Author's Note: I was sitting around my computer watching the show Top Gear when I came up with this story. The humor and characters are based on the miniseries Generation Kill, and their aesthetics and gear I pulled from Battlefield 4 and Rainbow 6 Siege. On practically one day of research and several more days of concept work, I came out with this.
Beta-read by JustRandomGuy
Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY.
Thunder Run
Out across rolling grassland hills deep in Vale, sat a large settlement right on the edge of the Emerald Forest. The settlement of Opportunity, it was a thriving, self-sufficient town founded upon the discovery of a precious resource by a joint Atlesian and Valian prospecting team, petroleum. Decades earlier, it was discovered that one 42 gallon barrel of petroleum could produce almost double the amount of energy than that of dust in the equivalent weight at 1700 kilowatt hours (kwh). Though promising, researchers had ultimately decided to rely on dust instead. Petroleum was nowhere near as plentiful, nor as adaptable as dust was, and produced a fair amount of pollution next to dusts nearly nonexistent fumes. It was also decided that the difficulty in oil extraction and resources needed was not worth an only 700 kWh increase. For decades, fossil fuels as well as many other forms of energy was deemed pointless with the advent of dust, so it soon became forgotten. In the recent years, the Schnee Dust Corporation as well as the Atlas Military soon began drawing up interests in the old obsolete concepts. This is where our story starts….
Opportunity had gone silent over the past couple of weeks. Fearing the town had been overrun by Grimm, the Atlas Military sent a drone to recon the area and what they found had honestly scared them. It was worse than Grimm, the town had been raided and successfully captured by the White Fang who were now currently setting fire to the place. The smoke from the oil well fires could be seen for miles. One particular person was watching it with keen interest.
"Sir!" a voice called out drawing the man's attention.
From the hatch next to him rose another man dressed similar to him. The man nods and takes a quick look around him just as a pair of bullheads fly overhead. Surrounding his vehicle were large box shaped, tracked monsters covered in thick armor, and mounted with a beastly looking canon all traveling at a seemingly unreal off roads speed of 70 km/h. They were Atlesian recreations of the old MBT-70 prototype and up front leading the charge, was a mighty M1A2 SEP v4 Abrams with its TUSK configuration. How did this mighty….out of place vehicle end up in Remnant alongside recreations of its original prototype model? We'll get to that later.
Captain Grant Anderson took one more look around at the platoon before sliding down into the belly of the tank, closing the hatch behind him.
He switches on his radio and says "Homeguard, this is Nightmare 1-1, we are mission launch for objective "Alpha." Advance and report, over."
One by one, the other tanks reported in with their acknowledgements, then all of a sudden he saw what looked like large rockets flying over the formation.
"Holy….what are those?" a surprised voice asks.
"Looks like old Vacuoan rocket arty," another voice replies, "It's numbers make up for its inaccuracy. A really bad day if they land a direct hit!"
"Sir!" the gunner located in front of him called out, "3rd ID should be arriving now on right flank."
As if right one cue, a voice with a thick Russian accent sounds off "Nightmare 1-1, this is Alpha-01 over."
The formation is soon joined by a collection of APCs and IFVs, leading the charge like the tank platoon, is a Russian Kurganets-25.
The radio operator grabs his radio and replies "Alpha-01, this is Nightmare 1-1, our commander should be giving you a wave, can you see him?"
The Russian climbs out of his hatch to look, he then laughs as he sees Anderson throwing him a middle finger.
"That's affirmative Nightmare 1-1," he replies, "Allow me to return the gesture."
He then flips him off as well. They both then climb back into their respective vehicles with a nice laugh.
"All call signs, this is Nightmare 1-1, scouts report White Fang mechs and light armor ahead. This is why we came here. Clear out any resistance and allow the infantry to move in." He then switches to his crew mic, "Guys you hear? Stations. Driver, move out full throttle."
"Roger."
"Loader report."
"Let's get some!"
"Gunner report!"
"Guns ready!"
"Okay we're Redcon 1!" Anderson shouts.
"Nightmare 1-1 and 1-3," Homeguard radioed, "Any visual yet, report out."
