Jäger Chapter Twenty-Nine: Preparing for War
Vacuo-Vale Border…
In a shallow, arid canyon in Vacuo, a loud shout echoes.
"Man, this fuckin shit is starting to get way too damn easy lads!"
Atop the lead wagon of a small caravan, the bearded leader of a rag-tag group of bandits is applauded with coarse laughter. The wagon train they had just captured was part of the quarterly supply run from the rich border towns of Vale to the major cities of the desert lands of Vacuo. In the distance behind them, shrouded by the ever-constant sight of mist, the massive mountains that divide the two kingdoms seem to look down on this scene ominously. Typically this event involved large numbers of wagons, with heavy escorts by soldiers of both kingdoms, to protect the valuable supplies from both Grimm and opportunistic bandits. This particular batch of merchants, however, had the misfortune to have been delayed by bad weather while crossing the pass. When they finally emerged, they were easy pickings for this group of three dozen bandits.
"Ey boss, wha we gonna da ith dese chumps 'e 'ave?" ask a half-toothless, bearded bandit, his spear/bow combination weapon pointed at the two dozen gagged and tied convoy members. The leader of the criminals scratches his chin with the hilt of his long, curved dagger, a cruel glint in his eyes. Finally, he lets out a bark of laughter.
"What we normally do, Scrag. Go to the nearest outpost, try to ransom them, and once we get it, kill them!"
So much focused the group is on their prize, that they ignore the rocky cliffs on either side. If they had, they would have possibly noticed the occasional glimpse of movement, or maybe the glint of sunlight being reflected off of bare iron. Four men carrying rifles kneel once they are in position, two to either side of the canyon. The tall, yet young, person who is the apparent leader looks down the barrel of his lever-action gun is lined up directly with the head of the bald, bearded fuck.
Once that is done, he flips open the latch to one of the four leather-covered boxes on his belt, revealing a long, rectangular block of wood with six deep holes drilled into them. Inside of each of the holes are seven .56-.56 rimfire bullets, stacked on top of one another inside a metal tube. The purpose for the tube was to be taken out when a reload was needed and inserted into the tubular magazine located in the butt of the lever-action rifle. In addition to his repeater, he carries a holstered, high-powered revolver that can also transform into a bowie knife strapped to either of his thighs. A yellow-and-red bandana covers the lower part of his face, while the cowboy hat protects him from the scorching sun.
Next to him, who is also kneeling down on one leg behind the decent-sized rock, is a short but broad-shouldered and dark-skinned man wearing a faded blue civilian coat, slightly torn brown pants, and a khaki-colored wide-brimmed hat. As opposed to his nearby companion's multi-shot breach-loader, he is armed with a longer-barreled, single-shot, rolling block action breach-loader. Around his waist, just above his belt, is a bandolier for carrying a number of 8mm rounds, with a second bandolier diagonally across his chest. Another six rounds are held by a set of fabric webbing fitted on the right side of the butt. Finally, another three rounds are held in his left hand between his fingers, the purposing being for a quick reload after the already-chambered round is fired. The man cocks the hammer back all the way, and then nods at his commander.
A grim expression on his face, the cowboy-like teenager looks across the canyon, and cocks the hammer of his own gun upon seeing another khaki hat being waved back and forth several times in a pre-arranged signal. He turns to his older companion. "Take out that archer, while I go for the leader, understood Shaka?" Shaka grunts in acknowledgement, adjusting his aim. His younger companion then looks through the iron sight once again. He takes a deep breath before letting out two words in a loud, commanding tone.
"OPEN FIRE!"
As soon as he finishes saying the last part of his command, the cowboy squeezes the trigger. The hammer slams forward, hitting the striker that sets off the black powder contained in the copper shell casing. The gas then shoves the lead bullet down the gun barrel. The gun bucks somewhat as the bullet emerges from the muzzle, a relatively thin white cloud of smoke appearing in front of the cowboy. Meanwhile, said shooter keeps his eyes focused on the expression of shock on the face of the self-appointed leader of the now-ambushed bandits. That expression quickly slackens as the dagger-wielder stumbles backwards, off of the top of the cart, courtesy of the cowboy's bullet creating a bloodied hole roughly in the center of the forehead. At the same time, the archer/spear-wielder drops his weapon and reaches for his throat as Shaka's bullet also rips straight through the flesh of his throat and shattering the relatively-weak neck bones.
