Battlefield: 2042: The Soldiers of Remnant

by Corpsman Halo

When three soldiers with no connected backstory with each other are transported to the world of Remnant, they are forced to work together to survive what this strange world has to offer. Armed only with the weapons they were transported with, the smarts (Not really, they're dumb), and a whole bunch of vodka, they brave through the world as they try to find a way back home.

3. Chapter 2: What is Happening?

To enhance your experience for this hardly worked-on intro (Not really), I highly suggest you play Mokusei, made by RichaadEB (All credit is to him, I do not own the music. Please have mercy), to ensure you reach maximum satisfaction from these words painting a picture in your mind. Now, enjoy.

Note: The timestamp is corresponding with the paragraph below it. For example, the first one has no music, but the second one is the start of the intro music. Just thought it had to be known.

RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth (now Vzi Media) and the Battlefield franchise are owned by DICE. All credit is given to them, same to music. Only work I own here is what I've written here.

---

A serene morning unfolds as sunlight glistens and flowers sway, wildlife thriving in the tranquility. Yet, amidst this peace, a lone Beowolf prowls, eyeing a fawn and its mother. Its predatory gaze sharpens, preparing to strike.

00:00-00:10

The Beowolf's ears twitch as a low rumble breaks the silence. It turns around as its eyes widen in surprise before letting out a loud yelp as it attempts to flee. Only for an armored buggy to suddenly burst through the foliage, screams of excitement and terror coming from it as it crushes the Beowolf under its wheels and speeds onward. Leaving the crushed corpse behind like roadkill on a lone highway

00:10-00:21

"Battlefield 2042: The Soldiers of Remnant!"

Inspired by Battlefield: 2042 and RWBY

Written by: Corpsman Halo

00:21-00:36

Semyon "Seeker" Zaytsev- Played by Author #3

Alan "Gremlin" Borowski- Played by Author #2

David "Halo" Simmons- Played by Author #1

Professor Ozpin, played by

Professor Goodwitch, played by Kathleen Zueluch

00:31-00:47

Next, the scene cuts to Team RWBY and JNPR standing atop a pile of rubble. Battling against an endless swarm of Grimm valiantly as they fight on. But just as they are about to be overwhelmed, our heroes' vehicle soars through the air, crashing into the fray while both parties watch them crash into the horde. With David clinging to the side of the vehicle, Semyon gripping the wheel tightly with steely resolve, and Alan laughing maniacally as he unleashes a torrent of bullets from the mounted MG. Causing chaos to erupt and providing just the distraction for Team RWBY and JNPR to regroup and join the fight.

00:47-00:57

The scene shifts to a grand conference room where leaders of Remnant debate fervently over a video that shows a group of mysterious aircraft decimating a fleet of airships. As they start to shout amongst each other, an agitated Atlas councilmen demand immediate military action against these unknown attackers as one half the table echoes his call while the other half urges for diplomacy.

All while a general with graying hair watches silently, his eyes piercing through the chaos of the room as he sighs and shakes his head.

00:58-01:07

Next, we see Vale, once a jewel of Remnant, being overrun by Grimm of various types, ranging from beowolves to ursai. Huntsmen and huntresses valiantly fight everywhere from the streets to the rooftops, but are gradually pushed to the brink of defeat as they find themselves cornered, ready to make a final last stand.

Suddenly, as all hope seems lost, a sudden burst tracer fire rains from above. Mowing down the Grimm like they were blades of grass against a scythe as they fall in the dozens. Looking up, the hunters and huntresses watch as various Condors descend with soldiers from them and rappelling down into the fray.

One however, holding a large flag with red and white stripes with a blue box in the top left-hand corner with white stars, extends a hand to a fallen huntress. Offering to help her up while she stares back at him.

01:07-01-19

Suddenly, all eyes turn to a colossal Grimm, part man, part horse, roaring as more of those creatures begin to charge forth toward them. The newly arrived soldiers, noticing the new threat, quickly take positions as various vehicles on land and in the sky follow suit. Ready to provide support when needed.

The huntsmen and huntresses, recovering from the shock of what just happened, reorganize themselves as they stand alongside their new allies. Ready to once more fight this once seemingly invincible enemy.

In the midst of the formation, our three protagonists appear in the middle of the action as they are flanked by Team RWBY and JNPR. Weapons locked and loaded as they brace for the creatures. Watching as they get closer and closer before letting loose everything that they got. Causing the screen to fade into black amid smoke and gunfire, revealing the title.

"Battlefield 2042: The Soldiers of Remnant"

Chapter 3: The Beginning of Whatever is Happening

(Premonition's Arc)

---

Index

"Text" - Normal Talking

"Text"- Radio transmissions or straining on a specific word/words

"Text"- Very loud screaming, yelling, or an assortment of the two.

'Text' - Thoughts, or quotations of a certain thing/subject/person/etc

"Text (Text)" - Translated words/sentences. (Note: Some sentences will not be translated for the funny.

"Text / Text" - Multiple people saying multiple things.

---

"Do you have them?"

"Yes. All three of them are safe and sound. They seem a bit banged up, but nothing a trip to the nurse's office can't fix."

"Good, get back here as soon as you can."

"Unless you can somehow give the bullhead we're in a boost from over th-"

*Transmission Lost*

...

Beacon Academy was known to be a beautiful sight. Especially when it was dark where the stars glimmered in the night sky. Accompanied by whatever lights were left on around the campus, making the entire place look like it was pulled straight out of a fairy tale as oftentimes people would come here just to take a picture of its fantastic glory.

Ozpin could see that. He was there when the place was first built. And while it was a bit annoying to keep escorting overexcited tourists off the premises, he had to admit, they were right.

Hell, he had some pictures of him and some friends posing in front of the building back then.

Those were some good times.

However, reminiscing would have to wait later as he took a sip from his fifth cup of coffee. Eyeing the skies around the academy nervously as he looked for any sign of the bullhead carrying Glynda and the three strangers. Hoping that they would arrive safely.

Hell, just a few minutes ago. He was trying his best not to cheer as he got the message that she had gotten the three and was making her way back to the academy. Expecting her to arrive within the hour.

But she didn't arrive.

Instead, they were gone much, much longer than he had anticipated. And as the night grew darker and darker, his worries continued to skyrocket with thoughts of something going wrong while they made their way back.

Were they circling over the forest while the pilot was updating his GPS? Surely, they should know the route already, and if so, he really, really had to update the bullhead budget.

What if they were on their way and crashed mid flight for some reason. Forcing them to make the journey back here on foot whilst they were harassed by countless swarms of Grimm.

He should probably lower the amount of Grimm he traps in the forest… Nah.

Maybe they were even engaged in an intense dogfight against a Nevermore as it chased them through the skies. Forcing them to face it head on use some sort of small flying machine strapped with explosives to take it down as they fired a well-placed shot at it. Blowing up half of its face as it fell to the ground in a smoky mess.

OK, maybe not that last one.

He really should stop reading those fanfictions.

But hey, it was a golden age for online literature pieces and he was getting a bit bored with his wide assortment of books so he decided to take a dip there.

Moving on, Ozpin took another glance at his watch, frowning even more as he thought about sending a rescue party after them as he shook his head while taking another sip from his mug. Only to find that it was as empty as my bank account after gambling all money for CS:GO knife skins.

"Oh, for Oum's sake." He mumbled as he shook his cup upside down over his mouth. Only to come up empty. Letting out another sigh, he turned around and began to walk toward the coffee machine near the entrance to the lift.

Just in time as a small, smoking speck suddenly came into view over the horizon.

…

The damaged bullhead was on its last legs as it limped toward the academy. Giant holes, sparks, and claw marks dotted all over the aircraft. Making anyone who saw the aircraft's poor state question how in God's or whoever made the universes' name that thing was still even flying.

Gradually, it began to go into a slow descent as it approached a large landing pad located at the front of the building. Sputtering and twitching the entire way down before it came to a stop. Hovering just over the landing pad as the side doors, or what was left of them, parted to the sides. Revealing four, tired occupants as they began to get off one by one.

"Scary Lady and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking." The pilot said through the speakers of the bullhead as they got off. "We have arrived at our destination, Beacon Academy. As you see, it's going to be where you're staying for the night. We hope you've enjoyed your time on Beacon Airlines and to never, ever see you again!"

"Now if you'll excuse me," The pilot started as the bullhead's engines coughed up smoke, once again. Covering the four in a giant cloud of black smoke. "I have to bring this baby back to the shop before it explodes like the fireworks store during the Vytal Festival."

Not letting them ask what he meant by that. The pilot quickly pulled the throttle back up. Bringing the bullhead up nice and slowly before flying away. Leaving behind a trail of smoke in its wake as it began to fly towards a nearby mountain face.

"Well… He seems nice." David said as the bullhead suddenly flash a bright orange hue as fire came out of one of its engines. Causing everyone to curse as they thought that it had exploded midair before realizing that it was still flying.

"Yeah, well, let's hope he lives long enough for us to see him again." Semyon said before turning toward the academy. Eyeing it with curiosity as he looked it up and down. "Now what kind of fantasy bullshit are we dealing with here?"

"It's the school, duh." Alan said as if he was pointing out the obvious, "Professor whatever her name is told ,us about it during the ride here. You forget or something?"

"… OK, tell me the truth. Were you dropped on the head when you were a fucking baby or something?"

"Yeah, ten times actually."

"W-Wait, what?" David said as he turned his head toward them at Mach 1.1

"Follow me," Glynda suddenly said as she motioned to the three to follow her, "It's already the middle of the night. And I'd hate to make the headmaster wait any longer than he already has."

"Who's that? The lord of this entire fucking castle?"

"Just pray it's not a fucking alien Dracula." Alan said as the two followed in pursuit. Leaving David alone as he just stood there. Shocked.

"H-Hold on, w-what did you just say!?" He exclaimed as he pulled himself together and ran behind them. Quickly catching up as the four stood before a giant door. With Glynda waiting patiently while the three stood behind her. Confused on why they were standing there doing nothing.

"Uhhh… Lady?" Semyon called out, "I don't mean to be rude, but can we get moving? I amreallytired and I just want to get this over with so I can go to sleep and hopefully never wake up again.

"Don't worry, I'm sure the American has some drugs that'll help with your sui- I mean, well-deserved sleep." Alan said, causing David to look at him with a "What the hell!?" look on his face.

"… Remind me to never let you two near even benadryl." He dryly said as he shook his head, mumbling something underneath his breath while Glynda just continued to wait before the doors.

Well, thankfully, she didn't have to wait long and listen to any more of the three's bickering as the doors suddenly began to open. Slowly pushing inward, revealing a polished interior. Leaving Alan and David a bit speechless as they gawked over the sight before them while Semyon reacted with a little surprise before recomposing himself.

"This way." Glynda said as she walked into the building, followed by Semyon while David and Alan trailed a bit farther back. Admiring the architecture of the place as they continued to go deeper and deeper.

"Damn, they got a nice place here." David said, followed by a whistle as he looked up, "Kinda looks like some of those British palaces from the old world."

"No kidding, the entire place gives off medieval era vibes with some futuristic stuff." Alan commented before resting his eyes on the chandlers up above. His eyes narrowed a bit as he focused on them. Making sure they weren't playing a trick on him "But those are definitely new."

David looked at him confused for a moment before following his gaze upward. Catching a glimpse of the chandeliers above. The elegant pieces of metal hovering in the air while the light bulbs, or what they thought were the light bulbs, were strangely shaped while giving off an even stranger bluish hue. Yet still lighting up the place like a normal light bulb would without the bluish hue hindering the lighting of the place.

"That's… Weird." David commented as he looked up at them, "How'd you think they managed to do that?"

"Maybe we can ask them. I'd sure like to have stuff like that. It'll help with my energy bill back home.." Alan quipped as the four reached a set of doors with a group of buttons on the side. Glynda pressed the top-most button through the entire series of buttons beside the door. Followed by the door immediately opening up, revealing a lavish lift you'd see at those fancy hotels with windows for walls, railings, and the polished tile floor.

(Elevator Music - Kevin MacLeod)

00:00-3:09

The four walked inside, each taking a separate corner as the doors closed behind them. Soon after, the four felt a slight jolt as the lift began to take them up through the main tower. The windows on the side showing them gradually getting higher and higher off the ground. Gradually showing them more and more of the entire campus as they got a bird's eye view down below.

Meanwhile, back in the main office. Ozpin had finished filling up his fifth cup of coffee. Watching as the black liquid slowly began to calm down. Almost filling the mug to the brim as he watched the last drop fall into the black pit that was known as coffee. Causing a slight ripple effect that almost made the liquid spill over.

"Ahh, the simple things of life." He mumbled as he gently placed the coffee pot aside on the table. About to indulge in another nice cup of coffee while waiting for-

*DING*

The lift let out a musicaldingas the doors parted wide open. Turning around, he watched as the lift revealed four strangers. One of which he immediately recognized as Glynda. Making him let out a loud internal sigh of relief.

"Glynda." He said, offering her a soft smile, "Glad to see you're safe and sound. I feared the worst when you didn't respond to any of my messages."

"My scroll fell out during a scuffle with Nevermore on the way back." Glynda explained, "I would have used the pilot's scroll to contact you. But he was… Reluctant to hand it over to me to say the least."

"It's fine, we can get you a replacement first thing tomorrow." He said before looking behind her. Noticing the same three strangers as two of them, wearing similar gear, looked around the place while the other, wearing somewhat a combination of the same gear and rags, was looking directly at him.

