NOTE (Feb. 16, 2018): Heads up. This chapter is total action/adventure. Next chapter is going to be a bit lighter.
What in the goddamn..."
"This...how did...h-how..."
Six stole a glance behind him; out of the bewildered brats, Weiss sported horror on her puffy mug. You know about this, Snowball? "Don't tell me this is from Remnant."
"It looks a lot like Atlas technology," Yang mumbled dumbstruck.
Atlas? "So this is from Remnant," he grumbled.
"Atlas is one of the four kingdoms of Remnant," Blake explained. "So yes, this is...most likely a product of Atlas. Or resembles something they might be working on. I'm not sure."
Goddamn it. First people, now war machines. The Courier rapidly replaced the standard bullets in his rifle with hand-load explosive rounds. He scanned the hulking robotic beast huddled dormant atop its dais. Bipedal; two arms fitted with enough firepower to level a multistory house; body of a damn T-Rex; armor designation and metallic composition unknown. With that design, barring the firepower its packing, this battle-bot might be as predictable and vulnerable as deathclaws.
"If that thing comes alive, aim for the legs," he advised.
"We know how to deal with this," Ruby addressed with a hint of confidence. Her scythe had already extended to its maximum radius.
"Start dropping hints then," Six said, noting every discernible feature on the construct as well as the rest of this cavernous underground complex they had wandered into. "But if it comes alive, you kids better put it down quick."
"We got you, Six."
"Don't have to tell us twice."
"Don't worry! Just leave the leg-breaking to me."
The humming in the walls grew louder until sparks flickered from rips in some of the wires running over the floor. Energy surged instantly into the machine, bringing it to life in as much the same way as Doctor Frankenstein would with his own zombies.
The machine's 'head' flashed its omniscient red eye at them, registering every single individual on its sensors and immediately labeling them as hostile. Before it could so much as aim, Six fired two shots in quick succession. The first round blew a hole in its armor while the second tore dug into the hole and ripped apart its left leg, severely stunting its mobility and forcing it down onto the floor. Just like deathclaws.
The rest was a flurry of movement courtesy of the teams RWBY and JNPR. While flashy, their attacks reduced this 'United States Army prototype' to smoking scrap metal.
Knowing the Old World, there's bound to be more of these in stasis somewhere. "Stay alert, kids! Expect more of them," the Courier hollered. Earth borrowing Remnant technology or the other way around? Either way, this ain't good for anyone.
He stepped over the broken robot. A closer, incriminating look revealed details that triggered more alarm bells in his head. The hell? This...this doesn't look like it's two hundred years old.
"This thing...is too fresh out of the assembly line," he muttered under his breath.
So why the hell was it labeled a 'U.S. Army prototype'? Enclave? No. That wouldn't make much sense. Pre-war? Can't be pre-war if it's this clean or there's some time distorting shit going around. Big MT? No, I should be notified if something happened there. Then again, it has been a long ass while since I last checked up on comms with those eggheads. What the hell is going on here?
"You got something, Six?" asked Ruby.
He pointed to the catwalk above them. "Hyper, take your team up there and give us overwatch."
She nodded, her apprehension betraying her nerve.
If only she could see through his closed helmet. I trust you, Hyper. "The rest of you, follow me and stay close."
They stumbled into a damn warehouse.
"No," Weiss squeaked. "No, no, no, no... This...this can't be..."
The supervisor's office had a good view of the elephantine grotto housing three rows of inactive 'Atlesian Paladins' or something along those lines. Or they somewhat looked like Atlesian Paladins, or an earlier version of some kind of Remnant robotic war machine. At least, according to Snowball.
Six was sure he heard the brats skip a few heartbeats at seeing something like this. It was nothing new to him though. Besides, the secrets he strove to keep hidden underneath the Lucky Thirty-Eight and the rest of New Vegas sort of ran along the same vein.
He checked the wiring and found the terminal on the desk still operational. He switched it on, hacked his way in, and perused the data flooding onto the screen. "We got a whole damn platoon down there."
"Weiss, have you come across news of any...recent supply problems in Atlas?" Pyrrha asked, the worry seeping through her inquiry. "Or perhaps anything significant?"
"Or involving these?" added Jaune.
Weiss shook her head in disbelief. "I...I don't understand... None that I particularly recall. These all look like...previous designs. Look, their weapon systems are different and the main body looks too small to house a pilot. The hoses and the servomotors are even exposed. If I recall correctly, per Atlas combat system design regulations, they should be encased."
"So...are these ours? As in 'made in Remnant' material?" Nora wondered.
"They're all inactive," observed Cat-girl. "Even then, if they really are earlier Paladins, then that makes them mechanized battle suits. They're made to make the basic foot soldier a formidable battlefield weapon."
Ruby nodded. "So without a pilot, they're basically scrap metal."