Once he sees his target is killed, he moves his right hand so that it is gripping the lever directly underneath the butt and trigger of the gun. Yanking it downwards, the still-warm copper shell casing is ejected from the breach, and as its operator returns the lever to its original position, a new round is chambered. Beside him, Shaka moves the breech block of his rifle back up, a new 8mm round already chambered to replace the one fired. Almost as one, the two cock their hammers on their rifles backwards. They both pull the triggers of their rifles, having already lined up their iron sights with new targets.
Both of the hammers seem to lunge forward as one. Again, both lead bullets strike true, killing two more bandits. Leaderless and heavily demoralized, the opportunistic thieves and murderers begin to scatter. A few members who are armed guns, however, try to return fire. While it may be seen as being brave, it is ultimately useless. The four attackers continue their deadly stream of metal death with no remorse.
The skirmish ends as swiftly as it began, having lasted less than five minutes. The entire group of bandits has been wiped out, with no casualties to either hostages or attackers.
"Another worthless group of thieves dealt with, Colt," Shaka says in a simple comment, grunting slightly as he stands back up.
"Indeed, Shaka. Ah reckon—"
Colt never finishes his sentence as four distinctive, high-pitched beeps goes off. The four gunslingers are being hailed by their fellow Order members. Pulling out the specially-made and encrypted Scroll they had been issued upon joining, Colt's dark brown eyes slowly start to widen as he reads, and then re-reads the message. When he looks up, he sees a similar look of shock on his second-in-command's face.
"Mah god. Ya'll okay with escorting the caravan to the nearest city?" Shaka doesn't respond, merely rolling his eyes slightly in mock indignation. Colt lets out a sheepish smile, letting out an awkward cough. "Right, stupid question. Once yah finish that, assemble the others. Ah have no doubt that we'll be moving out soon, so it would be nice to be ready to move out for this upcoming battle."
Later…
Colt Remington enters the ground level (and obviously well-hidden) main gate to the massive, multi-level complex built within the large, mist-shrouded mountain known to the four kingdoms as Mount Suribachi. Equally well-hidden is the extensive, but currently unmanned, defenses. Heavy machine gun pillboxes are almost hidden to all but the most trained eyes, while empty slots are the only indications of the anti-tank and field guns that would be rolled out for firing. At and around the midway point of the exterior of the mountain, stone casemates, reinforced with high-quality steel, serve as dedicated positions for far-reaching howitzers and heavy artillery have camouflaged mounts, allowing for highly-accurate and well-protected gun positions. Spread out between those heavy guns and the upper slopes of the mountain are heavy siege-type mortars, and the mountain's primary long-distance air defense, surface-to-air missile launcher sites.
Inside the massive, carved-out mountain that serves as the central base of operations for the Order of the Shrikes of the Mournful Dawn, the activity that started only days ago has not stopped, only increasing. At the root of the mountain, the sprawled-out mine is being operated at 100% capacity, huge chunks of tungsten ore, as well other valuable metals, are being extracted every hour. From the mines, the raw ores are sent to the large forge several levels above. There, several dozen men and women, many with few if any peers in their fields outside of the Order, pound, melt, and shape the materials to create deadly Aura-piercing and anti-Grimm rounds for various types of weaponry. Lesser ore, such as iron, is smelted into steel for shields, melee weapons, and of course, body armor. The ringing sounds of metal being hammered and molded into these forms echoes throughout the bowels of the ancient mountain.
Towards the center of the mountain base is a massive, open hanger/motor pool. Almost a hundred of heavily-modified Bullhead transports line the sides by the walls. Some have hollowed-out areas in place of the passenger compartment, designed to transport one of the numerous large armored vehicles, of various sizes and types, all owned and operated by the Order. In addition, twelve sleek-looking fighter jets, with forward-swept wings, are being checked up on to ensure that they are fully prepared to serve as high-speed escorts.
Another two specially-designed aircraft huddle to either side of the two massive sliding doors. Each is a single-seat, twin jet engine fighter. A deadly-looking, seven-barreled 30mm rotary cannon juts out from underneath the nose of the fuselage, while various hard points along the wings allow the fitting of various types of munitions, such as rocket-launching pods, missiles, and of course highly-explosive Dust bombs. These serve as the primary, designated ground-support fighters. Both have the snarling, legendary Wyvern Grimm sketched onto the front of the fuselage.
