The Romanian DMR user peered down the scope of her rifle, her supporting element of two riflemen right behind her, Ștefan included. The window of the abandoned building was covered by a tarp that obscured the sharpshooter as she shouldered the weapon. She murmured to herself, "I swear to Christ... Sarge really has us on some wild goose chases some times..."
"Least she and Vic convinced Lieutenant Lee to let us start poking back at the enemy outside of normal contracts..." Quipped Ștefan as he peered out from another window using binoculars. The markswoman snorted. The pair and their escorting comrades were watching over a small RV area for an underground Dust Deal that Torchwick was supposed to take part in after the nabbing of the Dust at the port.
They had the Frenchies with them, sat a room away. Annette, their runner, stepped inside, holding close her FAMAS as she took a knee beside the shooter and Ștefan. She told them calmly, "Micro-Drone pointed out the car we're supposed to be targeting. Two of our boys have one MILAN launcher set up in case things go tits-up and it has armor..." as she looked at the sharpshooter.
"I love NATO tech..." Murmured the girl, using her index to set the safety of the DMR to off, before peering through the Romanian-made PSO Scope. She watched Annette pull out a tablet, lifting it up and looking at it. The car turned a corner into the FOV of the Markswoman, straight down into an alleyway on its right, between two other abandoned buildings and into the dark shadows between.
From the back door of one of the buildings, exited a White Fang member clad in actual armor. A PACA Soft Armor vest lay draped on top of the vest bearing WF markings. Strange, considering the intel Torchwick gave told them this was gonna be a Dust exchange. She saw a figure climb out of the car, clad in a set of black clothes. Beside him, two soldiers, a man and a woman, stepped out.
"... Fuck. Kalashes again..." The Markswoman breathed, locking her scope onto the head of the leading man, "And they look fucking serious..."
"I see them, too," Both Ștef and Annette called out. Annette radioed in to her team and gave them three words in French. Their boots thundered outside as the group of five Foreign Legion members stormed out and down the stairs, their footfalls growing distant. Annette told the Markswoman, "I'll track them as they move in. You keep tabs on our Kalashnikov Friends..."
"Înțeles..." The girl replied, breathing in and out to slow her heart. The enemy troops were also clad in black, their Kalashnikovs seemingly modernized with ZENITCO parts. They wore Level 4 Armors and even actual helmets with soundproofing, as well as balaclavas and tinted goggles. They looked more like professional forces than average Grunts, meaning whoever it was they were escorting was big game.
She saw through her peripheral vision as the squad of Legionnaires below pushed forward, leapfrogging from cover to cover to keep themselves hidden. Three out of four of them carried HK-417 rifles. There was another pair, obviously, farther in the back. They'd displaced with the MILAN, to set it up in a proper ambush position outside, should it be needed. Another soldier of the unknown enemy emerged from the car, this one carrying a SAIGA Shotgun and the drum mags to make it a deadly weapon. He stepped up to the trunk of the car as the Fanger and their leader spoke, before pulling open the trunk to reveal a massive briefcase.
Slinging his shotgun onto his back, the man grabbed the briefcase with both of his burly arms, slinging it over his shoulder. He marched up beside the two men and opened the box, though his back was turned. Sniper gal swore and motioned to Annette to move the Drone closer. The Frenchie gave a nod, then pushed the small drone-copter above the targets and zoomed in with its camera. She gasped.
The Markswoman turned toward her as she showed her the tablet. She swore a storm up in Romanian, before radioing in, "TOC, this is Gauntlet... This is not a Dust exchange, repeat, this is not a fucking DUST EXCHANGE... Unknown Entity is arming the Fang with modern weapons!" And she turned back to the box, "I'm seeing modernized AK rifles, a Shmel launcher and maybe explosives..."
"Copy that..." Sam replied over the radio. She sighed deeply, then ordered, "Engage the hostiles and attempt to grab either the dealer, or his men for interrogation. I'll have some words with Torchwick..."