"Now, who are you three if I may ask?"

"I thought you knew who we were." The one in rags immediately asked while the other two just noticed the headmaster standing there. "You're the one who was watching us through those cameras back there. Right?"

"Yes, yes I was." He said, not bothering to even try and deny it, "However, you must understand. You were on school property and for the safety of everyone, I had to make sure I could keep an eye on everything and everyone."

"Well, n-no offense sir, but you are really,reallydoing a horrible job." David said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know if you noticed, but you got a little problem in those woods of yours."

"Hmmm… And you are?"

"American, don-"

"Corporal David Simmons, United States Army." David immediately said. Mostly force of habit as he performed a small salute before noticing what he was doing and quickly dropping his arms. "S-Sorry si- I-I mean… It's a f-force of habit."

"It's fine." Ozpin said as he smiled softly. "I'm guessing the rest of you are soldiers like him."

"Hey, Mr. Headmaster or whatever you name is. You still-

"Name's Alan Borowski. Siły Zbrojne Rzeczypospolitej Polskiej." Alan interrupted as he walked up to the headmaster and offered his hand. "I've been the leader of this wholehearted trio before you." He said as the two shook hands while smiling at each other.

Despite Ozpin not understanding a bloody word after they introduced himself.

"No you're not." Semyon and David said in a monotone voice. Making Alan look at them with a "really?" look at his face.

"Awe, c'mon you two. Did you really have to ruin the moment?"

"You ruined the moment the moment you were born." Semyon said as he turned toward Ozpin. Taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.

"Specialist Semyon Zaytsez… Former Russian Army." He forced out of his mouth as he pointed to Alan. "And please don't listen to him. He has a concussion."

"Hey! I might have a crack on my skull, but I swear, my head has never been any clearer."

"That's not good!" David exclaimed.

"I'm guessing you three are good friends?" He asked as the three immediately stopped what they were doing. Slowly turning their heads at him, their faces forming a very, very clear "What the fuck man" face.

"I do not know them in the slightest."

"I just met them."

"One of them tried to kill me." The three exclaimed as they raised their hands up in the air and backed away from each other. Saying whatever about the others as they tried to excuse their way out of him thinking they were friends in the slightest.

"Looks like you still got it." Glynda said, smirking a bit as the three continue to go at it with each other.

"Looks like it." He said before clearing his throat. Grabbing the three's attenion once again. "Moving on. I'm guessing you three have some questions that you wish to have answered, yes?"

The three nodded.

"Well, let's address the obvious now, shall we?." He said as he walked behind his desk, taking a seat and a sip from his mug before setting it on the desk before him. "Please, take a seat."

David and Alan quickly pulled up two chairs and sat down. Relishing the feeling of the soft material beneath them while Semyon looked over the chair he had. Acting like it was trapped and when he was satisfied, he took a seat. .

"I'm guessing you three are wondering who I am?" Ozpin said as he took another sip from his mug.

"Well, lets get the peasantries out of the way. My name is Professor Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon Academy. You've already met Professor Goodwitch I presume?" He asked as he pointed at her, to which she responded with a nod.

"Yeah, we got to introduce ourselves." Semyon said, "Now, 'Mr. Ozpin,' do you mind telling us where the hell we are?"

Ozpin and Glynda immediately looked at him with shock as the words were slowly processed through their heads. Which wasn't making things better as they stared at him like he had asked what color was the fucking sky.

It's blue by the way.

They know that dumbass!

"Uhmmm…" Glynda softly said as she cleared her throat, "Please take this personally but… Do you three actually not know where you are?"

She asked as the three looked at each other for a moment. Shrugging and shaking their heads before turning to the professor and the headmaster.

"Umm… Well, I-I'm sorry to say ma'am. But…" David mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck. "We have no idea where we are or what you're talking about. I-I mean, I failed geography during my freshman year, b-but I've seen enough Youtube Shorts to recognize some famous places around the world."

"Do you not have the slightest idea where you are right now!?" She asked bewildered, "Because this is not a joking matt-"

"Ms. Goodwitch, please, calm down." Ozpin asked as he motioned to her to stop, "These three are probably tired after today's events. Just let their heads rest for now and they'll surely realize where they are."

"I-..." She stuttered as she looked back at the three. Noticing their current states. Covered in dirt, grim, blood, and sweat while looking like confused children.

Hell, she was pretty sure they were. They looked like third years, yet, they looked as experienced as Atlas' specialists.

Just what in Oum's name did these three go through?

"Alright." She mumbled softly as she slightly looked down while leaning against the window, "But that still doesn't answer my question. Just how in Oum's do you not know what Beacon Academy is?"

"What even is Beacon Academy?"

"One of the first huntsmen schools in all of Remnant." Ozpin answered as the three turned to him. "Made after the Great War? Surely, you know about the Great War, yes?"

The entire room filled with awkward silence with only the ticking of a nearby clock to fill in the empty void between them as the three just stared back at him. Their bodies frozen in place, keeping so still that Ozpin was afraid that he somehow broke them.

Thankfully, he was wrong.

"... Pardon my fucking French for the moment." Alan softly said, breaking the silent tension in the room as he cleared his throat and yelled."But what the hell is a Remnant!?"

…

Velvet really shouldn't be doing this.

She was a well-behaved second year student who had good grades and a promising future of graduating from Beacon Academy. One of the best, possibly the best, huntsmen schools in all of Remnant.

So why in Oum's name was she sneaking out of the dorms during this ungodly hour!?

She should've just kept her mouth shut

"Coco, a-are you sure this is a good idea?" The faunus asked as she followed her team's leader through some bushes while carrying a pair spray cans and toilet paper. "W-What if we get caught by one of the teachers!? I don't want to get in trouble!"

"Psssh! You worry too much." Coco assured as they stopped by the corner of a hedgerow. Crouching down onto the ground and taking a look around before making a dash for another row of bushes just in front of them. "Almost everyone is asleep at this point. Only people awake are the ones who have make-up work to do. Besides, if they do see us, they'll probably think of us being hallucinations or something like that and probably ignore us."

"W-Well, I-I mean, that's fair." Velvet muttered out as she followed them through the bushes, "B-But what about that bullhead from earlier?"

"Hmmm?" Coco hummed as she turned her head toward her, "You mean the one that could have seen better days?"

"Y-Yes."

"What about it?" Coco asked as she stopped, looking at them with a confused look on her face."

"Well, w-what if there were people that could see us and report us to one of the teachers? W-We could get into some serious trouble!"

"Oh my Oum, we'll be fine. They're probably in their dorms hitting the showers or passing out faster than that one guy from last year or in the infirmary if they're really banged up." She said as they continued to move through the underbrush, "Besides, no one is going to be looking for a gorgeous looking girl and you out here in the middle of the night, are they?"

"I guess not…" She sighed as the two finally arrived at their destination. Another pair of dorms on the other side of the campus, letting Velvet place the items she was carrying onto the ground carefully while letting out a sigh of relief.

"Good girl, now tell me, how good is your throwing arm?" Coco asked as she grabbed a roll of toilet paper from her arms. Unraveling it as she prepared to throw it over the roof.

"I still think this is a bad idea." Velvet mumbled as Coco let out another exasperated sigh. Lowering her arm and turning back to her faunus friend while lowering her sunglasses a bit so they could look her in the eye.

"Velvet, tell me, how long have these guys been bothering you?"

"E-Ever since initiation day." She meekly answered.

"And why did they bother you?"

"... B-Because I'm a faunus." She said, a bit quieter this time as she looked down slightly to avoid their gaze.

"Exactly, they're no-good for nothing people who got nothing better to do in their sad miserable lives than to bully sweet little girl like you. And are we just going to let them do that?"

"Wel-"

"Errr, wrong. You're not going to do that. You're going to stand up and fight for yourself because if not, I'm going to fight for you. Because that's what team leaders and best friends do. Because we have each other's back. Got it?

"... G-Got it." She softly said as she kept her gaze down.

"I knew you'd come around!" Coco exclaimed as she reached out and rubbed their ears. Making them blush a little before she pulled back from them. "Now, let's get back to business, shall we?"

With a nod, Velvet grabbed another roll of toilet paper, unraveling it a tad bit as well before joining Coco's side. The latter smiled brightly, to which she returned as well.

"OK, on my mark, got it?" Coco asked as Velvet nodded once in response. "Alright. Ready… Aim…" She mumbled as she slightly stuck her tongue out. The two pulled their arms back, adjusting their aim ever so slightly until finally!

"Fir-"

"WWWWHHHHAAAATTTTT!?"

A scream rang out as Velvet and Coco dropped the toilet rolls onto the ground and jumped into the air in fear. The two quickly latched onto each other, hugging each other close before realizing gravity existed and fell onto the ground with a soft thud. Causing the two to groan in pain for a moment before collecting themselves and diving for the nearby bushes. Not daring to make a move nor make a peep as they stayed hidden in the lush green.

"W-What was that!?" Velvet half-whispered, half-shouted as her eyes darted from one place to another. Ranging from the dorm windows to other parts of the courtyard as she tried to look for any signs of anyone spotting them.

"N-No idea." Coco stuttered out, just as scared Velvet was as she did the same, "But I don't want to stick around and find out."

"W-Wait, what d-"

She didn't get a chance to finish as Coco suddenly got up and ran out and away from the bushes. Not bothering to hint Velvet about what she was planning as she was left there starstruck. Her eyes slightly widened in surprise as she watched her team leader leave her behind before she shook her head and realized what was happening.

"H-Hey! Hey! W-Wait for me!" She called out, taking a few steps to follow them only to turn back and run for the supplies they left. Carrying it and hugging it tight to her chest like a mother with a newborn baby before making a run for it as she followed behind.

They both never noticed Ozpin closing an open window while Glynda and three strangers conversed with each other in the background.

…

"I-I said w-we don't know what a Remnant is?" David hesitantly answered while Alan picked himself up from the ground. Dusting himself off before sitting back down in his seat.

All while Semyon sat quiet and calm in the middle of it.

"Ms. Goodwitch, must I remind you to calm down once again?" Ozpin asked as he finished closing and locking the formerly opened window. "While your shock is understandable due to… What we just heard. We still have students who are trying to get a good night's sleep down below."

"I-I'm sorry sir." Glynda said, clearing her throat as her voice lowered back to appropriate levels. "But you have to understand what they're saying is… Concerning! In all of my years, I have never met anyone who doesn't even know the name of the ground that they stand on!"

"Lady, how about you stop clucking like a chicken and tell us what the hell is going on!" Alan exclaimed, "And what the hell is a Remnant!? You still didn't answer that as well!"

"Господи, мать твою, ты когда-нибудь заткнешься?" Semyon grumbled as he shook his head, rubbing his forehead in the process as he sighed. "As much I don't want to admit it. The polank has a point. Because I know for a fact, this isn't Disney world."

She took another look at them, her eyes narrowing slightly before leaning in close to Ozpin's side as she whispered.

"I think they may have suffered some concussions during the flight back… Should I bring them to the medical ward to have them checked out?"

"That would probably be for the best." Ozpin whispered back.

"We're not mentally injured, challenged, or suffering from any mental disabilities." Semyon said before stopping himself and taking a look at Alan and David. Eying the two for a moment before turning back. "OK, maybe they got one. But I sure as hell know that I don't have a few screws loose."

"Hey! / Fair point." David and Alan exclaimed/agreed while Ozpin looked at Semyon. Registering their words as well as the newly acquired information whilst he rubbed his chin deep in thought.

"Tell me," He began as he folded his hands together while resting his arms on the table, "Where do you think you are right now?"

"You're kidding me right?" Semyon asked, scoffing and chuckling a bit before noticing Ozpin's expression, realizing that they were serious as he cleared his throat. "Well… We're guessing somewhere in the middle of the North American or European continent. Or one of the artificial habitats in Africa."

"D-Don't forget the Middle East. Heard that their habitation efforts are going well!"

"Shut it."

"Hmmm…" Ozpin hummed as he rubbed his chin once again. "Could I perhaps show you three a map that might answer some of your questions?"

The three looked at each other and shrugged.

"I don't know how looking at a map is going to help." Semyon said as he turned back to the headmaster. "But sure."

With a subtle movement, Ozpin reached beneath his desk and pressed a small, concealed button. A section of the desk's surface quietly folded away, and a beam of light shot upward from the newly revealed opening. A large, holographic screen materialized in the air, casting an ethereal glow that left the three soldiers staring in astonishment.

Their amazement deepened as the holographic display unveiled a map. Initially, they expected a familiar sight, perhaps a regional map like those found at tourist destinations or theme parks like Disney World.

But that wasn't the case.

Before them lied a map that showed five vast continents, each one labeled with bold names: Vacuo, Vale, Mistral, Menagerie, and Atlas. Each continent bore a unique, mysterious icon, hinting at some sort of significance but what it was, they ddin't know.

"We are located here," Ozpin explained, gesturing to the dual ax icon in the region marked as Vale. "On the eastern coast of Vale. However," he continued, his brow furrowing slightly, "the places you mentioned earlier, as you can see, aren't on this map."

He turned toward them once again. "Perhaps you could fill out some blanks for us?" Ozpin asked as he watched the three continue to eye the map. Lost in shock and awe by what's in front of them as they just sat there.

"Is something the matter?" Ozpin asked, snapping the three out of the trance they were in as they slowly processed the information.

