"Alright, take your seats, we've just received our next deployment. Some cloud chaser up in Atlas got the bright idea to send our asses out to some weather outpost in bumfuck nowhere. Open your packets and follow along I'm only going through this once."
"Our northernmost weather outpost, Boreas, went dark over seventy-two hours ago. While it's not unusual, especially as they report particularly bad storms through the area, Boreas reported no such supercells in the days leading up. So High Command has ordered us to bring some backup long-range communication and find out just what the hell happened. Boreas is too far north for insurrectionist activity to be an issue and has too small a population to attract any Grimm the automated defenses can't handle."
"Terrain is shit and the weather more so this time of year, reported temperatures in the area before loss of contact were subzero so pack warmly or we'll be sending your frostbitten pricks home. Now, this isn't the usual type of mission we in First Recon usually get but this is still an opportunity to impress some pencil pushers and maybe First Sergeant will finally get that promotion he's been aching for and off our backs. Any questions?"
"Yeah, does First Sarge have to come with us? Why can't you take lead? He can stay up in his floating city while we get some actual work done"
"I'll choose to ignore your remark and avoid the trouble it'd bring. He's coming whether we like it or not. Pack your kits light and warm. Bird leaves the tarmac in two hours, dont be late 'cause I have no reservations sending your asses to the brig."
Rough weather led to the VTOL dropping the recon members off early and further from their initial drop amidst an oncoming storm. An offer to return was given by their pilot only to be adamantly refused by the First Sergeant. With their bird flying off in the horizon, the recon team set out.
Six figures dressed in meshes of grey and white treaded through the desolate countryside. Snow crunched underneath their black-soled boots as snowflakes slowly drifted, building atop their figures. Thick trousers and blouses of dual coloring warmed their bodies as their breath slowly crystallized atop their breastplates and flaks. Their helmets, despite the apparent warmth they provided, seemed to only focus the cold within. Their visors fogged with each exhale, obscuring their vision and threatening to separate them with each step as the storm slowly picked up in intensity.
What should have been a thirty-minute trek was now going on three hours due to their early drop. Despite the safety concerns, the First Sergeant was eager as ever to provide results.
"Pick up the pace engineer! We'll never reach Boreas if you keep stumbling!"
Panting for breath and out of his element, the engineer defended himself between gasps. "W-with all due respect Sir! I am a civilian contractor! And certainly not Recon!"
From behind, two hands pushed the engineer ahead as he threw his head back, fighting to continue. "Don't worry lad, the marches are always the worst part" assured the Automatic Rifleman, a man with a grizzled appearance beneath his visor.
"Yeah, except when you're getting shot at by terrorists or ripped apart by Grimm" quipped the Assistant Gunner, shoving the Engineer.
The Engineer stiffened, becoming more lively at the mention of possible danger. With a chuckle, the Automatic Rifleman reassured him once more. "Don't worry boy, the brass said it's unlikely, if at all. Besides you got us here, ain't that right Marksman?"
A gruff "Hmm" was all the tall man said past his white face mask as he treaded past them towards the Sergeant. A few whispers were exchanged before the team was called to a halt.
"Rifleman! Get up here!" At the Sergeant's order a young, almost too young soldier jostled past them to the Sergeant. The Engineer watched the exchange as the Auto Rifleman and A-Gunner observed the area. Past his thick, frosted frames he watched as the exuberant Sergeant pointed to the distance and the Rifleman gave a short response. Suddenly the Sergeant grasped the young Rifleman by his front plates and pulled him nose to nose, no doubt giving a clear threat. Seemingly unphased the Rifleman responded, which the Engineer could barely read the response on his lips. "Yes, First Sergeant."