"Negative, nothing yet," Anderson then switches the broadcast to all vehicles, "Okay, everyone form beyond this point is an enemy."
Right then, an rpg landed to the right of the tank, out in the distance, he could see 4 armored trucks, and two old Atlas mechs.
"Contact, sabot, 4 tanks, 2 mechs TRP 3, cross, at my command….fire!"
Though the Mistralian Blockader is not a tank, it basically being an armored truck with a canon mounted on it, it close enough. It's armor was thick enough for the sabots to be effective and that was all Anderson cared about. At that moment, each of the four tanks lined up their sights with a target. Then in just one split second, they unleashed hell upon the opposing armor.
The Abrams was the first to fire, out from its massive 120mm smoothbore barrel, a strange cone shaped projectile shot out. The outer casing broke away revealing a thin dart like projectile which slammed into the lead tank knocking it out of the fight. One by one, the other tanks open up making short work of the remaining armor.
"All stations , enemy armor engaged and destroyed in this sector," Anderson announces.
"Nice word 1-1."
"Homeguard, this is Nightmare 1-1, continuing with mission."
"Copy that 1-1," Homeguard replied, "Bound to next checkpoint and report, out."
Anderson nods "Top of the ridge, Nightmare 1-1, copy."
The two tanks proceeded onward unopposed for another 3 klicks before the ground in front of them exploded.
They continued on for a little bit longer before someone yelled "Incoming!" forcing the tanks to stop as a barrage of rockets landed right in front of them.
"They got us zeroed in!" another tank commander reported.
"Incoming, incoming. All Nightmare state, halt, halt, halt," Anderson ordered sternly. "Line formation. I say again, line formation. Wait for further. Out."
Another voice comes onto the radio saying "All Nightmare elements, this is Eagle 3-1. Orbiting above you now. We're patching in a UAV feed."
"Patching in MAV feed. MAV is mobile!" Anderson shouts.
He moved over to the other console and switches it on revealing the live, black and white, thermal, feed from a bullhead over head right as the rest of the platoon caught up with the front two tanks. The little further back was the rest of the armored convoy who also came to a stop at a good 200 meters back.
"Nightmare 1-1, that rocket battery is your primary target. CAS is on station," Homeguard ordered.
"Roger, Homeguard," Anderson replies, "Standing by for gun-run." He turns to the loader and mutters "Time to see if the general got the birds to work."
"It's like a beehive," Eagle 3-1 commented.
Anderson then moves the camera crosshair and hovered it over the collection of truck mounted rocket batteries. The batteries fire again revealing a large cloud on the thermal imaging confirming their location.
"Alright, lasing the target!" Anderson shouted as he marked the spot where the artillery were focused.
"Nightmare 1-1, we mark your spot," Eagle 3-1 confirmed, "CAS is inbound in 5 seconds. Standby."
"Watch it," a voice rang out.
In that moment the entire area where the trucks were located erupted with a white shroud representing the massive increase in temperature from that area. Just as quickly as it appeared, it faded followed with a loud animalistic *brrrrrtttt,* finished with a fast moving, low flying aircraft that resembled a bird of prey. As the aircraft flew past the encampment, they released a constant screech like noise that hammered in the bird imagery.
"Here we go," the same voice whistle led.
Another aircraft, identical to the first fly over firing the same cannon and releasing the same roar.
"Falcon 1-1, Hawk 3-3. Sortie complete," they reported. "BDA maximum on enemy position. We are bingo and egressing out, over."
"Roger 3-1," replies Homeguard, "Nightmare 1-1 is cleared to proceed with the mission."
Understanding this, Anderson glances to his right and watches as his loader sling in a new round.
"Loading HEAT!"
In approximately 5 seconds, the loader was done and confirmed it with a resounding "HEAT up!"
"All Nightmare victors commencing charge," Anderson declare sternly, "On my mark. 3,2,1. Mark! Driver move out, full throttle!"