"…Sir," David stammered, his voice trembling as he slowly turned to face them. Whatever confidence, if he had any left, was gone, replaced by a growing sense of disbelief. "This… this has to be a joke, right? A prank? Logi's way of getting back at me for losing those cigarettes?" His eyes darted around, searching for any sign that it wasn't real, clinging to the hope that this was all just an elaborate setup.

"No it's not." Glynda answered as she got off from leaning on the window , "You asked what Remnant is, and here's your answer."

"Oh that's bullshit!" Alan exclaimed as he got up from his chair once again. "Unless this is fucking Planet of the Apes-

"Сядь на место, громкий ублюдок! (Sit your ass down you fucking loud bastard!)" Semyon shouted as he "gently" pushed them down back on his seat. Not letting them continue what they were saying as he let out another sigh and turned toward them. "Start talking, now."

"We gave you an answer," She said as she crossed her arms around her chest, "You still have to give us one too."

"Well pardon me for being a bit late to the party lady. I'll make sure I'll put the next one in my schedule." Semyon sarcastically said as he threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, and news flash, you didn't answer our question. You showed us a damn fantasy map instead of tell us where on God's green Earth we even are!""

"Hmmm… I'm curious," Ozpin began, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why do you keep mentioning the word 'Earth'?" He looked at the three, who exchanged incredulous glances, their expressions clearly asking, "Are you serious?" But as Ozpin calmly leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of his coffee, they realized he wasn't joking.

"It's… Y-Y'know, Mother Earth? Terra? The only habitable planet in the Solar System." David said, his voice getting more uncertain and worried as Glynda and Ozpin were showing the same confusion as they were.

" … W-We're on Earth… R-Right?"

Ozpin and Glynda exchanged a glance, communicating silently as if sharing an unspoken conversation. After a moment, Ozpin gave her a slight nod, prompting an exasperated sigh from the professor. Reluctantly, she nodded in return, signaling her agreement to let him proceed. With a composed breath, Ozpin turned back to the three, his expression steady as he exhaled slowly and refocused his attention on them.

"…Would you three like some coffee?"

…

"W-Why are we back here!?" Velvet quietly yelled as she and Coco made their way back to their original spot. Checking to see if the coast was clear before arriving at the destination. "Isn't t-this too risky t-to do!? What if someone's looking for us!?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure whoever said that was talking to their lover or something. She said as she placed their pranking supplies on the ground before them. Picking up a roll of toilet paper and handing it to the jumpy faunus before grabbing one for herself. "Besides, if we got spotted. That means we won't get a second chance at this! Don't you at least want some revenge against those idiots?'

"N-Not if it gets us expelled!" She answered as she shakenly held onto the roll. "A-And what if they blame me? Won't t-that just makes things even more worse than it was before?"

Coco started to respond dismissively, her mouth opening as if to brush off the comment. But she suddenly paused, her finger suspended in the air. Her expression shifted as she adopted a Matpat pose. One of her hands doing a finger gun while resting her chin on it as she mulled over what had been said. Rethinking her initial reaction.

"Well, I guess you're right." She admitted before shaking her head. "But we're already too deep into this. Either we do this now or we risk having our pants down out here and not getting our revenge. Plus, don't you want to be able to run away without having to carry all of this back?"

Coco asked as Velvet thought over her words. The faunus weighing her options as she thought over what Coco said. But with the night growing darker, combined with the nervousness she was feeling just by being out here, she just wanted to get it over with.

She sighed and nodded in agreement.

"Good girl." Coco said with a grin on her face before turning around once more, facing a certain dorm room. She pulled her arm back with a toilet roll in hand, ready to be released while Velvet stood on her side, ready to do the same.

"W-Wait!" Velvet suddenly exclaimed, causing Coco to let out another exasperated sigh as she looked at the faunus with an annoyed look on her face.

"What now!?"

"S-Shouldn't we look a-around to make sure no one's watching?"

"Oh my Oum-" She cursed as she spinned around 360 degrees. Facing Velvet once more and putting her hands and arms in the air in a "There, happy?" gesture as she said "That's good enough for you!?"

"I-I guess so." Velvet mumbled as Coco shook her head while turning back to the dorm room. The two pulled their arms back, ready to let loose the rolls of toilet paper upon these bastards as payback for what happened to her friend.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE WE!?"

Another scream rang out as the two dropped the rolls and jumped in the air. Holding each other in terror as they stayed hovered in the air for a moment. Before looking down and realizing that gravity existed once again as they fell onto the soft grass below with a soft thud like it was some sort of Looney Tunes Cartoon.

"Nope! Nope! Nope! Sorry Velvet, you're on your own!" Coco quickly said as she got up from the ground and made a run for it. Leaving Velvet by her lonesome once more as the poor faunus did her best to get up from the ground as fast as she could before following her traitorous team leader. Not bothering to grab the prank supplies since it would most likely hinder her chances of escape.

…

To say that our three protagonists were shocked would be an… understatement, to say the least.

Ozpin and Glynda, seasoned from their countless years in their line of work, could easily read the turmoil etched on their faces. Years of experience had honed their ability to decipher such emotions

But in this case, no such skill was necessary—their confusion, disbelief, and shock were written plainly for all to see.

David, ever the pragmatist, was the first to break the silence. His mind seemed to latch onto the only familiar territory he could find: questions. Like a child learning about a new topic, he began firing off a barrage of inquiries, starting with the Grimm they had encountered earlier and quickly moving on to more esoteric topics. Like if their planet was smaller than this "Earth," noting how he felt oddly lighter than usual, as if gravity itself was playing tricks on him.

In all honesty, Ozpin and Glynda felt like they were taking a trip down memory lane during their glory days when they were celebrated heroes, swarmed by adoring fans upon their triumphant return.

Alan, however, took the news in a very different way.

Initially, he was convinced that this had to be some elaborate prank. The absurdity of it all was just too much to accept. But as he replayed the events they had just lived through in his mind—the strange landscapes, the unfamiliar skies, the creatures that defied explanation—reality began to sink in.

Slowly, he rose from his seat, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. "I need some air," he muttered, his voice strained. Without hesitation, Ozpin nodded and activated one of the retractable windows. Alan, or "The Polank," as Semyon called him, offered a curt nod of thanks before walking over to the window. He leaned out, taking in a deep, steadying breath, as if hoping the cool air might clear the fog in his mind.

Yeah, that didn't happen.

Semyon, on the other hand, responded in a way that was uniquely his own.

Initially, he sat frozen in his chair, the shock of the news locking him in place. Unlike David, who sought answers, or Alan, who sought release through screaming like that one example of a condom breaking in the aisle as they scream for candy. Semyon retreated into himself. His thoughts churned behind his eyes, his expression distant as he processed the impossible truth that had just been laid before them. The room seemed to fade away as he sank deeper into his thoughts. After what felt like an eternity, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn photograph. He stared at it, his thumb gently tracing the edges as if drawing strength from the image it held. His shoulders sagged, and a deep, weary sigh escaped him—a sigh that spoke of resignation, of acceptance, of a man who realized that the world he once knew was forever lost to him.

"So we're stuck here." He suddenly said out loud, causing everyone's attention to be stuck on him. "With no way to get back home… Right?'

Ozpin and Glynda looked at each other, not a word spoken as they didn't know what to even say to that

" … I can have Ms. Goodwitch over here, prepare a room for you three to stay in. You'll be given proper clothing, three meals a day, and the other necessities for the time-being-"

"Just answer the damn question." Semyon abruptly said, making Ozpin sigh as he nodded in confirmation.

"I'm afraid so." he said, "You must understand. As much as we want to help you, we don't even know where to start."

"Oh, that's just fucking great isn't it!?" Alan exclaimed as he turned around and faced them instead.

"However," He suddenly said, "I'm more than willing to help you three find a way back but you have to understand that's a promise I cannot keep. So for the time being, I'm going to help you settle down right here in Beacon for the time being."

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on there buddy." Semyon called out, "We just met you and now you're offering us-"

"A place to stay for the time being while you figure out what to do from here." Ozpin answered as he sighed, "While I understand your hesitance to trust me, you must understand that I'm just trying to help you three. There are some certain… Dangers in this world that you're possibly not prepared for."

"I think we can handle ourselves." Semyon said as he leaned a bit forward toward them. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared back at them. Not willing to back down while the headmaster did the same.

"H-How about you just g-give us a moment to talk about the offer?" David suddenly suggested as their gazes were now on him." I-I mean, I'm f-fine with the idea, but i-if they got some things they want to talk about, I-I might change my m-mind or vice versa."

Semyon considered the offer for a moment, his gaze looking down slightly as he thought the offer over before turning back to the headmaster. Who was giving him a slight smile that said "That's not a bad idea."

"SighFine… If you would excuse us." Semyon half-said, half-groaned as he slowly got up from his chair. Grabbing David and Alan by the back of their uniforms and dragging them with him whilst they kicked and screamed.

Well, it was just mainly Alan since Semyon had a fistful of their hair as he dragged them along.

"Ow! Ow! Watch the hair! Watch the hair!" Alan hissed before Semyon suddenly stopped. Pulling the two a straight 270 degrees and forcing them to make a semi-circle. "Let me go you stupid Rosyjski bękart!"

"Calm your alcoholic ass down." Semyon said as he let go of their grip on their head. "Now, what do you two think?"

"I think that you're an edgy emo wannabe who keeps trying to overthrow my rule!"

"…First of all, rude, second, we're the same rank тупица," He said at the specialist ranks on both of their shoulders. "And lastly… I want to ask about your opinion about all of… This." He motioned to the room around him, as well as the professor and headmaster behind them. Who were just watching them.

"Oh, and when did you suddenly give a flying fuck about our opinions?" Alan sarcastically asked, only to be immediately shutted up with a smack to the head.

"Do you want to say your дерьмо now or what?"

The two looked at each other for a moment.

"Well… W-We really dont have much of a choice, do we?" David said as the two turned their heads at him, "I-It's either we stay here, where there's food, shelter,medical attention," He emphasized, eying the bandages on Alan's head and Semyon's shoulder. "P-Plus, I'd rather t-take my chances here than… B-Back out there." He said, shuddering a bit as thoughts of those wolves licking their lips as they eyed him like a five star all you can eat buffet in Texas.

And I thought it was the Asian that ate dogs. Not the other way around!

"Yeah, I have to agree with the American." Alan resigned as he sighed and shook his head, "Our guns could barely kill them unless it was with an explosive or a shot to the head. I mean, if it was zombies, hell, I'll gladly follow you three back out there. But there's no fucking way I'm getting gutted by the Big Bad Wolf."

"So you're perfectly fine with staying with a group of strangers that have been watching us for who knows how long?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Knowitall, I thought you had a fucking better idea because you brought us into an 80's American football huddle!" Alan angrily whispered back, causing the Russian to groan in mental pain.

"I-I mean… Do we really have a choice?" David said as he gently motioned his head to the side, "They're offering us free shelter and food… M-Maybe we can just stay for a bit and see i-if you like the place?"

The medic suggested as he turned their gaze at them, about to tell them how stupid that idea was before he stopped himself. Thinking over what they said as they thought about the idea.

"... You might just have had your first ever good idea." Semyon said as he looked back at them and patted them on the shoulder. "Good job American."

"I got a name." They softly groaned as they broke up the huddle and went back to their seats. Where Glynda and Ozpin were already waiting for them and their answer. An awkward silence filling the air for a brief second before finally.

"Well?" Ozpin asked while Semyon took a deep breath.

"After some…Careful consideration." He began, taking a quick glance at Alan and David as they nodded back before he turned back toward the headmaster.

"We gladly accept your offer."

Ozpin smiled. "Glad to hear that." He said, "I understand if it wasn't an easy decision."

"Oh you wouldn't believe how hard it was to come to an agreement." Semyon sarcastically answered as he looked at the two. Causing David to look away in embarrassment like a kid caught stealing a cookie while Alan challenged them by giving them a glare back.

"However," Ozpin said as Semyon turned back toward them, "before we get you three settled, there is something I must ask of you." He mentioned as Alan and David leaned in, almost eager to hear what he had to say while Semyon mentally cursed as he leaned back in his chair. Thinking that this was the part where he asks something ridiculous in exchange for what he was offering.

"Don't worry Mr. Semyon, we're not going to ask for your weapons nor services in exchange for shelter." He assured them, making them let out a slight sigh of relief but still having their guard up, "However, there is something I'd like to ask."

"And that is?" Semyon asked, his suspicions growing about the headmaster with every passing second as he waited..

"What is Earth like?"

...

...

...

Undisclosed Location | Atlas

The skies over Atlas weren't as special as the skies over the other continents.

The stars and constellations shimmered brightly above, unimpeded by much cloud cover—just a few wisps here and there in an otherwise pristine night sky. It was a tranquil scene, the kind that invited those below to pause and admire the vast expanse above.

But the stillness of the night was soon shattered as a trio of sleek, modified silver bullheads appeared suddenly, their matte-black exteriors blending seamlessly with the night. Engines hummed quietly as the aircraft glided through the air, using the cover of the dark skies to their advantage.

The Bullheads moved with precision, their formation tight, their destination clear as day as they approached a formidable mountain range just before them.

However, instead of going around, the aircraft didn't alter their course to fly over the peaks or beside the cliff faces. Instead, the Bullheads maintained their speed, heading straight for the mountains with unwavering intent.

With military precision, the trio began a controlled descent, aiming for a narrow gap nestled between the towering mountains. The lead bullhead entered first, expertly navigating the treacherous passage. With other two pursuit as they followed in perfect sync. Their movements synchronized like the gears of a finely tuned machine.

