Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. It is owned by Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum (RIP).
"Took you long enough," I complain, scavaging my weapons along with any useful supplies. Blake stands to the side, Adam tending to a wounded Qrow. She stiffly remarks, "We're here. Aren't we?"
Sliding the chamber back on my rifle, I reply, "If you've gotten here sooner than later, we wouldn't be in this mess." She knew it was true; her people had troubles like this in the past, considering Atlas and Vale scour the region for potential targets. I expected them to operate on par with the Taliban or Vietcong based on their equipment, so I assumed they get here ASAP after Taiyang contacted them. Guess I was wrong.
The woman was gone, undoubtedly towards the woods, leaving her subordinates on the ground.
"For once, I can agree with him." Qrow remarks, getting up on his unsteady feet, "Tai sent out that distress signal when he found the house on fire. We thought you guys had our backs."
The young girl doesn't look amused. Before she can retort, Adam intervenes, "We were dodging patrol craft on our way here. Seems they were preparing for this."
He looks at both of us, "I apologize. My men are already scouting the area for any potential clues."
"So what happens now?" I question. This night is already perilous as it is: Qrow, Summer, and Ruby are bruised bad, the house is gone, burnt to the ground, and we still have a specialist in the woods somewhere. She could at any time launch her own ambush and recover the operatives we've captured.
When we counted her losses, the White Fang found two dead operatives, four unconscious members, and a wounded one.
I cast an eye over the operatives, all tied up and given some kind of sedative.
"We can't," Adam looks over at the captured enemies too, "take them with us. These guys are Ace Operatives. Part of Ironwood's personal guard."
"They're that good?" I inquire.
"Now, I really think you aren't from here," Qrow says, leaning his weight on his sword. Beside me, Qrow got off relatively lucky- I mean, lucky if you consider a couple broken ribs a good thing.
"I've already established that," I complain.
"Sir!" One of the Faunus shouts out to Adam, grabbing his attention. The Fang member has a large gash across his shoulder and chest, blood slipping through the wound into the cold air. He seems shaken and lost his equipment except for his uniform.
He collapses on the ground in front of us as one a comrade jumps in to tend his wound. Adam asks, "What happened to you, brother?"
"It-It's her. Our guys...my men- butchered by her." He says between pants.
I take out a small drone from my back, throwing it into the air, watching it unfold. The little thing hovers and flies off.
"She's still here," I say, kneeling to look at the Faunus in the face. "What else do you remember?"
He coughs, taking a drink of water from the canteen given to him before answering. " We...we were tracking her in that direction," he points to the woods at my left, "One of us saw her and several other humans. All in white. Atlesians."
"H.U.D.D.A.C, survey their area. Fead real-time data to my map."
"Is there anything else you can tell me?" I ask him for more information. He shakes his head, making me disappointed at such limited intel.
Getting up from my knee, I tell his comrade to take him to a secure site. He quickly says, "Yes, sir." carrying out my order.
"Adam. Get Summer and them," gesturing to Qrow as well, "out of here, I have a feeling our friend is preparing a surprise."
He looks at the captured operatives, the injured Summer and Ruby- the former shuffling awake now- and his forces. When they got here, I counted 30 heads, without Blake and Adam, but now, we're reduced to 26.
If I am right, their stealth capability can be used to ferry more troops, and with Vale letting Atlas do whatever it wants, there's going to be more.
"Only four of our brothers and sisters can take them; we are going to need everyone else." He states, turning his back from me, facing the forest. I walk up next to him, displaying a map and the drone's camera.
"Activate night vision and check engine exhaust." The camera turns green, showcasing six gray spots on the screen.
I point at the spots to Adam, "Those gray spots are the exhaust of an engine, as well its friction. Judging by those spots and the craft she used earlier, I can count three...maybe four."
"Each Bullhead carries twelve grunts and androids. Most likely, one is an android dropship, meaning twenty more." he elaborates. "Our 22 against their 44."
"We can use a squad to draw them in the forest and set up an ambush for them."