The Abrams' turbine engine rumbled and the tank slowly started to move forward, gradually building up speed as the tanks rolled over the hills. The defending White Fang was still recovering from the airstrike from earlier. They were just a small raid party, laying claim to what they thought was a large dust collection. They were not prepared for such a strong military response. As the tanks came about their max speed at 70 kilometers per hour, they charged forward as the White Fang soldiers began firing on the oncoming armor. When they saw the machine gun rounds harmlessly ping off the sloped armor, they began to bring out rpgs. As they filled the area with rockets, one launcher ended up scoring a lucky hit on an MBT-70.
"Nightmare 1-1! 1-4 is hit, 1-4 is down!" they screamed, "They hit our track!"
"They got us zeroed!" Anderson shouts to all tanks.
The two leading tanks then fired their canons into the front barrier blasting a sizeable hole in the defenses while the others singled out the guard posts. As the large wall grew closer, the tank drivers soon began to grow weary,
"Go through it, Kowalski, don't stop!" Anderson screamed to his driver.
Kowalski did as ordered and plowed through the thick concrete wall creating a large tank sized hole in their defenses.
"Homeguard we're proceeding into the berm," Anderson radioed.
"Roger," he responded, "All call signs continue assault into the encampment."
"There, southside!" Anderson barked as the opfor soldiers ran over from all directions trying to stop the assault. "Driver get us the fuck out of here! Enemy to the 11 o'clock, coax!"
The gunner then switched to the coaxial mounted machine up and ripped apart the watchtower in front of them.
"Nightmare 1-1, prosecuting enemy dismounts!" Anderson reported while using the controls to remotely operate the pintle mounted .50 cal HMG on the turret, wiping away any soldier who got too close.
It was utter chaos on the enemy's side, soldiers fell left and right as the tanks rolled on through the encampment like an unstoppable force of nature. The convoy did not stop the onslaught until the tanks reached the end of the encampment.
"Encampment is clearer," Anderson reported, "Alpha 0-1 you are free to proceed with mission. All Nightmare victors proceed to establishing a defensive perimeter around the north side of the town."
"Acknowledged Nightmare 1-1, we shouldn't take long," he replies in a jolly tone. "Just make sure Grimm don't sneak up on us."
"Roger."
"Nightmare 1-1. Is there?" Alpha 0-1 asks, "It seems seems you already got everyone."
A few moments passed as the tank platoon anxiously listened to their radios. All they could hear was sporadic gunfire and random calls and orders as the soldiers went door to door.
"Homeguard, civilians are secure and ready for extraction over!" Alpha 0-1 reported.
"Roger that Alpha 0-1, hold position, bullheads are en route ETA 2 minutes," Homeguard responded.
Anderson proceeds to open the hatch and climb out of the turret. He found that the sunlight burned his eyes a little, when his eyes had adjusted, he glanced over at the village and watch as the Altas forces escorted the workers and their families to the extraction area.
"Just another day of work sir?"
Anderson glances over to his right and sees his loader climb up to join him. His loader, Specialist Evan Malarkey, the Irish, redhead New Yorker was a large, heavily built man. Considering the fact his job mainly consisted of slinging 50 pound tank rounds and driving them into the cannon's feed tube within five to six seconds, it wasn't too surprising that the man's physique fit the bill.
"What, you getting sleepy?" Anderson asks raising an eyebrow.
"No," he snorts, "I only ask because Nate has started bitching like a teenage girl and I'm here to rescue the good sergeant before he cracks."
"Well good luck with that," Anderson mutters.
To emphasize his point, Anderson dips his head back into the tank and hears the banter between the gunner and the loader. He climbs back up and chuckles softly.
Malarkey then frowns and comments "The White Fang sure didn't put up much of a fight, did they?"
"It's not the White Fang I'm worried about," Anderson replies seriously, he then looks out to the edge of the forest expectantly. As if right on cue, a distant rumbling could be heard, it somewhat resembled thunder off in the distance. "It's just another town raid for them," he mutters.
Malarkey looks over and asks "You hear that?"
"Right on time," Anderson mutters.
The radio then spurs to life and in a panicky voice, Eagle 3-1 saying "Holy shit! All Nightmare victors, you have a massive Grimm formation heading for your position. Judging by their speed, they'll all over you in approximately 60 seconds."