The young boy pushed ahead of their group as the Sergeant called out to them. "Good news! Boreas should be just ahead, our Rifleman here has volunteered to scout ahead and set up outside of the village. We'll push ahead and find who's in charge and then some warm lodging" The Engineer disagreed with the rough treatment he always saw in Atlas's army but his mind was more focused on the comfort of a building to warm his extremities. Soon they walked past the unflinching Rifleman who stood watch over the road as the storm increased in severity and snow piled around him. The Engineer understood now, the poor boy was getting hazed for speaking back. But was a rebuttal worth giving one of your men frostbite?
The five men entered the town. A grand reception wasn't expected but neither was the chilling silence. The small town of Boreas, no more than twenty buildings and abodes, sat deathly silent as snow drifts lazily swept across the roads. The Sergeant was less than pleased as the prospects of easy merit began to slip. On his orders each building was searched, those that were locked had their doors inspected by the team for traps, then kicked in as the Auto Rifleman swept the area with his LMG at the hip.
It was at the final building, the Town hall, or in this case, the largest in the town's center with multiple windows for ventilation and large spaces for storage, where the town's head should have resided. Yet after another search, no one was found.
"It must've been the damn Fang!" shouted the Sergeant hurling his fist into a door.
"I'm not so sure about that," said the Engineer. "Every building we've been to has had its food left behind and its equipment damaged."
"So, Grimm?" asked the A-Gunner.
"Unlikely. Theres no claw marks, no blood, and the generators and communications were destroyed but only vital components. It wasn't as if a Polar Ursa came in and smashed the generators."
"Then what was it? Asked the Auto Rifleman.
The Engineer hummed aloud. "I'd say more than likely… someone lost it and hunted the others. Sabotaging the place and leaving them distrusting of each other. An ominous silence took the team at the plausibility.
"Then where are the bodies and why the leftover supplies?" asked the Marksman.
"Whatever the case, we should get to the top of that hill, repair that radar and comm system, then leave. There is nothing of interest here for us" hissed the Sergeant.
"I'd advise against doing so Sir" suggested the Engineer. With the worsening weather, darkness coming, and most of all the lack of power, I don't think it'd be a good idea to head up there haphazardly. I may not even have enough tools for the repairs needed. Especially if the station has been sabotaged as these buildings were.
The Sergeant sighed through gritted teeth. "Fine then. Marksman get up to the top floor, you'll provide first watch. Assistant Gunner go retrieve the rifleman, he'll have the three a.m. shift and double hours. Rest of you get comfortable, we're leaving for the station at sunlight."
And so the six men settled into the large building. Scavenging blankets and fresh food they quietly prepared themselves for a short rest before their turn for watch. The Marksman had settled into a comfortable position on the top floor. Having been given some warm food by the Automatic Rifleman he sat in a chair peering out into the flurrying snow past the many windows. There was no light and his visibility was limited. Despite the boredom and lulling sound of wind battering the building, he stayed alert.
His shift was close to over, his two hours nearly at an end. Then a dull light caught the corner of his eye. Shifting beneath the shroud he lay in, he gripped his DMR and looked out the window. There was no power to the town, yet in the distance, a faint light glowed. It must have been the radar station. He strained his eyes to see before bringing his rifle up to peer through its scope. The sight swayed and jerked slightly from his occasional shiver as he peered through the hazy flurry at the light source.
Setting his sight on the source it flickered and disappeared. His curiosity at the warm light dissipated as he saw a strange silhouette. A hazy figure in the distance, obscured by the snow. It stood tall, bipedal, with crooked gangly limbs, and larger than any man. Horns no, gnarled antlers emerged from atop its head. As he stared wide-eyed at the black figure with no discernable features, his body temperature noticeably lowered, he saw only two things with certainty.
The first, that it was most certainly there. The second, that it raised its right arm and pointed at him. Ice filled his veins and his spine rattled with the most severe shiver he had ever experienced. The Marksman instinctively jerked back in shock. The cold air gripped his widened eyes forcing him to blink. Regaining his senses, he shook his head and leaned into his sight to find the figure and shoot, to kill it! But there was nothing in his sight.
