The two searched the area to find supplies, and Ruby went to the Commandant to look over her prize. The desk was littered with what looked to be financial documents. “Without him they won't be able to pay their mercs.” She said, Charmaine replied with some disappointment in his voice, “those are pay stubs, they get paid at the end of their jobs, on base.” He felt rude correcting her but he also figured she’d know those details. He went over to the first target, he wanted the helmet, as he undid the strap and pulled it off, the Specialist's head stretched and bent back further than he thought it could. The helmet had stopped the bullet, but broke his neck as a result. “What kind of mask is that?” Charmaine knelt down and undid the lock in the back of it “It's an ordnance mask, it's meant to protect my lungs from rupturing in an explosion. I had one on when they brought me in, this one is a little bit better.” her voice got higher in pitch, “Wow free upgrade!” Charmaine stared at it through the eyes, “not exactly, can’t wear it with my ears, I can probably trade it for something.’’
“We need to get back to our side, there's a path south east of here that isn’t patrolled very well.” She pointed in the direction while shifting the blade on her weapon such that it functioned as a bayonet.
Charmaine stuttered, “yes-” he looked at her uniform for a rank, finding it eventually. After swallowing he spoke again, “yes ma’am.”
Near the northern side of the islands, deep in occupied territory, a large truck was escorted through the port city first, passing through blocks of hollowed out homes, where mercenaries awaiting their next job lived in much the same manner and organization as homeless and vagrants. In them, empty bottles littered the carpeted floors on which used to stand hyperactive and disobedient children. Muddied boot prints soiled the floors, and the dinner tables were set with guns, knives, and plastic containers from freeze-dried food packages. The trucks passed the blocks, stopping at what was at one point the city hall, but was now an Atlas HQ. A group of officers stood outside to greet the traveler, their ranks varied from Captain to Colonel and the medals on their uniform reflected their experience. A Major stepped out of the truck accompanied by the sound of his black hobnailed jackboots hitting the ground, the correct greetings were given. His uniform was an open grey snow jacket through which a black Brown style belt could be seen. A brown leather rifle bag was slung over his shoulder, and he was topped with the same blue peaked cap that lay bloodied on the ground floor of the destroyed building not 5 feet from his recently slain sibling. The greeting party escorted him into the building and pointed him to a room where an older man who wore the rank of Major General studied a map projected on the wall. He turned around to face the Major, and with some surprise, he spoke.
“I didn’t think they would send someone so…” he thought for a second to find the correct adjective. “Experienced,” he settled. “I heard your brother fell victim to the last attack, I figured someone of your stature wouldn’t be concerned with revenge.” The Major lit and took a drag of his gold foil wrapped cigarette before replying. “Half brother.”
The General motioned to the map, on which the symbol of the red scythe dotted a wide area. “This… red menace, is causing quite the issue. I’ve lost at least seven Colonels and multiple companies have disappeared. We have some things in place to deal with her with the chemical corps, but I’m interested in what you plan to do, how well you know your target.”
The Major sat with his hands clasped in his lap over his rifle bag. “Ruby Rose, former student a beacon, uses a rifle with a scythe blade on the end.”
“And she’s a good shot.” The General added, “I’m not so sure,” the General lifted his eyebrow at the Major. “All the footage I’ve seen of her shows her shooting fast and at close range, her weapon doesn’t seem to have a stock.” The General though for a moment.
“A report from the head of a reconnaissance regiment suggests she may have changed her tactics. He thinks… well, he thought, that she may be training Mantle's soldiers to be snipers.” The Major took another drag, “I’m going to need information, radio or otherwise, men too, snipers. The original order said I had a platoon of men available. May I inquire as to their whereabouts?”
“The auxiliary platoon outside are yours, as for intelligence, we’ll send for a radio Specialist.”
The Major shot a concerned look towards the General. “The order said a platoon of soldiers, not mercenaries.”
“We can’t spare anymore soldiers. Most of the 1st heavy infantry battalion is heading southwest. The mercenaries will have to do. You’ll head out tomorrow, you have 4 trucks.”
His eyes fell on liquor bottle at the rear of the room, after a moment he stood up. “We’ll head once the Specialist gets here, good afternoon Sir.”
