Diana had received their first 'Order' out of Ozpin's mouth. They had to earn their keep, meaning they didn't just run security for Beacon, but combat missions as well. The Warhound moved down the high-speed viaduct of the city toward a supposed 'White Fang' base of operations. The White Fang, they'd quickly learned, were hostile elements, a former civil rights organization turned overnight terrorists and armed to the teeth.
'Overnight' was a bit of an over-statement. After a change in leadership some years ago, the White Fang had become increasingly violent in the ways they protested the injustices faced by their people, the Faunus, humans with animal traits like cat ears, tails and the likes. So, Diana had taken it upon herself to take a smaller group of soldiers from her squad, Victor, Paul and Paula included, to the AO.
The surprised faces civilians had when watching a multi-ton armored MRAP armed with a 12,7mm machine gun rolling by them while blasting AC/DC were priceless, honestly, especially when the entire six-man team was belting out 'Back in Black' as they tapped their weapons with their hands, Victor manning the Fifty and ready to swing it 'round at a moment's notice. He gave a wave to some of the civilians in a car to their left, smiling behind his balaclava.
The kid inside was having a fucking blast, Diana thought as she saw the young man wave back, cradling what looked to be a nice, big action figure of some kind, probably his favorite toy. She gripped the driver's wheel with a smile, dancing to the beat and singing, "Well, I'm back! Yes, I'm back! Well, I'm Back! Yes, I'm back! Well, I'm ba-ha-ha-hack! Ba-ha-ha-hack! Well, I'm back in black, yeah! I'm back in black!"
Paul and Paula also moved to the beat, the latter grinning happily as she saw Vicky basically do a whole guitar number on her PSL, which was thankfully on Safe. Even with the hell that had been Russia, the female twin didn't lose her will to have fun. And going by the fact Vic was ever-so-lightly banging his head and tapping his foot in the turret, he wasn't doing awful either.
"Refreshing to see them this happy..." Paula smiled as she watched it. Yes, there were hints that he wasn't all there or all that happy, really, but Vic was still himself to a degree. He was still a friendly guy, still the joker they remembered, but still awkward as all hell. He was also especially dense for not noticing team RWBY's blondie watching him so intently, but that was just par for the course for him.
"It's good to know Vic's doing alright," Paul replied, then told her, "Was worried he'd be too down in the dumps," while completely and totally aware of how he would be if they found his childhood friend, Katja, like that. The Pole hadn't dropped in yet and some part of him was hoping, much like Vic, that Kat would never drop in, considering that meant she had died. Right now, though...
"Yeah... Doesn't necessarily mean he isn't, just that he knows how to enjoy himself with us. We did see him watching his old GoPro footage, after all..." His sister stated rather bluntly.
"He's a very good faker if that's what he's doing," The Hungarian man quipped as he looked over his Minimi. The shorter barrel would allow him to bring it into close quarters, but that didn't mean shit when it was so hard to lift. Vic had, however, done something for them that felt like it had provided a genuinely substantial boost to them. He awoke their 'Aura', that soul-shield thing team RWBY had told him about. The two looked over to see Diana speaking on her Scroll to Ozpin.
"Heh. Yeah," His twin continued, feeling the weight of said Aura on her soul. A bulletproof vest made out of one's own soulstuff that, with enough training, they could control. It'd be fun to experiment with it, she thought as she checked her own rifle. The group looked forward, however, when Diana started snapping her fingers to get their attention, which meant the briefing was coming.
"Alright, listen up! We've got word that there might be intel on further White Fang ops in the AO, not to mention stolen Dust from various stores in the AO. Keep your eyes peeled for laptops, Scrolls, tablets and other data. Keep in radio contact at all times and keep your Battle Buddies close. We're coming in fast and hard on this one. Paula, Victoria, you're our snipers. Set up somewhere high. Dome any fucker that comes out. Everyone else, you're on me... Breach, sweep, clear," The Sergeant ordered incredibly calmly as the rifleman beside her checked both his rifle and hers.