Almost as if in his mind he heard a solitary howl, distorted, high-pitched, and blood-curdling. It wasn't through his ears but distant in his head as if recalling a memory. The Marksman grabbed his cloak and rushed downstairs to warn the Sergeant.
The five other members were in the same room, the Sergeant, Auto Rifleman, and A-Gunner were all asleep. Only the Engineer, unused to the cold conditions, and the Rifleman were awake.
Perking his head up the Engineer faced the Rifleman. "Did you hear that voice just now?" he asked. The young Rifleman raised a questioning eyebrow at the Engineer as the door slammed open.
"Sergeant!" shouted the Marksman. "Wake the Sergeant!"
The Engineer looked confused as the Rifleman racked the bolt of his rifle and woke the Sergeant. A few expletives were hurled at the boy as the groggy Sergeant awoke before the Marksman grabbed him and dragged him to the window. "There's something out there!"
"What are you on about?!" shouted the Sergeant as the Auto Rifleman and A-Gunner awoke.
"Augh!" yelled the Engineer. "D-Did you hear that? That woman screaming! She must be outside!"
As the Engineer brought his knees to his chest and clasped his ears, muttering to himself, the five recon members looked out the two large windows. They had heard nothing and there was no screaming woman, not even footprints.
A slight creak and all men turned their loaded weapons to the doorway. The door shifted slightly, its hinges creaking again. The Sergeant was quick to anger once more. "It's an old building, it's gonna make noise. More importantly, put your damn weapons down! No one shoots less I give the order, understood?" His fire team lowered their weapons in compliance.
"Good now clearly the weather is getting to our Engineer". All eyes turned to the man in question, his eyes were wide and darting around in paranoia. "We need him to fix the radar so A-Gunner, Rifleman see if you can get him to-"
The Sergeant was interrupted by a burst of fire. Again all men instinctively turned to the origin of the sound, weapons raised. The source was the young Rifleman next to the window, having sent a burst of rounds through it at an unknown target.
"What in the fuck did I just say?!" demanded the Sergeant striding towards the Rifleman and grasping at his collar.
"Look!" shouted the A-Gunner, pointing past the broken glass. The group's eyes turned to see a black figure slumped atop the nearby roof, its arm and head limply drifting with the wind as blood poured over the side. The increasing winds pulled the precariously placed corpse from the two-story building leaving a trail of dissipating black in the wake of its fall.
The Auto Rifleman was shocked. "Was that-"
"Grimm," said the young Rifleman. "It was watching us".
"It looked different, it had streaks of silver. You said it was watching us? Are Grimm capable of observing prey?" asked the Auto Gunner.
Before any deliberation could begin. The Rifleman and Marksman raised their rifles and fired down the road. The Rifleman's rounds disappeared into the distance but the Marksmans were tracers. The red glowing projectile illuminated the street slightly as it flew past, revealing a daunting sight. Whistling down the dark road it showed shifting mass, where the handful of rounds flew, they had dropped a single Beowulf amidst a much larger pack.
The Sergeant was caught by complete surprise. "Fu-"
The Automatic Rifleman pushed past him and set up his LMG. "A-Gunner with me! Marksman up high! Rifleman to the stairwell and watch the Engineer! Sergeant, support us!" Without waiting for a response he let a belt rip out of his weapon. Every fifth round illuminated the street with a tracer, showing flashing scenes of the sprinting monsters and mounting bodies as the fire team did as instructed.
The Marksman expediently set up on the top floor, nestling himself atop some large crates, and fired at any solitary or large Grimm he saw making its way around the perimeter. The A-Gunner pulled out two more drums of ammunition from the Auto Rifleman's pack and prepared the belts for him to reload. The Rifleman dragged the Engineer with him, kicking and screaming to the stairwell. It wasn't long before he began firing as well.
The Sergeant was at a loss yet still found time to be infuriated at his subordinate giving the orders. Not to be outdone, he shattered a window and began firing with his submachine gun. The beasts seeing their comrades fall in the dull and snowy moonlight, dispersed into and behind buildings. The creatures began to prowl, lurking around the perimeter and seeking a way in. The initial ambush had diminished their numbers somewhat but it had not deterred them.
