Chapter 10: Ramble On
Another world... long ago...
They found her at the comm station. She was deciphering the radio chatter.
Yankee approached Synth –practically dragging Vlad by his armor– with a business demeanor. She looked up at him, and –although her visor hid her face– she lit up a smile. "Plyu–Yankee, you're here." "What'd you want, Synth? Anything we should know?" she sighed. "Da, yes." She became professional. "The rebels know we're here, the 451st at least." She looked deeply into his eyes –or where they would be, behind the skulls sockets– secretly trying to appeal to him. "They also have armed men inside the colony." "C.Q.C" Vlad noted. Yankee grunted in agreement. "There's more," she continued, "they have women and children in there. Innocent families. This is their home, and they will defend it." Vlad cursed in Russian. Yankee turned and walked a distance away, processing the information dumped on him. Vlad and Synth exchanged glances; then watched as Yankee kept going.
He heaved a sigh and hardened himself. "We don't have a choice, do we?" Although formed as a question, Yankee said this as a statement. He sighed, again, and then said, "We better keep an eye on the 451st, and our own. We don't want a massacre on our hands." A soldier passed, rubbing his suit neck trying to get at the itch from his ten-day-old nicotine patch. He looked at the operatives, and chuckled at Vlad's visor engraving. Behind the visor, Vlad beamed.
The entire team, now eleven remaining, assembled. They all prepared for the assault, checking their weapons, most of them standard assault rifles. The man who spotted the haboob was rechecking his automatic grenade launcher; he wore a twentieth-century peace symbol on his visor. A man sitting next to him was sharpening his hybrid cross between a sword and machete; he wore a pair of eye-level fangs –or serpentine irises, no one was sure– on his visor. Sitting on a rock, a woman sighted a long-range sniper rifle; visor adorned with a simple eye-level chevron. Another woman stood, cocking her .30 cal. SAW; a jagged-tooth grin spread on her visor like its mouth, a grin of malice. Across from her, Synth, Yankee, and Vlad stood, checking their standard rifle, .30 cal. SAW, and 20mm autocannon respectively. Four others wielded the assault rifle. One, a woman with the red sun decoration, first hefted a triangular anti-armor repeating rocket launcher, and fastened it to her back. Yankee checked his own heavy weapon, a five-round infantry mortar. He strapped it to his back then checked his team. "Alright," he said when they were ready, "Let's Roll."
They had been walking for what seemed like weeks, but only was a couple hours; they were about halfway to vale as the crow flies… at least that's what he said. Nick tended to stay toward the back of their troop. Ruby occasionally walked next to him, talking about Beacon, and about Yang, "I think you'd kinda like her, she strong, tough, and…um…independent. She does make bad jokes from time to time…" Blake kept sneaking glances at Jaune. She had overheard all about his loss, wishing she could comfort him. She had to use her semblance to escape being found out by Nick. Now she kept going, somewhat loathing returning to Vale, where the White Fang were looking for her.
As Ruby talked on about how Yang used to read her bedtime stories, an important Idea returned to Nick. I'll have to get a stick. Either that or some duct tape. I should also talk to Yang's dad –'Tai' if I heard right. Re-gen ain't fun, it hurts worse than hell. She'll scream, like I did.
Qrow called them together, looking up at an impending snowstorm. They would have to make camp, and he knew it.
It started to snow.
Nick walked over to a small tree, shadowed by Ruby. He grabbed a fairly thick branch, bent it, drew his knife, and using the serrated back, sawed it off. He quickly cut it into a sixteen-centimeter segment, stripped its bark, and taking out a small file from his axe's handle, started sanding its surface. He walked back over to the group, and sat down on a rock listening to Qrow.
"We'll make camp here, to try to wait out the snowstorm. We got our bags to set out, someone needs to make a fire–" "I'll do that." Nick stated, putting the half-sanded stick and file in a pocket. "I'll get some firewood!" Ruby cheerily said. Blake looked on as Jaune said, "me too." She was about to volunteer as well, but Nick gave her a sharp glare, slightly shaking his head.