"Alpha 0-1 you hear that?" Anderson shouts not taking his eyes off the treeline.
"We hear it," they cry, "The bullheads will be here in thirty, we need you to buy us time while we evacuate the civilians!"
"Homeguard, we have massive Grimm movement heading for friendly lines," Eagle 3-1 reported, "I count mostly beowolves with a handful of deathstalkers!"
"Roger that 3-1," Homeguard responded, "Will advise Omega 3-4 and source alternative for immediate re-attack, break."
"Bull get down!" Anderson orders, "All callsigns, load sabot! I want those deathstalkers taken out as soon as they come in range!"
"Got it!"
"Oh and Bull."
The New Yorker poked his head back up "Yeah?"
"See you on the other side."
He nods "You too sir," and then ducks back down,
"Nightmare 1-1, we are diverting the IFVs to your position!" Alpha 0-1 radioed.
A few seconds pass before Malarkey yells over the radio "Sabot, UP!"
"Gun's ready!" Streicher yelled.
Anderson watches Alpha 0-1 Kurganets-25 sliding up beside them along with a handful of mechs and other IFVs.
"Glad you could join us 0-1," Anderson smiles.
"Comrade, we can't let you have all the kills now can we?" the Russian laughs.
"All call signs!" Anderson barks, "Weapons free as soon as they come in range."
Anderson was soon joined as the other tanks climbed up out of their turrets to operate their machine guns. Right as the hoard crossed the tree line, the area was completely saturated as another pair of jets flew over emptying their combined armaments of bombs, missiles, and gatling cannons. The Grimm that survived still numbered in the hundreds and the tankers could now see them as they crossed the tree line into the open field. The first guns to sound off were the 30mm and 20mm auto canons of the IFVs and mechs as they tore into swarm.
"Deathstalkers!" a tanker shouts as the massive scorpions tore through the battered treeline running over the unfortunate beowolves that got in the way.
"All tanks pick your targets!" Anderson barks aggressively.
Very quickly, the monitor's thermal imaging was filled with individual infrared lasers each pointing at their own deathstalker.
"Ready! Fire!"
The opening volley devastating. The hardened chitin that surrounded the arthropod, creating an armored shell akin to modern tank armor. The deathstalkers were famous for being able to soaking up huge amounts of punishment including dust rockets and heavy shells without flinching. This proved useless at stopping the tungsten-carbide tipped penetrator traveling at 1,575 m/s. The 4.6 kilogram spear completely gutted the giant scorpion, slicing through from front to end with the ease of a needle going through a piece of fabric. Even after moving completely through the body from front to end, the round still had enough energy to several beowolves behind it. While for the deathstalkers, it was a simple 120mm hole in an otherwise pretty normal looking dead body, the beowolves that were unlucky enough to be in the way were completely disintegrated.
"Alpha 0-1, what is the status on the evacuation!" he cries as he lets loose the .50 cal.
His voice was almost blocked out by the constant automatic fire and occasional cannon.
"They're getting closer! I'm coming up!" Malarkey screams as he climbs up and mans his turret.
At this point, the Grimm were too close for the canon and everyone had resorted to using the coaxial mounted machine guns.
"We're almost done!" he cries, "We need just a few more minutes!"
"Basuda we don't have have a few more minutes!" Anderson screams.
"We barely even have one!" Malarkey screams as Streicher fires another sabot taking out a deathstalker.
"Sgt!" Anderson barks, "How are we looking?"
"Coaxial almost dry sir!" Streicher cries from behind the canon. "And we're out of sabots!"
Just then, massive roaring could be heard from behind the tree line.
"What the fuck is that?!" Kowalski screams as the tree line bursts open.
"All call signs, start backing up!" Anderson cries.
Three goliaths burst forth, gave a mighty roar and then started charging while the line slowly starts to back away.
"Malarky start loading HEAT!" Streicher barked.
"On it!" Malarkey then dives back into his seat and starts rapidly slinging them in.
The first round hit the giant elephant's side blowing out large chunks of flesh. The monster only seemed to get even more angry as it ran even faster.