"Praise the lord and pass the ammunition," Vic spoke as he knelt down from the turret, grabbing his PKM and giving it a quick once-over, then feeding the first round into the chamber. As the truck stopped and the fireteam dismounted, they caught sight of a series of abandoned buildings resembling Skid Row. Though there were no druggie tents nearby, the buildings looked ramshackle and damaged, some even bearing bullet holes.
Across the street from their target was an abandoned hotel. Paula and Vicky looked to one-another, then to the Sergeant. The woman gave a chop of her hand and the two ran across the street immediately, kicking the door in and moving up the stairs as the others stacked up. A four-man fireteam with two rifles providing support from another building, all while covering each-other's backs.
Diana stacked up first, pulling a crowbar off her back and looking at the fence. Said fence had a blue tarp covering it, meaning the inside was practically invisible. Ozpin had, however, given them a map of the place in the briefing and they'd have sniper overwatch. Yes, she knew Designated Marksmen weren't exactly snipers, but she really didn't care. Hearing two clicks on her com, she looked over to the building to see that the girls had set up, hidden in the darkness.
She nodded, showed Paul and Vic to stack up behind her while their last rifle kept watch in the rear, then told them, "MGs sweep and clear with me. Cocean holds the rear and keeps our exit open..." before approaching the fence's door, which had a rusty padlock on it. She got a nod from each team member, then radioed, "Execute!" and pried the lock off the door, drew her rifle and pushed in, aiming down the red dot she'd strapped to the ZENITCO Repro top cover.
The group pushed in, Vic hefting his PKM up and murmuring, "Fuck me if this isn't gonna be a fun CQC fight... Hope you folks brought EARPRO..." while aiming down the irons. The man's upper body strength was something else when it came to combat duty, the PKM being his primary and forever cementing him as the squad's heavy gunner. Meanwhile, Paul had decided that his Minimi might've been overkill and switched over to his FAMAS. The squad advanced in a column, Diana at the tip and Cocean in the rear.
"Targets, internal," Paula spoke coolly over the com as she and Vicky audibly thumbed their safeties off and started lining up their shots. She reported, "Counting four footmobiles on a catwalk, maybe a dozen more inside," which caused the squad to physically tense. Things were about to get hard in there. An entire abandoned warehouse full of hostiles.
"Roger. Preparing for insertion," Diana replied. She looked back at Victor and Paul. She told them, "Two, three, prep frags," while preparing her rifle and making sure the red dot was zeroed for CQC. Basic infantry clearing buildings was normally not their MO, but they could do it. Plus, a four-man team engaging in a clearing op like this made it much easier than if they went in with a whole platoon.
"Rog," The Hungarian and her fellow Romanian answered, swinging their weapons down to their sides via the two-point slings and pulling fragmentation grenades out of their respective pouches, before slowly pulling on the pins. They looked to the Sergeant, who grinned at the sight, her balaclava creasing slightly as she checked her rifle one last time. They were ready.
"This should be fun, eh, Paul?" Vic quipped.
"Heh. Like old times," The Hungarian nodded. KFOR had been fun...
"Except we ain't training here no more," Vic shot back as he primed his grenade next to Paul. The Hungarian nodded, slightly more serious, then pulled his Grenade's own pin. The fuses wouldn't drop until they let go of the grenades' paddles, but when they did, the men hoped they'd airburst. They would, probably killing a bunch of hostiles in one volley... Hopefully.
"Yeah... Sarge, kick it," Paul nodded.
"Three, two, one, BREACH!" Diana counted down fast, before she took a step back. Her boot made contact with the door, a thumping clang filling their ears. The two men let loose the grenades into the open door as the White Fang members all swiveled about, surprised. The grenades detonated with two thundering thumps, disconcertingly not killing anyone, but definitely concussing the poor bastards. Paul mentally counted 24 of them at a first glance, surprisingly.
