A Light Against The Darkness

by nightbringer24

Remnants of a world called Cadia. A world called Remnant. Fate thrusts them together, and common cause finds them allied; the protection of humanity. But what awaits the forces of the Imperium of Man in this strange new world, cut off from humanity? What awaits Team RWBY and friends with these strange new visitors from the stars? But in the end, there is only war.

8. Chapter 7

Captain Thade looks down at the body in front of him, careful to keep himself to one side so he can use the light in the new triage room. Valim and the ad-hoc medical staff from the town are still helping the wounded.

"Father?" He asks softly. "Father Constantine. Can you hear me?"

A blood-caked eye lifts slightly, revealing a purple-coloured iris. The priest smiles softly.

"Knew it would… take more than… a xenos beast… to kill me. Didn't you… captain?" The man croaks out. "Only in death… does duty end. And the… God-Emperor has… more for me… yet."

Fidor smiles softly. It had been a miracle that Constantine had survived the fight. Although with an empty sleeve, less volume in his cassock and the amount of blood that still covers his beard and hair, Fidor wonders if it might be too soon to celebrate.

Looking down at the preacher, Fidor sees the rosarius still held tight in Constantine's remaining hand. It's not one of the powered variants, like those carried by the higher ranked preacher or the blessed Chaplains of the holy Astartes. His is a simple device, made from a gold Aquila, inlaid with a single silver skull and a pewter symbol of the Cadian Gate beneath.

"Faith…" Constantine rasps out, pushing himself up from his position on the simple cot supporting him before Fidor and one of the women looking after him help keep him still. It's an easy fight, morphine doing its best to put him out for his own sake. "The beasts… they fear the faithful… they fear the light… the light of the God-Emperor…"

Fidor can't help but spare a glance at the woman beside him. Attractive in a plain way, the woman looks between the two men in confusion at what the priest is saying. But, in her hazel coloured eyes, he can see the truth of what is being said. If he didn't hear the report from the himself, he wouldn't have believed it.

"I do hope you're not agitating my patient, captain." The voice of Valim says from behind him, making Fidor turn around. The medic has been fighting his own war tonight, and Fidor can only respect him more.

"I'm sorry, Valim." The captain says, moving to stand upright. Something twinges in his left leg, making him grimace, but he fights through it before he turns to look at the woman. "Keep him warm. He means a lot to us."

The woman nods her head. Carefully, she places a blanket over the preacher's body, softly smoothing it. Fidor turns to leave.

"Thank you."

The words are soft and gentle, spoken with sincerity and belief. Looking at the woman, both Fidor and Valim are stunned into silence. Seconds pass by, and the poor woman beings to look flustered and embarrassed.

"… we do our duty, for The Emperor and Humanity." Fidor replies, thinking on the only thing that he can say. Taking that as an answer, the woman nods her head and returns to her duty, allowing Fidor and Valim to return to theirs.

"How many?" The senior officer asks when the pair are outside the temporary triage station. He flexes the fingers of his right hand, bringing some feeling back into them after wearing his power fist for so long.

"Well, I'll say this," Valim begins as he walks beside his commanding officer. "It could have been a lot worse. Thirteen men heavily wounded, including Father Constantine. One-hundred and twenty-three KIA, from all of us. Bravo Company took the worst hit, although it looks like each platoon took fairly equal punishment. Kasrkin… well, they're the Kasrkin, so sixteen all told. Our comrades in the Imperial Navy took on that… that Alpha, I believe they're called, so they lost twenty men with that. And of course, the Astartes-"

"Has one neophyte with minor injuries, but who can still fight." The deep-bass voice of Veteran Sergeant Thaddeus says as he appears behind the two officers. The trademark stealth of the Astartes scouts is well earned once again, making both Cadians jump. "Apologies."

Fidor forces down the fight instinct in him, the adrenaline he had in the fight being kept in check again.

"No apologies necessary, my lord. I thank you for the assistance in the fight." He replies as he nods his head. "Although, I have to ask; why-?"

"Did I stay at the wall and send my own neophytes to take on that larger Grimm by themselves?"

Fidor thinks back to the memory of the fighting in the breach, of seeing Thaddeus carrying his heavy bolter, surrounded by the Kasrkin still at the wall, as they and the two female members of Team CFVY fired their heavy weapons at the Grimm that still wanted to enter the town through the breach.

If there's a memory worth turning into a mural…

"It is our Chapter's way." The veteran Astartes says simply. "They are near the end of their training and are nearly ready to become Initiates. They must be able to fight by themselves, without the guidance of their instructors and rely on themselves and their brothers. They performed well. As did your Cadians."

Fidor can't help but beam at the praise, coming from one of the Emperor's Angels of Death. High praise.

"Our… unlikely allies did well too."

Thaddeus motions with his chin towards an area near where the trio has stopped, and the captain turns and sees the members of Team CFVY sitting together near a low stone wall. They are dirty, quite a bit dishevelled, and definitely running low on energy for the night.

"They proved themselves tonight." Fidor says quietly. "We were fortunate to have run into them when we did. This night could have gone a lot worse."

"… but who are they?" Valim asks pointedly. "We know for a fact that one is an abhuman, that's clear as day. The others… I heard the reports. The protection they had. Are they… pyskers?"

Fidor lets out a low sigh. "I don't know, Valim. My lord?"

Thaddeus is silent for a few seconds as he stares at the group in question.

"No." He says simply. "They are not."

The Cadian is ready to protest the comment. But then he remembers who he is talking to. So he just nods his head quietly.

"Valim, return to the triage station. Keep doing the best you can." He doesn't turn around even as the medic salutes before walking away. "I think we should greet our new quests."

In silent agreement, the mismatched pair walk towards the mismatched team. As he walks towards them, Fidor thinks on what he can say to this Team CFVY. The name is still strange to him, but he sets that aside: if their outfits are anything to go by, it made sense that their name would be eccentric too. But still, he needs to say something.

"Good evening, captain."

It's the voice of their largest member, the giant in light green armour, the same one he had mistaken for an Astartes, that draws him back from his thoughts. The team are now standing, although the smallest, the abhuman named Velvet, looks nearly to be on the point of collapse.

Well, time to just wing it.

"First off; allow me to express my thanks and gratitude to you, on behalf of the Emperor of Mankind, for your aid in the battle."

The team in front of him mull over the statement before they all nod their heads by way of thanks. So he continues.

"And secondly, I say this as the captain of these men; you truly did save our arses. I think that if you hadn't come when that… that scorpion thing appeared… I think we'd have had it."

That is hard to admit for Fidor… but also made sense. By Imperial standards, these four had performed deeds that were only accomplished by the Astartes.

CFVY is silent as they mull over the sincere thanks from the man. Their leader, Coco, he reminds himself, speaks up. Her shade glasses are covering her face (Fidor still has no idea why she's wearing them at something close to midnight), showing no expression in her eyes. But he can see the way her face is softer that she feels pity over something.

"How many men did you lose?"

Fidor shrugs. "Before you arrived, I can't say. But in total; thirteen wounded. One-hundred-and-twenty-three killed. They did their duty."

The group pales at the numbers.

"T-that's…" Velvet speaks up, her voice almost trembling. "I mean… isn't that…?"

"It's an acceptable loss." Fidor replies, before he remembers a quote from the Tactica Imperialis. "Success is measured in blood; yours, or your enemies. And I think we shed more than enough Grimm blood tonight to make up for it."

The squeaky wheel of a hand-pushed cart fills the space, drawing everyone's attention. A soldier moves past them a few metres away, pushing a hand cart piled with the remains of the soldiers fighting on the wall, each corpse shrouded in a camouflaged blanket. Some of the shrouds cover smaller things than the others.

The one wearing red, Fox, lets out a small gag and a retch.

"It's not pretty," Fidor agrees. "But, it's what we do. No man or woman here fought here because they didn't want to. We all chose this."

The teens in front of him are silent as they process what they've been told. Fidor knows there will be a divide here; no matter how human these people could be, he doubts they could understand the drive and force that the soldiers of Cadia, hell, the whole Imperium, has for defending humanity.

The leader, Coco, steps forward, taking off her glasses at last to reveal a pair of brown eyes, tired but still alight with life. She holds out a hand simply.

"Well, for what it's worth; I'm glad we could help. Sorry we couldn't get here sooner."

Fidor looks at the offered hand before he reaches out with his own and takes it. Seems that some gestures truly are universal. Also, Coco has one hell of a strong grip.

The pair release the handshake and Coco turns to the silent Astartes standing next to Fidor. The veteran warrior has said nothing through the whole exchange, just silently watching the team and Fidor interact.

"And what about you?" Coco asks, smiling slightly as she speaks. "Or are you the strong, silent type?"

Not saying a word, Thaddeus reaches forward with his hand towards the team leader. Seeing another handshake coming, Coco reciprocates, holding out her own. Her eye open wide as the giant hand of the Astartes goes past her hand, taking a hold of her forearm before she does the same.

Thaddeus lets a small smile play at his lips. "Gloria fortis Bellator."

Releasing his grip, unheeding to the confused stares from the teens, the Astartes turns to Fidor. "Captain, I'll have my scouts take turn on watch, see what can be done about the breach too. I also require the use of a vox-caster to relay a message. And I suggest keeping the Kasrkin on two hour watches throughout the night." He turns to Team CFVY. "You should all get some rest."

Without another word, he walks off, leaving the group together.

"Getting some sleep does sound good." Fox says. As if to underline his words, Velvet lets out a yawn, her mouth opening wide as her leporine ears tilt backwards starkly. The sight makes Fidor smile for some reason he can't fully say.

"The townspeople have said we can use some of the empty houses for quarters for the night. Pick one you like. Huntress Coco, if I may, I'd like to talk to you."

Mulling over the request slightly, the warrior that looks like a model nods her head, telling her team not to wait up for her before she steps forward to join Fidor. Seeing her with a mind unclouded by adrenaline and combat, Fidor sees that she is tall, maybe a couple of inches below six foot without the heels, meaning that the pair can look each other in the face when they talk.

If they get a chance to talk, that is, without the form of Commissar Anton stalking towards them. Having recovered his cap, the commissar makes a striking figure again as he walks towards the captain. His weapons are holstered, but from the clenching of his fists, Fidor can see that the man is ready to use them at a moment's notice.

'If he thinks he's causing trouble now…'

"Commissar Schreiber," Fidor says, using the man's family name to underline the severity of the issue at hand. "It's good to see you again. How can I be of service?"

Stopping short, the black-clad commissar looks between the captain, then the huntress at his side before he looks back at the captain, throwing up a salute.

"Captain Thade. I am glad I caught you. This… is one of our allies from earlier tonight?"

A statement disguised as a question.

"That's me." Coco says in her defence before she puts a hand out. "Coco Adel, leader of Team CFVY."

The commissar looks at the offered hand flatly before he turns to look at Fidor square in the eye, violet eyes meeting violet.

"Captain Thade, pursuant to commissariat directive Alpha-Three-Six, I am… placing 'Team CFVY' under arrest under suspicion of being psykers."

There it was. Fidor knows that it is coming, he just had no clue when.

"Arrest?" Coco repeats, her jaw dropping as she pulls her shades down her eyes to see the man standing before her clearer. Behind them, Fidor hears the rest of her team coming up behind them, obviously overhearing what has just been said and not liking it.

"I'm sorry that I don't know much about your culture," Fox says, his eyes, his blind unseeing eyes, looking squarely at Anton. "But in our culture, we don't arrest the people who haven't committed any crime. Especially if they just saved our collective asses."

Velvet shushes him before she looks at the commissar "Sir. Why are we being arrested? On what charge?"

Anton looks at the taller version of the child they had rescued, before he looks at Fidor again. With a sigh, he speaks.

"Suspicion of being psykers, or having psychic abilities."

"… what's a… 'psyk-er'?" Coco asks in genuine confusion. The word leaves her mouth in a stilted fashion, showing her unfamiliarity with the word. Behind her, her team look just as confused at the word as their leader.

"A pysker is… dangerous." Anton says as an explanation. "They can control, or sometimes not control, very terrible and dangerous powers. Inhuman and ruinous powers…. Similar to the ones you showed tonight."

Fidor can't try to rationalise these people as not being pyskers. It's one of two options for them, especially with the big one. The other being special bio-augments which, considering the size of some of the weapons they used tonight, does make sense in his mind.

But them being psykers… it is still a possibility.

Fidor's hand reaches down his holstered plasma pistol. The psyker is a threat no matter where they are. And these teens are definitely a threat.

"As he said," He says flatly, watching Coco put her shades back on her face and straighten her back. "A psyker is dangerous, and as such, Commissar Schreiber is within his-"

"What in the name of the Primarch are you all doing?"

Everyone in the group stands stock still at the voice of veteran sergeant Thaddeus appearing out of nowhere suddenly. Fidor and Anton spin around at hearing him behind them, while Team CFVY, barring Coco, all take a step back in shock.

If the Astartes is angry at them, then he is showing it in an ice gold glare. The sort of glare that freezes the blood and stops the heart. His eyes, the colour of a stormy sky, are staring at the group underneath a furrowed brow. It's heart-stopping in its anger, and it takes a supreme effort of will for Fidor to realise that Tolya, a bandage wrapped around his head under his field cap, is standing behind the Astartes. The top of the antenna of his vox-caster is just visible over Thaddeus' shoulder.

"Commissar Schreiber, is there any rhyme or reason for this to be conducted now?" The Astartes asks, his eyes encompassing the whole group.

"My lord," Anton has the grace to at least bow his head respectfully. "I was merely following Officio Prefectus protocol, commissariat directive Alpha-Three-"

"I know the title of the directive," Thaddeus growls out, making everyone flinch. His words grate like boulders. "And what you intend to do. And I say no. This is neither the time nor the place. We are in hostile territory, surrounded by Dorn knows how many more enemies, with the very likely possibility of an attack in the night, or the morning. Vigilance is what we need now. Not infighting."

He looks at Anton for seconds that feels like eternities before he shifts to look at Coco.

"We can expect another attack. Is that statement correct?"