"Go for the leg!" Kowalski cries.
Streicher complies and manages to land a round right above the lead goliath's knee blowing it clean off. The goliath tumbled forward, spun around for a bit before collapsing in an unmoving heap on the ground.
"Basuda you have 30 seconds until we are over run, if the last civilian isn't on the transport than they're sitting on your lap!" Anderson screams.
"They're on us!" a commander desperately screams. "Switch to the coaxial."
"I need suppressing fire on 1-4's position!" he screams.
The two nearby tanks move their turrets, peppering the area with machine gun fire.
"Sergeant, they're right on us!" Kowalski screams.
"Yeah yeah I got 'em!" he yells back as he switches to the coaxial and riddles the Grimm as they tried to climb onto the tank.
A couple manage to climb onto the turret only to be met with Anderson's .50. At point blank, the wolves bodies exploded spraying the front of the turret and upper armor with their black pigmented blood.
"Shit they're too close!" Malarkey curses. "I'm coming up!"
Anderson was soon joined by the loader as he mans his turret helping ward off the Grimm as they tried to overrun the tank.
"Anderson! The last civilian has boarded the bullhead!" Basuda alerted.
"All call signs, disengage and pull back! I repeat, disengage and pull back!" Anderson desperately barks. "WE ARE LEAVING!"
All the tanks hastily backed up at full throttle up until they reached the north wall of the town where they all promptly turned 180 degrees while under the cover of the other vehicles and soldiers.
When the Abrams was fully turned, Anderson promptly screams "Kowalski, get us the fuck out of here!"
The tank suddenly lurches forward and begins speeding off. The beowolves reach the armored vehicles and managed to keep up with them for a few moments before the tanks pull away leaving them behind in the dust. Anderson and Malarkey watched in relief as the wolves slowly grew smaller behind them until they disappeared from the horizon.
"So like I said," Malarky gasped, "Just another day at work huh sir?"
"Just another day," grinned Anderson.
"Nightmare 1-1, are you still there?" Alpha 0-1 asked.
"We're here," he relies, "All tanks are present and accounted for. Status on the convoy."
"Well…." he said, "We have four wounded, one critically, but the medic says he'll make it. The bullhead pilots reported all civilians are present and accounted for. "Chuvak, I need a drink."
"That makes two of us," Anderson chuckles, "How's his majesty?"
"Senaviev? Hold on let me ask." He could be heard speaking Russian to what sounded like someone behind him, "Senaviev, Anderson govorit privet."
Anderson looks over to Malarkey with a perplexed look to which Malarkey shrugs.
"Okay, okay, he's waving," Basuda then turns back over and replies "He says hi."
Anderson deadpans "Roger." He then radios "Homeguard, this is Nightmare 1-1, mission was a success, over."
"Roger that Nightmare, congratulations," he relies. "The general will be meeting with you on your return to base for your debriefing."
"Roger that."
"So what did he say sir?" Streicher asks.
"Ironwood wants to meet with us for our debriefing."
"Son of a bitch," Malarkey mutters.
"Well great," Kowalski. "And then after that?"
"Obviously we'll find out when we get back Specialist," Streicher answers calmly.
"How much you wanna bet that we have some stupid ass ball after we get back to base?" Kowalski growns.
"Wouldn't be surprised," Anderson replies honestly. "SGT, what do you think."
Streicher thought for a moment before replying, "Personally? I don't think it will be as bad as how Kowalski's acting about it.."
"Really Sarge?" Kowalski scoffs, "You think going to a formal ball to listen to a bunch of rich people and politicians drone on about shit we really could give less of a damn about, is going to be alright?"
"Specialist, as far as I'm concerned," he rolls his eyes, "Dealing with the people who maintain our public rep and sign our salaries, budgets, and contracts are always worth our time."
The tank was silent for a moment as they processed what he had said.
Kowalski cocks and eyebrow and paraphrases "So, you want to go to the ball to kiss their asses and beg for more money?"
"Not the way I would word it….but yeah, pretty much," Streicher replies thoughtfully.