The Major stepped out to greet his platoon, they’re gear was mismatched with different camouflage patterns, and their setups made little sense. They saluted him, but he did not return it. A mere cursory look revealed a normal rifleman with several grenade pouches on his vest, yet he carried no grenade launcher. Another had bullets haphazardly crammed in the molle loops on his vest. A third had a three holed balaclava, and an additional bandana covering the mouth. The same man carried two radios on the calf pocket of his combat pants. Finally he found someone with a functional kit, it was the radio Specialist walking over. Likely chosen for the same reason they all were, two large black fox ears adorned his head. He saluted the Major, “afternoon sir, I’m Corporal Cainen, I’ve got several reports of sniper activity in Zeitsive city in the Sierra sector, if it's not her one of them may lead to her.” The Major returned his salute, “Thank you, Corporal, I’m Major Chasseur.”
Three trucks packed with mercenaries were well on their way to the objective. Behind them, the fourth truck contained only the driver, the Specialist, and the Major.
“So you’ve been on the front for a while, how do these mercenaries fare in combat?” he asked, however he already knew. “Well sir there… uh… complete idiots. We were clearing a building, and I found a porno mag that was rigged to a mining charge. None of us touched it, and after a while we were relieved by the mercs… and immediately the whole building got pasted. They’ll be good at clearing mines.”
The Major took in all the information, not expecting anything else. “That's why I put them in front.”
By the time they reached the objective, they had lost a truck and its passengers, fulfilling their purpose. The Major and the Specialist lye in prone on the 4th floor of a brutalist concrete building. They dragged an office desk over to the window to lay on, the Major made sure that his muzzle was 5 feet away from the wall in which the window sat. The rest of the platoon scattered out and advanced. The specialist described the behavior witnessed on the front.
Failing to watch the ground around them, a pair of mercs were unable to see a wooden door from one of the nearby buildings move, uncovering a Mantle riflemen in a foxhole. They both fell, but one of them returned fire in his last moments, injuring the ambusher. The rest of the platoon sat behind the safety of cover. A medic ran over from the other side, attempting to pull the wounded soldier to safety. The Major loosened his grip, and steadied his scope. The soldier stood up with the help of the medic, holding his rifle with his free hand. “These guys don’t know when to quit.” The soldier had no helmet, antlers prevented him from wearing one. He pointed his rifle in the general direction of the platoon letting off a few shots, and fell as the Major fired. “He was injured sir.” The medic looked at the body, and then at the sniper's nest.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“He knew what he was doing. That’ll draw out the sniper, the medic will give away our location, we’ll strike while they take position,” he dropped the lever on his rifle, pocketed the casing, and put in another shot. “Let's switch rooms.” The trap was set, the two waited for the enemy.
The Major watched the terrain, having used his helmet as a dummy head. The enemy had pulled back, the Major unfocused his sight, the slightest movement could give away their position, and eventually it did. He brought up his rifle and loosened his grip. He made out the very tip of a barrel. A shot rang out, the first thing the Major heard was the dummy head being hit, and he placed his finger on the trigger. A head popped up, checking with binoculars to confirm the hit, a woman. He took his finger off the trigger, “signal the mercs to capture her, there’s probably two of them, one of them will know something.”
The Major approached the rest of the platoon on foot, already disappointed with their performance. Two more, killed by the hand of the woman’s spotter. Three mercs surrounded her, she was in the fetal position while one repeatedly kicked her in the ribs. “Where is the red one, speak damnit!” The Major somehow further disappointed cursed under his breath drawing his revolver, and shot the merc.
The woman looked at the Major with a shocked expression, her face bloodied and bruised. The bullet had entered at the 7 o’clock position in an upward angle, it rolled across the underside of the cranium and blew open the malar bone, severing the muscle behind the eye in the process. The Major did not look back at the woman, he only told her to take back her rifle and to return to her line. As she walked away the Major only looked at the dead merc, specifically, a small sphere next to him that was dark red, almost black in color, no bigger than a gumball. It had a strand of muscle still attached that gave it a tadpole-like shape. He removed the glove of his left hand and held the revolver's suppressor to feel the warmth. The Corporal was not concerned with the merc, “What if she knew something sir.”
“She probably did, but R.O.E. is R.O.E., if we can’t follow that then we shouldn’t be here.” he pulled a cigarette to light, not addressing the mercs that all stood nervously around him. “Take the men and let's return to base”
On the other side of the conflict, Charmaine was led through by the red hood, he met her superiors, a bald Sergeant Major Caeldovan, who stood at the end of a table, moving pieces like a game of chess around a map that covered it entirely. “Good evening Miss Rose, I see you’ve brought a guest?”
“He helped me alot with my last mission, we got 7 mercs, the foreign ones, and a commandant.” Her words meant alot to Charmaine, he was not used to receiving any praise or recognition, especially not in the presence of a Sergeant Major.
“Is that so,” another man in the back corner spoke, he was addressed as Brigadier General Colkite. “What is your function in my army?”
“At the moment I’m a signals specialist, I work as a jammer, Sir” He stood upright with his hands clasped in front of his stomach, the last time he had seen this rank was when a speech was given to him and his friends at basic training.
“Interesting, tell me, our comms are jammed and right now, we can’t talk to the main force back south, you're the jamming guy so how do we unjam our lines?” Charmaine thought for a few seconds, returning briefly to his time signal school.
“We use standard ultrasonic frequencies, very similar to what the enemies uses. If we convert the frequency emitters to infrasonic, the enemy equipment will not be able to drop low enough to interrupt the signal, Sir.”
“Very well, I have no one to spare, so you’ll be in charge of unjamming the network, anything else you can think of?”
“I use to be a reporter in my old unit, I could monitor enemy frequencies for information, and push them to the army and civilian intelligence program, Sir.”
“Very well, your dismissed, I still need to speak with you Captain.”
Charmaine was escorted out by another Captain, into an office where she helped him set up equipment and draft plans of future operations. Her name was Renka Volkov, and she worked as the training head for the soldiers stationed at the base. She had a large form and several scars, across her face and arms, two snow leopard ears sat on her head, one of them partially chewed off in prior battle.
After he set up all of his equipment, all that was left was the ordinance mask, which he set up as a trophy.
He worked for some time until he finally heard the crackle of jammed communication lines, they still needed to convert each of the frequency emitters at the source, and there were many, only one of which was located in the base. He would have to draft a plan to convert the emitters, and several of these would require a firefight with the enemy.
Ruby walked into the room, she held a new variant of her weapon, this one was shorter, and had no visible magazine.
“The General wants you to repair the emitter in the gulf up north. I’ll lead you there.”
“All I have is the pistol you gave me,” Charmaine responded, “can I have something quieter,”
Renka showed him to the armory.
When he got there, he took in all the equipment and munitions on tables and laid against the walls. The door was locked, and a large man with a strange mask let him in. Charmaine explained his need and was given a selection of weapons. He made his choice with a suppressed carbine, a weapon he was familiar with.
Before they left, he made sure to put out his first story.
The ruck was meant to be simple, go over to the tower, make the necessary modifications, and return. There was always a risk of running into the enemy, and considering the armament, a retreat would almost certainly be guaranteed. Ruby’s weapon was slung over her shoulder in a weak side carry, pointing to the sky. This one was a crossbow variant, with one limb hiding a scythe blade and the other, an icepick that could be removed. She drank coffee from a military issue steel canteen that had been painted red. The two spoke of possible stories he could issue to local reporters, eventually finding a good enough title.
“Is Captain Renka getting on you yet?” Charmaine was caught off guard by the question “I’m not sure what you mean, Ma’am.” “You don’t need to call me ma’am,” she replied, “Renka’s got crazy standards, rituals too. I walked in on her once, she had one of the soldiers doing a plank with a weight on his back, while drinking from a liquor bottle with a straw.” The idea amused him, he thought of similar things happening during his initial training. “In my prep unit we had this one spec ops guy who would make us run around the barracks while wearing gas masks, naked.” She spat out her coffee while picturing it in her mind. “That's uhh… quite interesting.” She collected herself, and posed a question, “how's your shooting?” “I was alright when it came to rifle qualifications, but after I got to my first unit I mainly used a carbine, not full sized rifles.”
The two spoke until Charmaine put his finger to his lips, and unslung the carbine. Ruby stepped in front with her weapon at the low ready in its scythe form. The trees and snow mounds could hide an entire company if they hid correctly. Charmaine pointed towards a switchback, and a look through a thermal monocular confirmed the warm breath, someone was walking towards them. She grabbed the boy and dived in the snow shadow of a nearby tree and waited.
Two mercs in mismatched gear walked by, measuring her options she quickly made a plan. A bolt made the farther one collapse, and she charged the second one, getting him in the mid section of the back with the blade before he could scream. The impact knocked the air out of him, and blade pierced the lung. Quickly she removed it and passed the blade above the head, stopping at neck level. Her right boot forced his neck down the entire length of the blade, and he fell on his side coloring the snow red.
“Did beacon teach you that?” “No, Signal did,” she replied as she folded up her weapon. “Did you name this one too?” “yeah" she replied, "Crimson Thorn.”