"Go! Go! Go!" Vic barked as he pushed in, lifting his LMG and dropping onto his stomach next to a few crates. He lifted it, shouldered it and aiming as he opened up, firing wildly over the bastards' heads. Paul and the others pushed in as well, with Cocean keeping the rear covered as best he could. He watched the White Fang troopers find their cover, looking completely and utterly panicked, some even firing wildly.
"Contact, left!" Diana barked as she zeroed in on a pair. She shot the two with precision aim from her 5,56 AK variant, watching as they dropped to the floor, their brains and blood painting the floor. She switched aim and started firing on another to try and keep him suppressed as Paul pushed up past her and into cover behind a metal box, checking the French bullpup he wielded.
"Engaging!" The Hungarian FFL member barked as he lifted the weapon, zeroed in on his first target and fired a short, two-round burst, killing him immediately. The Hungarian ducked into cover next as bullets zipped down onto him from above. The catwalk troops had finally gotten their heads out of their behinds and were covering their comrades, he thought.
"Sync. Shoot." Vicky's voice echoed like a whisper over the com, followed by four consecutive and loud gunshots. High-caliber rounds nailed the White Fang members on the girders, four shots, one for each man. They all died, one of them falling over the girder, slamming into a metal shelf with a wet thunk, then falling onto the floor beside one of his mates.
Two White Fang members pushed forward out of the remaining seventeen, seemingly sharper than their brothers in trying to regain the advantage and press it with dwindling numbers. The Romanians noticed this and fired, but they were smart enough to return it, with Paul being forced back into cover again and firing blindly over it. Rounds hit the metal, ringing it and ricocheting off into the concrete and everywhere else.
"Suppressing fire!" Vic then barked as he properly started laying down the hate with short-controlled bursts. He managed to strike the two advancing members, seemingly a male and a female with some lizard traits. Cool blood splattered onto the floor as the 7,62x54mm rounds tore through them, each burst fired accurately. The White Fang themselves, however, did regain some composure from their comrades' ill-fated advance.
A few started firing again, hidden behind layers of boxes and shelves, their cover keeping them somewhat obscured from the focused fire of the strike team. Cocean himself eyed to gun down one of'em, while Vic and the others simply tried to pin the enemy down, get themselves advancing again. They needed to move forward just in case there was anyone else here, destroying the evidence they'd been asked to secure. Another sniper round rang out...
Cocean barked, "Fuck me!" as one round from the Fang's rifles zipped right by his ear. As he ducked to take cover, another hit him right in the vest, staggering him a little. Still, he was composed enough to poke out from the cover he'd now found and put a round through the man that had hit him in the chest, leaving fourteen White Fang by Vic's count.
"You green!?" The Gunner himself asked as he was reloading his LMG. Slamming the bolt home, the man started firing bursts once more at the enemy and managing to pin them back down behind their cover, returning them to their previous Status Quo. It was getting rather fucking annoying, Vic thought to himself as he fired, then looked to Cocean, who seemed to be fine.
"Armor took the hit! Knocked the fucking air outta my lungs, too, băga-mi-aș-!" The man himself replied as he reloaded his rifle and looked at the hole left in the plate carrier's cloth. He sighed deeply, dumping the magazine to the floor, locking and rocking in a fresh one and standing up to engage the enemy again. The managed to push up to the first shelves, bullets punching through some of the cardboard boxes stacked up on top, kicking up dust.
"Watch that mouth, Cocean, or I'm gonna wash it with soap!" Diana quipped, much to the laughter of their team-mates. She aligned the red dot on the next target as she poked her rifle between the supports, then domed another member of the White Fang, killing him on the spot. The group continued to prepare their advance when Paul seemingly got an idea.
"Frags! Frags! We gotta push up from the entry!" Paul primed his second fragmentation grenade.
"Do it!" Diana shot back as she primed her own alongside Victor and Cocean. The four threw the bombs in, flashing thunder filling the room and allowing them a clear-cut advance toward the rear metal box that seemed to act as the place's old office. Yet another pair of sniper shots rang out, thinning the White Fang's remaining ranks to just seven surviving men.