Coco loudly swallows the lump in her throat. "T-that… yes. Yes, we can."

Thaddeus nods his head, before he turns his gaze upon the Cadians again. "None of these fighters are psykers. This is my word, sworn before the Primarch and the Emperor."

With that said, he swiftly turns on his heel, surprising the vox-operator behind him, a large hand snapping out and taking the handset away from the startled Cadian. As an afterthought, he looks over at the political officer.

"I suggest you see to your men, commissar."

Anton opens his mouth to protest, but the words of an Astartes are not easy to countermine, so the commissar just bows his head and stalks off, not before shooting one last look at Team CFVY.

Satisfied the job is done, Thaddeus begins to talk into the vox-caster. He's never heard an Astartes speak in any other dialect than High or Low Gothic.

"I thought you guys could speak our language." Coco says, coming up to stand beside Fidor as the pair watch Thaddeus communicating through the vox. The language the Astartes is speaking is… Fidor can't find a single way to describe it. It's melodic, almost sounding like he's singing, before it lapses into harsh and discordant words and phrases. Each phrase is clipped and short, a report if the Cadian ever heard one being given.

"The Astartes are… unique, unto themselves." Fidor says as an explanation, watching the giant hand the vox set back to Tolya and walk off as quietly as he appeared.

"And the 'commissar'?" Coco asks in a pointed manner, making Fidor cringe a bit.

"He's… his job is complicated and multi-faceted, to say the least." Fidor sighs. "We're soldiers, miss. Not diplomats. This… this isn't our job."

He reinforces his point by pointing between himself and Coco.

"We kill the enemies of humanity."

At that phrase, Coco turns and smiles.

"Hey, if you guys can keep that line going, you'll get a lot of friends on Remnant. So… did you want to ask us if the Grimm will be back?"

Fidor nods. "I did. Before we were… interrupted."

"As I said, we can expect an attack. When?" Coco shrugs. "I can't tell you. The Alphas will very likely stay away from here, since you made them run. Younger ones… maybe. But I can't say for certain."

The captain nods his head, casting his gaze around the inner parts of the town walls. The Cadians can hold the town, no problem. But the question is: for how long?

A thought suddenly pops into Fidor's head, making him lean over to Coco and dropping his voice.

"You're not that bothered about nearly being arrested." He notes sotto voce.

Again, Coco shrugs as she replies in the same voice. "I just want to go to fucking bed."

A muffled squeak of shock and embarrassment comes from behind, not doubt from the other female of the team, while the other pair laugh at her reaction. It makes Coco and Fidor smile.

"I'll let you and your team head to bed. You'll know if we need help."

Coco smiles as she turns away. "I don't doubt it."

---

Watching Coco trudge back towards the team, Velvet lets out a weary sigh. She really cannot wrap her head around what has happened, and being accused of witches by one person (Witches!) and then being told that they're not by a giant sergeant who somehow outranks a captain?

It's hard for her to wrap her head around. And right now, the main thing she wants to wrap around herself is a blanket.

Velvet lets out a groan of tiredness.

"Come on, bun." Coco says warmly, putting a hand onto the other girls shoulder before she walks past, simply waving her hand forward. "Let's get some sleep, guys. Gods know we need it."

Yatsuhashi and Fox mumble their agreement as they fall into step behind their team leader. Velvet doesn't hear what they say as they head out, even though her Faunus hearing easily allows her.

She's listening. Listening to the world around her. Even as she walks after her friends, she treads lightly, letting her ears pick up on the sounds of the town and its new occupants.

Velvet has seen a lot of films and read a lot of books that have wars and conflict. Historical stuff, from The Great War, fiction both fantasy and science-fiction, and one thing always stood out. The soldiers would always celebrate at the end of a battle, no matter how hard fought it was. There would be songs, music and cheers of joy.

None of that now, not after this battle.

The student-Huntress flinches as she hears a hollow thwomp come from her right, as a shell is sent high into the air before it explodes on high, lighting the sky like a small star. The light, shining stark and bright, illuminates the world around her in ways none of the other lights in the town can.

Velvet baulks at what she sees.

The town around her is now populated by the living dead. That's far from the fact, Velvet's rational mind tells her, but seeing the men and women around her, it's hard for her to argue.

Where the men and women had been filled with the energy of combat, and all the fury and anger that fuelled it, to see them reduced to near sleep-walker like states…

Velvet feels her cheeks begin to dampen as her eyes moisten. The melancholy she feels now… it's as strong as the anger she felt on the Valkyrie. It's all encompassing, each man and woman feeling the same emotion. But it is nowhere on the same level of intensity.

Standing where she is, the Faunus huntress-in-training watches the Cadians as they go about their business. With the light of the shell above them all, she sees each of them in a new way. Their armour, a uniform colour of khaki, are scratched and dented, old scars layered by newer ones in some places, while their cloth uniforms are worn in some places, patched and repaired in others. Faces are gaunt and haggard, many faces appearing deathly pale in the light of the shell above.

And the eyes…

One soldier almost directly in front of Velvet, nearly a hundred yards in front of her, stops cleaning his gun to look up. Velvet opens her mouth to speak when her eyes lock on his, but then she stops. His eyes, a beautiful shade of dark purple, almost like Yang from Team RWBY's eyes, don't look at her, but through her. Vacant, expressionless, lifeless, the eyes tell her much, too much. And she feels her throat clench up.

Wordlessly, the soldier looks back down at his gun, and Velvet quickly jogs off to follow her teammates. As she moves, more shells are thrown into the air, their bright white light filling the night sky, throwing deep shadows around her. Grey stone walls become almost white, wood looks like it is set alight, and the Cadians look more dead than alive to her.

Nothing is right to her. It's a victory! It's a win against the Grimm, and on a scale that wouldn't even be possible except during the Great War. And why is she being affected by their emotions too? It's the same as before the fight: Velvet knows she is not as quick to anger as she was back then on the Valkyrie.

It confuses her, and scares her too.

She spots her friends turn a corner, Fox trailing behind at a slow walk, so Velvet picks up her pace to catch up.

She passes by another set of houses, and quickly stops at the sound she hears coming from the corner, hidden by the homes. It's a noise very much at odds with the feelings in the town, one Velvet quickly thinks that she wouldn't hear.

Laughter, heartfelt and genuine.

Moving slightly and carefully, almost in a worried fashion, Velvet peeps her head around the corner, her rabbit ears sticking out first before her brown eyes. The latter of which open wide in shock.

"Getting in on the local fashion there, Tychos?" Someone calls out with a laugh, joined by a myriad of others.

There's a group of Cadians, probably the ones who were here when the town was first attacked, sitting down against the walls or fences of a low stone house, or lying down sleeping in some cases. It's a warm summer night, especially with the fire outside of the wall still raging, so they don't bother to cover themselves with blankets or such. The soldiers still awake are either eating small bits of food or drinking from canteens. And all of them are laughing at the antics of one of their soldiers.

One of the soldiers is bent nearly double, his hands torn between trying to remove his own armour, and also trying to keep the little rabbit Faunus girl dangling from his neck with both hands from falling off him.

"You are not helping!" The man growls out to the other soldiers, a flash of irritation across his face which then smooths to something brotherly as he looks at the girl. "Carmen, can… can you let go of me for one second? Please?"

In response, the girl rapidly shakes her head, her ears flinging side to side wildly before she calls out, "No!"

If the sigh the man lets out is any indication, this has been going on for some time. So, letting the arm trying to undo his armour drop, he stands up right, taking a hold of the girl with both arms. With a great degree of tenderness and comfort, the soldier picks up Carmen in his arms and holds her to his chest as they turn back to the others.

As the pair move away, the little girl's head appears over the soldier's back, her face resting against his shoulder. Even at the distance she is at, Velvet can see the girl's eyes are reddened, her cheeks streaked with tears. But through it all, she smiles warmly and happily.

A thought comes to Velvet's mind: photos! Need to take photos!

Reaching to her belt, Velvet pulls out Anesidora, flipping up the cover before she brings it to her eye level. Instantly, she begins snapping pictures.

CLICK

The soldier is approaching another soldier, a woman with tanned skin and close-cropped black hair, who is holding a small rucksack, one decidedly not of military issue.

CLICK

A small rabbit doll is produced and handed to the little girl, the woman beaming warmly at the girl.

CLICK

The soldier, his face obscured slightly by a large rabbit ear but showing dusky skin, is given a blanket by the woman.

CLICK

Carmen is now wrapped in a blanket, a little awkwardly but still workable and the soldier is moving to sit on the ground.

Velvet lowers Anesidora as she takes in the scene unfolding before her. It's… a shock for her. To go from witnessing these soldiers (Velvet can't be sure if she had encountered the soldiers in front of her at the wall or not) fighting for their lives and the lives of the townspeople, then to seeing them depressed and zombie-like outside of it, to finally seeing them… fawning over a small Faunus girl… it's a relief in a way to her.

In more ways than one, Velvet realises as she watches the soldier holding onto Carmen settle down on the ground against the stone wall of the house. The man, his dusky skin still dirty and his chin covered with a small bandage, gently cuddles the child close to him as she falls asleep. As Velvet raises Anesidora back up to her eyes, the door to the home opens slightly, allowing a woman on the low of middle age and a young teenage girl step outside. Both have hair the near matching shade of green, and they look haggard and dirty, but they smile warmly at the soldier with Carmen.

CLICK

Crunch…

Velvet's Faunus hearing picks up the sound, hard leather soles on stone, coming up behind her. Slow, measured, the steps are taken not to alarm her or to threaten her. But still, Velvet's rabbit ears pick them up all the same, the large organs swivelling slightly to the place the noise comes from, before they turn back to the front as Velvet stands back up.

She turns around.

The commissar is standing behind her. His face is passive, no emotion shown on his face, as he has his hands placed behind his back. The Cadian looks down on her, which is no small feat when he stands a full head taller than her.

Seconds tick away in awkward silence between the pair.

"May I see those photos?" He says, keep his tone soft, as he holds a gloved hand out towards her. When Velvet pauses, looking down at Anesidora uncomfortably, the man speaks again. "I insist."

Looking up at the commissar, Schreiber, Velvet reminds herself, she says nothing as she hands over the camera, making sure that the screen is visible to the man.

Taking the device in both hands, Commissar Schreiber looks down at the screen, seeing the last mage that Velvet has taken. The screen from Anesidora's screen is not particularly bright, not bright enough to fully illuminate the man's face, but even in the low light, Velvet's eyes pick up the hint of a small but earnest smile on his lips.

"Propagandists couldn't take a better picture…" The man whispers softly as he stares at the picture. He then realises that the girl in front of him has very possibly heard what he said. So he looks back up as he says in a clearer voice. "These are good quality photos, miss. You have a keen eye."

He hands the camera back to Velvet, who takes it silently, looking down. It's hard to make small-talk with the man who not minutes ago had threatened to arrest her and her friends on being 'witches'.

"We pulled her out of a well." Commissar Schreiber says out of nowhere, making Velvet raise her head. To her surprise, the man isn't looking at her, but at the strange pair sleeping against a rock wall. "At Marysville, earlier today. Her parents… they were taken by the Grimm. The whole village too. All butchered, down to a single child. Gone in a single night. They never stood a chance against all that fury and savagery."

He turns his head and looks at Velvet, a questioning look on his face.

"Is that normal for this world?"

'All too normal', Velvet's brain says to her, and she opens her mouth to repeat it before the man scoffs quietly.

"Although what can I say about 'normal'…" The commissar says quietly to himself, a faraway look in his violet eyes. Which is gone quickly, a look of annoyance on his face as Velvet knows that he let something slip. "You should join with your team. I imagine they're looking for you."

Holding Anesidora in both hands as she lifts it protectively to her chest, Velvet nods her head, her hare-like ears flopping slightly with the movement, before she silently moves past the commissar and jogs away, following the route that she knew her team had taken.

Guilt was flowing through her. Guilt and embarrassment. Oh, so much embarrassment at being caught taking photos of the Cadians by the man who had not minutes ago said she was a witch. And embarrassment at being caught out with nothing to say to him in her defence. And… guilt. Guilt that she had heard something that was clearly not meant for her ears.

Velvet slows herself down to a walk as she moves her camera away from her chest. Letting out a weary sigh, she flips the cover of the camera closed and sets it back in its place on her belt before she continues walking, head down. It's been a very trying day.

"And there she is." The distinctive voice of her team leader called out to her, causing Velvet to look up in shock. There Coco is, leaning against a wooden fence, arms crossed over the other and her sunglasses resting against the bridge of her nose. "We were getting worried. Thought you'd been arrested."

The threat is said as a joke, but Velvet can see the concern in Coco's eyes, and it makes Velvet smile softly.

"Sorry about that. I… got distracted." She reaches back and pats Anesidora. "Photographers itch again."

Coco simply nods her head, fully accepting the comment, thinking that Velvet had been taken by some exotic weapon of the Cadians that she had not seen before.

"Come on." The team leader says, waving a hand as she leads Velvet into the house. "The house is… so-so, but it's roomy enough for all of us. The guys have let us have the beds."

Coco is right. The house… is a house. Any defining features, photos, whatever, have been taken by the original occupants when they left the town. But it's cosy and sturdy, that's for sure. Fox is already asleep on the couch, his bladed tonfas removed and stored safely on the floor. Yatsuhashi is sitting cross-legged on the floor, illuminated by the light of his scroll as he fiddles with it.

"Any luck?" Coco asks quietly, although even that noise makes Fox stir slightly.

Yatsuhashi shakes his head. "No good signal. Looks like we won't be calling for assistance, or just to tell Beacon where we are and what's going on."

Removing Gianduja's purse from her shoulder, Coco groans slightly as she tilts her necks slightly, a small 'crack' following. "Well, can't be helped. Let's deal with it in the morning. Get some sleep, Yatsu."

"Same to you two." The giant teen replies, switching his scroll off and pockets it. Closing his eyes and putting his hands on his knees, the sound of Yatsuhashi's gentle breathing tells Velvet that he is sleeping, in his own weird way.