"Copy..." The woman replied, then shouldered her rifle again and aimed for them. She told Annette, "Tell Robespierre we're engaging... When I fire my first shot off, we go in, da?"
"Oui..." The woman replied, then complied, radioing her comrades. The 5 down below and the MILAN launcher readied up. Annette hurriedly told the MILAN to pull back to a safer position while the others prepared. The Shooter, meanwhile, zeroed in on her target. With one motion of her hand, she ordered the three other Romanians to go join the gang, before slowing her heartbeat via breathing.
And just as Ștefan and their buddies made it down, she squeezed. The 7,62mm round screamed through the air, slamming into the side of one of the bastards' heads, flinging his helmet clean off, much to the surprise and chagrin of his comrades and boss. The French began their assault, 5,56 rifles with silencers coughing lead out toward the remaining enemy troops.
A squad of White Fang poured out of the building their buddy had come out of, carrying modern AKs and even Vityaz SMGs. They pushed out into the street to meet the French and Romanian troops, only for the more elite and tactically-sound NATO soldiers that were pushing from cover to cover to waste them, a headshot each. No need to expend extra ammo, even if they could easily pierce armor.
The unknowns, meanwhile, pulled out their rifles and opened up on them. One of them hauled an RPK-16, a gun the Sniper immediately recognized due to the shape and the drum magazine, as well as the fitted bipod. Planting the bipod down onto the hood of the car, the soldier opened up with 5,45 rounds toward the allied line, attempting to suppress the group.
As Ștefan and his team advanced, another round rang out from the DMR and the Machine Gunner collapsed, rifle firing haywire into the sky. He collapsed, dead, gun jamming the moment it slammed hard enough into the ground. The last remaining guard pushed back his protected target as the White Fang's troops were gunned down in the street by NATO's advancing troops.
One of the Frenchies pushed up, firing to keep the men suppressed, while Ștefan and his comrades took a route around to flank. The markswoman watched one of the men radio in something, then turn toward her with a glare, before sniping him. She hummed, feeling a pit in her gut. She turned to Annette and said, "Let's get out of the house and join the others. I fear we may have incoming..."
The Frenchie gave a nod, packing her kit and radioing in to 'Robespierre'. She hefted her rifle off her back, racked its bolt and turned toward the door as footsteps came. She hummed, looked to the Sniper who also turned to face the enemy... Then grinned. She opened fire into the paper-thin drywall separating them from their targets, spatters of blood and the groans and thunks of corpses falling to the floor filling the room.
The two women pushed in unison out of the main door, kicking it open and each taking a side. Semi-automatic 7,62x54mm rounds and 5,56 snapped off in two different directions, multiple extra corpses falling to the floor before the markswoman switched to her pistol. She tapped Annette on the back and told her, "Right behind you!" as they pushed forward.
The two women burst out of the building and joined the Legion contingent, watching as more White Fang came out. These ones were trained, utilizing cover to exchange fire with them while the enemy leader ran for escape. The Romanian Markswoman switched to her DMR and took cover beside another Legionnaire with an HK, telling him, "We've got a lot of shit!"
"Who the fuck are these guys?!" Demanded Annette. She reloaded her rifle and swiveled about, firing automatic bursts into the building they'd come from as more bad guys seemed to pile out of it. White Fang, surprisingly, though a couple of them wore the same black armors and equipment as the rest of them. She dipped as a bullet whizzed by her ear and snapped off two shots in semi toward the guy, nailing his plate first and his head second.
"I don't know..." Replied the Markswoman, "Fuckers feel like ZASLON..."
"You shot at Zaslon before, eh?" Annette inquired. Another round zipped past her and punched into the concrete. Thank the maker for this sector being abandoned, she thought, lest the Police come in and kick off a three-way. Nobody outside Ozpin and a couple of the more important people of Vale knew they were here, so the engagement that was currently going off was top-secret, technically.
Another Frenchie yelped as a bullet slammed into his shoulder. He dropped to the floor, grabbing onto his hand, before calling out, "I'm fine! I'm fine! It punched through, merde!" And scrambling to his feet, taking cover behind a thicker part of one of the concrete walls. The group heard gunfire echo from afar and the Markswoman poked her rifle out, scoping in Ștefan and his boys kicking in the door from behind.