"And that is after we are forced to sit through the propaganda speech where we are shown off to the other nations and after you and Alex eat everything at the buffet table," Malarky taunts.
"I am not going to affirm nor deny those claims," Streicher replies curtly, "But hey, you can have the food to….if you get to the table before I do."
Anderson chuckles "Alright, alright, settle down children, let's just go and try to have a good time alright?"
"Yes sir!"
"And who are the men," an old man asks from the podium, "Who would charge fearlessly into certain death, to save those who could not defend themselves!"
*applause*
"Who were the men who we entrusted with a BOLD new form of warfare they proposed. A form of fighting….the likes of which none of us have ever seen?!"
*more applause*
"Manning these great armored beats with terrifying efficiency! Wiping the White Fang terrorists off the map and destroying any Grimm that dared to defy them on their great crusade! I'll tell you who!"
*even more applause*
"These are the men!" the man pints to the soldiers sitting behind him. "The founders of the Atlesian 1st Armored Division and the 3rd Infantry Division."
*lots off applause,m but not as much as there's going to be*
"Told you," Malarkey whispers to Streicher who rolls his eyes.
The applause seemed to become louder for each name called.
AU: Just imagine applause for every "..." because I am not writing that in.
"Captain Grant Anderson….Captain Maxim Basuda….Master Sergeant Alexsandr Senaviev….Sergeant First Class Robert Streicher….Specialist Evan Malarkey….and finally, Specialist Nathaniel Kowalski! The heroes of Opportunity!"
After the speech, and a few more moments of droning on, the crowd dispersed and our soldiers were left to their own devices. When Malarkey reached the catering table, he found exactly who he was looking for. He saw immediately two people, standing alone in the middle of a giant table. The first man who was eating a sandwich, was simply massive in both height and bulk. Malarkey wore the man resembled more of a bear than a man. He had a head of black hair which was cut to a high fade with the top lengthened out into a comb over. The hair had a gradual fade that went from black, to gray, and into white at the edges. The greying hair combined with aged eyes and a scar over his left eye implied age and experience. The man next to him was only an inch shorter but much more lean. He had sandy blonde hair cut to a high-and-tight and a pair of gold, python like, eyes that were shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Along the sides of his neck poking out of the collar of his dress uniform was what looked like tattoos that resembled the scales of a snake. The one thing that set both of these men apart was this aura of age and maturity that did not belong to men this young. It was almost as if they were really adults who were shrunk into younger bodies. *cough* *cough* Malarkey makes his way over to the catering table rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
"Alright, Alex, Robort," Malarkey greets.
"Oh Evan," the jolly Russian smiles warmly, "Come to join us have you?"
"Sup," Streicher replied politely while he piles food onto his plate.
"What haven't you two eaten yet?" he asks while glancing around the table.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" a waiter politely asks.
"Nyet," Senaviev shakes his head, "We are fine my good man."
Streicher silently nodded in agreement.
Malarkey glances down and points at the table and says "Actually, I wouldn't mind trying one of these sausages."
"Very good sir," the waiter nods and hands him a plate.
Malarkey stabs the sausage with his fork and takes a small bite. He raises his eyebrows in surprise and he nods in satisfaction.
"Mm, this is some pretty good meat right here," he muses as he cocks his winks at Senaviev and Streicher making them both snort.
The innuendo went completely over the waiters head as he prideful states "They were made from the finest-"
"Please don't finish that sentence," Malarkey deadpans, "Telling me what's in it is what ruins the taste."
"My apologies sir," the waiter bowed his head apologetically.
"And you're sure, that's it?" Anderson frowns slightly.
"That's what the council offered," General Ironwood nods.
"Do we have a choice our are we being voluntold?" Anderson asks.
"Well, I am obligated to tell you, that you do have a choice," the general sighs, "But let's be real, we're not going to get the increase in the budget that we need for your department without an increase support for the military as a whole. I can only divert so much."
"So we're basically a PR stunt?" Anderson sighs as he feels a headache coming on.
"Basically," Ironwood commiserated. "I'm sorry, but they aren't going to help you unless you appease them first."