In the center, grease-covered mechanics continue their check-up of a large, 10-foot tall and seventy-six and a half ton heavy tank, its turret carrying a nearly 20-foot long gun. Nearby, the twin engines of an even larger, heavier tank, its main turret armed with a long-barreled 75mm gun, and a smaller, secondary turret at the back, armed with a 20mm auto-cannon, and a machine gun armament of three 8mm machine guns, lets out their throaty roars. A third vehicle has workers checking on its eight missile tubes, while several more finish polishing the 30mm cannons mounted on either side of the turret. Other vehicles are being loaded with ammunition and fuel tanks are completely filled. While one such mechanic finishes emptying a jerry can into the fuel tank, four more men finish their own task of placing belts of 23mm autocannon shells are loaded into the radar-carrying turret of a four-gun self-propelled anti-aircraft gun platform.
The nearby rooms that branch out are, mostly, smaller. These are the armories, each containing a staggeringly wide variety of various types of weaponry that would make a weapon geek like Ruby simply shut down and drool is awe. One of those rooms is unique in that it holds various types of rocket launchers, ranging from rocket-propelled grenades and recoilless rifles to anti-tank missiles and anti-aircraft launchers. The only room that isn't small contains the cannons of various calibers and types that make up the potent artillery of the Order. Low-lying anti-tank guns, far-reaching heavy artillery, high-arching mortars, light-weight and easily-disassembled/assembled pack guns, heavy recoilless rifles, all of these and more are present here. While most of the larger cannons are deployed in or near the exterior casemates and pillboxes, there are a few examples designed to be deployed in the field. An 88mm anti-tank gun lies in a corner, its massive barrel partially covered by a somewhat-sloppily placed camouflage net. The distinctive grooves, clearly visible on the muzzle of a 152mm howitzer are certainly a curiosity to behold.
The next set of rooms on the next level, which is situated between the halfway point of the mountain and the very peak, contain the barracks, mess halls, gyms, and other training rooms for the nearly thousand soldiers present and not deployed elsewhere like Colt was. Despite the large amount of space, almost all of the off-duty men and women are in the training room, either sparring against one another or sharpening their skills with their weapons. It has been estimated that it can have a maximum capacity for around eight thousand soldiers and support staff. However, the days were that number would be used have long passed, and only a third of its potential occupants actually use it. The rest of the Order are either deployed on missions or stationed near the kingdoms of Vale, Vacuo, and Mistral.
But it is the very peak of the carved-out mountain citadel that is the most impressive. Extremely strong yet light one-way windows had been placed all around. Inside is some of the most advance electronic communications equipment currently known to the four kingdoms of Remnant, even for the people of Atlas. As Colt enters the room, he sees that inside are a number of people. Some of them are in some sort of uniforms. Others are in armor, such as the seven-foot-tall man towering directly in front of the young Colt Remington. Said fighter straightens up immediately, his right hand being raised as he salutes the second-in-command of the Order of the Shrikes of the Mournful Dawn. A quiver of arrows hangs, slightly loosely, at his waist, while a grey, feline-like tail twitches back-and-forth every so often. Opposite of his quiver, a scabbard for a tachi hangs close to his side. The tall man wears laminated armor, with a symbol of a bald man sitting cross-legged, a large orange circle starting to peak out behind the figure. Over that he wears white robes, and his normally-present cowl that obscures all but his nose and eyes of his face is absent.
"Good. Now that we are all here, if you would, my musume," Minamoto Tākoizu, Jake Torchwick's second-in-command, asks, turning to his shorter daughter, Tajima. She nods once in reply, her dark black hair tied up in a bun underneath her fanciful helmet: two straight antler-like horns, with a butterfly whose wings are fully extended between the two at the crest of the helmet. Leaning over the consul of the large, circular and mechanical table they were all gathered around, she types a command into the consul.
For less than a minute, lights flicker and machinery hums before finally a solid, albeit blue, image appears. "In the name of the Brothers we serve," the Jäger intones with a solemn manner.
"In the name of the Brothers we serve," Everyone says in return.