Another radio call seemed to have come in. The soldier in black leading the White Fang ordered a fall back. His accent was familiar enough, despite them not being able to make out the words under the gunfire. Though Annette could make out the accent. She poked out again and scoped the bastard in, before firing. Her quickshot was off, though, the bullet scraping off the man's helmet and surprising him enough for him to scream out, "Blyad!"
"Fuck..." Annette whispered, "Ruskies..."
"What?" The Markswoman demanded, "You serious?"
"I swear I heard him swear in their fucking pig language!" The girl replied as she switched to burst-fire and let loose. The White Fang troops began to retreat, while the unknown had already disappeared. She grit her teeth and swore in French, before hearing the White Fang call out a retreat on the other side as well. The screech of tires against pavement and the roar of an engine filled the place as the VAB appeared, taking a corner and turning its .50 cal toward the targets.
"We secured him!" Reported Ștefan over the radio, "Enemy's also pulling back!"
"Watch your fire. We're coming up," Diana told them as she dismounted from the VAB with Vesna and Lita. The girls and the group gathered up, weapons at the ready as they pushed forward toward the target. The Car had been totaled, filled with fucking lead by the exchange of fire, but the weapons cache had been dropped and was still whole, some of its contents spilled.
Diana murmured, "Seems like they didn't get their kit after all..." As she plucked up an AK12 plastic magazine. She sighed and tossed it aside, before sidestepping the car and seeing the wounded man in black uniform staring at them, his right hand draped over the wound on his hip. He breathed heavily despite Diana approaching him. She knelt in front of him and said, "Didn't know we're dealing with Mibs supporting the White Fang nowadays... Especially not with Earth ordnance. Who are you fuckers?"
Through heavy breathing, the man murmured something in a language Diana couldn't pick up. She grabbed him by the chin and said, "Speak up, dickhead. Who are you? Why are you arming the White Fang with these guns? You fuckers found these randomly and decided to start handing'em out like candy to a bunch of fucking terrorists, or are you just looking to cause trouble?"
He looked up at her, grinned and spoke, his accent thick, "To Victory... In this Last Trial..." before he bit down hard enough for one of his teeth to crack. Diana swore to herself as she saw the man start foaming at the mouth, twitching uncontrollably all the while. Within a couple of minutes, he was dead on the floor, the foam dripping down onto the floor below.
"Fucking cyanide pill in the teeth..." Diana sighed, "Some real Nazi shit... We got any ID'ing markings on any of the other dead?"
"Just a patch on the Machine Gunner..." Annette said, handing the item over to the Sergeant. A pentagon containing a two-headed eagle with its wings sprawled out. Above and between its two heads was a single star, near the tip of the figure. It was black, with white outlines and the eagle made purely of white threads. Pushing it into her pocket, the woman noted the issue and squeezed the pocket itself... Angry...
Diana murmured, "I hope to fuck I'm wrong. Pack the weapons and clean up around..."
Vesna looked over to see the green-haired Lita's eyes wide. She elbowed her in the shoulder and asked in Russian, "What's the matter, Li?"
"... Chernaya Liga..."
Back Home...
More specifically, back at the girls' old apartment, Lita sat on a chair, twiddling her thumbs and staring at the patch on the table. Ayesha was right beside her, arms crossed to her chest and a scowl on her face, so unusual of the beautiful Chechen. Victor, Vesna, Vera, Paul and Katja, all of whom were there, stared at the item as well. Katja and Paul both wore the same cold, calculate expression as they looked at it.
Paul himself looked cold, almost dead-focused on the patch itself and what it represented, while Vera was sat in the back, an almost unnoticeable trembling in all of her motions as she drank from a bottle of Vodka. Vic spoke quietly, "The fucking Black League... They're arming the White Fang. What the fuck are they doing on Remnant at all, much less arming a terror group...?"