Entering into a side door, Velvet enters what has to be the master bedroom. The large bed says as much. It's not the first time that the pair have had to sleep in the same bed together. The night in Second Year where Port dropped CFVY off in that cabin on the Vytal coast during winter springs to mind. And Velvet is too tired to say anything about it. So, tiredly but thankfully, she takes off her shoes and the more armoured parts of her outfit, placing her weapon at the side of the bed, Coco doing likewise.

Not saying a word, both enter under the sheet. Velvet feels herself sink into the comfort of the sheet.

"Hey, bun."

"Yeah, Coco?" Velvet responds, not opening her eyes.

"What a day, huh?"

Velvet hums her agreement. She falls asleep easily, not waking as she feels Coco wrap an arm around her and pull her closer.

---

The sound of blades slashing in the night filters softly through the forest. An Alpha Beowolf drops to the floor, headless, before another falls to the side of it, split from snout to groin. Both beasts dissolve instantly. Harbinger in its greatsword configuration drips with ichor as Qrow stops for a moment to catch his breath.

Grimm are all around him, but they're disorganised. More so than usual, and they've had their ranks thinned heavily. Still, Qrow doesn't slack off.

But boy, what a night. The light show at the place called Carterstown, a second-rate burg in the ass end of Vale, was something, looking back on it, was something he would not want to have missed.

He's seen plenty of idiots in his day, and he's seen plenty of flashy people too. The people who are still living in Carterstown right now are both the flashiest and possibly the single most stupid people he's seen.

In a way… he had to respect that.

Jumping up from the ground, Qrow bounds up onto a thick branch, just out of view of the town and also allowing himself to lean against the thick trunk to catch a few moments of rest. Reaching down to his belt, he draws his hip-flask as he mulls over the night's events.

Running damage control on one of Beacon's teams? Not really outside of his line work from Oz. It seems that ever since Team STRQ, each student team has been getting rowdier and more troublesome whenever they go out into the Emerald Forest. But to this level? Having to clear out a relay tower after putting in a call for more huntsmen teams to be shipped out to various towns and villages to help evac or fight was something pretty new. And one he does not wish to repeat.

Idly, he wonders how those villages faired. He's kept his scroll dark for the duration of the fight.

Which brings him to the other topic of his internal monologue of the night, his new source of ire…

He presses his body flat against the tree trunk as stark white light fills the night sky, casting long black shadows through the forest. Grimm are picked out in clear detail, every line of colour and bone picked out plainly. Their night vision ruined by the near periodic bursts of light, many of the creatures mill around in pain and anger. Some get a bullet in the head from the town as payment.

Qrow tries to wrap his head around the defenders of the town. Military-types, that much is clear to see. As if their defence of the town and air support wasn't clear enough to the veteran huntsman. But… they aren't any of Jimmy's lot. Armour is too different, not least the weapons. Atlas doesn't have any of the aircraft that he saw used this evening. Too… noisy, and unclean.

It was not hard for him to miss the talk about an 'Emperor', especially when they're yelling it at the top of their voice.

None of this made sense, the veteran Huntsman knew that for a fact.

Could she…? No, she probably couldn't. That sort of build up of men and equipment, especially ones that did not look like they used Dust, would have been all over Atlas' radar, and Oz and Ironwood would have instantly been on the lookout for them.

No… no, this wasn't her style. Too overt.

Although, Qrow had to see the logic in the plan; use soldiers to rescue the townspeople from the Grimm (since there's a million more where they came from), get them to accept her as her saviour, instant followers.

It certainly fits her MO, he wouldn't lie about that. Salem was manipulative.

But… the anger he had felt in the air, the anger that was still lingering now. That was all too real. There was no way that could be faked. He knows that.

And there is the fact that these guys… Qrow almost can't bring himself to complete that thought. Humans can't come from space. It's not possible. It belongs in the realms of the bad sci-fi films he, Tai and the girls would watch.

A growl below him forces him out of his thoughts. A Beowulf is climbing the tree. A small one. Small fry.

A crack from above is the signal for Qrow to push himself flat against the trunk, as a bundle of branches sail down past him. The Grimm takes a face full of spiny, pointy wood, causing Qrow to chuckle lightly. Score one for the semblance.

It gives him breathing room, and more thinking room.

The lights in the sky, the 'meteor showers', the 'thunder'. Yeah. All natural occurrences. And then there were the guys who could pass for Hazel's extended family…

Looking up, Qrow is given an unobscured view of the night sky. Away from the lights of Vale, and even with the large fire reaching its end, he could still see the lights of the stars above him. The moon was presenting its unbroken side of Remnant.

Reaching to his belt, the Huntsman takes out his hip-flask and takes a quick swig, feeling the alcohol burn his throat as it went down.

Oz and the others have to be told.

---

Hidden in the debris field of Remnant's shattered moon, a steel arrowhead powered by blue fire shifts position. It flies steadily past giant asteroids, void shields deflecting the smaller pieces of rock. In the void, it is silent, even as the engines roar with over ninety megatons of nuclear thrust. It is not a swift journey, nor a long journey.

The Dracon's Fang strike cruiser, a relic of times long lost to mortal memory, steadies itself as its pilot moves it into position, broadside pointed towards the planet. Stationed ahead of the vanguard fleet, the strike cruiser has been chosen to act as the quick-reaction and interdiction force.

A bulkhead opens on the flank, large and cavernous like the maw of a colossal predator, letting cold blue light spill out in a halo.

The motion is silent to the outside. Inside, the sounds of preparation for battle fill the space.

Sirens scream a readiness warning, before the harsh screech of hydraulics and pneumatics fills the space. Large lifting cranes and gears slowly move into life. On the ceiling, two thick, squat bellied craft, their shape and form almost similar to deep sea aquatic life, are shunted across steadily. Their squat forms are made dangerous by the inclusion of rocket pods, heavy bolters, lascannons and twin-linked assault cannons attached to the bulbous front. Flat steel, they hang suspended above the launch bay. Robed techpriests and servitors focus on the final rites to the Machine Spirit of the Stormtalons, gantries moving them into position next to the aircraft, as their pilots perform the last checks on the weapons and engines of the brutal gunships.

Beneath, lifted upwards on giant pedestals that move to sit flush with the deck floor, the twin forms of a pair of mighty Thunderhawk gunships are raised up. Ancient machines of war, these vaunted and hallowed engines have been consecrated with holy oils by the techmarines and their fellow techpriests aboard, their bodies hung with parchments to soothe and placate the Machine Spirits of the twin crafts. Engines spool up loudly, jetting clouds of smoke into the space, while gun mounts twitch as the final calibrations are carried out. Cables connect the machines to the floor like umbilical cords, feeding the gunships the last of the coolant and fuel.

The ramps open.

From a side of the room march twin lines of warriors. Steel clad in ancient and resplendent suits of armour, mounted with gold and silver adornments, trophies of fang, bone and hide , the veterans march to their crafts in two columns. Their heavy footfalls their only sound, they wordlessly march up the ramps to take their places in the two vehicles. They know their mission, the data and intricacies of the plan uploaded to their armour's internal databanks. Their weapons are already stowed awaiting them.

The ramp closes as the last veteran takes his place in his seat.

The last rites are intoned, the parchments are carefully removed from the Thunderhawks hulls by tech-serfs, and gantries are removed. Quietly, the hangar is emptied, like it is sacrosanct for those of flesh and blood to be in the same vicinity as these machines of steel and adamantium.

A klaxon blares.

"Prepare for combat launch." A monotone voice intones. "Launch in T-minus thirty seconds… twenty-nine… twenty-eight…"

As the countdown continues, the bay fills with a rolling roar. Plasma engines flare to life, burning blue with heat and power as they are powered up. Flaps are tested for ease of movement. The cables are shut down, their liquids drained, before they snap off and retreat like snakes to their lairs.

The countdown continues.

"Fifteen… fourteen… thirteen…"

The sound in the room reaches a maniac pitch. Engines scream with bridled fury. The Machine Spirits hunger for flight, for the cold of the void before the heat of atmospheric entry. The pilots of the Thunderhawks raise their landing gear, the mighty engines keeping the craft aloft. Above, the cranes keeping the Stormtalons in place release their grips, letting the artificial gravity of the mighty vessel take hold before their own engines arrest their fall.

The quartet of craft wait for the call, hovering in place like impatient birds of prey. Waiting for the call to be let loose on the enemy.

"Five… four… three… two… one. Launch."

The word is given. The engines boom as the craft shoot forward, slipping through the barrier-field surrounding the hangar entrance, the din of their passage being swallowed by the void outside.

---

The new morning comes as it ever did on Remnant, the same sunrise that has graced the planet for thousands of years. The ascension of the celestial body that warms the planet and rises over the kingdoms; first Mistral, then Atlas, Vale and finally Vacuo, giving all of humanity and Faunus-kind the knowledge that they have survived to live another day on an uncaring and cruel world.

Professor Glynda Goodwitch lets out a sigh of annoyance as she checks her Scroll again. It is only half-past-six in the morning. She has been awake for half an hour already, preparing herself for the new day of education at Beacon, washing, eating breakfast and dressing before prepping her notes for the new combat class.

Team CFVY has been out of contact for nearly twenty hours now, twice the time limit for the mission they were selected for. As Second Years, Glynda knows that the team can easily handle anything that is thrown at them, either through their own abilities and skills, or simply by contacting backup.

The lack of the latter is concerning to her.

She had checked with Professor Port when their window for the rendezvous had closed, but the man had heard nothing from the team. Contacting other Huntsmen teams operating in Vale had yielded nothing, except that the Grimm had been especially active, in large numbers, in the northern region of the Emerald Forest near the northern mountains. None of them had been able to help.

'Calm yourself, Glynda.' The woman chides herself, putting away her Scroll before she straightens out her outfit, doing her best to appear as the prim and proper secondary head-teacher that she is seen to be. 'CFVY know what they're doing. Trust them. Trust them.'

Nodding her head at her own advice, Glynda twirls and exits her room, heading right to the cafeteria. The first point of call for many students at Beacon, the large room is already partially full. Naturally early risers are mixed with those who woke early to train. Team CRDL is one of the latter, the four boys entering in shorts and t-shirts, towels around their necks and looking thoroughly pleased with themselves.

When they first came to Beacon, the team had a leaning towards… the lesser qualities of a huntsman-cadet, but as of late, CRDL has become cowed somewhat. Glynda doesn't know what caused it or why, but while she is glad to see them acting more grown-up, she is still on the lookout.

"Those towels had best stay around your necks, gentlemen." She says as she sees them walk past her. "Because if I hear any snaps from you."

The Disciplinarian snaps against her palm, the leather riding crop hitting hard on her skin.

"You will hear a snap from me."

The four boys flinch at the sound and gesture, each one muttering apologies for acts not done and promises to not fulfil those undone acts, before they shuffle across to the line for food.

Glynda watches the various teens in the cafeteria file in for their food, scanning each one with a professional eye. Which ones were showing signs of ill-ease, which ones were lacking sleep or were showing sickness. Any of them that needed her help, she would pick the right time and place, and then talk to them. It is her job as an educator and helper.

The sound of a high-pitched squeak of a yawn coming from her side is a good indicator that someone needs her help. So she turns… and is met with an odd pairing.

"Miss Belladonna, good morning to you." Glynda greets the first-year simply. She knows that Blake Belladonna is an early riser, although she has the courtesy to wait for the rest of her team to arrive. But what surprises the teacher is the appearance of… "Miss Rose. You're up awfully early."

"Ugh, it's too early…." The red-cape wearing student groans out, her eyes not even fully open due to her sleep-deprived state. "This is not natural!"

Despite herself, Glynda can't help but smile at the comment. It reminds her of how young Ruby Rose truly is. Although, the question is begged…

"Miss Belladonna, I know that you are an early riser, but why are you with Miss Rose so early in the morning?" An idea does quickly come to the Huntress/teacher's mind. "Is it about Team CFVY?"

Rubbing at her eyes in the manner of a young child, Ruby nods her head.

"I know they're good, but I'm worried."

Glynda nods her head in understanding. She knows that Miss Rose has spent some time with Team CFVY, getting along well with Misses Adel and Scarlatina. She's worried for her friends.

"And I also had a… a weird dream."

That catches Glynda by surprise.

"A nightmare?" The teacher asks.

Blake answers. "No, it didn't sound like one. Or if it was, Ruby has very quiet nightmares."

Glynda raises a blonde eyebrow. This is not something she is really trained for or knowledgeable about. Helping her students with post-traumatic stress was something she could do, and did often with many second and third year students. What sounded like regular dreams… eh, she could take a stab at them.

"What happened in this dream of yours?"

Ruby fidgets for a few seconds, torn between wanting to tell the teacher about her dream, and embarrassed about it too. She relents.

"There was... an eye. A big one; it looked evil. And it blinked about... twelve times, very quickly. Then on the thirteenth time, it lit up on fire... and a gate was destroyed... and then there was a golden... dragon? Or maybe an eagle?"

"Those are two very different creatures." Blake speaks up, an eyebrow cocked.

"I couldn't see them properly!" Ruby whines out. "All I know is, it had wings, it was golden, and it glowed. Brightly."

This is something a bit outside of what Glynda is used to. But she can work with it. Not the strangest thing she's been told at Beacon.

"Miss Rose," She begins, her voice taking on the tone she uses in class. "I'm sure you're aware that playing video games or watching movies on your Scrolls is allowed, but only as long as they do not interfere with your education here. Will I have to confiscate your Scroll from you?"

That had Ruby's eyes opening wide. "But I wasn't playing games! Or watching movies!"

"It's true, Professor Goodwitch." Blake chimes in. "Ruby was studying with Weiss, right up until they went to sleep."

Glynda's sceptical nature takes hold as her eyes narrow slightly. She's been a tutor at Beacon enough to know all the sly tricks some students use to get past the rules.

The chiming of her Scroll, the alert telling her she had a message, interrupts her thoughts, making her let out a sigh.

"All right, you two." Glynda says to the two first years. "I'll let you off. Miss Rose, I can't say much, but I know that Team CFVY will return soon. I have a good feeling they will."