"I wouldn't bet on that," echoed Six. Teams RWBY and JNPR huddled around the shimmering terminal screen displaying lines of code and text that were either too sophisticated or too convoluted to be understandable to the layman. "These are all automated. They don't need direct human control. All it takes is a power source and these bastards will light up like the Securitrons on the Strip. Complete with their own A.I."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Jaune looked a little pale. No one could blame him. "You're saying that these Paladins...have minds of their own? And they just need new batteries?"
"Pretty much."
A gulp. "Anyway to shut them all down?"
"I'm working on it." The Courier perused the schematics, identifying chinks in the armor.
Whatever these Atlesian Paladins were, they were clearly miles apart in form and function from RobCo's commissioned models. Based on the information he was getting, a single Paladin outclassed a Mark-II Securitron. That meant that these war machines were designed by Remnant for Remnant. Someone took the time and effort to transport them to Earth and had them refitted to fight on Earth's terms: no Dust, no Aura, no Semblance. Just raw science coupled with heavy firepower.
Then he uncovered the munitions manifest which listed their ammunition: thousands of twelve-point-seven depleted uranium rounds and a gross of M42 Fat Man micro-nuclear warheads. "Ah, shit..."
"I'm starting to get a feeling that whenever you say that, something bad is about to happen," remarked Knight-boy, his 'family heirloom' sword tight in his grip and his shield up in front of his face.
"Jaune, shut up before you jinx—" Yang was cut off by the vibrations caused by over a dozen Paladins coming to life.
By then, Six had shut down the terminal in a futile attempt to counter the bunker's automated security system. That's settled then. These things shouldn't see the light of day. He dug into his munitions pouches, feeling for what he needed to put an end to this engagement before the entire facility would come crashing down over their heads.
"Hyper!" he called out.
Ruby slid up to him with Crescent Rose in her grip. "Six?"
The Courier began chambering his rifle with pulse rounds. "Use Crescent Rose."
Hyper blinked. Twice. Three times. Then smiled as she twirled her oversized gardening tool in a proud display. In her mind, this was going to be easy.
Only, it wasn't.
The Paladins had been retrofitted to be absurdly resistant to Dust. In contrast, the twelve-point-sevens chipped away at their Aura like buzz saws. Their Semblances could only do so much in the face of this much firepower. Oh, and the facility was collapsing on top of their heads; the system's automated monotone voice announced the irreversible countdown sequence minutes earlier.
"Six! We have to get out of here!"
"They're blocking the exit!"
"I don't know if we can smash through!"
The Courier lacked Aura, had no Semblance, and was useless with Dust. But he did have his own skill set and a few built-in tools that accommodated the lack of those. His eyes took less than a second to note the positions the brats placed themselves in. Teams RWBY and JNPR managed to take down a handful of Paladins until the remaining robots utilized their built-in artificial intelligence by tactically regrouping and coming onto them in full force.
The brats' formations splintered after that.
"We're stuck!"
"Can't hold this for long!"
"Six!"
Nine robots. Close-knit formation.
Hyper was trapped on the catwalk above with her sister, with the only option to jump atop the machines. Shaolin, Pancake, and her damn pet were corralled into an empty room with only the barricade they put up being their only protection from the barrage of bullets tearing into it. Knight-boy, Sparta, and Cat-girl were exhausting themselves frantically dodging the enfilading fire that was ripping apart the entire complex. Meanwhile, Snowball was trying desperately to maintain a cluster of glyphs to delay their approach and support everyone else.
All it takes is at least one...
"I don't want to die here!"
"SIX!"
He had to wait for the right moment. Nothing was invincible; there was always that opening that he had to look real hard for. A moment later, he saw it. Reflex rapidly centered his aim and he fired.
Time to move.
The pulse round did enough damage to stun the closest prototype and that was when everything else in his God-forsaken, overused, over-abused, over-experimented body kicked in.
"Ruby, Yang! Hit 'em from the top! Now!" he boomed.
They hesitated for a bit. Then Crescent Rose and Ember Celica rained down fire into the mass of robots.
"Nora: legs! Ren: arms!"
Shaolin and Pancake burst through the barricade, ripping through the forest of appendages that kept the Paladins standing and sending the bulk of them tumbling down on top of each other. Even that little monster of a pet Syrup scampered up to the only robot unaffected by the attack and tore away entire coils of servomotor wires from an exposed gash in the rear of its torso, rendering it immobile and vulnerable.
"Pyrrha, spear! Two o'clock! Blake, distraction!"
The redhead's javelin-gun had already wound its way into the head of a Paladin still standing, knocking out its sensors and sending it toppling onto the other war machines that had been confused by the many illusions of the feline faunus girl jumping between them.
"Jaune, cover me! Weiss, put one under me now!"
The blond knight nodded and planted the base of Crocea Mors into the floor, absorbing the debris and shrapnel sent sputtering their way. A widening glyph glowed beneath them, charging the soles on the Courier's boots before he leapt high above the tumbling prototypes.
Whether it was adrenaline, a break in his psyche, or the various little special trappings sown into his body, time seemed to slow. Six was several feet above the Paladins. All eyes followed the round metallic object flying out of his palm, its piercing red lights flashing...
"Cover!" the Courier yelled, lining the sights of his revolver on the active EMP mine.
He squeezed and everything went deafeningly white. For three seconds. And the retrofitted Atlesian Paladins were forever still.
It took a while for Raul to find them. The ghoul assailed the rugged cliff face to reach the other side of the mountain where he literally dropped in on them catching their breaths in front of the entrance to a disused mine-shaft. It was not too hard to figure out what had happened in there.
"That was some shit advice, Raul," Boss snarled, wincing while massaging his arms. "Christ, I'm hurting from my pelvis all the way down."
Raul snickered, popping open two bottles of Sunset Sarsaparilla and handing him the other. "It still worked."
The Courier could not help the twinge of pride showing on his scowl.
"What are you going to tell the NCR now, Boss?"
"Cave-in."
"You sure they'd buy that?"
"I'd be dead before they catch on."
And the little diablos would be back where they came from or far away from the NCR as possible by then. That much went unsaid.
Six allowed a mischievous smirk. "Besides, I barely made it out alive of that goddamn shit-hole."
Raul raised his brow. He chuckled and threw a thumb over his shoulder at teams RWBY and JNPR huddled by a campfire they started up. "You still keeping them in the dark over the little diablos? They already know."
"Not much."
The ghoul conceded. "They still know."
"They don't know everything."
"You have a point there, Boss. Not like I don't always underestimate the capabilities of a military government with an effective intelligence agency subsisting multiple departments specializing in various fields of, oh say, intelligence gathering."
Boss gave him a fierce glare. Raul would never tire of it given how much shit the Courier always dragged himself through whether or not he wanted to.
"You know, Boss, if it makes you sleep better at night, I did some digging and the best anyone in the NCR knows about them are their first names."
"And I plan on keeping it that way," Six growled.
"For how long exactly?"
"As long as it goddamn takes."
"They really are special to you, huh."
Raul never let up. It was just like him to be so persistent. Poking at him for answers about why the kids were catching their breaths a good ways across from them.
"They really are special to you, huh."
Six exhaled. "I'm not going to even lie to you. Those kids don't deserve to be here. They should be back home. Where they came from. Where they belong."
"Boss, you can't regain innocence—"
I know. "That's not what I'm worried about. I don't want them turning back up in Remnant like us. Trigger-happy, jumping at shadows, burning bridges before building 'em... I don't want them having shit like this hanging over their heads, them acting like us in a place that isn't meant to have people like us."
Raul grunted. "You're right. Unlike those little angels, we both deserve to burn."
A long sigh. The Courier leaned his head against the rock, eyelids finally shutting. "I don't know how the hell they wound up here but when I found them..." Why'd they have to behave just like her? They look so much like 'em. Why'd she even have to look so much like her?
"Boss?"
He took a long swig hoping the sugar in the sarsaparilla would make him feel any better than he already was not. "I'm going to find a way to send them back. 'Til then, I'll maybe watch over 'em before they, I don't know, disappear."
"Why again are you still holding onto them? Because I'm sure their antics are being counterproductive to your productivity, Boss."
Getting really tired of your sass right now. "You know why. I just don't want to find a mass grave filled with kids again."
If there was one word the ghoul could use to describe the voice that he heard, it was tired. Very tired. "Boss... What is it this time?"
The Courier kept drinking until the bottle was near empty. "Followed up reports on Legion activity way too close to the front. Pay was good and it was a good enough excuse to get the kids used to the outdoors."
"You led them to the Legion?"
"Had them garrison Cottonwood while crossed the Colorado."
"Scouted Arizona?"
"Just last week. Mass grave east of the promontories. Lots of dead on both sides of the highway. Dumped into open trenches and freshly-dug ditches. Some of them lined up like a collection of chewed-up dolls."
"How many?"
"Way too fucking many. Damn bodies already started attracting the wildlife. Could smell them even from where I was."
Raul exhaled, his peeling face grim. "Who were they fighting?"
"It wasn't a battle, Raul. The Legion's marching south. Those bodies I found..." They looked so much like them. "They were slaves and their families, the sick, the elderly...anyone who couldn't keep up the pace."
"Does the NCR know this?"
"They won't do anything about it, anyway." Six grimaced as he raised a sluggish arm against his ears. "Damn EMP might've given me tinnitus."
The ghoul stared at him, fully aware of the attentive dark-haired girl with the cat ears who had snuck up and crouched behind the rock spire to their right, no doubt listening in to their conversation. He continued to pretend being oblivious about it. Besides, the Courier was probably ignoring her too.
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 12, 2018
LAST EDITED: June 26, 2022
INITIALLY UPLOADED: February 16, 2018
NOTE (Feb. 16, 2018): Now that they're out of danger (for now), it's back to the lighter day to day. Hopefully, more shenanigans and more painful migraines because the Courier's agony is entertaining.
Selected review response (Feb. 16, 2018):
Review dude: Man, you keep coming up with some usable scenarios. I'll see if I can churn something out with that Lake Mead idea. Thanks again!