Does he know? She thought, maybe Nick's right, I should leave him be.
Jaune picked up several dry branches. He was about to return with his bounty when Ruby's voice called out from deeper in the forest. "Hey Jaune, come here." He walked toward the direction of the voice. Suddenly, Ruby appeared next to a tall, old, dead tree. "Hey, you think this is enough wood." She drew Crescent Rose and raised her to strike.
Nick had chopped away at the permafrost with the spike of his axe, leaving a ditch, and had gathered some small and medium branches and some kindling; now he took out a small, well-worn metal bar and scraped tiny shavings into the pile with the blade of his axe. When a small pile of shavings formed, he flipped the bar over to reveal a black, well-worn strip along its length. Blake and the rest of them watched as he used the blade of his axe and struck along the black strip. A host of sparks erupted; after a few more strikes, the pile of shavings sputtered and caught fire, burning quickly. The tinder caught fire from the super-hot shavings. In a minute, a fire crackled within the dirt bowl.
Nick raised his head at the sound of a falling tree. Everyone looked in the direction of the forest. Jaune came out, carrying over an armload of dry branches. "Um, Nora we may need your help." He said as he unloaded his cargo. As the two ran off for the felled tree, Nick started to chuckle, then sighed and turned back to the fire.
The fire still crackled late that night, still tended by the sleepless Nick. Everyone else was asleep, except Ruby, who was keeping watch through the snowfall. Nick heaved a sigh as he remembered his days before his arrival. He rolled up his left sleeve and profoundly gazed at the old branding mark on his inner forearm; it was still lightish-red. He remembered that day he took the red-hot specially designed brand and branded himself with it. The mark left behind was… a red hand.
"What's that?" Nick looked up at an onlooking Ruby, simultaneously pulling back his arm into its sleeve. "Don't worry about it." "Oh… okay." She stepped up to the fire and sat next to him. After a few moments, a log shifted in the fire, releasing a flurry of ashes and sparks. Ruby watched as the sparks each vanished into the clouded sky. A tear formed in her eye as she remembered that moment on the tower. She wiped it away, giving a little sob.
They broke camp with the dawn. Qrow kept an eye on the sky as they moved on down the path on their way to Vale.
Hours passed.
It wasn't the growling that alerted them to the Grimm, nor their lurking shadowy forms. Both Qrow and Nick heard them moving along with them first, long before they saw them; neither Qrow nor Nick said anything, they weren't really concerned. Winter was too busy keeping Nick and Qrow in sight to notice.
It was Blake and Ren who reacted to the Grimm first, drawing their weapons. The Grimm circled around them, blocking the path on both sides. On one end, several Ursai stood; on the other, even more Beowolves crouched. Through the trees, a King Taijitu slithered, a few Deathstalkers roamed, and a Boarbatusk grunted. The Huntsman, Specialist, and the Huntsmen & Huntresses-in-training all encircled each other, weapons drawn.
Nick had other ideas He simply sat down in the middle of them, popped in his earbuds, and listened to his music.
The King Taijitu reared a head and sprang, followed by Qrow slicing that head off. They all attacked, Grimm cut down by blades and bullets, only to be replaced. Winter leaped atop a Deathstalker, summoning a few Grimm of her own. Qrow finished off the Taijitu, setting his sights on the other Deathstalker; Meanwhile, Ruby, Weiss, and Blake tag-teamed the Ursai and Beowolves with Jaune, Ren and Nora, clearing the path. The whole fight took no more than ten minutes.
When they vanquished the Grimm, Nick stood back up, stopping his music, and said, "Well, looks like you had that in hand, it was quick." Weiss walked over and pointed her rapier in his face. He didn't flinch.
"You could've helped, you know." He looked down at her, smirking. "It wouldn't have been fair to the Grimm." He stepped around her and continued on down the path. "It's time to Ramble On." They stood there, looking at one another, and then followed.
By lunch they arrived in Vale. In the weeks they had been gone, the streets had been cleared, but reconstruction had been halted until spring. Winter looked around at the destruction in silent awe. Nick glanced around in mild interest; he had seen the same thing before, several times over.
They had to wait for the ferry. Qrow took them all to the diner the four first visited, the one across the motel. Everyone got something to eat; everyone, that is, except Nick, who only asked for a glass of water. The others thought that he gets seasick; but he abstained from a meal for more religious reasons. After an hour, they boarded the ferry to Patch.
Qrow punched in Taiyang's number. When it answered, he said, "Tai, we're almost there…"
Bullets whizzed and screamed past them; some even shattering on their armour. They pushed forward, stopping only to lay down covering fire as the others moved forward.
The desert in front of them suddenly erupted, a sand geyser of reddish-orange. Two more erupted around them, all accompanied by a loud explosion. The group took cover, flinging themselves on the ground. As the sand settled, Yankee checked the progress of the 451st; both sides of the two-prong were still steady. He glanced at his own team –now down by one– and at the couple volunteer squads from the 451st. the squads had volunteered to run up the middle along with Yankee's team, Wolf Pack 9; in all, over thirty men and women ran up the middle. The old airlock was in sight, not even half a kilometer away.
Yankee signaled to charge, and they all stood up and sprinted, following Yankee and his friends. Gunfire filled the air like a swarm of locusts. Looking back, Yankee saw as someone got shredded apart; their chest turning into a bloody cavity with the spine becoming clearly visible. Over the comms, above the battlefield chatter, someone screamed, "SHEILA!" A man stopped and kneeled over the corpse slumped in the sand. He looked up in anger at the enemy… and his visor exploded in a spray of glass, blood, and a yellowish fluid. Yankee turned away, back to the front.
All of a sudden, it felt like someone plunged a super-hot spike into Yankee's shoulder. He stumbled, grabbing his shoulder, but kept moving, gritting his teeth against the pain. A bullet pierced right between two plates of armour, embedding in his shoulder.
Vlad's twenty mil. barked out, shredding into the enemy trenches and gun emplacements. Yankee and Malice Grin joined him with their thirty cal. SAWs, along with two from the volunteers. The five took point as the rest stormed the trenches. Some of the rebels who tried to surrender were slayed where they stood, but the few who survived were tied and taken prisoner. Many dropped their weapons when they realized they'd been outflanked by the 451st two-prong. Middle group now had no more than twenty-three men and women. Over eight were either shot, or blown to pieces by mortar shells.
"We've secured the outside, now it's your turn." Maj. Joanes approached Yankee; He was sitting on a crate, Synth digging the bullet out of his shoulder and sewing up the wound. "If it's all the same to you, sir," the man with the smiley-face spoke up, "we'd like for you to send some of your men with us, preferably one's who won't break and wreak havoc." Maj. Joanes stood there a moment. "Who the hell are you, agent?" Vlad bristled, "I'm Operative Alfa, second in command of Wolf Pack 9, friend of Operative Yankee." Maj. Joanes stood his ground. "A sodding Russian!" he turned to Yankee, "Is there something I should know about?" Yankee heaved a sigh. "Our reports suggest that there are civilians, innocents inside; women and children." The major cursed.
"Aw, to hell with it! Request accepted, Agents."
A/N: yeah, there was a little gore there, so don't hate me.
In other news, I feel a little tired of not having any cool cover art here. Thing is, I don't have a way to get any fanart (I'm no artist, And I don't quite know how DeviantArt works.) If anyone can help, I could use your advice.
The reviews:
merendinoemiliano: Thanks for your support, man!
GamehunterMC: Well, does this chapter answer your question. When I read your comment, I wasn't sure if you were being sarcastic or serious. *ha-ha and general laughter*
well, I guess there's only one thing left to say, "see ya later!"