The young girl's face lights up in a smile. "I trust you, Professor Goodwitch. Come on, Blake. I need some coffee."

With that, the two walk past the educator, joining the slowly increasing throng of students to enter the cafeteria. Off to one side, and knowing that she won't be interrupted because of her status and demeanour, Glynda takes out her scroll, a sleek, professional dark grey model.

Switching on the screen, she sees a message notifier. From Qrow. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Quickly, she opens the message and reads the contents.

QROW: Looking for a lost team of yours?

Glynda's eyebrows shoot back up in surprise. Deftly, her fingers flash across the screen as she types out her message.

GOODWITCH: Team CFVY. What do you know?

The notification for a message being typed comes up before the other person responds.

QROW: They're in some very interesting company.

QROW: And they're safe. For now.

Despite herself, a small pit forms in Glynda's stomach. Qrow Branwen is not a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination… but his knowledge about dangerous situations is never wrong.

---

Velvet Scarlatina is not normally a morning person on the best of days, she will gladly admit it. It takes a while for her to get everything together in her head before she can do anything serious. It's something her family, and now her team, has grown used to.

But now, instead of barely being able to keep her eyes open and stop yawning, the rabbit Faunus Huntress-in-training is standing near ramrod straight, her hands held together in front of her stomach as she looks at the people around either side of her team. Despite the near perfect (or in Fox's case, perfect) poker faces from her teammates, she knows that they feel as nervous as she does.

And how couldn't she?

Just under six hours ago, Velvet has seen these same men and women, and giants, lead a do-or-die defence of Carterstown in a stunning, and suicidal, display of military skill and power the likes of which she thought only Atlas could ever pull off. She's seen them covered in mud and blood, bellowing orders as their weapons slashed through night. The night had been one of terror and courage in equal measure. So Velvet would think that the morning would see some semblance of celebration.

But instead… the area of the town they're in is quiet as a tomb. Each man and woman, roughly twenty in all, are standing in a rough circle, in stony silence. All of them have washed themselves to some degree, removing any bloody or dirt from their face and hands. Their armour is scuffed slightly, their uniforms are dirty, but their weapons have been cleaned, that much Velvet can see. Each officer, if Velvet is to guess, has a weapon, either a melee weapon of sorts and a pistol, strapped to their waist and hips.

The commanding officer, Captain… Thade, Velvet reminds herself, is standing ramrod straight, one hand behind his back while the other holds an antique looking wooden pipe to his mouth. Small puffs of smoke rise from the end of the pipe as the man puffs away at it. If he looks tired, he's not showing it.

The man standing beside the captain, looking intently at what looks like one of the original versions of a Scroll, is the only person who truly doesn't look tired. His emerald green and blue uniform is clean and near spotless, a speckling of dust around his boots. Tall, aristocratic, he looks like he could have come straight from Atlas more than anywhere. It was his Valkyrie that woke Velvet up from her sleep.

"Captain," Velvet hears him say. "I do not mean to rush, but we are beginning to lose daylight."

"Certain things have to be observed, First Lieutenant." The captain says in reply, removing the pipe from his mouth. "Everyone has their rituals, and we Cadians have ours."

At his words, Velvet perks up. 'Rituals to be observed'? Velvet has no real anthropological bone in her body, but she knows interesting when she hears it. Reaching a hand to the back of her belt, she takes out Anesidora, knowing that to take pictures of this would be wanted the world over.

Or be worth some extra credit with Doctor Oobleck.

The clatter of many small metal wheels on stone work draws Velvet's and everyone else's attention. If Velvet expected something extravagant and impressive, the quartet of food carts being wheeled into the group completely blindsides her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," A soldier with dusky skin and still red scar on his chin says happily as he steps from behind the cart he pushes calls out. "Breakfast is served. And we have recaff."

The cheers that come from the circle of officers is small, but heartfelt, and Velvet can't help but giggle a bit at the absurdity of it all. Separated by the limitless bounds of space and time, and people still love a warm breakfast and what has to be caffeine if what she smells is right.

Humans are still humans.

Quickly, food begins to be portioned out, and Velvet can't help but salivate slightly at what she sees. Mashed and fried potatoes, boiled and poached eggs, mushrooms, chopped tomatoes, slices of bread along with ham, sausages and bacon. It's a smorgasbord, and it has all of her team perking up. Especially when she sees plates full of it be passed down and around the group, cutlery accompanying them.

"Consider this a small way of repaying you back." A man who was definitely a local, the mayor of the town if Velvet had to guess said, making his way to the Cadian commander as the food was shared out. "Just a… small thank you. And also the fact that it's best if we get rid of all of this food now."

"Perfectly understandable." The captain says, even as he bites into the meat on his fork, his pipe wedged slightly in his breastplate. "Although don't thank us when the work is not over yet."

Swallowing his food, Captain Thade motions a hand to the man in emerald and blue uniform, who is using his Scroll-like device as a balancing pad for his plate.

"Mayor Goldthwaite, this is First Lieutenant De Pikalov, officer of the fleet for the Cadian 598th, and liaison with the Imperial 46th Fleet. He's the man we should thank for getting the aircraft to get your townspeople out."

In reply, the other officer, carefully balancing plate and device, stands up straight, and snaps off a smart salute before offering his freed hand to shake. The mayor holds no hesitation in shaking the offered hand.

"And," Thade continues. "It is because of First Lieutenant De Pikalov that we had backup in the form of Team CFVY here."

That earns a nod from De Pikalov. "I do my duty to humanity and the God-Emperor."

A scattering of quiet applause and muffled cheers from the circle, many of the soldiers present focused on eating their food, directed at both the naval officer and Team CFVY. To her sides, she sees her team react; Yatsuhashi stoically bows his head, his hands pressed together. Fox nods his head, while Coco seems to swell with pride, making her back stand straighter. For her part, all Velvet does is smile, especially when a plate filled with food is handed to her.

"Thank you." She says to the person handing her the plate, a tall woman with tanned hair, before she tries to take it. Try, being the operative word.

Velvet could not pull the plate close to her. So she looks at the tall woman holding it, and stares straight into a pair of violet eyes, wide open in shock and delighted awe, a wide smile splitting the woman's face.

'Oh dear…' Velvet thinks to herself.

"Tychos!" The woman calls out, her head turning on a swivel to look at the other soldier, Velvet using the distraction to get her plate. "Even when they're bigger, they're still bloody cute!"

Velvet's head cocks to one side and she blinks in confusion as she looks past the woman to see who she is talking to. And again, Velvet blinks in confusion. The soldier who she had seen the night before, this time a quartet of enamel cups, steaming with what had to be caffeine, in his hands instead of a young Faunus child. But the main difference, in her eyes, is that the soldier looks… alive. Like the others he has washed his face, and tried to clean up his uniform as best he could.

"Sophia, you don't need to shout. I'm right here." The man says as he steps next to the woman, showing that they are both tall people, easily reaching Jaune's height, or Coco's when she's in heels. Without much ado, the soldier holds out the cups in his hands. "Compliments of the captain, and of Alpha and Bravo, First of the 598th. And me, Tychos Litten."

Carefully, the soldier hands off a steaming cup of strong smelling caffeine to each of Team CFVY.

"Hey, I just realised." Yatsuhashi says, taking his cup with a nod. "You're the soldier from last night. The one who stood up against the Alpha Beowolf."

Tychos looks to think for a moment, before he grins slightly. "Yeah, that was me. Got into a bit of trouble over it. But I'll do it again in a heartbeat. Especially for this one."

He turns around slightly. And Velvet hears Coco gasp out in adoring shock, a noise that is echoed by Velvet.

Clinging to his back, almost like a limpet on a rock, is the Faunus girl Velvet saw last night. Her dress, a deep blue colour, is slightly dirty and wrinkled, but she shows no sign of injury or pain. In fact, she is very much asleep, if the small sounds coming from underneath the very oversized helmet are anything to go by.

"This," Tychos says, using both of his free arms to detach the child from his back and bring her to the front. "Is Carmen."

At the sound of her name, the girl rouses, her head rising slightly. Which causes the helmet to fall forwards over her eyes, earning a small grunt of shock from her.

"… so cute." Coco breathes out, hands shaking with the desire to touch but not wanting to let go of her breakfast.

"She is, isn't she?" The woman called Sophia says as she gently lifts up the helmet, letting the girl see the others for the first time properly. The girl scans the new faces arrayed in front of her, looking at the quartet in confusion. When her golden eyes pass over Velvet, Carmen suddenly shrinks in on herself before looking away, pulling the helmet back over her eyes.

Velvet just smiles sadly at the girl. If what Commissar Schreiber's words are anything to go by, then she doesn't blame Carmen for her behaviour.

So she takes a sip of her drink… and feels a powerful surge of caffeine shoot through her, accompanied by a strong and horrible taste. It has her hairs stand on end and her ears shoot up straight in shock. Reluctantly she swallows the drink in her mouth, before she grimaces.

"Yeah, we brew our recaff strong on Cadia." Tychos says, balancing Carmen with one arm as he reaches into one of his pockets. In his hands, he pulls out several small off-white containers. "Cream and sugar."

Happily, Velvet holds out the cup, letting Tychos do his job, after he sets Carmen on his back again. Part of her mind laughs at the whole absurdity of the situation, having breakfast and coffee with a group of soldiers form beyond the stars! Sounds like the plot of a trashy romance novel. But, it reinforces something in her. Something that she never thought possibly and only entertained because it sounded cool.

Humanity existing outside of Remnant.

But at the sound her Faunus ears pick up coming from behind her, a number of heavy footfalls, reminds her that something else exists out there.

"The fortifications at the breach will hold, captain. They will do as you asked." The deep voice, like a mountain-slide, says from behind and above Velvet's head.

"Ah, good." Captain Thade says. "Now we can begin properly."

---

"After doing a quick preliminary observation from the air," De Pikalov says, consulting the device in his hand. "And then doing my own measurements on the ground, my conclusion is that a full on evacuation for all the townspeople, plus Cadian and Astartes personnel, will not be viable. From within the boundaries of the town."

Velvet lifts her head up from her food, while beside Coco pauses just short of putting some potato in her mouth.

"Wait…" Coco says, instantly clicking on the unspoken. "So you want to get the people out… from outside the town?"

"It's the only real way to do it." Captain Thade answers. "Valkyries and Destriers, like the ones you saw last night, have a limited cargo capacity. Perfect for the staggered operation we had last night, but if we want to evacuate the civilians, and our wounded as well, at the same time, we'd need a larger bulk lander, which in turn means that we'd need a larger landing zone."

The heavy baritone of Sergeant Thaddeus weighs in.

"To facilitate such an operation, we'd have to clear away the buildings surrounding the preliminary landing zone, which requires time, and requires demolition ordinance. We have none of the latter, and little of the former." His face betrays no emotion for or against the plan. "The only way to achieve a full evacuation is for it to take place outside the walls of the town."

Velvet blinks in confusion.

"Hold on," Fox speaks up, holding out the hand not holding his plate of food. "You guys lost over one-hundred people-"

"One-hundred-and-twenty-three." Sergeant Thaddeus adds-in, his voice flat and level again.

"… over one-hundred people," Fox continues. "And that was fighting from a walled position. Fighting in open ground against the Grimm? That's a recipe for disaster."

"A massacre." Velvet whispers out, stunned by what she is hearing.

For his part, Thade just shrugs. "And? After all that we've been through, all the blood shed last night, do you just expect us to run? To leave the townspeople to their fate?"

"Well, no, of course I'm not saying that." Fox replies. "I'm just pointing out that we have a stronger defensive position here. Why not… you guys have spaceships, right?"

"Of course, we do, young man." De Pikalov replies, answering the question like it was the simplest fact.

"And I bet they have guns. Why not just shoot the Grimm from orbit and get us out of here?"

De Pikalov lets out a small sigh. "Oh, if I got a Throne Gelt for every time I'm asked that… young man, the smallest gun on the smallest Imperial vessel carries ammunition in the magnitude of several kilotons of power, and even that would most surely obliterate the Grimm. And the forest they're in. And the town. And anything else within a radius of several kilometres. And that is even if we get the correct targeting information. If we're off even by the slightest margin…"

The officer trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.

"Does the word 'restraint' exist where you guys come from?" Fox asks, an eyebrow cocking over a sightless eye. Looking ahead, Velvet sees the mayor of the town pale at what has been said.

De Pikalov just chuckles. "Young man, the enemies we face do not allow us to show restraint."

That sets Velvet's ears up in shock, before she simply looks down at her food, quickly forking some potatoes and egg into her mouth. The infantry are made up of mad people, and the space navy says that it doesn't hold back? Who are these people!?

That question is reinforced even more as she looks to her side at the warriors standing next to her.

In her time at Beacon, and even before that, Velvet knew that Huntsmen and Huntresses came in all shapes and sizes. Yatsuhashi, General Ironwood, Red Barque, Gretchen Rainart, each of them is a giant (or was a giant, in Gretchen's case, if what Velvet has heard about her is true). But all of them are naturally big.

For the Astartes, if that what she remembers them being called, none of their growth seems natural.

Arms and legs are too thick and long, chests and heads are too wide. It all seems like each of them has been affected with gigantism and then put on a serious workout routine in a gym. Any sense of pleasantness in their features… it's there, Velvet can tell, but it's hidden heavily.

One of the warriors, the one she first spoke to last night, Ollarus, Velvet remembers, sees her looking at them. He says nothing, but he lets his face crack with a grin. It's a genuine show of friendliness, but with his features and the aura he gives off… it's like being smiled at by a shark. Especially with teeth that big.

"The situation still stands as it is." Thaddeus speaks up again. "We do not have the ammunition to continue to hold out this town in the staggered approach we did last night. If we repeat the same stand as last time, we will fail in our duty. Our only chance of victory is if we fight outside the walls."

"… How much of a chance do we have outside of the walls?" Yatsuhashi asks, contemplatively pushing the food on his plate around with his fork.

"Nominal." Thaddeus says bluntly. A low huff of air that just barely resembles a chuckle escapes him. "I've faced worse odds."