"Must be some escapees, or the dead from the Far Eastern War," Lita suggested, then licked her lips. She stared on at the patch, before drawing her knife from her boot and stabbing into the thing in one swift motion, a primal growl escaping her mouth. The young woman grit her teeth, glaring at the stabbed patch, before retracting her hand and taking a few steps away, rubbing her face.
"... We'll be leaving, I think..." Paul said as he grabbed Katja by the wrist. He went and grabbed the patch as well, telling Lita, "We'll talk to Sam about it... And then to Ozpin. You girls and Vic just... Tell us how the drinks were after, alright?" before he waved and left with Katja. Vic looked back at them as the door shut, before looking to Lita. Ayesha put a hand on the green-haired girl's shoulder and said girl let out a deep sigh. Vesna, meanwhile, stared with worry in her eyes for her comrades.
"They're right. We thought we'd hold a party for you newlyweds before..." Lita stated, then turned to the couple and let out a sigh, "Sorry, I... Just..."
"It's fine, Li," Vic replied, "We get it..." And he squeezed Vesna's hand. The blonde looked to him and leaned on his shoulder, before nodding to her comrade. Li simply smiled, then motioned to Ayesha to grab some extra drinks for everyone, Vera included. Handing out a bunch of stuff, like Tequila and Vodka, to the group, they began their short drinking session in order to let off some steam.
Vic was not an avid drinker. Obvious by the fact he was barely touching his stuff, while Vesna, Ayesha, Lita and Vera were laughing together heartily. Behind their movement, though, Vic could see the tolls of the War. Behind it all, the Romanian could see the nightmares that had taken their toll on his girlfriend's psyche slip through some times. Similar nightmares, the fury of the War and their own Post-Trauma Stress showed on the faces of the trio that had been with her since they dropped in.
Vera's own seemed the worst if he could make it out properly. She was far less talkative, less happy-go-lucky, when drunk. She still laughed with the girls, though she seemed like more of a recluse. He could see a scar or two poking out from below her casual clothes, but she kept on drinking. They all did, even Ayesha, the Chechen, kept up with them. By the third glass, Vesna was wasted.
Vic had barely finished his second glass of whiskey, simply swirling the liquid in its glass as he thought of home and of the people they'd left behind... Despite it all, many would say Vic had magically gotten better after Vesna had arrived. They could not be more wrong. The young man was still a wreck, but he held together courtesy of his friends and his beloved. He had been through the constant fear of needing to deploy after the start of the Ukraine War, as well as through the hellscape that was Post-War Collapse Russia.
He had considered going to therapy for his problems. And he would. He'd have to drag Vesna with him, though, considering last night's nightmare. She had tried to hide a lot these past few weeks, but Victor had seen every single slip-up, every single mask drop she didn't intend to show the world, including her clinginess. He sighed and took another sip of his drink.
Before long, it was night. Vic had been stuck in his own thoughts, letting the girls chat for the duration. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Ayesha, her face as red as her hair. She sat herself down next to him and, clearly unable to form coherent sentences, tilted her head toward the corner. He blinked, turning to see Vena sat there, curled up in a ball and cradling her legs in her arms.
He blinked, looked to Ayesha who gave him a nod, then stood up and walked toward Vesna. Lita, meanwhile, watched the unravelling events. Vic approached the girl and took a knee in front of her, speaking softly, "Hey, Ves... Wanna go sleep this off?" though he got no answer. The girl simply curled up further. He could hear faint whimpers from her, as if she was crying. A hint of concern bit at his heart as he leaned forward, "Ves?" and he extended a hand, "Hey, hon... You okay?"
Said hand settled onto Vesna's shoulder. The girl yelped, looked up at him with the most fearful expression Victor had seen to date from the girl, then he doubled over as bare knuckles connected with his left cheek. A weak hit, comparative to what she could've delivered, and a lunge at that. The girl staggered as all the alcohol seemed to suddenly dissipate from her. She stared at her lover, who had put a hand onto his own jaw, feeling the spot where he'd been hit, before tears welled in her eyes. She jumped to her feet and ran, pulling open the door to her room and slamming it shut, even though Vic wanted to protest.