Despite the rocky walls of the mountains seeming to close in around them, but the pilots remained unfazed, their focus unbroken as they expertly maneuvered through the tight space.

The Bullheads continued to slip through the gaps, their sleek forms barely brushing the rocky cliffs as the sound of their engines echoed briefly off the mountainsides before they emerged on the other side. Disappearing into the night once more, their mission a mystery, their purpose known only to those onboard.

Soon, the three Bullheads reached their destination, emerging from the rugged terrain into a wide, secluded clearing nestled deep within the mountain range. Before them, clinging to the cliffside, was a massive platform suspended from the rock face. It loomed in the darkness, an imposing structure that hinted at both precision engineering and secrecy.

On the platform, companies of soldiers stood in disciplined formation. They were clad in white uniforms marked with yellow stripes, their ranks flanked by officers in uniforms of a different design but matching colors. Each company stood at attention, their posture rigid as they awaited the arrival of the Bullheads.

As the lead Bullhead approached, the two escorts broke formation, veering off to take up strategic positions around the perimeter. The lead craft continued its descent, its path unwavering as it aligned with a large landing pad at the center of the platform. The Bullhead's engines whirred softly as it came to a hover, then slowly descended until its landing gear made contact with the pad. The engines began to wind down, the mechanical hum fading into the cold mountain air.

A group of five—an officer flanked by four troopers in white and yellow—moved with purpose toward the aircraft, their formation tight and disciplined. They halted a few paces from the Bullhead as its side door began to slide open, the motion slow and deliberate, as if revealing something—or someone—of great significance.

Out of the shadowed interior stepped a man in his middle years. His hair was close-cropped, with streaks of gray hinting at a lifetime of experience, his face set in a stoic expression that betrayed nothing. His eyes scanned the area with a practiced gaze, taking in the surroundings and the assembled troops with a quick, assessing glance.

The officer at the front stiffened as the man's gaze fell upon him, and with a sharp motion, the officer snapped into a salute, echoed immediately by the four troopers beside him. The man in the Bullhead returned the salute with precise, measured movements, the brief exchange crackling with unspoken authority and respect.

As the salute was completed, a heavy silence settled over the platform, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. The man stood still, his presence alone commanding the attention of all around him, as if the very air held its breath, waiting for the next move.

"Good morning General Iron!" The officer greeted, a little giddy but cleared his throat to a more professional one when he realized that himself. "I hope your journey here was as smooth as the seas of Vale, yes?"

"One could say that." Ironwood said as he walked out of the bullhead. Followed by two strange robots that stood on either side of him while covering his six. "How are operations moving along?"

"Swimmingly sir!" The officer said as he began to walk side-by-side the general while his escorts joined the formation. Taking the lead and the rear as they walked down the middle through the rows and rows of soldiers. "So far, we haven't come across any problems other than the disappearance of Operative 007 during the start of this project. However, if things go well tonight, you can expect us to be at 100% operational capacity in a month or two."

"Good" Ironwood said as they reached the cliff face. Revealing to be a giant, camouflaged metal door that began to rise up from the ground as it parted before them. "What do the scientists say about the probability of our success tonight?"

"Well, they're saying that the odds are on our side." The officer said as they walked into the now revealed lift. "But have brought it to my attention that they could possibly complete the project ahead of schedule if they had another shipment of that dust that the Schnee Company found."

"How much do they need?" Ironwood immediately said, "The outcome of this project all comes down to this very moment. If we can secure a successful-"

"Not much sir," The officer quickly interjected, "Just a few more tons than the last shipment. They wanted to test a theory of theirs and promised us that if they're correct, we can have the project completed a month ahead of schedule"

"…I'll see what I can do." Ironwood said as they went inside. The door closed behind them, followed by the lift beginning its rapid descent further into the mountain while they just stood there. Waiting for their arrival at their destination.

As the lift descended deeper and deeper into Remnant's crust, the soldiers and their mysterious leader were given a glimpse of the vast, hidden world carved out within the mountain. The complex structure revealed itself layer by layer, an immense facility meticulously hollowed out from the rock and stone, its existence known only to a select few.

The first levels they passed showcased the essential infrastructure needed to sustain a top-secret military operation. Rows of barracks stretched into the distance, each identical and utilitarian, designed for maximum efficiency. Mess halls and kitchens were bustling with activity, soldiers and staff moving with practiced precision, their movements synchronized like clockwork. The air was thick with the smell of industrial cleaners, food, and the underlying scent of cold metal, a constant reminder of the facility's purpose.

As they descended further, the facility's true nature began to unfold. The next levels were a stark contrast to the mundane necessities above. Here, the architecture took on a more advanced, almost futuristic quality. The lift passed by large observation windows, revealing sprawling shooting ranges where soldiers clad in advanced combat gear practiced with high-tech weaponry that seemed ripped straight from a sci-fi movie.

The laboratories were another sight to behold. Rows of glass-walled rooms displayed scientists and engineers engrossed in their work, surrounded by holographic displays, intricate machinery, and rows of blinking servers. In one lab, a group of scientists hovered over a table where an array of disassembled Grimm parts lay, their glowing red eyes dark and lifeless. In another, a massive computer screen projected data and schematics for experimental weapons and armor, their designs far beyond anything seen on the surface. Strange, glowing substances were carefully studied under microscopes, their origins and purposes known only to those with the highest clearance.

As the lift continued its descent, it entered a cavernous space that housed a massive hangar. The hangar doors were sealed, but the interior was a hive of activity. Technicians in jumpsuits swarmed around four colossal robots, each two stories tall and clad in pristine white armor. These mechanical giants were a marvel of engineering, their exteriors gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Each robot was armed with a variety of weaponry—massive cannons, missile launchers—clearly designed for combat on a scale that far surpassed any conventional warfare Remnant has ever seen as the robots stood in silent readiness. Their presence both awe-inspiring and ominous, as if waiting for the moment when they would be unleashed.

Beyond the hangar, the lift passed by a series of sealed vault doors, each marked with warnings and security protocols. The thick metal doors hinted at the secrets contained within—perhaps even more experimental technology, dangerous relics, or classified information that could shift the balance of power in the world above.

"The new paladins that the Schnee Company has provided for us have proven to be a piece of amazing technology." The officer said as they were given a bird's-eye view as they continued their descent.

"How are we on their field tests?" Ironwood asked as they passed by the hanger.

"So far, the tests have shown that they've been performing better than anticipated. We had a field test just a week ago where we had a paladin fight against a mild horde of Grimm just a few dozen miles from the facility. It managed to take them all on within the hour but was swarmed from time to time due to the overwhelming amount."

"Hmmmm… Make sure to note that paladins are to be supported by other personnel to prevent such a thing from happening again." Ironwood said as he eyed the amazing pieces of machinery. Watching as crews were working around the clock on them while pilots were testing what systems were operational. "Those things can possibly help turn the tides against future Grimm engagements. If we lose those during a battle, then it would mean losing a vital part of our forces and a huge hit to our fellow troops' morale."

"I'll make sure to send a report for future field tests sir." The officer said as they continued their descent.

Soon enough, the lift came to a halt with a sharp ding, the sound barely audible over the hum of activity beyond the doors. As they slid open, a flurry of motion greeted them. The expansive underground facility bustled with a mix of military personnel and civilian scientists, each focused on their tasks with almost frenetic energy. The air was thick with urgency as officers barked orders, technicians hurriedly adjusted complex machinery, and researchers in lab coats balanced precarious stacks of documents, tablets, and steaming cups of coffee.

"Attention!" The officer's command sliced through the air, snapping the guards to rigid attention. The scientists, caught off guard, hesitated for a moment, their confusion evident as they glanced around. But as their eyes landed on Ironwood, recognition dawned, and they hastily set aside their work to follow suit. Some were slower than others, their civilian backgrounds betraying them as they fumbled to stand at attention.

"At ease," Ironwood said with calm authority, his voice cutting through the tense silence. The room quickly returned to its prior state of controlled chaos. The clamor of voices and the rhythmic clatter of machinery rose once more, filling the space as Ironwood, the officer, and their guards continued their march through the thrumming hub of activity. The scene was a whirlwind of motion and noise, yet within it all, Ironwood moved with unwavering purpose

"I see you've brought more hands on deck," Ironwood remarked, his eyes scanning the bustling environment. The facility was more chaotic than he remembered, with people weaving in and out, barely avoiding collisions as they hurried about. "How did you manage to gather so many?"

"It wasn't particularly difficult, sir," the officer responded confidently. "We've secured some of the brightest minds from around the globe. When we needed additional support for smaller tasks—running numbers, drafting contingency plans, or even handling the mundane like fetching coffee—we turned to freshly-graduated young adults and scientists. They've got degrees in fields tangentially related to our work here, so it made sense to bring them on board."

Ironwood's gaze hardened as he turned to face the officer directly, his voice edged with a controlled frustration. "And you thought that was a wise decision?" he asked, the tension in his tone unmistakable. "Some of these people look like they'd crumble under the slightest pressure, let alone keep their mouths shut if a weapon was pointed at them. You've allowed this many civilians to be privy to an operation of this magnitude?"

The officer hesitated, sensing the weight of Ironwood's words. "We vetted them, sir. Every single one passed the background checks, and they're under strict supervision."

"Background checks and supervision are only as good as the resolve of the people involved," Ironwood countered, his voice growing colder. "We're dealing with something far beyond what most of these young recruits could even begin to comprehend. One wrong move, one leak, and everything we've worked for could be compromised. I hope you understand the gravity of the situation."

"W-We anticipated this, sir," the officer stammered, his voice laced with nervous urgency. "Last month, we had our engineers begin constructing additional rooms to house all personnel on base. We've also implemented a series of advanced security measures—biometric locks, surveillance systems, and a specialized team of huntsmen assigned to monitor the staff. Their job is to keep a close watch on everyone, and… to handle any loose ends that might arise."

Ironwood's expression darkened as he listened, his jaw tightening at the mention of the huntsmen. He knew what that euphemism meant—silencing potential leaks, eliminating threats from within. It wasn't just a precaution; it was a step into morally ambiguous territory. The weight of the officer's words pressed heavily on him, stirring a conflict between his duty and his conscience.

He sighed, a deep, weary sound, and shook his head. The Atlas Armed Forces were sworn to protect all of Remnant, to be a shield against the darkness. Yet here he was, confronted with a plan that felt more like a dagger in the shadows, a betrayal of everything he stood for. But the project's secrecy was paramount, its success vital to their survival. Could he really afford to let his morals get in the way?

Ironwood hesitated, his gaze dropping momentarily as he wrestled with the decision. "I understand why you've taken these steps," he finally said, his voice quieter, as if he were speaking more to himself than the officer. "I understand the necessity… but it doesn't make it any easier to accept."

He paused, gathering his thoughts before meeting the officer's anxious gaze. "From now on, run these decisions by me before acting on them," Ironwood instructed, his tone stern but tempered with a hint of resignation. "I need to be aware of every measure we take—especially those that toe the line of our principles. Remember, our mission is to protect the people of Remnant. We're walking a very fine line here, and it's all too easy to lose sight of what's right."

The officer nodded vigorously, sweat beading on his forehead. "C-Crystal clear, sir. I'll make sure to keep you informed."

"Good," Ironwood muttered, his voice flat as he turned away from the officer, leaving him to exhale a shaky sigh of relief. Without another word, Ironwood strode towards the large observation window, his gaze shifting to the massive chamber below. The room was a hive of activity, filled with technicians and engineers clad in strange, white protective suits that glimmered faintly under the harsh artificial lights.

His eyes narrowed as he focused on the centerpiece of the room—a colossal, enigmatic structure dominating the space. It was a ring, standing upright and easily twenty feet in diameter, its surface a sleek, dark metal etched with intricate patterns that seemed almost ancient in design. The ring was segmented into several large sections, each inscribed with glyphs and symbols that glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with the energy coursing through the device.

Embedded within the ring at regular intervals were dust crystals, each one meticulously placed in specialized housings that connected to the ring through a network of conduits. The crystals radiated a soft, eerie light, their colors varying from deep red to icy blue, depending on their elemental nature. The entire ring was anchored to a massive, rectangular base, bristling with cables and machinery. This base appeared to be a control nexus, its surface covered in monitors, input panels, and readouts that displayed streams of complex data.

As Ironwood observed, a group of engineers was busy interfacing with the device, their movements precise and synchronized. They carefully calibrated the energy flow between the dust crystals, ensuring that each crystal's power output remained stable. Every now and then, the ring would emit a low hum, the crystals glowing brighter in response, as if the device were waking from a long slumber.

'This is it.' He thought to himself as he saw the scientists below bring in a large orange crystal using a miniature version of the paladins he saw outside. Carefully caring for it between its two pincer-like hands as it stepped closer and closer to the machine before it.

Time to make the world a safe place once and for all.

...

...

...

Beacon Academy Vale

To say that our protagonists broke them would mildly describe what Glynda and Ozpin felt.

When Ozpin asked the question "What's Earth like," the three were silent before going back into another huddle. Discussing what they should probably share and keep secret.

David, wanting to be as bloody detailed as a college professor, suggested they started off with the events of World War One, World War Two, the Cold War, the War of 2020, and their most recent addition, the Third World war. As well as some "civilian" related stuff since "This was Earth's first contact with another world."