Whenever movement was seen, heard, or felt, the fire team opened fire. The Rifleman had it the easiest, a steady stack of corpses filling the doorway, disintegrating yet still obstructing the next intruder. The Sergeant himself ironically may have been the one firing the most at nothing. The Marksman, ever proud of his skill and accuracy only fired when he knew of his target. The LMG had turned to fire in bursts yet its barrel still grew cherry red despite the cold.
Another belt was sent downrange before the A-Gunner appeared with the spare and a smile. "Just like the range, eh old timer?" he quipped.
"A bit too cold for me" responded the senior scout. Once the barrel was replaced the firing ceased temporarily. The quiet cold of the night crept into their bones, chilling their souls as they anxiously awaited any sound or movement.
"They're in the walls!" shouted the Engineer running past the doorway despite the Rifleman telling him to return. An ear-splitting scream came from him a moment later causing the Auto Rifleman and A-Gunner to run outside their room to see why. The Grimm weren't in the walls, they had climbed them. Entering through a separate window, two beowolves were hunched in the hallway and encroaching toward the panicking Engineer.
The Auto Rifleman didn't hesitate, dumping round after round down the hallway he emptied the remainder of the belt into the foes. A shocking sight met their eyes. The second beowulf, grabbed the first as it was riddled with rounds and used it as a shield. The A-Gunner lowered his sights, stunned in place yet again the Auto Rifleman acted. He charged the beast. The decaying corpse of the dead beowolf was thrown at him to which he slid onto his knees. The Beowolf slashed with its claws only to be blocked by the LMG the man held above his head.
In a moment both acted. The beowulf slashed at his armor peeling away the top layer as he hurled his hefty LMG at its face. The weapon clanked against the bony surface, causing it to recoil before it was tackled to the ground. In a fit of shouting and flailing the Auto Rifleman repeatedly slashed at the beast's neck with his bayonet in hand as it clawed at the back of his armor ripping it to shreds and knocking his helmet off. The A-Gunner soon came to assist and began bayoneting the creature in tandem. Soon it went limp and the Engineers shouts of fear died down.
"Hahhh", breathed the Auto Rifleman heavily. "A-Gunner go make sure the Sergeant ain't shot himself in the foot yet"
"You got it old man"
As the A-Gunner sluggishly trotted away he turned back to see the old recon 'hero' offer a hand to the trembling Engineer.
"We may not be huntsman boy, but it don't mean we can't fight. Get up" he said encouragingly.
The Engineer's eyes eased for a moment, only to dilate in horror. Looking up in the rafters of the hallway a gnarled, famished looking beowulf agilely clung above. Its long, thin body, exposed ribs, terrifying large fangs, and red twisted eyes brought one thought to his fear-ridden mind as it lowered its maw. Just like the tales described, the Engineer whispered. "Direwolf".
"What was that-"
As if a mouse in a trap, the Auto Riflemans Head was crushed between the deformed jaws of the Grimm. The Engineer gave a shrill scream as what had once been the firm and reassuring eyes of the scarred old vet fell onto his lap and the remainder of his body next to him. Pulling his sidearm, the Engineer fired wildly at the creature who eyed him curiously as it chewed its meal from above. All his rounds missed. The creature swallowed and eyed him, a small tilt to its cursed eyes. A glint of thought, of higher comprehension. It was mocking him.
The A-Gunner had watched helplessly as the beast had eaten his mentor. He was shocked at their carelessness, was it just cruel fate? What had they done wrong? Unable to move he watched as the black mass lowered itself to the petrified Engineer.
The Sergeant's submachine gun and the Marksman's rifle had picked up firing once more as the Grimm assailed their position again, confident without the harassing LMG fire. In an instant, the young Rifleman pushed the A-Gunner into a wall as he ran past. The 'Dire Wolf' swiped at him leading to the boy diving over. Recovering from the fall he turned to the beast above as it released its grip on the rafters and dropped onto him. The Rifleman fired the tube underneath his rifle.