Lita was dumbfound to say the least, eyes wide. As was Ayesha. The redhead Chechen stumbled to her feet and plucked up a knocked-out Vera from the floor, dragging her to a separate dormitory so they could both sleep this shit off. The Romanian looked to Lita, before stepping up to her and pointing at the door to Vesna's room. He whispered, "What the fuck was that about...?"
"... I wanted her to tell you herself, but..." Lita let out a deep sigh, pinching the bow of her nose, "Sit down... We have to talk..."
The two sat down opposite each-other, Lita presumably considering how to best lay this all out for Victor to understand. She sighed deeply, then said, "Remember when I asked Vesna if she told you what she needed to tell you at lunch?"
"Yeah," Vic nodded, "Clear as day... Was going to ask, too, but..."
"But you didn't want to hurt her and couldn't come to any of us because it'd be a breach of a trust you've been trying to build up after you two haven't seen each-other or us for nearly three years," Lita noted, surprising Vic by how succinctly and properly she put it. She had always been the most straightforward out of the group, "And Vesna was basically the same... She did not want to tell you because she figured you'd be worried to death about her well-being, mental or otherwise..."
"Yeah," Vic replied, "Fucking obviously, I'd be worried about her. She's my fucking fiancee."
"We told her the same things. Me, Vera and Ayesha. She kept telling us that 'he doesn't need to worry about me' and 'that I can manage', before putting on a smile that was more of a facade than anything..." Lita seemed to grow increasingly angry. She breathed in, then out to calm down, then told Victor, "... You know we fought in the War, I assume. She told you."
He nodded, "Also told me that was one of her old nightmares. Bakhmut and the fighting there..."
Lita sighed and snorted, "Blyad, that's a nightmare for every one of us... Not the point, anyhow," She then continued, "You also know we're the most elite Russian unit. Our force trained with NATO in the KFOR project, after all..." And got another nod from Victor. She added, "Well... As you'd expect, being the sole unit with any sort of actual proper training in a corrupt army got us a lot of 'bad' rep. They'd call us traitors or spies or some other shit like that. Hell, while the norm for Army units was accidental Blue on Blue every other day, for us... It wasn't accidental..."
"... What happened to you, to her, for what you just witnessed to happen, Li? You gave me enough background tales..." He sighed and shook his head, "Don't fucking get me wrong, I care about you girls, too, but..."
"I know, Vic. No need to clarify..." Lita replied with a wave of f her hand, then sighed deeply, rubbing her face, "Fuck, this won't be easy to get into... Thanks for mentioning Bakhmut, cuz that's the stage for this," and that seemed to get Victor all the more worried. "... We were at the rear once. Our troop was stationed nearby the same area as the fuckers from Wagner Grup. Fucking Penal Legions..." The girl growled, before her expression turned apologetic, "... I can't... Put it in any other good way than directly, Victor... They nearly raped her."
"... What..." All color seemed to drain from the Romanian's face as the temperature in the room dropped several degrees below freezing.
Lita nodded, seeing the blood boiling in the young man's veins just from the scowl that now adorned his face. She told him, her own green eyes burning with fury, "... We caught them just as they were prepping for it... When we saw what was going on, I don't think Ayesha or I hesitated... We lit them all up. Five Wagnerits, all dead. They all stopped messing with us since, but we still slept in shifts, weapons in hand..."
"Fuck... That explains her jumps when I... When we were here and I hugged her and..." Vic growled, then covered his mouth, gritting his teeth. He looked to Lita again, partially begging, "Please, tell me... Did-"
"They didn't get far, like I said... She's physically fine, if not psychologically." She sighed. Vic seemed to show a little relief at that, as Lita told him, "... So, now you understand. The war took a toll on her more than all of us, considering how naive she was when she joined the Army. You remember how she was even in KFOR... And compare it to how she is now."
"I get it..." He sighed deeply, "Thanks, Li..."