Alan, wanting to use a "big stick" (No ladies, not that kind of stick), approach. Highlighting the more bloody battles and gritty events of each war in an attempt to show them that their world has been through even worse things than Remnant's Great War. Which Semyon did agree to at first, until they suggested they do it in a meme format.

Sorry mate, but we can't do it or else we'll get sued by Oversimplified.

Awe :(

The tension between David and Alan escalated quickly as they argued fiercely about how to approach their explanation. Semyon, noticing the growing hostility, intervened, offering a proposal that he hoped would resolve the conflict. He suggested that they focus solely on the Third World War, but the idea was immediately dismissed by the other two, who were on the verge of clashing again like the superpowers during the Cold War.

Frustrated, Semyon resorted to a more direct approach—slapping both of them on the head to capture their attention.

"Listen," he began, his tone firm, "we shouldn't show all our cards just yet. I don't trust them enough for that." His reasoning struck a chord, and after a moment of consideration, David agreed.

Alan, though reluctant, eventually conceded when Semyon suggested they highlight the most significant battles and the staggering, "official" casualty reports. The mention of these reports piqued David's interest, while Alan grudgingly accepted the terms, though he did make one last plea.

"Can we at least use one meme?" he asked hopefully.

Both David and Semyon shot down the idea, pointing out that the recipients of their explanation likely wouldn't understand the reference.

Alan was visibly disappointed.

Despite the minor disagreements, the trio prepared themselves for what lay ahead as they approached Glynda and Ozpin, ready to recount the grim and brutal history of the Third World War.

David took the lead, starting with the events that followed the War of 2020. He described the subsequent natural disasters, the ensuing chaos, the mass casualties, and the false dawn of a supposed technological golden age. The world believed it had weathered the worst, but in truth, they had only glimpsed the beginning of a far darker chapter.

He moved on to the Blackout of 2040, the catastrophic event that plunged their world into a new Dark Age. With society already hanging by a thread, the blackout shattered the last remnants of operational infrastructure.

Communication systems failed, supplies were cut off, and power grids collapsed, leading to a death toll that rivaled the bloodiest battles of the Great Wars. Glynda and Ozpin, horrified by the sheer scale of destruction, tried to maintain their composure, but it was clear that the weight of this history was almost too much to bear.

Alan then stepped in, producing a map seemingly out of nowhere. "Pulled it out of my ass," he quipped, eliciting a groan from Semyon, who immediately tried to take it away. However, Alan countered, reminding Semyon that their hosts had already shared maps of their world; it was only fair to reciprocate.

Reluctantly, Semyon agreed, muttering under his breath about trust and the sudden onset of Alan's uncharacteristic wisdom. Alan, grinning, began explaining the map, pointing to two large countries: the United States of America and the Russian Federation. He detailed how these two superpowers, already teetering on the brink, turned on each other after the Blackout, each blaming the other for the catastrophe.

By 2042, tensions had escalated beyond repair, and Alan introduced a new group: the No-Pats. When Glynda inquired about them, Alan explained that the No-Pats were a collective of people whose nations had collapsed in the aftermath of the War of 2020. United by their shared desperation and distrust of the remaining governments, they chose to remain independent rather than join the fractured remnants of the old world.

This decision puzzled Glynda and Ozpin, who couldn't understand why the No-Pats refused the stability that the old-world nations offered. Alan clarified that the No-Pats saw no future in aligning with nations they blamed for the world's downfall, preferring instead to forge their own path.

As the narrative continued, Alan recounted the fateful incident that triggered the war: the Russian Federation's attempt to recover a downed American satellite, only to be ambushed by No-Pat forces led by the legendary operative, Kimble "Irish" Graves. The No-Pats' successful defense and subsequent return of the satellite data to the United States only served to heighten the paranoia and fear between the two superpowers.

By 2044, the tension had reached a boiling point, and it was Russia that struck first. Fearing that the United States would monopolize the remaining global resources, Russian forces launched a sweeping offensive through mainland Europe. As Alan narrated these events, he described the brutal fighting that followed, particularly in Poland, where he himself had fought.

Urban warfare ravaged the cities, with tanks engaging at close quarters and battles continuing through the night. Glynda's question about whether they ever ceased fighting to fend off the Grimm was met with puzzled looks—such creatures didn't exist on Earth, adding another layer of disbelief for her and Ozpin.

Alan went on to describe how, despite their best efforts, the No-Pats and NATO forces were eventually forced to retreat to France, where they set up a defensive line with the help of newly arrived U.S. troops. It was a bitter stalemate, but one that allowed them to hold the Russian advance at bay.

David took over again, explaining how Russia, frustrated by their inability to break through, decided to open a second front.

In 2045, Russian forces launched a surprise naval invasion on U.S. soil, catching the Americans completely off guard. The U.S. National Guard and the Seattle Police Department fought valiantly to hold the line, allowing for the evacuation of civilians before the city was leveled by Russian artillery. However, it marked a wide-scale retreat that only stopped at the Battle of Cascade Falls. Where despite suffering heavy losses, U.S. forces managed to stall the Russian advance.

Of course, for obvious reasons, they didn't expose that they had to use a nuke to change the tides.

But just as the tide seemed to be turning in favor of the U.S. and its allies, a new threat emerged—China.

Somehow surviving the turmoil of the previous decades, China entered the war on Russia's side, seeking to secure more land and resources. Their involvement tipped the scales once more, forcing the U.S. and its allies to fight on two fronts.

Soon enough, they were able to push Russian forces back to Seattle where the fighting was fierce. But ultimately, U.S. forces managed to push back the occupying Russian troops while also taking over coastal defenses left by said occupying forces.

With the city secured, and the failed attack doing a number on Russia's military capabilities. The tide of the war began to shift once more.

Operation Blade's Edge, launched on June 22, 2045, marked the beginning of a massive counteroffensive by No-Pat U.S forces as they recaptured lost territory, such as old world Germany, the Baltics and Balkens, and Poland. Pushing Russian forces into their own territory while the US and its allies in the Pacific did the same with China.

However, as the allied forces closed in on Moscow and Beijing and war was seemingly finally coming to an end. Russia and China pulled out their trump cards.

But for some reason, no one would tell Glynda and Ozpin what this trump card was. All they could and would tell was that it was something that made command shit themselves and force everyone to pull back immediately back to allied lines.

With both sides dug in and no clear path to victory, the war dragged on, devolving into a brutal war of attrition. Trenches were dug, fortifications built, and artillery strikes became a daily occurrence. The skies were filled with the constant roar of aircraft as both sides fought desperately to gain any advantage. It was a waiting game, with each side hoping the other would break first.

That break came from within Russia itself.

After years of war and broken promises, the Russian people had had enough.

The True Russian People (TRP), a once pro-war organization that had supported the conflict to gain influence, began to turn against the government. What started as peaceful protests quickly escalated into riots, and when the military was called in to suppress the unrest, the situation only worsened. Soldiers who should have been fighting on the front lines were instead patrolling the streets of their own cities, enforcing martial law.

Semyon took over the story at this point, describing the rising tensions within Russia. The TRP, seeing an opportunity, began organizing in secret, their numbers growing with each passing day. When the time was right, they launched a full-scale assault. TRP forces, armed with a mix of modern and old-world weaponry, stormed key locations across Russia. Within days, they had captured several major cities, and Russian soldiers who had once fought for the government now found themselves prisoners of the TRP.

In most cities, the TRP was welcomed as liberators. Celebrations erupted as the people took to the streets, cheering the end of the war they had long since grown weary of. But in Moscow, the story was different. The city had withstood invasions before—from Napoleon during the Napoleonic Wars to Nazi Germany in World War II—and now it faced another battle for survival.

Glynda and Ozpin did get the reference, but from what they could tell, it was bloody.

And bloody it was.

The fighting in the city was relentless, an inferno of urban warfare that consumed everything in its path. TRP troops, heavily armed and determined, crept forward beside their battered BMPs and armored vehicles, every inch of ground gained coming at a deadly cost. Above, Russian loyalists held the high ground, raining down Molotov cocktails from shattered windows, the flaming bottles igniting anything they touched. The city itself became a battlefield, with buildings serving as both shield and weapon, their ruins offering cover to both sides as they engaged in a deadly game of cat and mouse.

Hunter-killer teams from both the TRP and Russian loyalists moved like shadows through the rubble, striking with precision before melting away into the debris. The clashes were brutal, often fought at knife-fighting distance, leaving the streets littered with the twisted, molten remains of tanks that had met their doom in close-quarters combat. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning fuel and flesh, the sound of gunfire and explosions echoing off the walls of the once-proud city.

Despite the TRP's ferocity, the city's defenders refused to yield. Week after week, the battle raged on, with no sign of surrender from those determined to protect their homeland. The TRP forces, once so confident in their swift victory, began to grow restless. Every block they captured required a heavy toll in lives and resources, and their supply of vehicles was dwindling.

Some TRP leaders, their initial bravado fading, voiced their concerns—if they somehow managed to win this battle, they would be too weakened to fend off the inevitable counterattack from the U.S. and its allies.

Yet, the importance of the city was undeniable. Its fall would signal the collapse of resistance across the region, and so the TRP leadership resolved to take it at any cost. But as the fighting dragged on, the price grew too steep, even for them.

Soon enough, they reached a grim conclusion.

If they couldn't have the city, then no one would.

On November 17th, TRP forces made their most desperate move yet. A squadron of captured Russian bombers, piloted by TRP loyalists, took to the skies with a single, devastating mission—to flatten the city and annihilate its defenders. The bombers flew in a tight formation reminiscent of World War II, their payloads of high-explosive munitions ready to rain down death from above.

As the bombers approached their target, the city below continued to burn, unaware of the impending catastrophe. The bay doors of the bombers slowly opened, revealing rows of bombs that would soon turn the already ravaged city into a wasteland.

But fate had other plans as F-22, fighter jets David called them, came to the rescue as they quickly took down the bombers before they could release their payload. Exploding violently in the air while the Raptors flew off unopposed.

Below, the city's defenders and inhabitants alike looked up, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The fireballs that were meant to obliterate them had instead become their salvation. The cheers of Russian loyalists echoed through the streets, their cries of victory cutting through the din of battle. TRP forces, on the other hand, stared in horror as their last desperate gamble went up in flames. Realizing that their time had run out, they began to retreat, pulling back from the city that had become their tomb.

As the F-22s roared overhead, the tide of the battle had decisively turned. The TRP, once so close to claiming the city, was now in full retreat, their forces shattered and morale broken. The city, battered and bruised, had held out against the onslaught, its defenders proving that no matter the odds, they would not be so easily conquered.

While Russia was as culturally and racially divided as the American mainland during its civil war. The U.S. and it's No-Pat allies were playing a strategic waiting game. They had received early warnings from CIA and No-Pat operatives, who might have had a hand in sparking the ongoing civil war, about what was going to happen. Instead of rushing into action, they bided their time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

And that opportunity came.

When intelligence surfaced about the TRP's plan to bomb Moscow into oblivion, the U.S. and No-Pat forces launched Operation Free Bird. Moving with lightning speed, they swept through the Russian mainland, engaging TRP rebel forces while offering support to Russian loyalists. Though historically enemies, both sides recognized a common foe in the TRP, forging a fragile and uneasy alliance born out of necessity.

However, as with past invasions of Russia, winter proved to be a formidable adversary. The U.S. and No-Pat forces, now deep within the heart of Mother Russia, found their advance slowed by the harsh conditions. The TRP, familiar with the terrain and conditions, adopted guerrilla tactics, making each step forward a costly endeavor.

Meanwhile, the skies over Moscow became a battleground of their own. Fighter planes from the U.S. and No-Pat air forces clashed with captured Russian jets and even outdated aircraft repurposed by the TRP. Both sides vying for control of the skies, while close air support missions tried to tip the scales in the brutal conflict below.

As U.S. and No-Pat ground forces reached Moscow, they bolstered the city's defenses and imposed martial law, recognizing the delicate nature of their temporary alliance with the Russian loyalists. Despite fighting alongside them, they remained cautious, aware that their partnership was a fragile house of cards that could collapse under the weight of distrust.

But fate had other plans.

In a move reminiscent of the GLA's sudden strikes fromCommand and Conquer: Generals, the TRP launched a massive assault on Moscow. Using captured Russian vehicles, aircraft, and artillery, they threw everything they had at the city, including an ancient T-34-85 tank that had been stolen from the Odintsovsky District. Even claiming a kill on a Russian loyalist BMP—an improbable feat that would become the stuff of legends, a story for another time.

Caught off-guard but not unprepared, the U.S., No-Pats, and Russian loyalists stood their ground. Their veteran forces, combined with their air superiority, allowed them to repel the TRP assault with ruthless efficiency. The invaders were pushed back, their hopes of capturing the city dashed against the walls of a well-fortified defense.

With their assault on Moscow thwarted, the TRP found themselves trapped in a losing war. As they were driven further out of Russia, they attempted to retreat to their once-friendly ally, China. But they found no refuge there—China, too, was embroiled in a civil war of its own. American and Asian No-Pat forces, along with the newly-formed People's Republic of Taiwan Armed Forces, were already lying in wait, ready to crush any TRP forces that tried to escape.

With no safe haven left, the TRP organization splintered. Cells went into hiding across the globe, their once-cohesive force now scattered and leaderless. For now, the TRP threat was contained, and the world could finally turn its attention to the broader conflict that continued to rage on, with the fate of nations hanging in the balance.