The grenade launcher sent a round of white phosphorus into the beast's mangled torso lodging into its thin sickly stomach and beneath the bone plating of its ribs. The round hadn't exploded but it had cracked. The phosphorus began to bleed within the creature and then out of it and through the flooring. Feeling the searing pain the beast writhed around, crashing into and eventually through a wall as the Rifleman grabbed the Engineer by his plate carrier and dragged him back to the A-Gunner who was still out of it.
The beast howled, screeching as its claws tore through its own abdomen tearing chunks of searing flesh out only for the phosphorous to spread onto its hands and drip onto its face furthering its screeches. It was as if it was pleading for the pain to stop. Finally, it went silent.
The Marksman meanwhile had been growing frustrated up top. The cold had been unforgiving and the multiple windows he shot through only worsened it as each breeze and gust, made him shiver to his core. Gritting his teeth and struggling to reload at this point he recited words of comfort to himself.
'I am an elite. I am a scout. Huntsman are glorified actors. I am a soldier! I fight for the people! I bring them a future! I can't die here! I won't die here!' His thoughts only aided in worsening his psychosis. Whatever had affected the Engineer was only delayed due to his mindset, but with it came ignorance of his surroundings. His senses were dulling.
Ramming his bolt back he laughed to himself as he felt a warm breath on the back of his neck. Slowly turning his head, he saw two sets of maws licking their saliva behind him. With a sickening crunch, they clamped down on his arms dragging him off of his wooden pedestal and down to the increasing flow of Grimm coming through the windows he had shot out from behind. Struggling and firing wildly, more Grimm joined the meal, tearing past the armor and into the screaming flesh and viscera beneath.
The Sergeant had left his position to catch the scene of the Rifleman's battle and now had to deal with both the Engineer and A-Gunner as the screams from above haunted their ears. Looking up and at each other, the Sergeant and Rifleman nodded. They needed to leave.
"Let's go, we can't stay" ordered the Sergeant.
The A-gunner laughed to himself. "Of course. Of course, we have to leave! Can't you hear it?! Can't you hear him? The fat lady's sang and the old man's calling!"
"What the hell are you talking about boy?!" demanded the Sergeant. Before he could get a response, the A-Gunner drew his rifle and pointed it at the Sergeant. The Rifleman watched cautiously as the Engineer and Sergeant were left baffled.
"He's calling me to join him! We can't leave him alone! He needed me, he needs me!"
"Who?!" demanded the Sergeant.
Without explanation, the A-Gunner shifted his rifle up and under his chin. With the twitch of a finger, he sent the bridge of his nose and lower jaw splattering onto the Sergeant.
The man stuttered for words as he wiped the blood from his eyes and mouth. The trampling upstairs grew louder, the Grimm having sensed his panic. An intoxicating mist emanating from the paranoic Engineer and shaken Sergeant enticed the beasts.
"Sergeant! Sergeant!" shouted the Rifleman. "We need to go! We need ammo and to request evac! The radar station has both and steel walls! We can make a run through the streets, most of them are in here from the sound of it anyways!"
The sergeant simply nodded as he turned to the Engineer who was now crying and begging the voices to stop. As if it was the poor man's fault the Sergeant grabbed him and hurled him down the stairs. The Rifleman followed covering the rear.
The Engineer fell harshly onto the wood floor, scrambling to get up he came face to face with a decaying Grimms face. In a fitful panic, he stood and ran out the door without what was left of his entourage.
"Damnit where are you going?!" yelled the Sergeant chasing after. The Rifleman bit his lip and slid down the staircase and followed.