"Sorry you had to find out from me," She replied, grabbing a bottle and taking a swig... She sighed and said, "Victor. Promise me... Promise me... That you will get her to go to therapy."
"Obviously," He replied, standing up, "Now, if you'll excuse me..." and he motioned to the room. Lita nodded, then leaned back into her seat as Victor left toward the door. A soft smile adorned her face. She was thankful that Vesna had someone like Victor around. That they both had each-other and that this entire FUBAR group had one-another for support.
Victor entered the room slowly, seeing it was dark. She saw Vesna laying on her old bed, wrapped up in a blanket and could audibly hear her whimpering, crying presumably. Slowly, he stepped up to her bed, sat himself down and put a hand on her shoulder to let her know he was there. She gasped, then was completely surprised by Victor wrapping her up in a tight hug. Her voice cracked as she asked, "Why...?"
"... Because I love you, you idiot..." He replied in a whisper. She turned toward him, to look upon his face, only to see a mix of feelings. Worry, fear, fury and the likes, though the lattermost was not directed at her. He caressed her cheeks, then begged her, "Why didn't you tell me...? God dammit, Ves, you've been hurting. I saw it, too, but I didn't want to... I thought we'd agreed not to keep any more secrets from one-another..."
"I..." Ves shrunk in her blanket, averting her gaze, "I thought I could keep it under control... Just, be myself... So you didn't have to worry about me... Not after all that happened..."
"Of course, I'm going to worry about you," He told her, holding her close, "Ves, I know you better than you think. I saw everything, the way you were acting, the slight twitches whenever I hugged you, the..." He shook his head, then sighed, "This is not something you can deal with alone. And if you aren't going to talk to me, your husband, about it, who else is left in the world...?"
As tears welled in the corners of her eyes once more, the man told her softly, "Keeping it under wraps wasn't going to help. Hell, it might've just ended worse... You suffered enough because of that fucking war. I don't want you suffering here as well, especially not alone. Not anymore, because," His own voice cracked and grew low in volume as he held her close, "God dammit, I dread what would've happened to you if you fully cracked at one point..."
The blonde soon realized what he meant. She swallowed empty, before trying to find some words to comfort him. She could find none, nothing to speak whatsoever. Instead, Vic spoke for her, slowly pulling back to look her in the eye, "I love you. Anything that aches, you, anything that so much as bothers you, you should be able to come talk to me about it, if nobody else. Otherwise, what good am I in your life?"
... And at those words, the dam cracked and broke, the young woman wailing in her lover's arms as she held onto him like he was a life-raft. She whimpered, pressing her face into his shoulder, then spoke, "I'm so sorry... I should've come to talk to you from the beginning. I should've said something. I even promised you I wouldn't..." and she whispered, "I'm an awful wife..."
Vic sighed deeply, then shook his head, "You aren't. It isn't your fault. It's that goddamn war..." before holding her close and comforting her, letting her cry it all out once more. He ran his hand through her hair, kissed her forehead and held her close, until all tears dried up. As he leaned down with her onto the bunk, he whispered to her, "... Ves, I have to ask you to promise me one thing..."
"Mhm..." She replied, voice muffle as she held onto him.
"... I've slotted myself in for therapy at a nearby hospital. I want you to come with me... Because I won't let you be in pain anymore, not without doing something about it..." He requested, or more-so, demanded, before dipping down to look her in the eyes. She gave a soft smile and a nod of confirmation, her eyes still puffy and red from the crying. He smiled softly back at her, then leaned in and pecked her on the lips, telling her, "Good... I love you..."
"I love you, too..." She replied happily, "Can we cuddle?"
"Obviously," He chuckled, then pulled her even closer. She let out a short giggle and leaned into it, with Vic pulling the blanket over them. He whispered, "Good night, my love" to her and received a reply from Vesna in Russian that faintly translated to 'Good night to you as well, my beloved'. Lita had watched the entire procession from the door. She then gently closed it and sat on the couch, turning on the TV...
... She swore to herself, if Jim didn't get anything done, she'd get it done for him...