"As happy I am to see you all in good health after these long months at Beacon, we all know that this meeting is of vital importance. Salem is stepping up her plans for war. I have ascertained the location of Amber. She is alive, barely. Salem's pawn has severely weakened and somehow managed to siphon off a fair amount of power from the Fall Maiden. I know that she is present on Beacon grounds. I fear that the Breach is merely the prelude for something far larger," Jake says.
"Do you think that something will happen during the Vytal Festival?" An officer wearing hunting gear used in the wilder regions of Vale asks. Jake grunts in response.
"Absolutely, which is why I am now speeding up the deployment of our forces," Jake says, nodding once to Minamoto. The tall puma Faunus presses a button on the table, and a map of both Vale and Beacon Academy, along with the surrounding area, appears. "Colt, once the majority of our Vacuo brethren are mustered, you are to take them, as well as most of our SPAAG batteries into the outskirts of the city. From there, you will secure and establish a perimeter around both Beacon and the city. Keep out of sight from Ironwood's men. Before you ask, yes, he is in charge of security for the duration of the tournament. Keep an eye out for unregistered aircraft and large aerial Grimm, understand?"
"Ah hear ya loud and clear boss-man."
"Good. Minamoto, I have decided which units to send as reinforcements. I want the 8th Machine Gun Squad, two rocket-launcher teams, and the first section of the 18th Atlesian Infantry Company. Make sure that the commanding officer of this detachment knows to stay low, and avoid drawing the attention of General Ironwood. Last thing we need now is for Atlas to try and arrest their so-called traitors," Jake finishes with a growl.
The 18th had been an elite, combat-proven company under the command of the Verde brothers. When they had been arrested, so too were their subordinates when they refused to turn the then-Atlesian Faunus officers. So of course, it went without saying that there was more than just bad blood between them and Atlas. A woman in the uniform of the police force of Menagerie now addresses their leader with a simple question of her own.
"What about Samar and his squad?" The Jäger pauses for a moment, his holographic projection showing that he is holding his chin with his left hand, deep in thought. Finally he turns to Tajima.
"Last I heard they were deployed in Mistral in pursuit of a local terrorist bombing cell. What is there status on that front, Tajima?"
"Sir, he sent word that he was going to launch a raid within the next two nights." Again Jake gives a single nod.
"That is very good. When he returns, inform him to ready his squad for deployment in Vale by the time the festival starts. Tell them to bring everything. Scanners, door-breaching charges, stun grenades, you know, the works. Am I understood?"
"Hai!"
"Minamoto, I want our men at maximum readiness. Have all units form up and stay under war-time conditions until I say otherwise. I will leave it up to you delegate which of our armored forces will be deployed in the city if the call goes out. However, I would like for you to arrive in Vale a few days before the tournament." Upon hearing this, father and daughter briefly exchange equally-puzzled expressions before the former looks back up at the holographic figure of his leader.
"While I can do this sir, may I ask why?" His already piqued curiosity is only raised further by the slight grin appearing on Jake's lip.
"I would have thought that you would like to see your protégée again. I suspect Ozpin and his compatriots are looking at possible Fall Maiden candidates, and I wouldn't be surprised if she is chosen. It would be nice for her to have a friendly face secretly guarding her."
"Miss Nikos?"
"Do you have anyone other than your daughter or her as your protégée?"
Having known the Jäger the longest, as he was one of the first to be recruited to replenish the ranks of the Order upon Jake's appointment as Grand Marshal, Minamoto doesn't reply, knowing the rhetoric question was more of a jest than an insult. Jake then looks behind him before resuming the meeting.
"I have to go. Colt, inform me when you have established that perimeter. Minamoto, inform me both when the requested fighters have arrived and when you are on your way to Beacon. Also, I want our air fleet at maximum readiness. Until next time," Jake finishes before severing the connection. His ghostly form disappears from the table, and his top officers all exchange reserved looks. After all, who knows who will die and who will survive the coming storm of fire and death?
And done! Hopefully this will continue to be the minimum length from now on. Also, this is also the start of my (5 day) Fall Break, so I am planning on having the next chapter up soon. Colt Remington belongs to Le MAO XXIII, and Samar belongs to phillipf1114. One last thing, sorry if the ending feels rushed, but I wasn't sure how would be the best way to end it, and I may have gone overboard with describing the military capacity of the Order of the Shrikes of the Mournful Dawn. As always, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and feel free to leave your thought and other stuff behind in the comments. Have a wonderful time until next time! Next chapter: A Trip to Vale