The casual manner in which he says it…

"I doubt there's nothing I can say to stop this," Mayor Goldthwaite speaks up, colour returned to his face. "But… you people… you've already done more than you should have."

At the mayor's words, every man and woman, and Astartes, turns and looks at the man. Nervously, he swallows the lump in his throat, but he continues.

"You said it yourself, to do any more has only a nominal chance of success, and even then, there's no guarantee that all of us will make it out. So… I don't think anyone in the town would blame you for… for retreating."

"Cadians don't retreat." An officer on Velvet's left says out loud. "As long as we can stand, we stand. No matter the cost, or the enemy."

"Cadian blood!" A second officer calls out, the battle-cry almost becoming a chant before Captain Thade calls for order.

"Mayor Goldthwaite," He says, turning to the man. "I know that you think you're being… diplomatic about this, but let me ask: do you want to see the remainder of your town slaughtered?"

That had gets the mayor to back down. And Velvet has to see the logic in it, blunt though it was. If she were the leader of a town, she doesn't think she could handle seeing everyone in it be killed by Grimm.

Captain Thade continues. "Besides, I would say the odds are definitely tipped in our favour now. Our new allies are rested and ready. Veterans like them are each worth any ten of Cadias best." He gestures to team CFVY, who are now caught in various stages of consuming breakfast.

Fox chokes on his food, Yatsuhashi promptly patting him on the back. To Velvet's side, Coco visibly preens at the praise, her chin rising ever so slightly.

"Well," The fashionista Huntress begins. "If we're going with praise like that…"

"Coco!" Velvet says loudly, stopping her team leader from talking before she turns to look at the Cadian captain. "Sorry, sir, but… we're not veterans. We're students, Huntsmen-in-training, over at Beacon Academy."

Coco's ego deflates slightly, but she doesn't argue the point, merely nodding her head in agreement.

The Cadians and Astartes are silent as they process the information given to them.

"What year of education are you four in?" De Pikalov asks.

"Second." Replies Yatsuhashi.

"And how old are you all?" Sergeant Thaddeus asks.

"… Eighteen." Coco replies.

"And this… Beacon Academy, sent only the four of you out on a mission?" Another of the Astartes, one with hair similar to Russel Thrush's mohawk, except smarter.

The team are silent before they all nod.

A surprised and earnest chuckle comes from Captain Thade. "I think that I was on the mark with that number."

The officers around them mutter agreement, some even shooting smiles and gestures of encouragement at Team CFVY. And somehow, for reasons she can't explain to herself, Velvet feels… vindication.

The sound of a pair of hands clapping once draws everyone's attention back to Captain Thade. "All right everyone, we're burning precious daylight. Lieutenant De Pikalov, might I suggest you contact your flyboys ASAP. Does anyone else have anything to add before we get into it?"

Velvet sips down the last of her caffeine (which still has a very strong aftertaste even with all the cream and sugar packets she added in).

"...and tho'

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Everyone stops and turns to look at the Astartes, specifically they look at Ollarus, the hulking warrior who carried one of the largest weapons the night before. They look at him in shock at the eloquence and sincerity with which he spoke the piece of poetry, completely at odds with his armoured and muscled frame.

"What's that from?" Velvet asks, moving her cup away from her mouth.

"An ancient Terran poem." Ollarus responds, before he turns to look at the Faunus student-Huntress. "It seemed appropriate."

'One equal temper of heroic hearts…' Velvet repeats to herself in her mind. She misses the call from Captain Thade to break up, but as she sees Coco begin to talk with Captain Thade and Sergeant Thaddeus about what the plan will be, she sees the truth in those words.

Part of her just hopes it will be enough.

---

The sun continues to rise higher as the morning progresses, and the Grimm advance from the woods again. Young bucks leading the way again, they are cautious this time. The alien smells of the fight at the wall still cling to the ground; the stench of missile propellant, flamer fuel, and engine fuel, the smells of dead Grimm mixed with the… wrong smell from the humans.

It sets the horde on edge. So there is no more pell-mell charge like the day before, no more charging into the teeth of the guns at the top of the now-empty walls. They Grimm advance cautiously, slinking forward, low to the ground. They avoid the area to the east of the town's walls, the area blackened to ash by the flames from last night before the fire before the fire used up its fuel, widening the clearing on that side of the town. Too wide to get across before they reach under the guns, and too open for the amount of firepower the defenders can throw up.

So they come to the southern wall, the wall with the gate that was destroyed by the Alpha Death Stalker. The breach has been strengthened during the night, broken stones stacked high to form a new defence, and the Grimm can sense the presence of humans behind it. Alert, aggressive.

But one simple charge can easily overwhelm the redoubt. To that end, a quartet of Ursa Majors plod forward. Heavy, ursine bodies amble forward, their snouts snuffling as they smell the air. They are survivors of the first attack, their hides blistered and scarred by the human weapons, so they feel the desire for revenge burn hot in their minds.

The lead Ursa stops at the edge of the forest, just hidden from sight in the shadows before it raises itself back onto its hindlegs. It sniffs the air, remembering the smells and scents from the night of blood and fire, and that fuels its own animalistic anger at the humans.

It lets out a roaring bellow, quickly joined by its fellows as it drops to its four legs and charges. It's a straight shot from the forest to the breach. Once again, a black tide of death swarms from the depths of the Emerald Forest to charge Carterstown.

Calls to open fire are called out from the top of the wall. Missiles lance out and down, spiralling trails of propellant behind them before they splash amongst the Grimm. Mortar shells are launched high into the air, their trajectories bringing them down into the horde of beasts running for the walls. Fragmentation rounds detonate on impact with the ground, throwing out lethal scything pieces of white hot metal and broken earth. Grimm are blasted to pieces once again, but the Ursas keep up their charge at the breach.

Older beasts, Alphas in their own right, they should have known. Should have noticed the signs; that there was no fire coming at them from the breach, no calls for attack or defence. The breach was unmanned.

But they don't care. The Grimm just want to kill. To rip and tear at humanity in all its forms. So they scale the ad-hoc wall of the breach, claws scratching over stone as they push themselves up and over the wall.

They see the foe up close. He is tall, seven-feet tall, clad in armour the colour of steel with a cloak that shimmers through different natural hues as the wind whips it slightly. His head is topped with a thick head of black hair and a beard the same colour. He smiles sardonically as his thumbs depress the final few millimetres of the twin detonators in his hands.

The Ursas are blasted into scraps. For ten metres, the whole stretch of the breach, goes forward in flames as the few heavy duty explosives that the Imperials had with them are detonated as a fougasse. Channelled forward and at a slight incline, the explosion spreads flames, pieces of rock and scraps of metal considered lethal enough, into the onrushing horde of Grimm. It is a slaughter in its own right. In an instant, the horde's advance has been blunted, the charge slowed, and a path to victory opened.

"GUN IT!" Someone calls out, and a new roar enters the cacophony of sound.

Bouncing forward at speed, the Salamander goes up and over the breach. Thirty-three tonnes of adamantium and steel roars over the breach on a specially prepared ramp, before it bounces down hard onto the earth. Even before the rear section of tracks hits the ground, the autocannon and heavy bolter begin firing. Mass reactive rounds pair with anti-armour rounds, shredding Grimm to pieces in front of the Salamander as it swings around, its guns cutting a lethal arc of firepower. Standing in the open top of the vehicle, Coco Adel adds her own power to the mix, bracing herself against the rear corner of the Salamander as she fires Gianduja out the back and into the horde. Activating her Semblance, the fire Dust rounds she fires into the horde explode in a rolling tide of Grimm carcasses.

Seconds after the Salamander has sprung over the breach, Yatsuhashi and Fox follow in its wake. Their blades flashing in the early morning sun, they slice and dice any Grimm not hit by the explosive trap, the twin guns of the Salamander or their team leader's minigun, moving down the front line of the horde to widen the gap. In their wake come the heavy hitters of the defenders: Kasrkin firing their hellguns at a run and the Astartes scouts, bolters roaring as Sergeant Thaddeus leads them at a jog, his own boltgun returned to him as he fires off snap shots with unerring accuracy. Finally, leading the civilians, many of them carrying the wounded among them, come the soldiers of the 598th infantry regiment, a line of khaki tipped with steel. Weapons crews run double time with their heavy weapons to pre-chosen spots outside the wall, while specialist gunners fire their weapons into the horde to keep the worst at bay.

In amongst the Cadians, Velvet runs too. Mayor Goldthwaite had given CFVY access to his own personal store of Dust to use, and there was plenty of it. But sadly, no hard-light Dust. Not that Velvet blames the man. Hard-light Dust is expensive as it comes, and to have any large stock out in the boondocks would be a miracle. Or evidence of some serious criminal stuff. So, she carries a lasgun in her hands.

The Cadians had been more than willing to let her use it, after giving her a quick impromptu lesson on how to use one.

"This button sets the charge level. This button sets it to automatic, semi-auto or single-shot. This button makes it safe and unsafe. If you want to reload, press this button, let the cell slide out. Then put in the new cell, and slap it hard."

As she runs, Velvet thinks back on the plan they had been told at breakfast.

The defenders, putting themselves between the civilians at the outside wall and the Grimm in the forest, will form a half-circle on the eastern edge of the town, allowing a landing zone of enough size for a 'heavy lander'. The civilians would be the first ones to be put onto the lander, then the Cadians would fall back in a ready order. If it all went right, then there'd be more than enough space for everyone to fit onto the lander.

Velvet doesn't like the 'if'.

"Keeping pace there, girl!" A soldier next to her calls out, firing his lasgun in short bursts to his left. As he turns to face him, Velvet realizes with a start that it's the soldier from the Valkyrie last night, Arkin. He smiles at her warmly. "Good to have you with us on this! Thor's blood, but we definitely need it."

Velvet smiles at the man, opening her mouth to reply, before a new sound interrupts her. It comes from behind, high, and heavy. Like a Valkyrie engine but… much, MUCH louder, and angrier.

"I don't need to see to tell what's coming in behind us." Fox sends to his teammates. Forcing herself, Velvet turns her head backwards to look behind and her eyes nearly bug out of her skull.

The aircraft that's coming in is HUGE, almost the same size as the airships in Vale. But where those look like whales, all sleek curves and soft lines, the vehicle that's coming in is… it's ugly. It reminds the Faunus student of a child's drawing of a shark, all straight lines, sharp angles, and big fins. She can't see any details from the distance it's at, but she can make out the shape of large calibre guns on it. Flanking it are flights of Valkyries, looking like minnows next to an underwater giant.

Heavy gunfire from in front draws Velvet's attention, as does the cry of "Up on line! All guns, up on line!"

"Double-time it, everyone!" A sergeant calls out, ordering the soldiers around her to pick up the pace and forcing the civilians to match them. Looking forward over the heads of all the people in front, Velvet can see the flash and snap of laser weapons, the roar of the heavier slug throwers, and the actions of her own teammates to stop the horde.

"That transport had better get here soon!" Fox sends, his voice sound strained as he fights outside of Velvet's line of sight. "This is going to be a close one otherwise."

Velvet wants to agree with him, but she can't find the words. Merely because she has her words taken away from her by what she sees. The previous night had been a kaleidoscope of light and shadow; explosions, flames, all the strange weapons the Cadians have. Details had been sparse and almost… dreamlike. Even with how nightmarish it had been

In the early morning light, she can see it all clearer now. And it's no less horrible because she has a harder time processing it. All the sounds she hears again, all the flashes of light and explosions from the weapons, accompanied by the roar of the Grimm duelling with the roar of the incoming aircraft are so focused and near coalesced into one spot… For some reason, it reminds Velvet of the time that Coco took the team to a gods awful nightclub. Every moment inside that building had been horrible for everyone. Her rabbit ears had been in so much pain afterwards, she thought she was going to be sick.

It's that experience again. Magnified a hundred times. Her ears pound, her heart and stomach are struggling to decide which one should exit her throat first, and she just does not know what to do.

So she just keeps going forward. She follows the Cadians around her as they rush to form a human barrier between the Grimm and remaining townspeople, forming a line. Lasguns snap out, grenades are thrown, and heavy bolters and autocannons begin to bark and roar. Using her Semblance, Velvet goes through the motions of firing her own lasgun as she nestles in between two soldiers.

Rifle stock to the shoulder, aim down sight, pull trigger.

Nothing.

She pulls the trigger again.

Nothing happens.

"Safety's on, girl!" A soldier to her side says, the woman not taking her eyes off the Grimm in front of them, calmly firing her rifle at chosen targets.

Velvet swallows her embarrassment before she slides her finger up to the button she knows is the safety. She depresses the button, then pulls the trigger again.

The white-hot beam of light that flashes out from her rifle barrel nearly blinds her, but she still puts a round directly through the eye of a charging Beowulf. Earning a whoop of joy from Arkin beside her.

"Frakking good shot, girl!" He calls out, even as he fires shot after shot into the onrushing enemy, the soldiers on either side of them pouring their own fire into the enemy. Together, they put up a proper wall of fire.

Velvet continues firing, going through the motion of ejecting spent cells and reloading fresh ones, her Semblance keeping her actions in time with the others. She knows she's not as good as the Cadians though. These people have been training their whole lives, while she lets her Semblance mimic their actions. But she gives it her best. So she focuses, she breathes, she aims and fires.

"Heads down!"

The call is passed down the line and it confuses Velvet enough for her to stop shooting before the air above her head is split open with a powerful roar of engines. Velvet looks up, even as Arkin at her side bundles her down to a kneel. Hot engine wash buffets them all, forcing Velvet's head down even more, before the sound of a weapon that sounds like a heavier version of Gianduja opens up above her head. Looking forward, Velvet sees Grimm in front of her being shredded to pieces with impunity by the aircraft above her head.

Then the world above darkens, and Velvet loses her hearing for a second, replaced by a constant ringing.

---

The shadow that falls across the battlefield is huge. A testament of Imperial military engineering and craft, the Tetrarch heavy lander coasts over the partially ruined town and the forest, its huge plasma engines burning hot and heavy as it fights against the forces of gravity. One-hundred and twenty tonnes of adamantium and steel roar over the stone work of the town before it begins a ponderous swing on its front axis, pointing its engines away from the walls of the town and into the forest.

