conservative with his usage of it, only unleashing its force when absolutely necessary.
"Jeez, stop being so modest. You're like an anime protagonist, you know. Trying to be cool and humble and aloof!" Ilia was particularly jovial, forgoing her normal somewhat crabby self in favor of enjoying the cheer of an after-action celebration. "Hey look at me, I'm Adam, I'm silent and mysterious and cool! I have a red katana and eyepatch and I close my eyes during meetings as if I'm sleeping." Ilia did it in a really shitty, but still fairly amusing, impression of Adam.
Adam sighed, he could tell it was just ribbing. And to be fair, aside from the burning feeling that still lingered on his scar, he was feeling relaxed.
"Whatever." Adam shook his head and let his smile grow a fraction of an inch wider.
And so, they rejoiced at a job well done.
"You were not only unsuccessful in capturing the White Fang members, your failure has destroyed a street, tens of thousands in military equipment, and also caused a mess in the media. What do you have to say for yourself!?" Ironwood stayed resolute in a salute to Brigadier General Edger. In truth, Ironwood was a bit ashamed from his failure that day. He should've taken the radio and commanded the men to systematically block the truck off. Instead, he had gotten worked up over the chase.
"Nothing, sir. I am simply used to leading on the field." He took a bit of pride in the fact that he lead from the front, shouting orders and commanding an unbreakable will on the frontlines. It worked to resolve the soldiers, who were often deep in the trenches or high on the walls, desperately keeping the Grimm at bay. But, he supposed it wasn't the best idea here.
"Sir, while I do think there was room for improvement." And even Tortuga agreed. "The media is not calling the Atlas Military incompetent. They are, in fact, praising Ironwood. He did, in public, stand tall against the attack the White Fang member had unleashed."
"And what difference does that make? That he's a glory hound?" Edger was having none of it and Ironwood both appreciated Tortuga's defence and wished she had never said it.
"It means he has integrity. He was willing to take the blow, even if it overpowered him in the end." After a brief staredown between Edger and Tortuga, the Brigadier General sighed.
"Whatever, it's not like this is the worst instance. You two are dismissed." And with that, Tortuga and Ironwood filed out of Edger's office. For a while, they walked in silence, until they reached the parking lot. It was empty, sans their car. Ironwood sighed and looked to his side to see Tortuga, one eye closed, the other open, and one hand smoking a cigarette.
"Want one?" The other reached out, offering from a box. Ironwood nodded and took one before lighting it.
"Thank you for the defence." Ironwood said, at last.
"Ah, it was nothing." Tortuga sighed and let her body unstiffen. While normally she walked and stood with a slouch, she had forced her back to stand straight when they were talking with the Brigadier General. "Jeez, this is a pain."
"Yes, it is." Ironwood sighed. Here he was, mid 30s, middling military rank, and smoking in a parking lot after a failed operation. "I know I am your commanding officer, but-"
"Jeez, we're alone, cut the military lingo. If that's the last thing I hear before I die, I'll fucking hold it off until I hear someone talk like a damned normal person." A puff of smoke came from her lips. A pause, it's been so long since Ironwood had fully transitioned from an impoverished youth to the career soldier. He sighed and shook his head.
"Sorry." A puff of smoke, a pause, and a question. "Why do you stay in the army?"
"Hmmm." Tortuga used her free hand to take off her beret. She dusted it off and smiled, staring at it. "Can't let go. I'm an army woman, Jame-Ironwood, sorry."
"No, it's fine, we're speaking candidly, aren't we?" Tortuga chuckled, she supposed they were.
"Well James, I'm an army woman. Young girl on the frontier one day thinks her life will just be marrying that cute farmboy next door and settling down farming potatoes. Then, the Grimm attacked. Next day, me and that cute farmboy are in a makeshift trench firing a machine gun at a constantly encroaching horde, desperately trying to protect the children we're loading into a bullhead. Those barely at the cusp of adulthood were conscripted as soon as they knew help wasn't coming. You know why?" Ironwood didn't. "Because the majority of the garrison were recalled. Shifting of priorities. We weren't a particularly big farming village, after all."
"And you joined the military, why?" Wouldn't that have left her with resentment for the institution?
"Cause I had a gun and I found out I was a crack shot. That day, I nailed a few hundred Grimm in the eyes with a machine gun." She let out another puff of smoke. "My village was gone, parents gone, all I had left were the other teens like me, who had nothing but the guns in their hands and an offer to join the military. So, they became my new family. Charlie, Rango, Mirai, Nisa, Montange, Jauffrey. All seven of us made the fifteenth green beret squad." Ironwood recalled that it was briefly mentioned as a highly decorated unit. "They were all claimed eventually. Charlie took a bullet from a bandit, we nailed the guy who shot him in the head. Rango rammed a bullhead into a nevermore so I wouldn't become birdfeed, he died bleeding out on the floor. Mirai was torn apart by a Beowolf. Nisa shot herself. Montange retired and starved, stubborn bastard never liked asking for help. And Jauffrey? The cute farmboy I knew so long ago? He died last week. Nothing complicated, he simply got sick." Tortuga's eyes were dry, out of tears to weep. "I'm still here, James. I'm 60, yet I feel like I'm 90. My generation, those six, are gone. And I'm coming with them soon."
"I fear the day when I take your place." Ironwood sighed, letting more smoke out.
"You're wise to." Tortuga chuckled. "I stay in the game because there's nothing else, James. I've lived my life fighting and I'll die fighting. But maybe, I'll see another green beret squad 15. One that'll retire with full honors and medals for their duty." Smoke mixed with laughter. "I think some of my men may be like that, we'll have to see."
"I'd be honored if I'm the one who presents the medal to them." Ironwood smiled as he imagined the image.
"Not the one with the medal?"
"I've already been a hero, Tortuga." Ironwood snubbed the cigarette, but not on his boot. Instead, he crushed the package of nicotine in his metal grasp and spread the ashes onto the floor. "I've already saved many on the field. Yet, people still suffer. If I'm the one presenting the medal, that means I'm also the one saving people from behind the scenes." Tortuga let out a few more chuckles. Not raspy or broken like the ones from before, but an honest, and joyful laugh.
"I'll be the first to salute you, Future General Ironwood." Tortuga offered a lazy salute and an even lazier smile. But to Ironwood, who hasn't heard anyone believe in his ambition since day one, it meant everything.
You know, odd thing I noticed but, why the fuck is Adam the leader of the White Fang? I check the wiki and literally nothing says 'charismatic.' I dunno, it just feels like his skillset is in personal missions and not, well, leadership. Being the head guy in an organization like the White Fang has nothing to do with the capability to destroy giant ass mechs, it has to do with having an innate understanding of logistics, how to manage an organization, and PR. I dunno, nothing makes sense I guess.
Also, yes, Service with a Smile reference.