Gasping for breath as thick plumes of steam emanate from his blabbering mouth, the Engineer stumbled through the streets. Jumping at every shadow, his panic only intensified until he heard a growling from above. A few stragglers awaited their escape, lying atop the flat roofs. In despair, the Engineer ran towards the radar station, a sign of salvation in his frayed mind. He ran until his knees failed him.
He was standing still. He had only imagined his mad dash, the Grimm had slowly crawled down the wall until they were eye to eye with him. He had barely let out a scream of horror before they began ripping into his armor.
Turning a corner the Sergeant and Rifleman found the Engineer being preyed upon by three thin beowolves, runts of the pack presumably. The Rifleman shouldered his weapon and fired as the Sergeant did so from the hip. The Grimm were riddled with wounds and fell limp around the Engineer. The Rifleman was first to the man's body as the Sergeant stayed back and watched the area.
The Engineer gave hitched breaths with a mouth gurgling blood. Tattered cloth remained on his chest, intertwined with the strings of flesh that had been torn with it. His armor was pried off as if a tin can, broken at the joints if not outright punctured. His limbs faired no better, broken and gnawed on. He gurgled unintelligible words from his gasping mouth and wide, pleading eyes.
"Leave him," said the Sergeant. "He can't fix the radar like that and he's dead anyways". Not waiting for an answer the Sergeant began trotting off towards the Radar station. Their departure was surely known now and the Grimm were sure to follow.
With one last look, the Rifleman sighed and rolled the Engineer's maimed body onto his shoulder, and began running. The Sergeant cast a nasty glare at the action but continued on.
With wild howls in the distance, they surmounted the hill and entered the station. "Where are the body's then?" they recalled asking earlier in the day. Their answer lay before them. The front doors were smashed in, trails of blood in the entrance as if some tried to crawl away before being dragged back in.
Panting from their fresh run they saw a horrifying scene. The residents of Boreas were strewn about, tendons and guts linking them in some macabre form of decoration. Blood painted the walls, ceiling, and floor in self-explanatory splotches and splatters. One good sign was present, however. The interior lockdown door with the vital machinery and supplies was sealed. Deep gouges were in its surface and the walls around it but were no more than superficial.
The Sergeant tried opening the doors to no avail. Slamming his fist against the console, he watched as the Rifleman lay the Engineer next to it. A quick search and he brought out an ID from the man's trousers. With a swipe, the doors opened and signaled a ten-second countdown before closing once more. The Rifleman cast a glance at the Sergeant as he grabbed the Engineer by the collar and dragged him within.
"Why didn't you just bring the ID?" demanded the Sergeant.
"Didn't have time to look, Seargent. Either way, we should be grateful" responded the Rifleman.
Grinding his teeth the Sergeant followed as the doors secured behind them.
A quick search showed that the radar was intact but its power was cut. As always Atlas prepared for the worst or so they tried. A generator was present to give enough power for a signal as rations, ammo, even a few all-terrain vehicles and a small cache of dust were available. The Rifleman prepared the supplies and vehicles as the Sergeant made a pleading call.
"I understand the weather is unfavorable! I don't care, you hear me?! Tell them that I am a part of the noblesse faction! If I die here then you may as well off yourself now! Do you understand?!"
The Rifleman continued working as he and the Engineer, whose breathing was worsening, listened to their Sergeant's threats. It seemed to work, with a grin bordering madness he hung the receiver up and collapsed into a chair.
He eyed the large interior, it was spotless. Meaning the doors were sealed from the outside with everyone locked out. Had another lost their mind in Boreas and led the rest to their fates? A disturbing thought that only pressed him for a moment. He was more concerned with their breakout.
With two ATVs fueled and fresh ammo, they waited hours for the call from the incoming bird. "ETA 20 mikes" It was time. The Sergeant mounted up as the Rifleman walked to the Engineer.
With a plea of desperation, the Engineer looked at the RIfleman with unsteady eyes. "Please. Help. Me…"
The Rifleman nodded placing a comforting hand on the chest of the Engineer. A relieved smile came across the man's face as his eyes darkened. A loud bang erupted from the Rifleman's side. He had drawn his sidearm and shot the Engineer in the head. Pocketing something he turned to the Sergeant who regarded him with disgust.
Without delay the doors opened. Three snarling Beowolves were just outside, two of which were immediately bowled over by the vehicles. The third began chasing and howling after the escapees. The two raced as fast as possible as the howling grew in numbers and consolidated to their rear. The biting cold and stinging snow slapped against their faces with the wind, uncaring for the unpleasantness they continued as fast as possible. They were close to the EVAC, to safety.
Another series of howls, these more shrill and dreadfully close. A glance to either side revealed quadruped beowolves sprinting alongside them, sleek bodies darting through the terrain and wind. The Sergeant and Rifleman drew their weapons and, unreliably fired them one-handed while driving. Some rounds impacted, dropping the Grimm who whimpered in mild pain, others took the shots and closed the distance.
The Sergeant's small caliber SMG wasn't enough to drop his targets and so one leaped and latched onto his leg, dragging him from his mount. Rolling and scrapping with the beast he shouted for help, demanding it as the Beowolf knocked his helmet off "Rifleman! Get back here!"
His order was unnecessary. The Rifleman had already turned and used his ATV to ram the Grimm, then emptying a few rounds into it.
The Rifleman scanned the area, there was no immediate Grimm, but he knew they were in the distance, just out of sight, lurking. They wouldn't release their prey so easily.
The Sergeant gasped for breath on all fours. Looking up through long disheveled hair. With a scowl, he stared at that damned boy's back. He was a curse, his whole lineage! Cautiously he stood. The storm had begun to recede. An eerie silence settled as the winds died and he drew his pistol and aimed it at the boy's back. 'If I want to live, he needs to die!' his mind declared.
A "Click" of the trigger and the pistol fired. The projectile slammed into the back of the Rifleman's torso. In an instant, a strange glow emanated from his body, translucent and shimmering with no distinct color. Before his grip could even relax in surprise the Rifleman turned on his heel and emptied three rounds into the Sergeant's stomach.
Grasping at his wounds, he fell to his knees. Gasping for breath, the Sergeant looked up through bleary eyes. The Rifleman stood before him. Bending onto one knee the boy looked down at his commander with narrowed eyes filled with disgust.
"Y-You!" grit the Sergeant. "You have aura?!" The Rifleman grabbed him by his hair, ripping his head back so he could look him in the eye. The expression he held turned to disdain as he saw the pale and angry man, coughing as his lungs filled with blood.
"I knew everything you were thinking Sir. Your type is the easiest to read. Medal chasers with no regard for their men. Willing to trade blood for prestige. We were stepping stones until your life was at risk. Then we became your only hope". The Rifleman dug into his pocket and pulled out four small objects. The deceased team's tags.
Confusion emerged on the Sergeant's face. His expression begged when? When had he? When he pushed the Marksman out of the way to fire out the window? When he slid past the Auto Rifleman's corpse? When he shoved the Assist Gunner into the wall and when he put down the Engineer? As his thoughts recalled to the minor actions the Rifleman spoke with an icy tone.
"You saw it when the Grimm focused on the Engineer. The fear he emanated. You only chased after to use him as bait. That's what you were going to do to me. They fought and died for the sake of the mission. I fought to survive regardless of the means" The boy glowered, glancing at the discarded sidearm. "You never did train seriously."
The Sergeant was beginning to slip into shock. With one lasting glare, the Rifleman reached down and plucked the man's dog tags. "May you find peace in the end, Sir".
The snow beneath their feat crunched as the Rifleman mounted the ATV. "W-Wait! I order you to wait!" shouted the Sergeant. The sound of an engine started. The Sergeant turned while shouting, falling onto his side from the lack of strength. "Get back here! That is an order!" he yelled from the ground, clutching his chest as blood pooled around him. With the rev of the engine, the Rifleman left.