A man to the right of him decided to add in his two sense, "We're doing good right now, you and your team have definitely gotten the ball rolling, but there is still a few hurdles we need to cross. Getting public and government support for the military are chief among them, and frankly as of recently, you've become one of the main faces of our military."
"When do we leave?" Anderson asks.
"In a week," he replied.
"What about my department?" he asks.
"Leave that to me," the second man smiled, "I'll get everything you need since I suspected that you planned to work even when you're already attending Beacon."
Anderson quietly does the math in his head before nodding, "Alright, that's fine."
He turns and sees Kowalski waking up.
"Hey Kowalski," he calls over, Kowalski leans in as Anderson tells him the news.
Kowalski's eyes widen as he processes the information.
"You mid running that down to the others?"
He nods "Yes sir," and the walks off.
"Alright then, I'll be off, the council wants a meeting with me," Ironwood smiles "Have a good evening Captain."
"You too sir," he replies curtly before the general walks away leaving only Anderson and the other formally dressed man.
"Thank you for agreeing to go," the man said softly.
Anderson waves it off, "No it's fine, I figured we needed a change of scenery for a little bit anyway."
"There was one other reason I wanted you to go," the man adds, Anderson looks over as the man rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as he continues , "I don't think my daughter would be too happy with me if she found out that you had a chance to go to Beacon with her and I didn't make you go. There is no one else I would trust more than you and your team to keep her safe."
Anderson chuckles softly as he asks "Does she know yet?"
The man shakes his head and then opens his mouth as if to ask a question.
Anderson instantly knew the question and he replies "Yeah, sure, I can tell her."
"Thank you Grant," he smiles.
"Of course sir," Anderson then turns around to leave but the man had a few more things to say.
"One more thing," Anderson turns back, "You know, you've lived under my roof for the past two years since you all apeared in my living room with two of you close to dying. You are legally part of my family, and the girls would gladly defend that statement to the death."
"I know sir, and we could never…." Anderson starts but the man cuts him off with a wave.
"I was just wondering when are you going to start calling me father?" he asks warmly.
"Increase our budget and salaries?" Anderson jokes.
They both let out a laugh.
"I'll see what I can do," he smiles. "But I will need cooperation on your part."
"Every step of the way. Have a good night Jacques," Anderson says before walking away.
"Good night," Jacques Schnee murmurs, and when Anderson was out of hearing range, he whispers to himself "I think you might need it more than me."
Back with the trio at the catering table, they were still happily indulging themselves to the large piles of food. Then walks up a wolf faunus with hazel eyes in the same army dress uniform with a glass in hand.
"Maxim!" the jolly Senaviev greeted. "Good of you to join us!"
"Comrades," he nods politely. He glances around the table and at the plates and comments "I see you three are enjoying yourselves."
"Course we are, how about you?" Malarkey nods at the whiskey glass. "How's the hooch?"
He glances at the glass and shrugs, "Eh, it's not nearly as good as the vodka and moonshine that those two (points at Streicher and Senaviev) brew on their free time, but…." he takes a sip, "It's passable."
"Is that whiskey?" a voice asks.
Basuda turns and is perplexed to see Kowalski wearing a thousand yard stare. He slowly nods.
"I'm sorry, I'm just need to take tha…."
Kowalski grabs the glass out of Basuda's hand much to his bewilderment as well as to the others.
"Excuse me?" he manages to ask as Kowalski quickly downs the glass and placed it back into Basuda's hand.
"Thanks," he mutters as he moves to the table and quickly starts shoving food in his mouth.
"Kowalski why are….are you alright?" Streicher asks, little concerned.
Kowalski stops and then says casually "Yeah, it's just that we're going to Beacon."
He then goes back to his business leaving the rest dazed as the response was slowly sinking in.
In unison, they all asked "What?"
Anderson quietly made his way to the balcony where he saw a lone girl standing. The girl wore a simple waist length, sleeveless, white dress and had her snow white hair tied into the bun on the back of her head with gracefully fell to her hips. Anderson placed his beret onto his head before stepping out the door.
"Room for one more?" he calls out.
