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SilverstormXD: We edge nearer and nearer to beginning my conquest for world domination…
Not really sure what else to say… guess I'll just leave it at that… You heard nothing about plans for world domination. Nope. None at all.
Chapter 12: Taste Of Battle
Several slender figures pranced about in the shadowy depths of numerous alleyways that sprouted from the main road, each serving as a miniature garbage dump for the people of Vale. The silhouetted figures moved fast, only providing a shimmer in the darkness to distort and reveal their position. Whoever they were, they were fast, but not the best. The cover of night ensnared their figures as they manoeuvred with impressive levels of agility about the rooftops and alleyways.
Six simply rested his scope on one of the many shadowy figures; this one perched on a rooftop. A pair of bull horns sprouted from his head, a mask covering his eyes and a sword by his side. His attention was pinpointed on the now-moving SDC convoy that slowly rolled along the road, Joshua Graham and Ulysses accompanying a large armoured vehicle that cruised along on a mass of sixteen rubber wheels. A group of five armed men were the only unfamiliar faces present in the convoy.
Six's scope lay still on the man whom remained perched atop the roof, still gazing down on the convoy with an acute and fixated gaze, examining the two odd figures that stood out from the rest of the convoy. The Courier saw no tell-tale insignia, but the bull horns that sprouted from his head told the Courier that the man was not human, but of faunus origin. Whoever this guy was, his outfit seemed to differ from the multitude of others whom had now joined him on the rooftop, still obscured by whatever darkness was offered in the dull moonlight.
The others, an even distribution between males and females, as Six presumed by their… bodily features and shapes, all bore a mirroring symbol, a wolf head with three red claw marks striking through the centre - the White Fang symbol, if Six could remember correctly from his and his companions' research opportunities.
The group began to split, each traversing the rooftops, left and right of their previous position. In time, groups of three were evenly spread across multiple rooftops around the centre of the overly-extensive street. They waited for the convoy to near.
Six set his eyes down his scope once more. The man was still there, still watching with a murderous intent in his posture. He seemed professional, not some amateur. His mask and outfit differed greatly from the others, giving Six the impression that this man was some sort of leader or higher up of some sorts. The Courier would shoot this man first.
His finger tensed on the trigger of his silenced rifle as he awaited the appropriate opportunity. Then again, he could just fell the man now and move on to his colleagues. It was a sound idea.
"Would it pain us to go any faster?" Joshua questioned, concerned about the painfully slow speeds the vehicle and its escort were travelling at.
"We gotta stay cautious," Tallis informed, "Never know what to expect. SDC's got a lotta enemies."
Ulysses nudged Joshua, the Burned Man soon becoming aware of the distinct shuffles and movement about the rooftops.
"Should the movement on the rooftops concern us?" Joshua asked, turning to Sergeant Tallis
"Not yet," Tallis replied, "Wait for them to move first. We got limited ammo and want them close before we put 'em down."
Joshua nodded and waited for their unseen adversaries to make their move, as Tallis had suggested.
Their move came soon enough, a barely audible silenced bullet ringing out through the street and dropping one of the many silhouetted figures that stood across the rooftops. Each of the figures took this as a signal to attack, near twenty dropping from the rooftops and immediately charging the convoy with curved blades.
They each wore hooded mask and bore a familiar symbol – the White Fang insignia.
The Survivalist's rifle threw many bullets towards Joshua's advancing enemies, three bullets per person before he switched his deadly gaze to the next advancing oppressor. The first bullet seemed to just ping off, the second dazed, and the third put them to rest. He switched out the ammo clip for a fresh one and continued dropping his attackers one by one.
Ulysses held his 12.7mm firmly in his hands, the SMG proving to be as effective here as it was back in the Divide. The weapon still remained loyal to him, wiping his enemies from his peripheral vision just as soon as they had appeared in it. He had used Old Glory once, caving a woman's head in with two firm strikes. The sight was gruesome, to say the least, yet he paid no immediate attention to it, instead focusing on those who were charging him – the undisciplined fools they were.
If this was their way of fighting for freedom, Ulysses was surprised they had even had a minor impact aside from acting as sponges to soak up ammunition and forcing the kingdoms to invest in more munitions manufacturing.
A silenced bullet spewed from the Gobi's barrel, impacting the man directly in the head. He dropped – for about ten seconds. The man soon began to stand again, slightly dazed but still maintaining his footing as he tried to regain his surroundings.
'I need an upgrade' was all that Six thought before moving on to spy his next target.
The White Fang operatives had each descended to the street, resulting in a full on battle between the convoy's escorts and the White Fang, the latter having a distinctly harder time. They were shown to be less experienced and less skilled than the convoy's guard, each dropping quickly to a multitude of bullets and failing to even land as much as a finger on any of the escort. The vehicle sped up, now moving at a measly ten miles per hour, upping the five it had previously been rolling along at. The escort sped up to a fast-paced jog to keep up with the vehicle and more White Fang spewed out from the alleyways.