The fiery wind that it whips up snatches leaves, then branches off the trees, before those same trees burst into flames from the heat of the plasma engines, quickly before they are snapped in half by the energy that is being pushed against them as the heavy duty lander begins its descent.

A maelstrom of hot wind and dust whips out and around the landing zone, blinding the beings in the area. To the Grimm, facing the line of Cadians and getting the dust full force in the face, it stalls their advance heavily as they fight against the headwind, hot dust and ash blinding their eyes as they fight to advance forward. The Cadians, their backs to the descending vehicle, know how to brace against such violent winds and they continue to pour their fire into the horde.

A small tremor shakes the earth as the landing gear of the Tetrarch impact against the ground. It is a testament of De Pikalov's skill and knowledge that the huge lander, one capable of ferrying a whole company of infantry, lands perfectly inside the half circle afforded by the Cadians, without damaging the town or any of the waiting evacuees.

"All right!" Commissar Schreiber calls out loudly, raising his voice easily to be heard over the din around him, the ramp of the Tetrarch extending down and more armsmen of the Imperial Navy come down. "All townspeople: head up the ramp to the second level! Members of the Imperial Navy will be there to strap you in! Follow their instructions, and remain calm!"

At the word, the civilians, under the guidance of their mayor, begin to move up the platform. Armsmen step forward and help those who need assistance, taking hold of the stretchers carrying the wounded and taking them up personally.

Mayor Goldthwaite moves to stand near the commissar, his leg doing nothing to slow his pace.

"You should get aboard, sir!" Schreiber calls, even though the mayor is less than a foot in front of him. A shake of the head is his reply.

"I'm not going on until all my people are safe and on board!" He gestures to the line of soldiers behind the commissar. "What about your men? They can't be staying here!"

Schreiber shakes his own head in reply. "No, of course not! You heard the plan: staggered retreat! We'll begin collapsing the line and putting each platoon on board! We've done this before, it's a cakewalk!"

---

The universe loves to laugh at the man who assumes easy victory.

---

The evacuation advances smoothly. Above the heads of the Cadians, the Tetrarch fires its port-side and dorsal cannons into the Grimm, high-explosive rounds shredding Grimm flesh and trees to pieces, while the lasguns and heavy weapons of the troopers on the ground keep their fire expertly. With the last of the civilians on-board, the line begins to shrink in on itself. By squads, the rate of fire decreases ever so slightly, the soldiers falling back in perfect order to board the Tetrarch.

Keeping the horde at bay, Yatsuhashi and Fox dart back and forth, the energy of their Aura making their blades leave quick trails of light as they slice through the horde. At the centre, Coco dismounts the Salamander as it trundles back in reverse, still firing at the enemy as it moves to board the lander. Concentrating in the way Fox told her to, she communicates with her team.

"Guys, how's everyone holding? Velvet?"

Velvet's voice is strained but clear. "I'm good, Coco."

"Holding my own. Having these gunships really helps take the pressures off."

Coco smiles. "And Fox? … Fox, what's up?"

The blind teen is silent, worryingly silent. No… no, there's no way….

"Coco, I can sense something coming." Fox's telepathic reply makes Coco breath out a sigh of relief. "A lot of somethings… fast too. Coming in from the treeline, directly ahead."

Coco tries to see over the hordes of Grimm ahead, but her view is stymied by the bobbing heads of the beasts and the after-effects of explosions. Shit, just her luck for the tank to move away when she could have used the extra height.

"Fox, what are they? I can't-" She begins before Yatsuhashi does something he very rarely does.

He shouts loud, his voice cutting through the immediate noise around him.

"Boarbatusks!"

Coco scoffs slightly. Boarbatusks are nothing major. To Second Year huntsmen, they're just a minor nuisance at the best of times, and a slight worry at the worsts. Their spin attack is dangerous, but not lethal to anyone… without… Aura…

"Shit." She says to herself before she looks around in panic. None of these Cadians, or even the big guys, have Aura. What can she do? What can she do?

"Sergeant Thaddeus!" She calls out, trying to find the Astartes leader, moving away from her gap in the line as fast she can while moving backwards. "Sergeant Thaddeus!"

"What is it, Huntress Coco?" He asks, appearing beside her as he fires his bolter.

"Boarbatusks!" She calls out, though her response does nothing as the giant just looks at her in confusion. "Big Grimm! Armoured and fast. We need heavy weapons on them as soon as-"

"Too late!" Fox yells out loudly as he lands beside him, his non-seeing eyes fixed forward on the black and white blurs heading towards them.

---

Even through the fire from the cannons, through mortar rounds and grenades, the five Boarbatusks race through the horde of their cousins. Even in the heat of rage and anger, the beasts part like the sea for the Boarbatusks, each one the size of a horse, as they pick up speed. Large, curved tusks taller than a man almost gleam in the light.

In another universe, it would be comical to see the creatures pop up from a run, land on the ground and begin to spin in place before shooting off towards the Cadian lines. But each Boarbatusk weighs several tonnes and are moving faster than a landcar.

They are perfect line breakers, and against the Cadians, they will do their job expertly.

The reactions time of Sergeant Thaddeus is Astartes perfect. He calls up soldiers with meltaguns and plasma guns to target the beasts, and the Cadians respond as perfectly as their training allows. Hot blue blasts hotter than the sun splash out while beams of super-heated air slash forward, cutting through Grimm like they were nothing.

But the Boarbatusks are moving fast, faster than the gunners can target. Two fall to lucky hits. One is clipped by a plasma round, sending it careening to the side and taking out several other Grimm in the process, while another is directly hit by two melta blasts. It vaporises into dust before it completes a full revolution.

Three of them smash into the Cadian lines. Bodies are sent flying in all directions as the Boarbatusks hit the Imperial troops. soldiers are sent cartwheeling into the air to land hard on the scorched earth. Some land with broken arms and legs, others necks and spines. Some are sent to land into their own ranks, dragging other men and women down with them, while others land only to be set upon by Beowolves and Ursas. One of the beasts uses its momentum to launch itself upwards and down into a knot of soldiers. Those directly underneath it are crushed, while the small shockwave knocks down the others around them.

Their work done, the Boarbatusks right themselves, but are immediately set upon by bolters, hellguns, Gianduja and Fulcrum. The three beasts pay for their attack dearly. But the damage is done. The dam has been broken, and the Grimm charge through the gaps.

---

The minutes following the breaking of the Cadian lines are a maelstrom of madness and confusion. Even decades after the fight, when the Imperials have left Remnant and Velvet is an old woman, she still will remember only snippets of the fighting directly after the Boarbatusks smash the circle apart. She remembers seeing Sergeant Thaddeus, a sword like Jaune Arc's sword in his hand, glittering with blue lightning as he slices apart Grimm with Fox at his side. Fox is quick as he ever is, dashing from one Grimm to the next, even as he's forced backwards, while besides him, the Astartes sergeant is a continuous blur of motion, his sword never stopping as he effortlessly slices the beasts to pieces.

She remembers Yatsuhashi working his hardest to protect the retreating Cadians, blocking attacks from Beowolves and Ursas, even at the cost of his Aura, so the soldiers can escape. Many of them do, ending up forming a gunline behind the giant from Beacon, pouring las-shot after las-shot into the enemy, even as they are all blinded by the dust cloud and the roar of the ascending aircraft's engines.

She remembers running through the cloud, trying to find her way to the area the Cadians are forming up in for their new defensive line. So she runs, blindly and groping for any sign of where to go, her lasgun held in her other hand. Her Aura helps protect from any harmful bits of dust and rock caused by the lander taking off, but the dust cloud has blinded her. So she doesn't see the thing her foot catches on and makes her fall. She falls in the dust, her borrowed lasgun landing beside her.

Velvet hears voices, muted, and subsumed by a shrill trilling ring, calling out. But if they're talking to her, she can't tell from the lack of hearing in her ears. She pushes her Aura to try and fix the damage in her ears, anything just to get a glimpse of what is being said to her.

She hears the snaps of lasguns firing en masse, the sound of grenades detonating.

The roar and pounding feet of an Ursa charging right at her from behind.

Velvet whips her head around, just as the beast emerges from the blowing cloud behind her. Its maw is wide open as it raises itself on its haunches, spittle flying as it roars before it lunges at her.

The Faunus huntress cadet rolls to the side to grab the lasgun lying at her side as the shadow falls over her.

The sound of a sickening crunch, of teeth punching through metal and flesh enter her world. Velvet screams in shock and sorrow as she sees the Cadian lifted up in the jaws of the Ursa.

"Arkin!"

---

The pain nearly robs him of sense and thought. The bite pressure from the beast is enough to crack through his flak armour and into the skin below.

It's only anger and rage that keeps Arkin Harks sensate enough to realise what he has done. When the porcine like Grimm had smashed through their lines, Arkin's sergeant had managed to pull the soldiers back and direct their fire, even as the beasts had swarmed through the gaps. He'd tried to get Velvet back as far as he could, grabbing onto her and pulling her back even as an Ursa charged straight for them. He's thankful for the Astartes that cored it's head clean.

The Tetrarch lifting off threw everything into disarray, blinding everyone and everything with dust. He'd lost his grip on Velvet and had been trying to find her. Calling for her.

It's a weakness. She reminds him so much of his eldest, Clara, almost perfectly except for the eyes, and the extra ears. His paternal instinct had kicked in again, after lying dead for so long.

So when he saw Velvet being charged at by the Grimm, Arkin runs, as hard and as fast as he can. He lunges into the path of the striking beast, and is lifted up into the air by the beast.

It's pain more than anything he thought he could handle. Shrapnel wounds and lasburn hurt less than this, and Arkin nearly whites out from the pain. But he forces it down, forces it back through his Cadian discipline and mental training so he can accomplish a task.

He quickly grabs the knife from his belt with one hand and stabs it into the beast's skull, even though the pinprick of pain does nothing to the best. With his other hand, even as the Grimm begins to shake its head from side to side, Arkin reaches down to his belt and unclips one of the krak grenades from his belt. Hooking his thumb into the pull ring and pulling it hard, in his mind two thoughts run parallel to each other.

The first is reciting the Prayer of the Martyr: 'Holy Emperor, look upon me with favour. Though I give my life, I do so not out of cowardice but as duty to you and to Mankind. Look upon my death with favour and speed me to your side.'

The second is more simple: 'I'm coming, Clara.'

With the safety ring pulled, Arkin Harks slams his fist into the side of Ursa's face, yelling an inarticulate scream of rage as his hand and the krak grenade makes contact with the skull.

His world ends in a thunderclap.

---

"The Last Wall stands!" Sergeant Thaddeus roars out, his bolter levelled in one hand as he fires off shot after shot in the advancing horde, his power sword held low in the other, before his neophytes complete the call.

"Now and forever!"

Together, the eleven Astartes fired their weapons, their own battle cries matching the pitch of their fire. Besides them, the Kasrkin send hellgun shots into the onrushing horde of Grimm, specialist weapon teams using melta and plasma guns and flamers to stem the closest elements of the tide. The company has had to leave their heavy weapons behind in the near-rout, and the lack of heavy weapons is telling. Only one Cadian heavy bolter chugs away at the foe, its massive form carried by an equally massive guardsman.

Captain Fidor rages at the situation, firing his plasma pistol again and again into the horde. He's running dangerously close to overloading the weapon, but it doesn't matter now. Nothing matters now. The civilians are out, and he and the other Imperials are stuck doing what they do best.

Standing against the howling darkness.

So he rages. He does not vent the loud rage of those denying their fate and their death. Fidor Thade experiences the silent rage all Cadians know. The rage against the foe that drove his limbs past all hurts and aches, the rage that saw his aim focused and steady. The rage that he could not kill more of the Grimm before they kill him.

Not that everyone on the battle line shares the same view. Out of the corner of his eye, Fidor sees the giant student Huntsman, Yatsuhashi, pulling a struggling and raging Velvet bodily in his arms as he moves into the protection of his guns. The girl's body is matted with mud and dirt, and the black viscera of Grimm that fades away from her body. In her hands, she clutches a dirty and beaten lasgun. Velvet's cheeks are streaked with tears, fresh ones falling down quickly as she is pulled backwards, a knot of Cadians covering her retreat with their lasguns, walking their fire backwards.

The bangs of rocket engines above his head tells him a fact he doesn't want to know, before his microbead crackles.

"Captain Thade; this is Dagger Squadron." One of the Vulture pilot calls out. "My pilots are at bingo ammo and need to return to rearm. Valkyries are on the way…. Emperor's speed to you, Captain. Out."

The Vultures scream away, their retros burning hard as they go, leaving the Cadians to weather the storm by themselves. A khaki coloured rock, with small spots of different colours, alone against a raging black sea.

"Shit's gotten heavy!" Coco Adel calls out beside him, the Huntress firing off a short burst from her weapon into a cluster of Grimm. The high explosive rounds rip them to shreds instantly. "Please tell me you have a plan for this!"

Fidor thinks. By now, everyone has to be down to the last rounds of ammunition. He knows he is, and he also knows from how Coco is sparing her fire that she is too. If the Grimm get too close, then it'll be bayonet work. Quick, bloody and ultimately seeing all of them dead.

Fidor fires another plasma round into a Beowolf charging at him, the super-heated round vaporising the Grimm into atoms. He readies to fire another shot, his head quickly scanning for close targets.

But there are none. The Imperial fire peters off in confusion, each fighter looking around in confusion at the lack of enemies.

"… this is new." Coco says loudly, her head scanning from side to side for targets. "Grimm don't give up that easily."

"Movement at the treeline, twelve o'clock!" One of the Astartes scouts calls out, prompting every gun to point forwards.

There's over two dozen of them, hiding in the shadows right at the edge of the remnants of the forest. Slowly, each beast moves forward into the light of the sun, revealing themselves one by one. None of them come in shorter than nine-feet, each Alpha Beowolf standing upright in that monstrous almost-human gait. Thick and wicked spines protrude from their backs and shoulders, bone armour on their skulls is scuffed and pitted from combat. Thick limbs and corded muscle sets them ready for a fight. Heavy hitters, each and every one of them. And he can see more coming up behind them.