He contemplates this before yelling out, "Jade, Borus, Ciara, Darcy.", those that have these names came to his attention, waiting for his orders. "Establish a ridgeline here. Once we give the signal, fall back to woods to the boulder."
They obey his order: fashioning makeshift barricades from snow, rocks, and wood. As they do so, Adam tells the remaining eighteen Faunus, "Once our brothers and sisters bring them to boulder, we'll ambush the Atlesians. Gather all equipment and prepare to move!"
He looks at me, "You're with me."
"Duh. You think am leaving?" I rhetorically ask him as he looks at the young cat Faunus, "You know what to do." He simply says, Blake, giving a subtle nod. I notice her face at his comment: anxious, stiff, and somewhat quick than the other W.F members.
The boulder is a good position, just good and very good at being terrible. Initially, I envisioned a cave inside it, high vantage points, and an open space around the rock, perfect for an ambush.
Instead, the Faunus takes us to a giant lump of a rock with no open space, entirely obscured by trees, no caves, more understandable though, but made of marble and not granite.
If I had to choose the exposed field or this boulder, for sure, I prefer the former over the latter. Following this, he arranges his forces in impromptu positions that are more exposed than he realizes, especially since the Atlesians brought Bullheads for air support.
We camouflage ourselves with snow and sticks, hoping the snow will mask our body temperature in case of thermal scanning. I simply engage a kind of low-temperature mode on my body.
Blake and I huddle behind an outlying boulder, eyes searching for indications of movement. Blake seems cold; her breath shoots out chilly shoots of air, and my scanners say her body temperature has lowered by three degrees Fahrenheit.
"Drone-1 has detected hostiles. 20 moving from north of positon, 10 east, and west. The remaining four unknown." H.U.D.D.A.C communicates through my radio.
"Here they come," I whisper to Blake, who readies her twin swords, and I set up my rifle, hoisting the butt under my left shoulder.
"I hope you guys can take them on," I tell Blake. She doesn't respond, merely waiting for the enemy.
"Perhaps they can."
My radar pings and pings, showing them get closer and closer at 100 ft. Pursing my lips, I slide the chamber back to allow the rifle to eject any stuck or misprinted cartridges. My H.U.D displays a targeting sight and other vital information one would see in a shooter game.
They get closer.
Ping.
90 feet and closing, definitely in rifle range, but Adam restricts fire until they get closer.
Ping.
85 feet.
Ping.
They wait.
They're holding at 85 feet but not getting closer. Squinting hard, I look at the drone feed for any info. I notice something off.
"Where's their leader?" I murmur. Blake moves her head slightly to get a glimpse, then she shouts, "Rockets!"
Their rocket's sound different than those on Earth, but a rocket is a rocket. Blake and I squeeze tighter, narrowly dodging the flying shrapnel, splinters, and debris shot up from the ground and explosion.
Streams of black propellent fly overhead, hitting the natural barricades we use for cover, shooting rock and metal into anyone unfortunate. If it wasn't for my personal shield, a piece or two would have lodged themselves in my leg. So many rockets screamed overhead, making me wonder if they brought in more gunships.
What happened next is a flurry of gunfire from a rain of yellow, orange, red hail. My gun spat out metal bullets, making crack sounds compared to the electric pinging everyone else's guns were making.
The battle eventually stopped mid-range, descending into close-quarters, allowing me to fully exercise my preferred fighting style. One white-uniformed soldier tried to slash me with a sword, only for me to dodge and respond in kind. The kukri went through his armor like butter, not pausing for a moment.
I fired pistol rounds in one hand and hacking with my kukri in the other, H.U.D.D.A.C predicting the best evasion or shot while updating me where the enemy is.
"Adam!" I yell into my earpiece, fighting back to back with Blake, who turns out to be very capable. Especially considering she aided Adam in getting me back from the tower after being stunned. "We have to fall back! I count four gunships in the A.O! More on their way!"
"Dammit. Fall back to the base." He yells back.
"Blake, lets-"
A/N: If y'all want a more original story: story/257217784-war-of-the-three-salem%27s