The sudden disappearance of the man whom he had failed to kill was only a minor disturbance, Six focusing on taking out as many of the grunts that had charged the convoy from the alleys, focusing on the few who adopted ranged attacks and managing to drop several of them with two bullets each, managing to either incapacitate or kill them – Six didn't concern troubling himself with which of the two had occurred. One for the aura, one for the bone. His gun clicked empty and he holstered the Gobi on his back, producing his Plasma Rifle.
With no ammo in his long-ranged weapon, Six decided it best to descend to the street and assist his comrades in the war that currently waged on below. By now, half the city was sure to have been awoken by the gunfire. Come to think of it, those combat schools may have been alerted about gunfire…
Dismissing the thought, Six vaporised some poor fool who sprouted from an alleyway unexpectedly, the Plasma Rifle liquefying the poor woman and reducing her to a lowly pile of green goo. One hit kill.
Another figure was liquefied at the will of the Courier's Plasma Rifle. He simply stood and watched as the green ooze bubbled and boiled, sizzling and hissing as it began to settle into a small puddle that illuminated the area about it. The Courier smiled.
This was going to be a good night.
Joshua snarled at one of the many now lifeless White Fang corpses that lay splayed across the bloodied concrete. Off to his side, one of the masses was missing his head and one poor woman was disfigured to horrific extents, her skull having been caved in during the battle. Several piles of green goo were distinctly visible amongst the flood of red, white, and black, courtesy of the Courier whom had quickly descended from his post due to a lack of ammunition.
Amongst the bodies lay one of the soldiers under Sergeant Tallis' command, now lifeless and motionless. An extra number to the body count.
Tallis paid no respects to the man, nor did his comrades.
When the Courier joined, a slight altercation arose between the Sergeant and the Courier, but that was soon resolved when Joshua stepped in as the voice of reason, explaining that Six was a friendly. The Sergeant didn't seem too worried, seeing some familiarity in the trio's outfits. He asked no questions about their clearly inferior weaponry – aside from the Plasma Rifle – surprising Six to some extent and even raising some questions as to why the Sergeant hadn't even bothered to acknowledge the weapon, it being clearly superior to his military's own.
Six had questioned as to why they simply left the bodies strewn about. He thought it would surely result in some sort of public or faunus uprising to see dozens of men and women slaughtered in the street.
Sergeant Tallis simply dismissed this, saying they were criminals and that it wasn't their job to clear the bodies off the street, just defend the vehicle.
The rest of the convoy moved ahead swiftly at a brisk pace, the occasional small sounds putting the Wastelanders on their highest guard – save Ulysses, the man having farther more acute senses and experience. Each sound was dismissed as a false alarm, nothing serving to interrupt the convoy as it rolled along smoothly.
They soon arrived at their destination, some sort of makeshift private airport in one of the quieter sides of town. Well, more than quiet, absolutely deserted, not a soul to be seen for the next mile. The occasional wildlife sprouted up every now and then as the convoy had moved through. The Wastelanders paid no attention to the odd rat or stray dog, even though such a sight was extremely rare in the wasteland, majority of the animal population having been exposed to overly amounts of radioactive material after the bombs dropped, resulting in a great deal of heavily mutated – and hostile – wildlife.
The group simply dwindled for the next few passing minutes that seemed to lumber by as slow as they could before finally passing with the opening of a door in the armoured vehicle's side, a man wearing a classy suit emerging with a pair of large, metal suitcases in his bare hands and hanging down by his side. The suitcases seemed heavy as the man seemed slightly strained as he dropped them down on the concrete road beneath them. He disappeared back into the vehicle, soon emerging with another pair of large, metal suitcases, setting them down next to the other two, filling the gap between them. He repeated this process until there were seven suitcases lined up in single file on the concrete road.
"Mr Schnee would like to thank you for your assistance," The man said, "Your payment, one each," he gestured to the metal suitcases, "Five-hundred thousand each, just as promised… Now, if you would please vacate the premises, Mr Schnee would rather be safe than sorry."
Each of the group did as instructed, the Wastelanders taking their pay and heading on their way whilst Sergeant Tallis and his remaining three comrades took their pay and ventured off in the opposite direction from which the convoy had travelled.
"Why were there only seven cases?" Joshua asked, though he expected the answer he would receive from Six. He simply wanted to clarify with his partners.
"I said there would be two of us there. One of those five died earlier on. Seven in total." Six replied, as Joshua had expected, "I suppose they never tried to identify us, let alone memorise our attire."
"We should get back." Joshua said, Six agreeing.
"You think any planes run this late?" Six asked
"I should hope so." Joshua finished as they trekked down the road, back the way they had arrived, in search of an airport – or some kind of aerial transport service – in hopes that they could return to Beacon immediately.