Like in a scrumball match, these beasts are line breakers, Fidor realises. And the Cadians have no full-backs.

Snap judgment is needed. The Valkyries are en route but he has no idea when, and if the group tries to split up, they'll be picked off one by one, no matter where they run to. Even the vaunted Astartes scouts won't make it with this force on them.

But one group can.

"Huntress Adel." Fidor says coolly and calmly, ejecting built up plasma gasses from his pistol in a light blue cloud. He doesn't look at the young woman, keeping his eyes on the enemy. "You need to get your team out of here. Now."

"What?!" Coco replies incredulously.

"Your team is faster than anyone else here, and small enough to be able to get past the worst of the Grimm before they hit us. You can flag down a Valkyrie and get out of here. Leave us."

Turning to look at the woman, Fidor sees her mouth open and close in confusion. Of course she wouldn't understand.

"Our task is done here, Huntress Adel. We've let the townspeople escape and we've rescued all who can be rescued. Now… we stand." Turning to look at the soldiers behind him, Fidor raises his pistol above his head. "Cadia stands!"

"Cadian stands!" The soldiers roar back, a cry almost as strong as an Earthshaker.

"Y-you can't be serious!" Coco retorts with a cry of her own. "You'll be slaughtered!"

"Oh, we are serious, miss." The captain replies, lowering his pistol again. "We're Cadians. Our duty is to stand. To stand against the enemies of man, in whatever form they take, and to hold them."

He turns to look at the young woman beside him. Fidor is not a man who pleaded, no Cadian officer would, no Cadian would. But he tries to put as much sincerity in his voice and his eyes as he speaks to Coco.

"No matter how this fight goes… someone has to tell your people about us. Make our sacrifice count."

The shade glasses keep her eyes covered, but Fidor can see the way Coco's eyebrows scrunch together that she was warring with herself, on whether to stay and fight or to run. The step forward she takes as she readies her assault cannon, pointing it towards the foe.

"Last minute. We run at the last minute." Coco says simply and flatly. Fidor just smiles as he turns and points his pistol at the enemy.

The Alpha Grimm roar, and charge. The ground shakes to their heavy tread as they run at the humans, their choler up and their bloodlust unwilling to be sated. Behind them come more Grimm, more Alphas and minor breed Grimm.

"Set lasguns to full charge, boys and girls!" Fidor calls out, a vox-caster needless now. "We're only going to get a few shots in. So make them count!"

The knot of fighters ready their weapons, the clicks of power settings being increased lost in the tumult of the Grimm's advance.

All noise is lost to the horde, all sounds of nature and man, as the tide of black and white closes in for the kill. They don't hear the four sonic booms that rip through air over the forest, ripping branches of trees as the beasts of steel and fire rush towards their foe. They don't hear the sounds of missiles launching out from hardpoints on wings and pods, or the cannons that boom from the backs of Thunderhawks.

They don't miss the explosions that erupt among their midst, explosions that launch bodies into the sky only to tumble to the ground as dust. Explosions that blast large holes in the horde as the four aircraft scream overhead.

The world becomes a maelstrom of thunder. But among the noises, a cheer goes up. A ragged, tired but heartfelt cheer from the Cadians. Looking up, Fidor sees why.

Two Stormtalons, their steel-colour hulls blackened with atmospheric entry, wheel around, their cockpits focused on the horde as their pilots unleash the fury of their guns into the front. Twin-linked heavy bolters blast Beowolves and Ursas to pieces, while assault cannons shred through them like paper. On each flank of the Stormtalons, set against jet-black panel, silver-headed drakes roared their fury as the gunners did their deadly work.

Rotating over the rough circle of Cadians, the twin Thunderhawks hover ten metres above their heads as they pours their own fire into the Grimm. Their cannons shred the air as they launch high explosive rounds into the horde, blasting chunks out of the enemy, before they tilted forward to bring the bow-mounted heavy bolters and wing mounted lascannons to bear.

Below, caught in the downdraft, Fidor presses a hand against Coco's shoulder to help keep the worst of the hot roar of dust. Although it seems that her own personal power shield does the work, the shield sparking and cracking slightly as it takes hits from larger pieces of dirt. To their sides, her teammates are doing the same, the giant, Yatsuhashi, using his sword to shield his and Velvet's face.

"Are you guys able to even think of doing anything subtle?" Coco yells out, practically in Fidor's ear. "W-what are they anyway? Who else have you got up there!?"

With unrestrained pride and awe, Fidor lifts his head to look at the vehicles hovering above their heads. "… Angels."

Coco looks ready to say something, before she calls out in warning. "Look out!"

A pair of Beowolves have managed to slip through the torrent of fire, their flayed and bombed bodies testament to how much damage they can endure. They charge straight for Fidor and Coco, both fighters bringing their weapons up to get shots on them before the Grimm pounce.

They never get the chance. Both Grimm are unceremoniously smashed into the ground, the heavy objects crushing them having dropped from the Thunderhawks above. Though as the dust settles from the impacts and the objects begin to right themselves, it becomes clear that they are not objects. Power armour hums, servos whine as the humanoid figures appear from the smoke.

Broad armour the colour of steel catches the sun's light, highlighting white and silver trim, golden and silver adornments in the shape of the Imperial Aquila in its myriad forms. Icons and medals of gold and precious jewels the worth of a lord hang alongside thin cords of rope holding rows of lethal looking canines, triangular and sharp. Cream white tabards, simply formed and adorned with a simple blood red border, clash with cloaks of reptilian hide, aged, broad and long enough to sweep the ground in colours of greens and browns that hang from the back of their armour. Large pauldrons, black as onyx, frame two different devices: a large cross in gold on the right, and a roaring dragon's head on the left.

Fidor pushes himself to his feet, a hand helping up Coco beside him, the girl stunned by the figures in front of them.

Without a word, one the warriors springs forward, a large rectangle shield held in front of him, a long-hafted glaive, its blade crackling with energy, held ready. A red and white plume of horsehair waves before a small steel banner, as the first Astartes locks his shield against an Ursa, sending it to the ground before he quickly follows up with a swift stab to the throat, disembowelling the beast with a sweep of the glaive.

The other one turns to face Fidor and Coco directly. His helmet, styled in the shape of an old Terran knight, is scarlet red with a single white stripe down the middle. His neck is protected by an enlarged gorget, while a string of teeth, each one as long as Fidor's hand, dangle down from it, while another metal banner, holding two pieces of parchment under a metal sun is attached to his backpack. On its left pauldron, a large crested reptilian skull stares out at the world. From its waist, the warrior draws a plasma pistol, a golden scope attached to the top, with one hand while with the other he draws a sword. Together, it's almost as long as Fidor is from his feet to his torso, its hilt is stylized with the wings of an Aquila, wings outspread. A steel gauntlet grips the red leather as the Astartes draws the sword.

"See to your men, captain." The Space Marine says, its voice laced with static, but cleanly heard over the din of guns. "The Valkyries are landing to transport your men. And we will provide cover for you. You have our word on that."

"Y-yes. Yes, my lord!" Fidor Thade says out loudly, almost exclaiming his joy.

Without another word, the Astartes sergeant turns to face the foe. From his vox-grill, another static laced growl comes forth. A shout.

"Brothers of the First! Forward, veteran warriors of the Steel Drakes! We are the Last Wall that defends all! Now; Slay these beasts!"

The Space Marine raises his pistol and fires, a ball of plasma energy bursting a Grimm to atoms. Around him and his brother, more angels fall to earth.

---

They fire as they fall, dropping the ten metres from the Thunderhawks to the ground, their heavy weapons booming with each burst of fire. Even as the shocks from their impacts on the ground still roll out, the Steel Drakes veterans are striding forward, firing on the Grimm with almost contemptuous ease. They walk forward at a steady pace, pumping round after round from bolters before they reach their designated positions. The deep bass chatter of heavy bolter fire joins the thunderstorm, two veterans striding forward on the flanks to pour fire onto the Grimm.

The violence of action has swung in the favour of the Imperials. And the Steel Drakes plan to utilize it to its fullest.

They're like the old warriors of Vale, the Knightly Orders of the kingdom come back to life. In Velvet's mind, that's the only comparison she can draw. These aren't soldiers she sees fighting the Grimm now. Not even Huntsmen. These are warriors. As she watches them stride into battle, their white helmets locked on the enemy, red eye lenses glaring at the Grimm through the smoke and the dust, that's all Velvet can think of them being: warriors

And they terrify her. Velvet feels her adrenaline spike, her hackles raise up and her Aura surge upwards, ready for a fight.

The giants, twenty in all, don't give the soldiers and Huntsmen behind them a notice as they march forward, forming a crescent roughly ten metres in front of the bunched up defenders. They do not stop firing their weapons, each gun filling the air with a thunderstorm of fire as they shoot at the Grimm. The centre of the crescent, bowing outwards against the Grimm, echoes to twin roars as flames shoot out into the approaching horde. These flames are tinged blue, hotter than the flamers used by the Cadians, and their touch turns any Grimm they touch into short-lived pillars of flame before they crumble to ash.

Her shock and sorrow at Arkin's death shunted aside by the spectacle before her, Velvet watches as each warrior on the line pours fire onto the Grimm. They are… the closest analogue her mind can latch onto is the Atlesian Knights, particularly the AK-130 series. But even then, that doesn't do it. Velvet clearly sees that each warrior is taller than any Atlesian Knight she's seen, but also… more. More heavily armoured, greater in mass and power. They're also regal too, their steel colour armoured shining in the sun along with the gold and silver adornments. But at the same time, Velvet sees the inherent brutality in their form; the rounded forms of the legs and pauldrons, the continuous wafts of steam from their oversized power packs. And their other adornments too. Huntsmen couldn't keep trophies of killed Grimm, with only hunters being able to keep the pelts of killed animals. So it's clear to her that these warriors went after large animals, looking at the size of the leathery pelts hanging from their waists, their backs and their shoulders, along with the large reptilian skulls and teeth some adorn their armour with.

Wherever they come from, these warriors hunted big game. And they have the weapons to make those hunts easy too.

Green lightning hums out from one of the Astartes veterans, his gun pointed at a charging Ursa. The Grimm stops suddenly, its whole body arrested in movement before it begins to shudder. Then it shudders violently, its limbs spasming uncontrollably as its head snaps from side to side. Black blood flows from every hole in its face. Rending snaps fill the air as armour plating pushes inwards, their weight increasing as they break into themselves through flesh. The Ursa's limbs snap, the bones within breaking under the increased weight as the beast curls into a ball, mewling and roaring in its pain. The Grimm gives one final roar of agony before it ruptures, imploding onto itself in a welter of black gore and blood which soon steams away.

It took seconds for the Grimm to die.

Velvet can't take her eyes off the display of power, even as the wind whips hard around her as the Valkyries come down to the land. The Steel Drakes are a sight to behold, in so many ways. The only thing that makes her take her eyes off the warriors is the sharp impact of a fist against her shoulder. Turning, Velvet is greeted with the scuffed and broken visage of a helmeted Kasrkin, laser weapon held in his hands. His rebreather dangles from his neck and his eye-protection is missing, revealing a pale and scarred face, with bright purple eyes staring at her.

"Get your head in it, Huntress! We. Are. Leaving!"

"B-but what about…?"

"Don't worry about them!" The Kasrkin replies, shaking his head quickly. "They can look after themselves. And they're looking after us too! So let's go!"

Velvet turns her head to look at the backs of the Steel Drakes again, their forms silhouetted against a series of explosions from the aircraft that fire rippling blasts of missiles into the hordes of Grimm beyond. Around her, more Kasrkin run past her, adding their own gunfire to the mix

Twenty against several hundred. Velvet shouldn't believe it could happen, but looking at them… she can. She feels that they can. She can feel the sense of anger coming from, the will to stay in place and fire on the enemy. The will to keep the foe at bay.

They are a wall.

Following the directions of the Kasrkin, the man running forward to join his other comrades, Velvet turns and runs to forms of the Valkyries that have landed outside the wall. She can see soldiers entering the vehicles by squads quickly and smartly before the aircraft take off, filling the air with dust and smoke again. Outside one of them, she can see the forms of her squad-mates waiting for her, with Yatsuhashi waving her towards them.

Fox sends a message to her. "Velvet, come on, we've got to go!"

Another shout, loud enough to be heard over the tumult of the engines. "All Cadians, pull back to the transports! On the double!"

Turning around, Velvet sees the Imperials begin to retreat backwards, their guns facing outwards as they retreat. Like a sea, the tide of Grimm has surged forwards again, running into the mouths of the Imperial guns. The Kasrkin fall back in good order, squads and pairs stopping to fire into the mass of creatures as their fellows stream past them.

The Steel Drakes just keep walking backwards, warriors calmly reloading spent magazines as they move backwards. They never take their eyes of the enemy, never show their backs to them.

"Velvet! Let's go!" Coco calls out loudly, forcing Velvet to turn and run towards her teammates again.

"Come on!" Fox calls out, actually calling out in his haste and worry. "Something big is coming!"

Over the sound of gunfire and engines, the noise of Grimm's roaring and dying, Velvet hears the unmistakable sound of trees being uprooted and smashed to pieces by a giant body. A loud hissing sound, like a stream of water being doused onto a raging fire, fills the air.

"Oh no…" Velvet says as she stops and turns.

The bone white head of the King Taijitu raises itself far above the wall formed by the rearward walking Steel Drakes. Piercing red eyes, larger than Velvet's head, scrutinize the warriors as its tongue flicks back and forth, tasting the air.

The King Taijitu lowers itself to the ground in a flash and sped along the floor, right towards the wall of guns and steel before it.

"Get out of there!" Velvet calls out, not hearing the same cry coming from her teammates, either at her or the giants.

If they hear her, they ignore her. They keep firing their guns, some altering their fire at the Beowolves and Ursa, gunning them down, while the rest shift their fire to the attacking snake Grimm. Velvet focuses so much on the fight, she feels her Semblance activate, letting her see the combat carrying out before her in almost exacting detail.