And so on December 20th, at precisely 3:53 P.M. GMT, within the hallowed halls of the Grand Kremlin Palace, a historic moment unfolded. Diplomats from the United States and its allies sat across from their counterparts from Russia and China. The air was thick with the weight of history and the echoes of a war that had ravaged the world, leaving over one hundred million confirmed casualties in its wake. The meeting marked the culmination of a brutal conflict, a war that had reshaped the global order and brought even the most powerful nations to the brink of collapse.

The negotiations were tense, fraught with the lingering distrust that had fueled years of bloodshed. Yet, beneath the surface, there was a shared understanding: the war had to end. The world could not afford another day of destruction. Through painstaking diplomacy, a peace agreement was forged, marking the beginning of a new era. The war, which had torn nations apart and brought humanity to its knees, was finally over.

As the ink dried on the peace accord, the No-Pat factions, who had played a pivotal role in the conflict, began to retreat. Some returned to their nomadic existence, slipping back into the shadows from which they had emerged, while others set their sights on rebuilding the shattered remnants of their homelands. For many, the war had been a fight for survival, and now, in its aftermath, they sought to reclaim what had been lost.

Meanwhile, the political leaders of the surviving nations faced an immense task: rebuilding a world left in ruins. The architects of the peace agreement quickly turned their attention to reconstruction, driven by a vision of a new global order. In Russia and China, where the scars of war were deepest, efforts to implement pro-democracy reforms began. American advisors and diplomats worked alongside local officials, guiding the transition to governments modeled after democratic ideals.

But this war was far from over.

With the looming threat of the TRP (True Patriotic Revival) resurfacing to strike once more, the U.S. government took decisive action, forming an elite anti-terrorist task force. This new unit was composed of hardened veterans from the Old World War on Terror and No-Pat specialists with deep experience in asymmetric warfare. While their official names were classified, they quickly earned a formidable nickname:

The Exterminators.

Yeah, I know, it sounds a bit cringy, but hey, it stuck.

Dude, shut up and let me finish.

Oh, screw you.

Anyway,with the Exterminators assembled, their mission to ensure global security began in earnest. Their operations spanned the globe, from the dense jungles of South America and the volatile landscapes of the Middle East to the barren, icy wastelands of Antarctica.

The TRP, like a persistent virus, kept popping up in pockets around the world, much like ads that appear when you don't have an ad blocker.

Speaking of which, this story is brought to you by Wattpad Premi—

SMACK

Ow!

We're not getting sued. Now, get back to the story before I make you a woman.

Okay, okay! Calm down, man!

Despite the Exterminators' relentless efforts, the TRP cells proved to be elusive and resilient. Each time they were crushed in one region, they would re-emerge in another, like a Hydra regrowing its heads. Yet, bit by bit, the task force began to systematically dismantle their operations. The cells were discovered, uprooted, and disposed of before they could inflict further damage on the fragile new world order.

The world was gradually being cleansed of the TRP threat. But one final stronghold remained: Afghanistan.

After the fall of the TRP over Russia, many surviving cells sought refuge within the vast, rugged confines of the Afghan desert. Despite government assurances that no TRP elements were in the region, intelligence reports suggested otherwise. The sudden appearance of old-world American vehicles—Abrams tanks, Humvees, and Blackhawks—none of which belonged to the U.S. forces during their chaotic withdrawal in the 2020s, was a glaring red flag.

In response, the U.S. military, with the assistance of newly rebuilt nations like Poland, Germany, and other international allies, launched a full-scale invasion of Afghanistan. The mission was clear: eradicate the TRP menace from the face of the Earth, once and for all.

The Afghan forces, remnants of the Old World terrorist group known as the Taliban, resisted fiercely, bolstered by the TRP cells that had taken refuge among them. The alliance was a marriage of convenience, born out of mutual hatred for the invaders. But despite their possession of advanced American military hardware, they lacked one crucial element: experience.

While they had used the chaos of the global conflict to prepare for the inevitable invasion, their combat experience was severely limited. Most of their engagements had been skirmishes against poorly equipped rioters or small-scale guerrilla warfare. Even with the guidance of TRP overseers and seasoned fighters, they were no match for the combined might of the U.S. and its allies.

However, this did not mean the TRP was harmless. Small, hidden groups executed hit-and-run attacks with alarming efficiency. Whether it was a duo armed with an RPG or a small, well-armed militia, they struck hard and fast, causing chaos before melting back into the landscape. These attacks, though sporadic, were deadly, keeping coalition forces on constant alert.

Fortunately, the newly launched satellite networks and advanced recon drones gave the coalition a significant edge, allowing them to track and neutralize many of these threats before they could cause substantial harm. Casualties were kept to a minimum, but each loss was keenly felt, as newly drafted soldiers quickly became battle-hardened veterans, and the seasoned fighters of the Third World War treated it like just another day at the office.

After several weeks of intense fighting, the coalition forces gained control of the entire country, mirroring the days of Coalition occupation during the early 21st century. The reaction of the Afghan populace was mixed. Some were relieved, even thankful, for what they saw as liberation from the TRP and Taliban's oppressive grip. Others, however, viewed the return of foreign troops with suspicion and resentment, fearing a repeat of history. And there were those who had lived through the U.S. withdrawal years earlier, harboring deep-seated distrust, wondering when they would be abandoned once again.

With the order to secure the region, martial law was swiftly enacted across the entire country. The streets of cities once again became militarized zones, with patrols of MRAPs, JTLVs, IFVs, and even battle-hardened tanks rumbling through urban landscapes, their presence a stark reminder of the ongoing struggle for control.

At every major intersection, on the entrances to highways, and around key infrastructure, checkpoints were erected, manned by heavily armed soldiers, their watchful eyes scanning for any sign of unrest. Some of these checkpoints were hastily constructed, but others were repurposed from the remnants of the U.S. 's earlier occupation, relics of a past conflict now serving a new purpose.

In the skies above, an unblinking network of recon drones maintained constant vigilance, their cameras capturing every movement across the rugged terrain. These drones tirelessly scoured the mountains and isolated regions, where TRP and former Taliban cells were believed to be hiding. Their intel was crucial, relaying real-time data to the ground forces who were spread thin across the vast and treacherous landscape.

As the days turned into weeks, ground forces moved with relentless precision, sweeping through villages, combing through the dense forests, and conducting night raids on suspected hideouts. Each lead was pursued with tenacity, each cell discovered was met with overwhelming force. The soldiers, veterans of countless battles, operated with a grim determination, knowing that any lapse in vigilance could mean more lives lost.

In some cases, they uncovered entire networks of resistance fighters, equipped with caches of weapons and supplies, remnants of old alliances and promises made in the chaos of war.

In others, they found only the ghosts of past skirmishes—abandoned camps, hastily left behind as the TRP and Taliban forces scattered into the wilderness, their numbers dwindling with each encounter.

David and Alan had just settled into what was supposed to be an ordinary day at the base. Their units, accustomed to the relative quiet after the chaos of the Third World War, were passing the time in their own ways—some were hitting the gym, others were engrossed in the latest Call of Duty game, and a few were even engaged in some off-duty, intimate moments. The mundane routine was abruptly shattered when their superiors issued a sudden and unexpected order: prepare to move out.

The abrupt shift from relaxation to readiness was unusual, but no one questioned it. The prevailing assumption was that the mission involved a routine check following the frequent mortar attacks or convoy ambushes that had become almost commonplace. However, this was no ordinary mission.

The briefing was brief and cryptic: a tip-off from local informants had suggested a possible TRP cell in a remote village. The cell was allegedly responsible for an attack on a UN humanitarian convoy. With nothing more than that scant information, the units were instructed to gear up and prepare for the worst. Given their extended inactivity, many had expected the mission to be another uneventful patrol.

But reality had different plans.

The fierce battle dragged on, with chaos reigning supreme. Amidst the fray, three soldiers fought desperately. Bullets whizzed by, dodged with skill and luck, while brutal hand-to-hand combat ensued. Cracks of broken bones echoed as heads collided and skulls were narrowly spared from severe injury.

Amid the turmoil, Semyon emerged as the unexpected victor. His presence cut through the chaos as he approached David, who lay wounded and bleeding on the ground. David's leg was a gruesome mess, blood pooling around him as he desperately tried to staunch the flow.

Semyon's shadow loomed over the injured medic, his figure imposing and unyielding. With grim resolve, he raised his sidearm, the cold metal glinting ominously. David's gaze flickered upward, fear evident as he turned away, bracing himself for the inevitable.

However, with a stroke of luck, a friend called out and threw a… Necklace. With no idea what to do with it, he threw it at them. Only for them to shoot it right out of the air. Covering them all in a fine, white dust.

But it didn't stop there as the dust suddenly started to glow and spread all over their bodies. They tried desperately to get it off, scratching, tearing off their clothes, everything. But it stubbornly stayed on before it finally engulfed them all, taking them away with a blinding flash of light.

"And you know where the rest of the story goes." Seymon said as he concluded everything. Settling back into his seat as the other two did the same. Watching as Glynda and Ozpin comprehend what they were just told.

"Any questions or…" Alan trailed off stared at the starstruck Glynda and Ozpin. To which the latter were just standing/sitting there. Causing an awkward silence between the two parties as the three just stared back at the.

"D-Do you think we broke them?" David asked as he two gave him a shrug. Making the medic even more worried as they waited and waited for a response.

"Yeah… Yeah, we probably did." Alan whispered back as he brought up his hand and snapped his fingers. Breaking whatever trance they were trapped in as they looked at him with slightly wider eyes.

"I was—" Ozpin began, his voice faltering slightly as he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. He adjusted his posture, leaning forward on the table, his gaze steady but laced with a hint of disbelief. "A-Apologies. What you all revealed to us is… surprising, to say the least."

David shifted uncomfortably, sensing the weight of the moment. He let out a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the tension. "Yeah, I-I guess we can understand that. It probably sounds crazy—like some kind of video game with lore that doesn't make sense and all that."

Ozpin nodded, though it was clear that he didn't fully grasp the reference. His mind was still reeling from the information, trying to process the implications. "I can see why you might think that. The truth is often stranger than fiction, after all." He paused, the air thick with the unspoken questions and doubts that lingered between them.

He glanced at Glynda Goodwitch, who stood beside him, her usually composed demeanor betraying a rare moment of shock. Her eyes, wide with concern, flicked from Ozpin to the others and back again, searching for some semblance of logic in the chaos that had been presented to them.

"If you wouldn't mind," Ozpin continued, his voice softer now, almost hesitant, "I'd like to confer with Professor Goodwitch for a few minutes. This... this is quite a lot to digest."

Semyon brought his hand, about to argue but was stopped when David placed his hand on their shoulder. Grabbing their attention as he shook his head, making them look back at the two in silence before letting out a hesitant sigh.

"Fine." He grumbled as he got up from his seat and made his way to the lift. Followed closely by David and Alan as the doors opened before them. The three crammed themselves in before pressing the button. Closing the doors behind them, leaving Glynda and Ozpin alone.

"… Well, that was something," Ozpin murmured, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. A rare display of fatigue crossed his usually composed features. "By Oum, I think I need more tea."

"That'sallyou're going to say?" Glynda exclaimed, her voice teetering on the edge of exasperation as she turned sharply toward him. "After everything we've just heard? How can you be so… so calm?"

Ozpin sighed, pushing himself up from the table with a deliberate slowness. He walked over to a smaller table on the far side of the office, where a steaming teapot awaited. "What would you have me say, Glynda? I'm just as surprised as you are." His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of weariness that he couldn't quite mask.

Glynda's eyes narrowed as she followed his movements. "You knew everything about those three! How could you not know they come from a world where their wars make our Great War look like a mere footnote!? And Oum help me, most of them look like children! Children, Ozpin!" Her voice was rising, fueled by a mix of disbelief and frustration.

"I noticed," Ozpin replied, pouring himself a fresh cup of tea, his hand trembling ever so slightly. "I didn't know either. The writings weren't exactly… thorough. All I knew was that they were warriors destined to aid us against her. Not where they came from, and definitely not the horrors they've endured."

"Are you sure about that?" Glynda's suspicion was palpable, her eyes boring into him as if searching for some hidden truth. "I swear, Ozpin, if you're hiding something from me again…"

Ozpin paused, his gaze meeting hers with an earnestness that was rare even for him. "I swear on Oum, that's all I know." He took a slow sip of his tea, letting the warmth steady him. "If you don't believe me, you can see for yourself. I have nothing to hide."

Glynda hesitated for a moment, her eyes still full of doubt. But then she strode over to his desk with purpose, pulling out the book he had referenced. She quickly flipped through its pages, her frown deepening with each one she turned. "W-What… What is this?" she stammered, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. "Why are most of the pages blank?"

"That's because we're writing our own story." Ozpin explained, setting down his cup. "We've been given an introduction, Glynda. Now, it's up to us to finish writing the story."

Glynda huffed, placing the book down with a bit more force than necessary. "Ozpin, you've been reading too much Remnantpad fiction if you think this is how we're going to handle things. How in the Brothers' names are we supposed to help these three if we don't even know how they're supposed to help us end this war with her?"

Ozpin remained silent for a moment, his eyes drifting to the cityscape visible through his office window. The weight of the world seemed to press down on him, yet he stood firm. "Glynda," he finally said, his tone soft but resolute, "sometimes, the path ahead isn't clear. We've always had to navigate the unknown, to make choices with incomplete knowledge. This is no different."