Said seven survivors fought desperately, drawing even blades to try and get into range, kill at least one member of the advancing joint NATO force. Still, it was all for naught. Victor drew his pistol and backed Paul up as they advanced. Each of the four assault team members let loose, firing into the White Fang, with Cocean catching one more kill alongside the others.
Vic pushed up to the box, busted the window open with his sidearm and poked and pied the place, then cried out, "CLEAR!" as he looked at the corpses and spent casings littering the floor, blood painting red marks in a canvas of white dust and debris. Black scorch marks pointed to the areas where the grenades detonated, fragmentation lodged in the bodies of the deceased that got taken out by them.
"Clear!" Paul added as he peered in-between the shelves themselves, counting the bodies. The enemy was dead here, so that left Cocean's own area:The catwalks above. He sighed and lowered his rifle, then nudged one of the corpses, one with a shrapnel piece the size of his thumb through his right temple, just to make sure. He nodded to the Sergeant.
Cocean scanned the girders and watched the hanging corpses, blood dripping down onto the floor below in a slow, rhythmic way. He looked back to Diana and said, "Clear..." before stepping up to Vic and asking him to check his armor. Turned out the 'Aura' had managed to stop the bullet inches short of it hitting the plate, somehow. It'd shattered when it hit the Aura and had done very minimal damage to the cloth of the plate carrier.
"Area Clear..." Diana sighed deeply, then ordered, "Start scouring the place. Eyes open for any actionable intel. Paula, Vicky, rally up and help us search," as she entered the small office, noting a series of computers and even a central server of some kind, parts of which looked already destroyed. She let out a deeper sigh this time, then motioned to Cocean, their IT Guy in a way, to check everything.
The rifleman started rifling through the enemy's files digitally, humming a quiet tune as the Fireteam's snipers walked inside, weapons stowed on their backs and CQC rifles at the ready. He looked back and waved the team forward, to which Diana approached. She leaned onto the corner desk and asked, "What do you have for me, Rifleman? Tell me some good news."
"They only got through wiping 22% of the files when we raided them. They might've been tipped off by someone on high that we were about to hit this place, but I can't find any records of it on their personal scrolls. Add to that, the server system's directly linked to Remnant's internet, the Cross-Continental Transmit System, through a small back door. It's their only secure connection to other Cells in Vale and across the globe. I can pull all relevant data off the mainframe in a minute," The Rifleman replied, then got patted on the back by the woman.
"That's one of my brainiacs. You look like there's more to add to this, though," She observed, noting the look on his face and the usual tells. Cocean had a very expressive face. One could easily tell when the man got angry with someone or something and one could also easily tell when he became extremely focused, locked in. He wore basically the poker face of poker faces for his kind of people.
"There is... Communiques from smaller, two and three-man Cells here in Vale, plus cross-referencing with data on the CCTS Network points..." The rifleman replied as he pulled up data. He brought forth a series of dark photos, taken in the middle of the night then pointed at the soldiers clad in what looked to be modern gear as he told her, "More friendly units in the AO. At least units from Earth from the looks. Here. And there's even mention of a surprise new beneficiary, though, again, that's in the wiped files..."
"Huh... Can we contact the troops?" She asked. Any backup would be welcome.
"We can try calling the possible friendlies, but I don't think our Handhelds have much range," He told her, then sighed and added rather confidently, "The Long Range on board the Warhound might, but even that's iffy. I'd need to splice it directly into the CCTS at the source, so the Tower in Beacon. When I do, though, we might be able to send an encrypted message any NATO Radio could decode in a couple minutes..."
"Any chance of finding backup in this shitshow is good enough for me. We'll get to it back at Beacon if we can get Ozpin's approval. Pull every single important file and let's boogie on outta here," The woman replied, then patted him on the shoulder as she turned to leave. They'd need the reinforcements. Unless they were the Bad Guy Russians Paul and Paula had briefed them on.
"Roger that, Sarge," Cocean grinned, "On it." And his fingers started dancing on the keyboard.
"Alright, MISFITS, pack your bags and prep to exfil. Cops were probably called and I'd rather not explain the bodies to them," Diana ordered, rallying up the team and ensuring they still had their balaclavas on. They laughed as they prepped, while Cocean pulled the intact files and several SSDs and HDDs from the computers and the server bank to their left, putting them in his bag.
The squad exited the building in an orderly fashion and boarded the heavy-duty Mastiff MRAP, Vic immediately manning his position on the fifty while the others scrambled their seating. Cocean put the bag full of items in the middle of the transport and sat down next to the boss, who looked back and saw that the entire team was on board before she turned the engine of the heavy beast on and turned it around to drive back to Beacon. Reinforcements were out there, more people fighting the good fight after death. Part of Vic hoped it was more of their friends. Vicky, Paula and Paul seemed to share the thought, too, regardless of that meaning that they were all dead and revived like them.
The Russian Girls' Household
Dressed in shirts and baggy cargo pants, their uniforms currently in the washer, the young women belonging to the Misfits' Russian female side of the platoon checked their gear, rested and watched TV or cooked dinner for the squad. Vera herself was a bit busy, pushing strands of her black hair out of her eyes and utilizing her own computer knowhow to search through the CCTS.
Lita had taken apart her Kalashnikov rifle, top cover resting on the table as she cleaned the gun's innards with the specialized cleaning kit, scouring out the muck and grime of firing the unusually corrosive high-performance rounds so standard to their Armament. Lita had been working on reloading the rounds with cheaper stuff and better propellant, but that didn't save her own thermobaric launcher from possibly running out of ammo. It was for that reason she kept it for emergencies.
She looked around at the rather opulent three-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with a surprisingly open living area, then looked upon the place's massive couch, to see Vesna watching films from KFOR. She sighed, quickly finished cleaning and reassembling her rifle, then looked over to Vera and asked, "Find anything interesting in the White Fang's communications?"
"Recently raided outpost. Police must've kicked the door," The Spetsnaz shotgunner replied, turning the computer around to show Lita the scene of the raid. Twenty-four dead White Fang militiamen. Lita whistled, then shook her head and pointed out something, to which Vera replied with, "I was just saying. I agree those don't look like any holes made by the cheap-shit Dust ammo these people use."
"Cops suddenly carrying gunpowder rounds," The short woman spoke as she set the weapon aside after reassembling it. She added, "Would be funny, but I doubt it. Could be more of ours," while stretching and yawning. It'd been a long couple nights, honestly. Having others picking up the slack would probably help a lot more than they let on with their sleep schedules.
"Wouldn't put it past whatever the fuck dropped us here," Vera replied with a slight bit of edge to her voice, her mind wandering to it being their countrymen and wishing it wasn't the case. She stated, "Hell, I'd welcome it being people from you girls's KFOR group, considering what you all told me of them... Maybe even," and she tilted her head worriedly to Ves.
"Relax. I agree..." Lita offered, then added, "Imma be right back," before standing up and walking toward Vesna. Vera understood. Ves was currently the most important person to even her, considering the two sisters in all but blood had been long-ago separated by each's military service, with Vera's own leading her down the path of the Spetsnaz while poor Vesna had been simple infantry.
"O-Oh... Hey, Lita..." Vesna uneasily greeted, rubbing her arm as she looked at her friend. The green-haired girl hummed and looked over at the video, noting it was Vic who was filming. He'd handed out copies of his GoPro footage from the place to the gang, with the current image being from Vesna's copy, namely them just hanging out and laughing at one of their mates' misfortune of being caught by a CO.
"Watching the videos ain't exactly healthy for you, vatrushka," Li told her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. She told her, "Nor is beating yourself over the head so much," as she saw the frown. Regrets were a powerful thing, Lita realized. She had her own regarding Jim Asher, the squad's goofy Mexican-American man and one of her closest childhood friends, at least from the online medium.
"I know. I just miss it..." Vesna replied, looking longingly at the sight of the gang now making a campfire from kindling and papers they didn't need anymore. They sat together and chatted and laughed that night away, eating s'mores that the yanks had brought over. Ves had sat down beside Vic in that case, the boy filming the two of'em while they smiled. They were all young. Oldest must've been nineteen among them, before the virus, before everything.
"Yeah... We all do..." Lita replied, a bit melancholic as she looked at Jim and her being sat together. She sighed and said, "But hey, good news. Vera, tell her," and turned to face the girl's adopted sister. There was stuff coming off the RemNet that was looking fairly promising. The data and everything, she meant. She hoped most of those 'rumored encounters' on the local forums like RemChan were true.
"Da, da, da..." Vera nodded quickly, then began explaining, There's reports of other modern troops around the bend, Ves," which seemed to rekindle a little more hope i nher sister's blue eyes. She smiled awkwardly, then added, "If Lita's right, the recent raid on that warehouse was made by such a unit. And our own friend in the Vale Council mentions one of her buddies just got an approved PMC through the Headmaster of Beacon. So, there's hope it's your friends."
"... As nice as that would be... I don't think they want to see me..." Ves replied, a little awkward.
"Chto za khren, Vesna," The green-haired compatriot who was usually the one with a level head demanded, "This is really unhealthy. You didn't do anything wrong by dying and neither did he. If Victor would get upset at you for it, fuck me, maybe we had him wrong all this time..." only to see the girl perk up and glare at her, as if implying the man she loved could be a dick got her to snap back to reality for a moment. Lita grinned at that.
"... Yeah, fair," The blonde sighed deeply after a moment, then smiled as she looked up at the video, "You're right... I hope..." And she sighed deeply. Vesna Novikova was, for all intents and purposes, every bit as broken as her friends for her own reasons. The collapse of her home land, the Civil War she heard was ongoing and hearing that so many of her friends, including the man she loved, perished in a conflict like that just to seize WMDs that might not even have functioned had caused a deep depression for her. She felt unworthy to even be granted this next life. Much less to pray that the man she'd wronged by dying would be present so she could apologize.
"Anyways. Ayesha, how's dinner?" Lita sighed, looking over to the Redhead with blue eyes who was cooking. She was their former muslim member, Ayesha Dudiyn, the Chechen-born redheaded beauty that had a bit of a strange attitude toward reality and love as a whole, considering how she was raised. Still, she, too, had someone she missed that she hoped would show up, with very few qualms about wishing for it.
"Almost ready, suka, don't rush me..." Ayesha grinned at her polar physical opposite, smiling proudly. She hummed, looked to their blonde leader and friend and told her, "Hey, Ves. Y'know, Vic is gonna want someone to cook for him when we all meet back up, so... Why not come help me?" before flipping the steak she was frying over so it cooked on the other side, too. Vesna smiled and nodded, then stood to her feet. She took one last moment to look at the images of the gang enjoying themselves.
"Lazy fuck..." Lita chuckled at Ayesha's rather obvious attempt to shirk her responsibilities as cook. Then again, Vesna would need to learn to cook if what Lita and Ayesha had seen Victor look at during their short stint together in Russia was anything to go by. A black box covered in satin with something that glittered inside it, in fact. The girls never approached to ask about it, but they knew.
She looked upon the videos, too, watching them still play. They showed them all, their friends and comrades, now being chewed out by the officers. Vic himself had recorded the dressing-down, gently panning the camera by moving his head to show what had occurred. Worst offenders would've been her and Jim, obviously, since both were covered in tar and feathers. Li even noticed that, behind the white and black, her hair was still visibly brown, only the tips being green and highlighted. She and Jim were stifling laughs, the Latino being a head taller than her and her, in the Captain Price 'LARP', almost the same as she wore now, boonie hat and all included.