She sees each round… a bolt round, fly through the air towards their target. She sees heavier rounds, rounds with a full, heavy metal core punch through Grimm bone armour with ease. Special rounds, tipped with promethium jelly splatter and cover Grimm with roiling flames that rend limbs to ash, while others detonate inside the Grimm, forcing horrible acid to eat away at them from the inside quickly. Others detonate in the air between the Grimm, stalling their advance as they're blinded by tiny fragments of metal in the eyes, while regular bolt rounds blow chunks out of the beasts of Grimm.

She watches as the white head of the King Taijitu smashes through the wall of bodies, its jaws wide open as it singles out the one with the red helmet and the sword. Velvet gaps as she sees the warrior blur out of sight as the Grimm's jaws snap shut, bulldozing three of the warriors to the ground.

The rest of the Grimm monopolize on the break in the formation and they charge right for the gap.

"Velvet!" The rabbit Faunus student Huntress hears her team leader calling her name. Calling her to run back to them. Calling her to leave.

But she can't.

Velvet is struck by something, a thought that she never imagined having until that day.

Anger begins to fill her. Velvet has issues with showing her anger, she knows that. Years of bullying at the hands of Cardin and his like, the lifetime of apprehension over her being a Faunus, the fear and worry about facing the Grimm. A lifetime of suppressed anger, and it reaches a boiling point she never imagined herself reaching.

She doesn't know she's doing it when she starts running towards the King Taijitu, its black head rising over the steel clad giants as they turn their guns on the Grimm again to try and plug the gap, even as Grimm begin to swarm over their fallen allies. All she knows is that she activates the last reserves of her Hard-light Dust, conjuring up a copy of Nora Valkyrie's weapon, the hammer Magnhild, as she charges into the fray.

She has no thought of victory, no thought of revenge or desire to retreat. One thought just repeats in her mind, one thought as she smashes the hammer fully into an Ursa's head, crumpling it.

'Not again, never again.'

Too many people, too many would be heroes have been taken by the Grimm, this day and so many other days. She brings the hammer round in a haymaker hit, smacking aside two Beowolves that tried to pin down one of the warriors, one with a white helmet like a great helm and a plasma gun in hands. She doesn't stop to acknowledge his thanks, though a searing ball of plasma energy that goes past her, reducing a Grimm to ashes tells her he's fine.

So she keeps running. And the thought repeats.

'Not again, never again.'

Magnhild swings again, sending Grimm flying to the ground and blood flying. She gives the Steel Drakes veterans the reprieve they need, but Velvet keeps going forward. Right towards the King Taijitu. She doesn't stop, even as she loses Magnhild and summons Crescent Rose again.

She jumps up towards the black head of the snake Grimm.

'Not again, never again!'

The beast tries to swallow her, lunging at her with its jaw open wide. Velvet fires a snap shot to the side, just enough to propel her out of the path of the open maw before she fires again, turning her move into a forward spin, allowing her to dig the blade of her faux-Crescent Rose into the King Taijitu's neck. Velvet plants her feet onto the scales of it's neck, safe away from the snapping jaws and teeth.

She cries out in anger, even as the Grimm hisses and snarls. "Not again, never again!"

"NEVER AGAIN, BEAST!" The roar, metallic but definitely human snaps Velvet out of her thoughts. "You die by my blade, foul alien!"

Velvet snaps out of her singular world of anger at the voice, and turns to look in the direction. What she sees takes her breath away. There, standing on top of the white head of the King Taijitu, the red-helmeted warrior stands, one hand still holding the hilt of his sword while the other presses down on the pommel as he tries to drive it through the Grimm's skull. His feet are planted heavily through the skin, thick rivulets of black blood pooling around and past his feet.

Both heads of the King Taijitu begin to wave and snap back and forth, trying to dislodge both fighters from the skin. The Steel Drake has an easy time of weathering it, his feet planted through the scales and the sword in his hands keeping him steady. Velvet is tossed back and forth like a flag in a strong breeze. But she preservers, holding on tightly.

The hard-light copy won't last long.

"Warrior!" The giant calls out as the heads pass each other. One hand still on the sword, he throws an object with unerring accuracy towards Velvet. The Faunus huntress-cadet catches it while she is flung upwards, the object fitting just in the palm of her hand. It's a grenade, brass and round, with a simple pin on it.

Just like the one Arkin…

Velvet squashes that thought away, before she uses the memory another way. Swinging herself forward, she lets Crescent Rose disappear, her last reserves of Dust now spent, before she punches her fist into the wound made by her weapon. The inside of the cut is slimy, cold, and the thought of where her hand is makes her almost gag. But she fights it down before she removes her hand from the wound, the pin remaining in her fingers.

With as much strength as her Aura can give her, Velvet propels herself away from the neck of the King Taijitu, remembering every lesson that Pharos Academy taught about jumping from high places without injuries.

Then the grenade detonates. The King Taijitu's black head is severed cleanly, its maw giving one final hiss before it dissipates to the wind. Velvet is buffeted by the shock wave of the explosion and the debris from the kill. Velvet's Aura protects her from the worst, but the job is done.

"Oh, no!" Velvet's mind can only make her articulate those two words before she finds herself tumbling through the air, her arms and legs flailing as she goes end over end. She can manage it, if she manages to correct herself, and her Aura will protect her too. But there's still a lot of Grimm around.

The world flashes by her, spinning on every axis. Velvet braces herself.

She catches the sight of steel, and then a grip, stronger than Yatsuhashi's ever could, takes hold of her, and her spinning stops. Velvet's mind can't process what's happening as she travels backwards at speed, watching the trees ahead of her speed away, and the King Taijitu she was on fall to the floor, decapitated of both heads, the body falling to the floor with a resounding boom. Its body begins to disintegrate as Velvet's body shakes to an almost equally large impact and her momentum stops.

Velvet feels her body quiver, and not from the adrenaline. It's a shaking that radiates not from her own body, but from the hard limb holding her and the strong metal her shoulders are resting against.

Velvet raises her head. The cold, emerald green lenses of a helmet the colour of crimson, shaped like the close helmet of an old Valean knight, turns to look at her. She can't see the wearer's face, but Velvet can feel the confusion radiating from him.

The Faunus huntress swallows the lump in her throat. When the giant speaks, the rumble it generates sends a quake through Velvet's chest.

"Glory, brave warrior."

Velvet's eyes open wide at the words from the giant. The voice, a mechanical growl, scares her in ways she never thought possible. But there is sincerity behind the words.

"Um… thank you." Is all Velvet can say, before she feels the need to point something out. "Uh… actually, it's Huntress."

The helmet tilts down slightly, the person within clearly scrutinizing the girl in his arm, before he nods once. "Glory, brave Huntress."

For some reason, the admittance makes Velvet smile.

The sight of the charging Beowolf does not. Faster then her eye can almost follow, the giant's sword is up and cutting through the Grimm's head. More come and more Grimm fall to his blade. It's all Velvet can do to curl herself against the armour to protect herself.

Thunder booms around and above her as Velvet feels herself being moved, the heavy footfalls of the warrior carrying her sending jolts almost painfully through her body. Over the sound of engines and gun fire, Velvet hears voices calling her name, making her lift her head and look.

The rest of Team CFVY is waiting for her, the Steel Drake scouts and some of the Kasrkin too, surrounding the ramps of the large steel craft the giants came in. The ramps and down, and their own bow mounted guns fire into the horde, while the small gunships above make repeated passes against the Grimm. Above them, far ahead in the sky, the black specks of Valkyries are receding with speed.

"We depart the field," The giant says, lowering Velvet to the ground carefully. "But know what we do so with pride and honour, young Huntress. This is no retreat."

An Ursa tries to blindside them, but the second red-helmed giant, the one with the giant shield and glaive darts in, too quickly for a being of his size and decapitates it with one strike. He speaks too.

"Join your fellows, little one."

He says nothing else before he slays another Grimm, smashing it down with his shield before gutting it. Velvet simply turns and runs back to her team, moving around the Kasrkin up the ramp to follow Coco. She reaches her team leader, Gianduja still held in her hands. Both are out of breath and dirty from the fight. But that doesn't stop Coco reaching forward and pulling Velvet into a one-sided hug.

"Up the ramp!" One of the Kasrkin calls out, and soon all fighters are aboard, those with guns still firing at the Grimm. Yatsuhashi and Fox are on the other transport, keeping Grimm at bay with their blades as the Steel Drakes veterans again back walk up the ramps, guns still hammering away. The ones with red helmets stand on the tops of the ramps, watching as the pair with heavy flamers, giant weapons with nozzles torched black from backwash and heat, give one last, gigantic blast of fire, the sound reaching a near draconic pitch as huge washes of flame wash out and cover the field in roiling blue flames.

Velvet is moved into a seat three times too big for her, forcing her to hold onto the seat with her hands as she feels the aircraft lift up. With the last of the warriors inside, the ramp closes with a steady clang, though it does nothing to mask the sound of continued gunfire and missile strikes. Quickly, Velvet is pushed against her seat as the aircraft spins on its axis, still climbing, before it bangs off at speed.

The gunfire stops. And Velvet sinks against her seat, Coco doing the same beside her.

---

The Grimm growl and roar in impotent anger as they watch the Thunderhawks and Stormtalons recede through the sky. They watch the strange machines fly faster through their air, quickly disappearing out of sight.

With their foe gone, and the source of anger dissipating, the Grimm slowly revert back to their more animalistic selves. Those with injuries that they can survive lick at wounds, while others limp off, looking for a place to rest and recover. Alphas who survived simply move away into the forest, away from their latest battlefield. Though they can easily fall sway to the emotions that draw them in, they know better than to linger in such a place as this. A line Boarbatusk, too late to the fight, looks around the clearing before, stamping a single hoof in annoyance, turns around and trots back into the forest.

The newer ones, younger Beowolves and Ursa Minors, they do as many young animals do: they investigate. Through the wreckage of the battlefield, they investigate the corpses their kin have left on the field. The bodies of man are soft and squishy, even ones in armour such as those worn by the humans they faces, so they take some small delight in prodding and poking them.

But the smell… they care not for the smell of carrion, since they do not eat. But the smell emanating from the corpses, the… smell of wrongness… it keeps them away. Some claw at the ground in frustration of their findings tainted by such a smell, others just chuff at the bodies and move away to the new target of their ire.

Carterstown is empty. Unlike Marysville, it has been spared the worst of the flames, though the houses around the ruined gate have been wrecked enough that it would take a full summer to repair. Many houses still stand. And it is against these buildings that the Grimm take their ire to. If the buildings were inhabited, the destruction would be truly malicious, trying to bring down buildings onto the inhabitants, tearing open walls almost brick by brick to get at the humans within.

Against the empty shells of the buildings, the Grimm vent their anger in an almost… playful manner. Ursas run against walls, standing up to their full height before belly-flopping against the stonework, letting their weight and gravity do the work before they roll around in the destruction they have created. Beowolves charge through doors, smashing them to cinders before leaping out through windows, repeating the process again. It is a joyously anarchic level of destruction, one that belies the hatred the Grimm have for humanity. The contempt they have for the constructions of man.

In the centre of the town, the eight cargo-6s sit silent and squat. Their weapons have been taken and their engines have been keyed off and disconnected. They are lumps of stamped and welded metal and rubber, stamped with the Imperial Aquila and emblem of the Cadian Gate. They are as alien to the Grimm as could be. So the beasts investigate the only way they know how. By trying to break it.

Even though the vehicles stink of promethium and the sickly-sweet wrong smell, Beowolf and Ursa do their best to rend them piece by piece.

With their attention so focused on the vehicles, they miss the open door to Mayor Goldthwaite's house, the door banging slightly in the breeze. They miss the promise of destruction and despoilment that could be had within, for not only is it a human habitat, but it also holds many, many supplies that would have been on the cargo-6s. Food, medicine, aid. All are stacked neatly with military precision in the myriad rooms of the building.

The Grimm also miss the note hanging from the door in neatly penned writing that looks very much like Valean but isn't.

To any who find this note,

We came to this world through the vagaries of the Empyrean and the providence of the God-Emperor. We knew not what we expected to find on this world, not the Grimm, and least of all that humanity lived on this world.

We sought to aid the people of a town lost to the Grimm. We rescued one, a young child. We came to another town, and unwittingly aided in its destruction. But we stood. We stood against the howling night and the hordes of Grimm. With our sweat, our blood, our fury, and help from new found allies in the Huntsman Team led by Huntress Coco Adel, we saved the townspeople. Now we depart, to save this town again.

Whether they will return or not is not up to use. Only the God-Emperor can decide that fate. If you find this note, and this building and the contents inside unspoiled, then you are free to help yourselves to them. There is food and medical aid and supplies. We were going to use them, but we never got the chance.

By our dating system, we came here on 009.M42. Know that we came here in peace for all mankind.

The Emperor protects.

Signed,

Captain Fidor Thade, Commanding Officer, Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 598th Infantry Regiment, Cadian Shock Troops.

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AN: AND IT. IS. DONE!

Good Lord, this took so long to do. Thank you to everyone for being so patient with me over this. It means a lot to me.

This has really been one of the harder things to write, I will not lie. But in the end, it really is rewarding.

But the final bit? Ugh, that caused me so much more trouble than it should have to write. Mainly, and I've said this to a few people, it was the problem of having to basically unlearn everything I know about 40k, a universe I've come to know fairly well over about half of my life, and present it in the way that someone who hasn't seen the beings, weapons or vehicles in this story would see them. That was hard!

I did end up doing something I wanted to do in this chapter, which should be quite obvious to anyone reading it. To be honest, this (meaning the whole exit from Carterstown) wasn't how I originally wanted the chapter to go, since I actually had the idea of it being a forced foot march from Carterstown, back to Fort Tempest, but... well, I got carried away. Ehehe...

Remember, if you want to support the story, join my on Ciaran's Curios. Very cheap, and you'll get to see all the magic that goes into my writing (which is really previews of the story bits through Google Docs).

So you thank you for reading, enjoying it and please leave a review.