Glynda crossed her arms, her expression softening but still tinged with concern. "And what if we make the wrong choice, Ozpin? What if their world's darkness seeps into ours?"

Ozpin turned back to her, his gaze steady and filled with the quiet determination that had always guided him. "Then we'll face it, as we always have. Together."

Glynda sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "You always were an optimist, weren't you?"

"Not always," Ozpin admitted with a faint smile. "But I've learned that sometimes, hope is all we have. And in this case, it's all they have too."

"Just pray that they trust us first," Glynda said as she shook her head, "They don't even trust us to tell us the entire story. Who knows what they're holding back."

…

"Well, I think that went well." David suddenly said as they continued their descent down the lift. "Doesn't seem they suspect much, I guess the 'immense' amount of bombs was really convincing to them."

"Yeah, they totally believe everything we said." Semyon sarcastically said before slapping them on the back of the helmet. "Сука, now they think we're mentally insane or lying to them."

"Ow!" David exclaimed as he rubbed the back of his head, "O-OK, I'll admit, what we said was a little bit unbelievable."

"Oh? A bit? What do you mean by 'a bit'!?" Semyon hissed as the lift came to a stop. "If you two just kept it down on the western propaganda, maybe we'd have a better chance of them believing our story!"

"Hey! We used facts and the truth and held back what they didn't need to know! Didn't you say we had to keep some stuff secret so we could 'keep our cards to our chest!? Besides, it's not our fault that your głupek can't tell the difference between real and fake news."

"Oh excuse me for standing up to the lies the West kept pouring down your throats like the lap dogs you are!"

"You want to go there skurwysynu!?" Alan exclaimed as he turned toward them.

"Oh it's on you zachodni drań!" Semyon exclaimed as the two brought up their fists. Squaring up and ready as a bolt-action rifle to suddenly spring out toward the other.

"H-Hey! Hey! Lets c-calm down now! No need to fight!" David exclaimed as he got between the two. Pushing them aparted just as the doors to the lift opened.

Revealing two girls, one having rabbit ears on her head but still mainly human while the other wore shades for some reason.

Just what were these two doing out here at this time?

David cleared his throat, his nerves betraying him as he shifted awkwardly in place. "Ahem... S-So, uh, f-fine weather we're having, huh?" His voice wavered, and he flashed an uneasy smile.

The two girls exchanged puzzled glances before turning back to him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Y-Yeah," the bunny girl responded, her ears twitching slightly as she tried to suppress a giggle. "It's… very nice outside."

David's face flushed as he forced himself to continue. "R-Right! I couldn't agree m-more." He stumbled over the words, feeling the weight of the silence between them. "S-So, um, who are you two, if you don't mind me asking?"

"O-Oh, I'm-"

"Say anything and I'll buy everything you hold dear." The girl threatened before grabbing the rabbit girl by the hands and pulling her away. Disappearing around a corner just down the hall as her complaints could be heard before slowly drifting away. Leaving the three confused as they just watched.

"...Wait, did she just threaten to buy us?" Alan suddenly blurted out, shattering the awkward silence with a raised eyebrow. "Like, seriously, is that a thing here? You think there's some kind of reverse slavery going on? Like black people owning white people now? Maybe it's a whole role reversal thing—'New world, new rules' or something like that?"

David and Semyon slowly turned their heads toward the polank, their faces bearing a look of disbelief and shock as he just looked back at them.

"…Wut?"

"M-Moving on," David said, still shocked by what they said but wanting to move on, "A-Anyone else see that o-one of them had bunny ears or was t-that the blood lose?"

"Don't worry American, we all saw it." Semyon assured as he turned to them, "But did you only notice the ears or were you looking at something else?"

"N-No! No! It's n-not like that! I s-swear!" He said as a warm feeling began to spread across his cheeks while he unconsciously covered his face, forgetting that he was wearing a mask. "I-I- J-Just- Lets m-move on!"

"Yeah, yeah, say whatever ты, озабоченный американский ублюдок." Semyon said as the three finally stepped off the lift. Walking into the large, open space before them.

"Ja pierdolę, muszę się napić." Alan grumbled as he reached for his pocket. Only to find that his flask was nowhere to be seen, remembering that he gave it to Semyon as he sighed and slowly turned to them.

"Need something?" Semyon asked, noticing the irritated look on his companion's face.

The response came in a grumble, "... I need my flask." He glanced up at Semyon, his eyes narrowing. "Give it."

Semyon tilted his head, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Huh?" he teased, leaning in and cupping his ear dramatically. "What was that? You need to speak up, comrade."

"Give me my fucking flask, ty zjadający dupę bezdomny ruski," he growled, raising his voice just enough to be heard, but still with a hint of frustration. Then, with a weary sigh, he added, "… Please."

Semyon chuckled and shook his head, his smirk growing wider as he handed over the flask. No sooner had it touched his hands than it was snatched away, the cap twisted off in one swift motion. He brought the flask to his lips eagerly, only to be met with an unexpected surprise.

"Co jest kurwa?" he muttered, shaking the flask upside down, desperate for any remaining drops. A single drop splattered pathetically onto the floor.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the empty flask, then snapped his head toward Semyon so fast that David was sure he'd pulled a muscle. "You fucking finished all of it!?"

Semyon shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "What? There were only a few gulps left, and we were about to die. Thought it'd be a shame to let it go to waste."

Alan huffed as he slammed his flask to the floor. Stomping toward them while relaxing and tensing his hands at the same time. Ready to give them a roundhouse punch as he stopped just inches from their face.

"…Fair point." He admitted as he turned around and went to go pick up his flask. Leaving a very confused David alone as he watched the entire debacle.

"W-Wha-Wa?" He mumbled as he looked at the two, flabbergasted, "W-What was that!?"

"That, my friend, is how alcohol enjoyers handle their problems."

"I thought it ended with a bar fight and bottles broken on heads." David remarked as he began to pull the balaclava off. Revealing a dark-tan hue underneath as he showed a little skin. "God, i-ss it just me or is it hot in here?"

"That's the adrenaline wearing off." Alan said as he walked back to the two, "Seriously, you're a medic, aren't you supposed to know this?"

"I-I do, I do," He said as he took off his helmet, ruffling his short, black hair underneath it as it was caked with sweat and grim, "It's just… I never really have been i-in situations like… T-This…"

"Bez jaj Sherlocku, you think this is your average Tuesday or some shit?" Alan cursed as he shook his head and mumbled underneath his breath, "Americans."

"I know right?" Semyon agreed as the two began to mumble negative comments about the medic.

"You know I'm right here." David said, causing the two to look at him with a "Ya think?" look.

But before he could say anything further, a soft chime from behind caught their attention. They turned around just as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a now-recomposed Glynda Goodwitch. She stepped out, her sharp eyes immediately noticing that David had removed his facial gear. A hint of surprise flickered across her features before she quickly masked it, clearing her throat.

"He's—We're ready for you three again," she corrected herself, gesturing for them to follow. The trio exchanged brief glances before stepping back into the lift, the tension from earlier starting to ebb away. The elevator ascended swiftly, bringing them back to the office.

As the doors opened, they were greeted by a noticeably calmer Ozpin, who was waiting for them with his usual composed demeanor. He nodded at them as they took their seats.

"I apologize for the delay," Ozpin began as soon as they were settled. "Professor Goodwitch and I needed to discuss the details of your accounts. We have some additional questions regarding your… stories."

"We're not saying anything else." Semyon immediately said, "We already told you enough about our world, you told us about yours, end of story."

"A-Actually!" David exclaimed as he quickly intervened, clearing his throat. "W-What he meant was, we'll gladly answer your questions. A-As long as they're not… Personnel or classified, right guys?" He asked, causing Semyon to hesitantly nod his head slightly while Alan just shrugged.

"That is acceptable," Ozpin said, hoping to break the uneasy tension between them and drop the subject so they could move on, "Shall we begin?"

They all nodded

"First order of business, how old are all three of you? Not to be rude, but you three seem a bit young to have gone through everything you just described," Ozpin asked, leaning forward with a curious gaze.

Semyon was the first to respond, his voice steady and unyielding. "Old enough to handle ourselves," he replied, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair, clearly at ease with the question. "But if you want numbers…" He paused, his brow furrowing as he considered his next words, letting the silence stretch out a bit too long, creating an awkward lull in the conversation.

Ozpin tilted his head slightly, about to offer a way out. "If you need a moment, I can mov—"

"I joined the TRP around fifteen," Semyon cut in suddenly, his tone firm as if he was making a point. "And if you're asking about experience, my old man had me out hunting before I could even hold a rifle properly. Taught me how to survive long before any of this."

Ozpin nodded, satisfied with the answer, and then shifted his gaze to David.

"Oh, m-me?" David stammered, clearly caught off guard. He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "W-Well, I got drafted after the attack on Washington in '46. I was just sixteen then, barely old enough to understand what was happening, but… you don't get much choice in times like those."

"Eh, I'm the same story as ruski over here," Alan chimed in, gesturing casually toward Semyon with a grin. "Joined the No-Pats when I was… what, fifteen, sixteen? Honestly, I can't even remember, but it was all to make sure me and my folks had a safe place to live." He leaned back in his chair, confidence radiating from him as he let out a short laugh. "And I don't regret it one bit. Wouldn't change a damn thing."

He then glanced to the side, muttering something under his breath in Polish, the words lost to everyone else, but the sentiment unmistakable.

"Good," Ozpin said, his voice calm but intent. "Now, this next question is for Mr. Semyon, regarding your… relationship with the TRP."

Semyon muttered under his breath in Russian, "Ну вот, блядь…" as he took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly. "Let me guess—you're going to ask me how many I've killed and whether any of them were civilians."

"Yes, precisely," Glynda responded, her tone straightforward, causing Semyon to blink in surprise. He wasn't expecting such directness.

"W-Wait, actually?" Semyon stammered, caught off guard. "I mean, I don't have anything to hide, but that was a lucky guess."

Glynda raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by his reaction, but Semyon cleared his throat and moved on before she could delve deeper.

"Officially, I have over two hundred confirmed kills," he stated, his tone even. "Unofficially… probably a bit more."

Glynda opened her mouth to probe further, but before she could, Semyon cut her off, his voice taking on a firmer edge. "Cool your jets, lady. None of them were civilians. And trust me, I made damn sure of it."

His forceful tone made Glynda hesitate, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered pressing the issue. But before any tension could escalate, Ozpin subtly raised his hand, signaling her to stand down. She hesitated for a moment, then closed her mouth, recognizing his intent to avoid unnecessary conflict.

"That's a relief to hear," Ozpin said, his voice carrying a note of genuine reassurance. He then turned his attention to David and Alan. "And how about you two-"

"I got around three tank kills, seve- no, eight IFV kills, got a helicopter once, and about over one hundred confirmed kills not counting the crews of said vehicles." Alan immediately said, not stopping for a breath in between, somewhat impressing everyone, even Semyon with his body count.

And no, not that one you dirty minded wankers.

"I…" David began, his voice faltering as the room's attention turned squarely on him. He swallowed hard, his nervousness evident as he tried to answer. "My kill count… I-I've got maybe a few dozen? I-I don't really know, man. I'm the medic—I don't usually worry about stuff like that."

Semyon leaned back in his chair, a casual smirk playing on his lips. "Jesus, I knew the Americans were soft-hearted, but I didn't realize you were that much of a wimp." His tone was teasing, but there was a sharp edge to it.

David turned to him, disbelief and a hint of anger flashing across his face. His mouth opened slightly, struggling to find a retort.

"What's the matter, hamburger got your tongue?" Semyon taunted, leaning in with a mocking grin.

"Oh, why you—" David began, his temper flaring as he started to rise from his seat.

"Ahem!" Ozpin hummed pointedly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. The sound was calm, but it carried enough authority to make all three men immediately stop and sit back down, their focus shifting back to him.

Ozpin allowed a brief moment of silence to settle before speaking, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 'Seems like I still got it,' he mused. "While I do apologize for interrupting your… conversation, it's getting late, and I think today's events have taken enough of a toll on all of us."

He turned his attention to Glynda, who had been quietly observing the exchange. "Ms. Goodwitch, if you would be so kind, could you please escort our guests to one of the rooms? They've more than earned some much-needed rest after everything that's happened today."

Glynda nodded in agreement, stepping forward to lead the trio to the lift. The group squeezed in as best they could, the small space forcing them to stand uncomfortably close to one another. With a soft click, Glynda closed the doors behind them, and the lift began its descent, leaving Ozpin alone in his office.

"Soldiers from another world, just what the hell weretheythinking?" He thought as he shook his head before reaching for a book underneath his desk once again. Flipping through it until he found another empty page. Watching as ink started to materialize on it seemingly out of nowhere. Catching his attention as he continued to drink from the cup.

"Now what does the future have in store for us?" He mumbled as he watched the ink come to a halt. Revealing a picture of a group of men wearing similar uniforms and armed with similar weapons fighting off a horde of beowolves while on a strange vehicle.

…

"Oh, s-son of a- I think my back is out of place." David groaned as he limped through the hallways. He rubbed his back softly on a sore spot, wincing slightly as he continued to move with the rest of them.

"You know, I'd thought you'd be more worried about your leg getting shot." Alan said as he walked beside them, "Not your back feeling like you got dropped from the sky."

"M-My leg got what now?" He asked as he looked down and at the tourniquet and gauze on his upper thigh. "Oh yeah… I-I forgot about that honestly."

"Nice to know you take good care of yourself." Semyon sarcastically asked as he looked at them. "Do you have the self-preservation skills of a Japanese person from the old world?"

"S-Since when the hell did you give a care in the world about me?" He asked before looking down at the blood-soaked gauze. "Plus, I-I stopped the bleeding so I s-should be good for a while. So I can probably fix myself up t-tomorrow."

"You're dealing with it right now," Glynda replied crisply as she led the group down a dimly lit hallway. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the walls until they came to a stop in front of a door labeled "Nurse's Office." With a flick of her wrist, Glynda opened the door, and they stepped inside.

The room was surprisingly spacious, with beds neatly lined up on both sides, each draped with crisp white sheets. The walls were lined with cabinets brimming with medical supplies—gauze, bandages, vials, and bottles of various antiseptics and medicines, all meticulously organized. The air carried the faint, sterile scent of disinfectant, mingling with the soft hum of medical equipment.

"Damn, you guys got a nice setup here," David remarked, his eyes wide as he took in the sight. He wandered deeper into the room, his gaze sweeping over the orderly rows of supplies. "What are you guys, some sort of PMC?" he asked, half-joking, though his curiosity was genuine.

Glynda glanced at him, arching an eyebrow at the unfamiliar term. "PMC?" she repeated, the acronym not ringing any bells. She decided to set the question aside for now, focusing instead on the immediate needs of the group. "Gauze, cleaning alcohol, stitches—whatever you need to clean and fix up your wounds are in the top cabinets," she explained, her tone efficient and no-nonsense as she gestured toward the various storage areas.

David nodded, his medic instincts kicking in as he mentally cataloged where everything was. "Got it," he said, already moving toward one of the cabinets to inspect its contents.

"If any of you have broken bones," Glynda continued, her voice steady as she pointed to another section, "we have casts for arms and legs in the bottom left-hand cabinets. Splints, too, if you need them."

The three nodded in response as David and Semyon immediately went for the cabinets. Grabbing some more gauze and cleaning alcohol while Alan immediately went for one of the beds. Hugging the pillow between his head and arms as he let out a sigh of relief.

"God, I forgot how comfortable pillows were." He hummed as he nuzzled against it and smiled wide like a kid with a PS5, "I'd trade anything to stay like this forever."

"How about your booze?"

"Hell no!" He exclaimed as he shot up from the bed. "The only time I'll get rid of my booze is when Hell freezes over! And that's not happening anytime soon!"

…

The Doomslayer stomped on another imp's head. The creature's cranium burst into a gory mess as it's flesh and brains were sprawled across the floor. Not stopping, he swung his fist and bitch slapped another imp across it's jaw. Tearing it off as blood and it's lower jaw flew through the air. Along with it's lifeless body as it crumpled onto the floor.

"YOU!"

A voice called out as the Slayer turned around, revealing a marauder brandishing a red, glowing axe as it closed the distance between the two. Swing it to the side as it intended to split the former marine turned demi-god like the US during the Civil War!

Not batting a eye or even flinching, the Slayer reached out his hands and grabbed the weapon by it's blade! Stopped it dead in it's tracks as the two struggled to overpower the other!

Furious, the marauder pushed it's axe away, sending it flying off somewhere before reaching out toward the Slayer in an attempt to grab him! With lightning fast reflexes, the Slayer did the same. The two's hands collided with each other as they were now trying to strongarm the other once again!

"Your defiance ends here you usurper!" The marauder declared as he tried to force his hands onto them. But the Slayer just stared back, his eyebrows rising a bit at the demon's threat.

Like how many other ones before it had said the same thing.

As he was just about to simply break the creature's arms and use them makeshift spears. An unknown sensation began to emit from his nose. After spending so much time in Hell, he had forgotten what was about to happen.

But before he could even stop whatever was happening. A gust of air suddenly forced it way out his nose. Adding the demi-god strength of the Slayer, the force snapped his head forward instantly. Causing the two to headbutt, with the Slayer suffering no damage due to his resistance of being in Hell for so long as well as his helmet.

However, the marauder was a different story as the force of the headbutt instantly caved in its head! A giant crater replaced where its face was as blood and eyes gushed out. Causing it to fall dead, it's hands still interlocked with the Slayer's as he just looked down at it.

What the fuck just happened?

"Slayer. Are you alright?" Vega, the Slayer's most trusty AI assistant asked through the Slayer's internal intercom system. "I detected a sudden force of air through your lungs. The cause of which is unknown, but I do suspect what you just experienced was a sneeze.

A sneeze? He's been in Hell for so long that he was practically invincible to whatever could be thrown at him. Including common stuff like sneezes. So what in the Hell just caused him to violently sneeze like that?

Maybe his grandfather was right about people sneezing when someone talks about them.

(This is not related to the story in any way. I just wrote this for fun)

…

"Y-You know, alot of your problems would be solved right now if you just stop drinking." David said as he walked over to them, handing them another pillow. "Besides, don't you know what happens when you get addicted to that stuff?"

"Yeah right, and Santa Claus is fucking real." He grumbled as he snatched the pillow from their hands. Fluffing it up and placing it behind him as he leaned his back on it while David placed the gauze and cleaning alcohol on the table beside him. Leaving him confused as he watched.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Checking to see if your head is cracked or not." David casually said as he undid the gauze on their head. Slowly unwrapping it and pulling it off, revealing the nasty cut on their forehead. "And luckily, your name isn't Humpty Dumpty."

"Pierdol się Amerykaninie" Alan mumbled as David dabbed a patch of gauze with cleaning alcohol and pressed it against the cut on their forehead. Cleaning the wound and the dried-up blood around said would as Alan hissed in pain. Trying his best to stay put through all the pain. "Jezu kurwa Chryste! Can't you be more gentle than that!? Maybe use some of that morphine youkeep forgettingto give us for stuff like this?"

"I can't use morphine on your head because one, I don't want to waste the syringes. Two, your skull is too thick for the needle to go where it needs to be. And three, I don't want to find out what morphine does to the head." David explained.

"I'm willing to take chances if it makes up for your poor caretaking skills." Alan said as David finished up, Discarding the used piece of gauze into a nearby trashcan before turning back to Alan. Grabbing a much longer piece of gauze.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but unless Ms. Goodwitch over here can use healing magic on you or something like that. You're going to have to rely on good old me here and medicine."

"Chyba sobie kurwa żartujesz." Alan grumbled as David was about to wrap their head. Only to be stopped when Glynda came from behind him and gently placed her hand on their shoulder. Surprising them for a moment before they composed and turned to her.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I try something?" She asked as David hesitated for a moment. About to say no when suddenly-

"As long as it's not him, sure!" Alan exclaimed as Glynda walked up to his side. Gently placing her hands on their forehead and closing her eyes. Leaving an awkward silence in her wake as the three just… Waited.

"U-Ummm… W-What are you doing-"

"Shush American! Can't you see she's working?"

"She looks like she's doing nothing to me." Semyon said as he pointed toward her. With the professor showing no response as she continues to press her hand against their forehead. Closing her eyes as she did so.

"What are you trying to do? Feel for a cold?" Semyon asked, "Иисус, блядь, Христос, you might as well give him some benadryl already at this point."

"Jeśli się, kurwa, nie zamkniesz, to wsadzę ci nogę w dupę tak głęboko, że-"

He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before a strange, white glow began to radiate from Alan's body. The three of them gasped in shock as they watched their comrade start to light up like a Christmas decoration in the middle of a snowy winter night.

At first, they thought it was the same mysterious force that had transported them to this world, sending them into a brief panic. David instinctively reached to pull her hand away from Alan, while Semyon's hand darted to his sidearm. But their fears were unfounded. The transparent white hue wasn't a threat—it was healing them. Slowly, the glow began to restore their skin, closing wounds and erasing any trace of trauma.

"Co do kur—Ahem—What the fuck was that?" Alan exclaimed as Glynda withdrew her hand. He quickly ran his own hand across his forehead, searching for any sign of the cut that had been there moments before. But there was nothing—not even a scar.

"W-Wha-What was-" He mumbled, struggling to find the words as he was just saying what he could at the moment. "H-How did you-"

"How are you feeling?" Glynda asked, getting straight to the point as Alan placed his hand on his head where the scar was once again.

"I-I feel… G-Great!" He exclaimed as he quickly got up and went to a nearby mirror. Reacting both positively and negatively when he saw the results. "Awe man, they're still there?"

"W-What are?" David asked, still shaken by what just happened while Semyon just stood in the background. Just as shaken as he was.

"Just some old scars from the war." Alan answered as he turned around to Glynda, "How did you-"

"Simple, I transferred some of my aura to you to help with the healing process." She answered as she frowned a bit, "However, for some reason, you could only accept a small amount. I would've used much more for your other wounds but I was afraid of what'd happen if I did."

"Eh. What's the worst that could happen?" Alan dismissively said as he waved them off. "It's not like you're sucking the life out of me like a wampir or something like that… Right?"

She shrugged.

"…Moving on," David said abruptly, turning to Glynda. "Could you try using your magic on Semyon? I've been meaning to remove the bullet lodged in his shoulder, but I'm worried I might cause more damage."

"I can certainly try," Glynda replied, as she and David moved toward Semyon, who was already sitting up on the bed, bracing himself for another attempt. David pulled out a pair of pliers, ready to assist.

"Ah ah! What the hell do you think you're doing with those?!" Semyon half-shouted, half-asked, eyes wide as he pointed accusingly at the pliers in David's hands.

"Wh-What? These?" David stammered, confused as he looked at the pliers. "I-I'm going to pull the bullet out while Ms. Goodwitch here stops the bleeding. D-Don't you want that?"

"Нет, блядь! Not if you're the one pulling it out!" Semyon exclaimed, backing away as much as he could. "I wasn't trained to survive POW camp just to have you play doctor on me!"

"Hey!—Actually, I've been called wor—Wait, you were in a POW camp?"

"Why yes, I—"

Semyon didn't get the chance to finish as David suddenly lunged at him, pinning him to the bed with surprising force. The speed of his movement shocked both Semyon and Glynda. Without wasting a moment, David drove the pliers into Semyon's shoulder, trying to get a grip on the bullet. Semyon screamed in pain, his voice echoing through the halls as he howled Bloody Mary so loudly that nearby Huntsmen and Huntresses sprang from their beds, grabbing their weapons, thinking they were under attack by Grimm.

Meanwhile, back in the ward, David continued his (not so) delicate work. After some determined digging, he finally managed to extract the bullet from Semyon's shoulder. A small geyser of blood followed, splattering across David's face. He barely flinched, the gore seemingly routine to him. Glynda, however, was starkly reminded of the brutal world these young fighters had been thrust into.

"H-Hey! D-Do it now!" David urged, his voice tinged with urgency as he looked at Glynda, who stood frozen in shock. Her eyes were wide, and her face had paled, clearly shaken by the sight.

For a moment, Glynda seemed lost in a haze of trauma, but David's words snapped her back to reality. Shaking off the shock, she quickly placed her hand on Semyon's shoulder, the same white glow from earlier emanating from her fingers. The blood that had begun to seep under her hand slowed, then stopped altogether, as the glow worked its healing magic. When she pulled her hand back, the wound was partially closed, a faint scar left in place of the gaping hole.

"Мама... Блядь…" Semyon mumbled weakly before his eyes rolled back, and he slumped onto the bed, passing out as fast as a light being switched off. His soft snores were the only sound in the room, leaving the remaining three in a tense, uneasy silence as they took in the scene.

"Well… I think that went great!" David said, breaking the silence with a surprising cheerfulness. He glanced down at himself and then at Glynda, both of them splattered with blood. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get cleaned up."

With that, he turned and headed for a nearby sink, completely unfazed by the gore on his skin and clothes. As he ran the water, he began to softly whistle a strange, almost unsettling tune, the kind that didn't quite match the grimness of the situation. The blood on his hands and face turned the water a murky red as it swirled down the drain, staining the sink's pristine white surface with streaks of crimson.

Glynda and Alan watched in silence as David scrubbed the blood from his skin, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The scene left a chill in the air, a stark reminder of how desensitized David had become.

"... Please never leave me alone with him," Alan whispered, his voice trembling as he turned to Glynda. She saw the fear in his eyes, a vulnerability she rarely saw in him. "I-I don't like doctors anymore."

Glynda hesitated, unsure of what to say or do. The fear in Alan's eyes was palpable, and it stirred something protective in her. She gave a slow, reluctant nod, her mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

By Oum, these kids are going to kill her.

---

Well that was one hell of a journey now, wasn't it?

We dropped some good old lore behind what our three cun- I mean protagonists have gone through! As well as breaking a few minds with some good old fashion history.

Now, now, I know, some of this lore might not be corresponding with what the official battlefield lore is. And I got a good reason why it's like this.

Number one, we don't really get a good idea of what happened during the events of Battlefield: 2042. Except some background stuff from trailers and ingame. So I decided to fill in the gaps from other games that I've played and seen. Like Tom Riley's Ghosts, World in Conflict, and more.

Number two, I was having a little trouble about how the world of Battlefield: 2042 would've gone. At first, I tried to stay with the canon, however, as I was getting stuck, I remembered that this is a fanfic and I could write this how I'd wish I'd like it to be.

As a friend has said, "This is your story, write it the way you want it to go as long as you have fun with it."

Anyways, to wrap things up, if you have anything to add about the lore or have a problem with it and want to correct something I did wrong (or just want to bother me for the funny), feel free to let me know via comments and/or DMs (For my fans).

This is Corpsman Halo, signing off.