Eyes dilated, the truth sunk into the man's mind. "Wait! P-please!" he begged tears forming in his eyes as he lay on the cold, crimson-stained snow. His vision soon blurred to black. When he opened his frosted eyes again he heard snow crunching. Immediately his eyes widened. Several figures of tall black masses prowled around him, circling in.
They could sense his death and his bubbling fear. He didn't even have the strength to resist as they tore at him like a pack of wild dogs, grabbing whatever part of his body before tugging and turning, tearing from it. The cold had long since numbed his senses yet he screamed the loudest he had ever in life and now in his death.
The Rifleman heard the screams in the distance and hoped it was the beowolves that got his bait. Not whatever had happened to drive the Engineer to insanity. The storm had all but passed and the drop ship had arrived with a whopping crew of two, a pilot and co-pilot brave enough to retrieve what they were told was a fireteam.
With no pleasantries or explanation, the Rifleman's tattered appearance and the fistful of dog tags he presented were enough of an explanation for the pilots. The ship took off faster than it had landed. As the bay doors closed Caelum looked back at the daunting scenery. There was precisely one pursuer.
In the treeline, he saw it. There was no snow, no flurries or wind to obscure it. A bony skull with antlers atop its head stared directly at him. As they held each other's gaze the sounds of the hellish tundra faded, the whine of the engines, the blistering wind, all had ceased. His heartbeat quickened, the only sound he could hear was his blood pumping as a sickening pit opened in his stomach. it felt as if he and the unidentified beast were the only two life forms in the world, daring the other to move. With a sudden gust, an obstructive billow of snow rose and the creature was gone.
The Rifleman collapsed into his seat. The co-pilot saw the weary soldier and deigned not to ask. It was the last small reprieve the boy had before returning.
-Transition-
Undisclosed Atlas Military base
There was a sickening crack of a baton against flesh. The thinnest excuse of 'questioning' followed once more as the Rifleman was interrogated.
"Private First Class Hyalus, Caelum" Another crack followed aimed at the restrained boy's chest. His superiors had taken to treating him as a criminal upon his return. "You come back alone, with only a story and your teams' tags?" asked the man mockingly. "Admit what you've done. Like the diseased dog you and your family are, you turned on your owners didn't you?". Another blow followed.
The Rifleman stayed silent. It wasn't the first he had been abused by Atlas, it wouldn't be the last he presumed. His word meant nothing to them as he was only a tool. The man held a pleased smile at the silence. It allowed him to continue. And so the same song and dance played until a scout team could go out to confirm his report at a much later date.
He was then cleaned up and summoned before the commanding general of the Atlesian scouts. The boy wore his dress uniform, with no rank and no merits on it other than multiple decorations for combat, he bore an odd sight. The Commander's words were to be heard not responded.
"The investigation confirms Grimm presence and unusual circumstances. Each body was left maimed and disfigured except for your Sergeants which was devoured. As such you have been cleared of any accusations. However, you are no longer a scout. Your story is the only one to go off of and as such, there is much scrutiny. I never wanted your kind here and look what it got me, a dead team. Under General Ironwood's orders, you are to be reassigned for enhanced training to become a more viable tool for the kingdom. Pack your things and await his personal advisor's instruction. It will be from a Ms. Winter Schnee. You are dismissed."
The Rifleman saluted, not showing a sign of emotion as he listened and left. The General muttered 'Good riddance' under his breath at seeing the boy leave. He hadn't considered his family human in the first place, but this report… the boy had described it too gruelingly to have lied and yet he was unphased. He was glad to have that "political asset" gone.
The young Rifleman, Caelum Hyalus marched straight to his quarters, a dilapidated single room in the far corner of the base, overgrown and untenured. At sixteen years old, he was naturally frustrated but had learned to temper himself under the usual scrutiny and hatred. His father had endured for so long, he couldn't disgrace them by cowering. Instead, he did as always. Followed orders. If that wouldn't cut it then he would survive anyway, anyhow he could.
-End Chapter-