The girls lets out a soft gasp and whirls around to him where the two locked eyes. His brown eyes met her blue and the pair stood in silence for a split second. She silently nods. Anderson wordlessly makes his way to her side where she fully turns to him.
"Good, you actually wore something nice for this," she comments sharply as she straightens his jacket and smooths out the wrinkles on the sleeves.
"Well you were very persuasive, you, Winter, and your mother," he smiles cheekily.
"As we should be," she states sternly, "You also represent us now and I will not have you ruin our family reputation with your brutishness."
"Brutishness?" Anderson quirks an eyebrow.
"If not from you personally than the rest of you," she adds, "Evan and Nathaniel especially."
He then sighs in agreement, "Yeah I can't really disagree with that."
Then suddenly, Weiss stops her pampering of Anderson's uniform and cradles his hand into hers.
"I'm glad you made it back alright," she whispers, to which he nods. "Now out with it," she growls sternly at him.
"What?" he asks.
"You know what," she huffs, "Those grim tidings that you carry around like a sandbag."
"You're going to Beacon," he says finally after three seconds of silence.
"Yes?" she nods.
He then smiles and pats her shoulder reassuringly, "You won't be going alone."
His smile then grows wider as Weiss's eyes grew.
"You mean?"
"Yep."
Weiss in a manner completely uncharacteristic of her, lets out a cute squeal and wraps her arms around a surprised Anderson. She then quickly realizes what she just did and jumped away. Still blushing, she quickly passes it off like nothing happened.
"I mean good," she said, sounding slightly irritated, "At least someone competent is going to Beacon with me."
"There you two are!" a voice calls out.
"Speak of the devil," she growls as they both turn to see five other people.
"Kowalski, I assume they know now?" Anderson asks.
"Oh yeah, they know," he laughs.
Senaviev and Streicher walk up to the two hand them each a glass.
"Here," Senaviev says. "For celebration."
"Thank you," Weiss replies politely.
"A toast the seven of us as a family," Malarkey raised his glass.
Everyone raises their glasses.
"To the next four years of teenage bullshit."
"To bullshit," everyone repeated with a laugh.
HEAT- High Explosive Anti-Tank
OpFor- Opposing Force
TUSK- Tank Urban Survival Kit
MAV- Micro-Air Vehicle
APFSDS- Armor Piercing Fin Stabilized Discarding Sabot
IFV- Infantry Fighting Vehicle
APC- Armored Personnel Carrier
The Song That Inspired The Story (Also the theme.):
"Kashmir"
Lead Zeppelin
Oh let the sun beat down upon my face
With stars to fill my dream
I am a traveler of both time and space
To be where I have been
Sit with elders of the gentle race
This world has seldom seen
Talk of days for which they sit and wait
And all will be revealed
Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace
Sounds caress my ear
But not a word I heard could I relate
The story was quite clear
Oh, baby, I been flying
No, yeah, mama, there ain't no denyin'
Ooh, yeah I've been flying
Mama, mama, ain't no denyin', no denyin'
All I see turns to brown
As the sun burns the ground
And my eyes fill with sand
As I scan this wasted land
Trying to find, trying to find where I've been.
Pilot of the storm who leaves no trace
Like thoughts inside a dream
Heed the path that led me to that place
Yellow desert stream
My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon
I will return again
Sure as the dust that floats high in June
When movin' through Kashmir.
Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails
Across the sea of years
With no provision but an open face
Along the straits of fear
When I'm on, when I'm on my way
When I see, when I see the way, you stay
When I'm down
When I'm down, so down
Ooh, my baby, ooh, my baby, let me take you there
Come on, come on
Let me take you there, let me take you there.
Author's Note: How in the world did an American tank, a Russian IFV, four American soldiers, and two Spetznaz operators land in Remnant and get to where they are now? As the song said, all will be revealed. If you somehow haven't figured it out, the six main characters aren't original from Remnant, they're all soldiers from Earth. Anyway, this story was literally stuck in my head and I could not get it out. The first mission is essentially the tank mission from Battlefield 3 and the characters are either inspired by or flat out operators from Rainbow 6: Siege. This was mainly therapeutic for me, but I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading.