"... The IED hit me like a jackhammer back then," Aleksandr told them with an awkward smile, "And then, the next thing I knew was waking up here. Three years later, here you all are, with Hass and the others, telling us that Russia is fucked and you all died trying to unfuck it after it went to War with its neighbor..." then he looked over to Robert Feitingis as the man was sipping a can of coke. He sighed deeply, motioned to Robert and said, "He told me about it first."
"One would say it can't be any worse than the Hajis shooting at us back in the Sandbox," Alex Ryan, the team's medic, spoke with a bright smile as he ran a hand through his brown hair, a coffee mug in hand. Around them, the rest of the Novyy Smolensk soldiery listened to the conversations, the elderly finding common ground with the Veterans of Afghanistan. He then added in a slightly lower tone, "It is, though..."
Alexi Stoyanov, Corporal in the Bulgarian Army and weirdly handsome bastard, sipped from his beer, then answered, "We were facing the remnants of a somewhat professional army and their tacked-on Militia troops. Plus, the League and Commies never play fair, unlike us," and lit his cigarette. The others nodded in agreement, Jim and Hass both looking at Aleksandr goddamn Soshkin, the old pal from Afghan.
"What a fucking mess," Soshkin sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes. He looked over to Hassan and said to him, "I'm sorry for leaving you alone, man. You two did alright, though, right?" while the pair of Rangers and everyone else continued to look upon him, the former two like they were still staring at a Ghost. So much of Hassan's entire life post-Afghanistan was forged around honoring Aleksandr's memory that the Malaysian-American didn't know what to do with the fact his best friend had come back from the dead. Should he have expected it? Maybe. Did he? No.
Seeing that Hassan was still processing it, Jim gave his friend a clap on the shoulder, smiled and said, "Best we could, Al, though it ain't easy," before noticing that Hassan had awoken from his momentary trance upon being touched. The Ranger looked back at his friend, raising a brow. Jim tilted his head toward Aleks next, before leaning back and crossing his arms. He was still waiting for that coffee.
Well aware of what was going on around him at the time, much to the surprise of everyone, Hassan replied, "Was rough, but we managed," giving a smile to his old friend. The two then bumped fists while the others watched. Jim, meanwhile, looked around at the various Russians and locals that had been russified/Sovietified by their presence, some listening in to the chatter.
"Yeah. Good to see you all again. And good to meet your friends," Aleksandr offered, scratching his chin. He found the little Village Stuck In Time kind of cute. It was a rather warm and welcoming place for being a symbol for what remained of the United States' former international enemy. Vodka, advertisements, Soviet sodas, Kalashes, Afghanka uniforms and camo and Red Flags galore.
"Was interesting to meet you as well, man," Alexi Stoyanov, the Bulgarian, quipped as he ate from the tuna sandwich he'd ordered.
"Heh. Yeah," Alex Ryan(Yes, there were, in fact, a lot of people named Alex here) replied with a smile, then sighed deeply and leaned his back into his chair, "Wild, too, considering everything. We barely managed to keep up with each-other through texts the past couple years..." then he frowned, looking at Hass, Jim, Robert and Alexi as he added, "Felt awful, seeing one of you guys wink off the radar..."
As footsteps echoed from behind them, softly did a woman's voice sing an unmistakable rhythm, "Come now, Comrade, let's remember Afghanistan, where fire glowed among an ocean of mountains..." as she approached the table. Anya, despite her age, belted out the song's chorus as she set the coffees on the table. She smiled at the group and went silent while the others stared, a certain Latino American with wide eyes.
"Heh. Good song," Offered Soshkin, smiling at the young woman.
She nodded, stating, "Thank you. Your Syrian ops comrades gave us the discs for them," before jabbing a thumb back at the boys currently eating at the table across from them. All of them waved, smiling, then turned back to eating. Honestly, standing side-by-side with Ruskies after hearing what had happened to the Motherland must've been very weird to Aleksandr. Hell, it was obviously weirding out the rest of the NATO Party, what with the Frenchies deciding to stay outside.
Still, Soshkin quipped, "Sounds like they know their music," took a sip from his coffee and continued, "And yet we pumped out nothing similar in the twenty years we've walked that sandy shithole," which got a laugh out of everyone, poor Alex Ryan included. Alexi, meanwhile, being the sole man who had probably not gone to the Sandbox, remained quiet.
"You were not conscripted, comrade," The girl quipped, holding the tray close to her chest to conceal it. She'd probably felt Jim staring, everyone thought. Well, everyone except Jim, who was, in fact staring at her, but not at the chest. Anya was an endearing woman, honestly. She was kind, well-spoken even in Englsih and clearly well-read, plus mannered. Still, she looked like she could knock some heads together, even at this age.
"That's fair enough. I guess you cope via music if you get yourself dragged off to a war in the Middle East..." Alex shrugged.
"Indeed," The girl offered kindly, like a mother, while wearing a smile. She bowed her head, said, "Enjoy your coffees," then departed for the back rooms, much to the staring of everyone in the place. The barmaid smiled at the woman, then high-fived her, before both of them went back to work, what with the Barmaid immediately spinning up cocktails for some of the Frenchies outside.
"She's sweet," Alexi commented, holding onto the mug of coffee with one hand and his sandwich with the other.
"Local gold-hearted lady," Jim smiled, leaning his head on his hand, before quipping, "Cute," only to get a couple of audible groans from Alexi and Alex Ryan, much to the surprise of everyone else save a facepalming Robert and a snorting Hassan. Of course, he'd be thinking about chicks, wouldn't he? was the thought that permeated the group as they were sat around the table.
Alex Ryan, the usually jovial and troll-ish member of the US Pararescuemen, burst into laughter and said, "Jim. No. Down, boy," getting everyone else save Robert to laugh. Jim had always been the type of guy to pine over almost any woman he'd ever see. In truth, it was an understandable thing, considering the man had always wanted any form of a meaningful relationship with a woman since he had grown old enough to understand what attraction was. Didn't mean it didn't annoy the crap out of the others.
"Christ, he really hasn't changed all that much, has he?" Robert mumbled, mildly annoyed, as he sipped his coke.
"She's several decades your senior, man!" Diana spoke through the laughter, patting him on the shoulder. Everyone else also grew even louder at that, Jim himself joining them in laughing. He knew it was all in good sport, not at his expense. Friends made fun of each-other all the time, to the degree it was kind of commonplace for the Misfits to be like this, so...
"Eh, don't worry. I know, but I was just stating an objective fact," Jim shrugged, smiling.
"Fair. She is nice, though," Hass conceded, shrugging, then turning back to look at Aleksandr. It was genuinely like seeing his brother back from the dead, the young Malay-American thought. He looked around at the others as well, noting that he felt even better seeing them here, too, interacting with Aleksandr like he, too, was an old friend. Honestly...
"... So, how were the ops in Russia? How did each of you die?" Aleks inquired next, trying to change the subject for a bit.
"Fighting," Both Jim and Hass replied in almost perfect unison, the two then nodding at each-other while Aleks watched. At least, they didn't go out pussyfooting about in a base, so he could appreciate that. Russia was gonna be a hard beast to tame for whoever was left, honestly. Still, NATO had prepared to go into Russia since its inception, so he hoped they retained that train of thought.
"Very much fighting. I and my squad got hit by chemical weapons," Diana quipped, causing Aleksandr to wince. She chuckled, "Yeah, that wasn't fun..." before looking at the others. IED honestly sounded like a fucking blessing at that point because it was quick, Aleksandr thought to himself as he leaned onto the table and looked at everyone else, waiting for them to talk.
"Dead trying to save a kid from local Ruski fighters," Alex Ryan nodded.
"I got shot protecting a refugee center from Red militias," Alexi smirked. He and Alex high-fived.
Next came Robert. He hesitantly replied, "... Nuked in Krakow while off-duty," only for the entire bar to fall silent, Russians and all looking at him now. He sighed, leaned forward and sipped from his Coke, well aware he had just fucked up a little. He just wondered how Paul was gonna take the fact his girlfriend's city got fucking wiped from the face of the Earth.
"What...?" Diana asked, stunned. She stared at him like he'd just told the biggest goddamn lie...
Robert sighed deeply, then told them, "I was in Krakow, helping with vetting the troops going into Russia to retrieve nukes from the Warlords," and a slight shiver went through his spine, chilling it. He continued, his voice a little lower, "Was off-duty in a square when some psycho detonated one of the missing Briefcase Nukes in the city. Died in a fucking flash of fire," then blinked. The imprints of that day still remained, burned into his retinas.
"... Christ. The world sounds more dangerous than when I fucking left it," Aleksandr murmured, rubbing his face.
"It is," Alexi conceded.
"It's only getting worse from what I understood," Diana said, then downed half her cup coffee in one swig. Breathing out, she said, "Swede and Finnish troops were also raring to deploy with NATO into the North. Secure Karelia," as the locale was turning back to doing their own thing, though mumbles echoed through the crowd of former Soviets about the situation.
"Disappointingly, yeah. At least we're all reuniting here," Alex replied, smiling a little. A pair of cat ears and a tail wiggled and moved, something the entire group had now seen. The entire group and the room around them, in fact. The change in winds was like fucking whiplash as Robert himself somehow burst into laughter, a laugh full of disbelief at the kind of shit he was seeing.
"Wait, how the fuck did we MISS THOSE?!" Robert demanded, still laughing.
"Al. Dude. Why are you a catboy?" Alexi asked with a grin.
"Wuh?" Alex demanded, seemingly almost ready to stand up and beat the crap out of the Bulgarian. Said Bulgarian quickly handed him a mirror, which allowed Alex to see what had happened to him. To say he was stunned would be an understatement as he outright started stuttering out, "Wuh-wuh-WHAT THE FUCK!?" while poking at the ears and looking back at the tail.
"God, I love and hate this place!" Jim spoke through continuous laughter.
"It sure is something, hah!" Aleks admitted, covering his mouth to hide a grin. Alex Ryan, meanwhile, pouted, while Hassan himself grinned a little at his friend's misfortune. Honestly, the sight of the PJ with the Cat Ears made it all the more funny when people started laughing a little, too. He glared at the Ruskies, however, causing them to turn away and laugh in private. Aleks, meanwhile, simply smirked at the sight of his fellow A-starting name friend, before looking at Hass again.
"... Hey, Hass, how's Nicole, by the way?" He then asked.
"We... Sadly haven't kept in touch-" Hass started...
Only to be interrupted by a female voice crying out, "Help! HELP, PLEASE!" which caused the entire platoon to stand up, grabbing their weapons off the floor and from beside them and shouldering them. They, the Soviets and French marched out to meet whoever begged for help, only to find a scared young woman, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the arm and covered in soot and ash. A Faunus girl.
Back in Vale.
The entire group of soldiers still present at home loaded their magazines with bullets that Hassan had gotten into making at the local forge within the school. Slamming home the magazine of her rifle and racking the bolt, only to hear it click into place and feed a round into the chamber, Sam smirked. She looked around at the rest of the group, namely Saila, Victor, Vicky and Paul, plus a few Marines, then said, "Objective Recap:Kick the door to the Fang base in the countryside in, grab the laptop and share the data with our boss. We're all that's going in. Paula, Sergeant Colbert and the Marines and Romanians are maintaining Patrols across the place."
"Remind me. Any ideas on what we should expect in terms of resistance?" Vic asked as he slammed down the top cover of his LMG. He didn't intend on going in hot without any idea of what to shoot, but this felt eerily familiar, honestly. Like breach and clear ops like this were a standard for them now. It was okay, but it was also kinda terrifying, going into a breaching op with an LMG.
Sam nodded and said, "Fourteen Fang troops on garrison duty. Another platoon on tap from the nearby outpost," before she tightened the straps of her body armor. She lead the team out and spoke, "Two story ranch house on an empty field. It's barricaded and was used as an old meth-head den back in the day according to the VPD contacts we've made recently."
"Crackheads..." Vicky sighed deeply. She slung her DMR over her shoulder as they walked toward the Bullhead landed on the pad ahead. She looked over to Vic. Both of them soon saw team RWBY in the courtyard and waved to them, but the four girls seemed a bit glum. Ruby waved back, her usual smile replaced by a more forced one, as if she was trying to conceal something was wrong.
One quick look between the twins later and the two agreed they'd ask about it when they got back from their operation. Vale needed them to get a job done, so they all boarded the seemingly more sleek, more well-armored transport and set themselves up, preparing ropes for fast insert and all else that would be needed. One of the Marines drew his M1014 shotgun, checked the bolt, loaded ammo and the breaching muzzle brake.
As they arrived amidst the farming District of Vale, they saw the abandoned farmstead itself. Wooden buildings littered the massive, empty field. A 'For Sale' sign that had been worn and withered by the elements sat in front, bearing the number the locals would call on their scroll to buy up the land. The picket fence was rotting, broken in several places, too.
Ropes dropped the moment they'd reached the cornfield on the property adjacent. The troops inserted into the corn, with Vicky and a partner Marine rifleman with an M110 of all things climbed onto what appeared to be an old farm windmill and an old barn, respectively. Each set up with a spotter Marine and their weapons, covering a couple of angles. Vicky watched the team move in single-file through the corn through her scope, then panned her aim toward the windows of the house. Even through the boards, she could make out hostile movement.
Sam and the group wordlessly stacked up, her in the lead. The teams split, taking both sides, with Sam giving up front row seats to throw a fragmentation grenade while the Shotgunner would breach. He set up with the shotgun and breaching loads while the Marines covered the boarded windows. Inside, the Fang members spoke, calling out stuff as they knocked tables over to set up in cover.
Sammy looked to the others and gave thumbs up, getting some in reply, before looking forward at the shotgunner and tapping him on the shoulder twice as she prepped a frag grenade. He nodded, aimed at lock, fired, then aimed for the hinges, pumping two shots into that side. He kicked the door in and took cover, with Sam bending to throw the frag inside.
The first bursts of enemy fire filled the doorway, only for the meaty thump of the grenade's detonation to silence them. The Shotgunner moved in first and raised his shotgun to meet the first discombobulated White Fang soldier. The shotgun thundered and brain matter and blood suddenly painted the peeling wallpaper behind the now-dead man. Sam came in next, followed by the Marines and Vic as they did point clearing. Sam put several rounds into an overturned table and head a pair of hostile soldiers slump over.
Return fire came from the stairwell right. Two White Fang soldiers opened up on the squad, forcing them into cover. The Shotgunner overturned a couch while Sam put several bullets into the doorway, suppressing the enemy. Vic came in hard and fast, firing his PKM right at the door, the heavy rounds zipping through the thin walls, kicking up dust and wood splinters. A corpse thumped, dropping dead behind the door, while the other poked out low and fired again.
Sam fired back, hitting him in the arm and forcing him back into his concealment. Vic soon turned said concealment into a neat little hole with a full burst of his LMG. Point-clearing their way around the otherwise empty house, the group soon met other hostiles, some appearing out of the cellar with swords drawn. One charged Vic, swinging the blade low and fast.
The shotgunner aired his chest cavity wide open with a single burst of 12 gauge buckshot. The corpse crumpled like wet paper as the squad split at Sam's orders, Vic taking the Shotgunner down into the cellar. They pushed in, sweeping the area with their weapons and killing several more hostiles, but not without taking their own licks. Vic performed what was basically the modern version of Walking Fire.
Sam and the Marines with her ran their way up the stairwell, negotiating it with stuns and frags. The cacophony of gunfire filling their ears was terrifying, muffling the snipers taking accurate shots at the enemy from a safe range. When they finally reached the central room, Sam kicked the door open, only to duck underneath the swing of a hulking man wielding a gigantic drillbit as a weapon.
Sam ducked under a thrust from it, then parried it with her weapon, which she imbued with Aura. The hulking man still pressed the attack, utilizing the drillbit's rifle modifications to fire at the Marines trying to support her. Thankfully, they had all unlocked their auras and were currently unloading into the man with everything they had. Vic and the others were soon to run it and gun it upstairs, with Saila behind him.
They focused fire. The man's Aura collapsed. And Paul finished him off with a burst from his LMG. Moments later, the room fell silent, only corpses, peeling wallpaper, broken furniture and corpses laying ahead of the team. Sam pushed forward, right into the room the man had come from alongside Vic and Paul. She called out, "CLEAR!" As she saw the only standing piece of furniture was the desk beside the broken metal bed with a very dirty mattress.
She sighed, walked over to the laptop and mumbled, "Just what the fuck were they doing here? The warehouse I got. It had a ton of supplies. This?"
"Probably the 'drug' part of the drug den," Vic commented as he, Saila and Paul joined her. Confused, Sammy looked back at Victor, who pointed at a bit of a blue stain on his pants and said, "They were cooking here. Some sort of drug, going by the packaging, lab and the dozens of shelves storing the stuff. Either the White Fang took over some old Cartel business, or..."
Saila sighed, shaking her head. She hated Drugs. Deadliest thing in the world, honestly, not just for the users, but for those around them, as well. God only knew, she'd heard from Anja just how many drug-related issues her family had to face as part of EMTs and Law Enforcement in Finland. How many overdoses, violent reactions to being denied their favored vice and all that.
Sam blinked, then sighed and nodded, "Alright. Gimme a moment to check the intel, then we grab the laptop and head back," while leaning over the laptop. She started tapping the haptic interface keys while the others walked around, checking the place. Paul walked to the broken dresser opposite the bed and picked up an old, discarded girl's plush toy. He lifted it to show it to Vic, who shook his head, disappointed.
He approached a nightstand, then knelt and pulled on the drawer, hearing the slight squeak of the wheels and finding an old book with a worn-out leather spine and cover. Picking it up and opening it, he found it to be some local Sci-Fi novel with pages long-yellowed. The house must've been abandoned a while ago, going by how the roof and everything around them creaked.
Sam called out, "Aha! Got it!" before grinning and waving the others to rally up. She told the group, "Looks like there's gonna be a major event in the coming weeks at the docks. A whole shipment of Dust from an SDC freighter's being targeted," then she started packing everything else around the device. USB drives, books, anything that was written by hand of the White Fang, too. She mentally made a note of wanting to get the fuck out of here as fast as possible.
"Should we let Weiss and her family know?" Paul asked.
"Maybe," Vic shrugged, "Looks like we do have our next objective, though. Let's get this intel prepped and outta here, then bug out. Cops are bound to have heard us shooting the place up," and although that normally shouldn't have been a problem as the Misfits were working for Vale's government, nobody wanted to have to explain to the police why a bunch of dead White Fang were found in a crackden.
The group nodded to each-other and called upon their evacuation, meeting up with their snipers in the middle of the abandoned property. The jet-wash of the Bullhead washed the area around them, kicking up dust and debris and causing the stalks of corn and other crops to dance as the aircraft touched down. The group then boarded, weapons stowed and with a bunch of White Fang bodies left for the Police and Coroners to clean up. Christ, the Misfits needed to find a new hobby beside beating up terrorists at some point. This was getting tedious.
Or, well, so thought the policemen. The Misfits didn't blame them.
They did always leave a lot of bodies behind for the cleaners.