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Fandom RWBY, The Resistance

Christopher Pyne MP

Giver of fish herpes.
Vale: A Two Year Retrospective

Long time readers of this publication may know that the two year anniversary of Vale's takeover by the Iron League soon approaches, with state run tv channels and papers declaring that "the cities will be filled with joyous celebrants" as the date draws closer to the fateful day everything changes. Today dear readers I will give you a brief overview over what happened to our dear neighbors.


Three weeks before the 18th of June AGW, the White Fang attempted to destroy Vale's defenses via an old forgotten underground train network, using detonators to attract Grimm to the city. This act of surprising defiance, in conjunction with previous Dust thefts brought the wrath of the cities more bigoted citizens upon the faunas and spawning a series of anti-faunas attacks in the city slums. This is despite at least two faunas Huntsmen assisting in the successful repulsion of the Grimm and White Fang terrorists.


During this time, it is anyone's guess why the Iron League decided to appear. The theory I personally subscribe to, is that during this time of division in the city, they decided it would be opportune to strike and on the 9th of July, at 3pm, Vale's streets were flooded with black clad figures, armed with the latest weaponry produced by Atlas' Weaponsmiths.


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Pictured Above: Members of the Iron League 12th Shock Battalion, on parade.


The figures took Vale's police headquarters, communication centers and power plant and government buildings. From that point, things get a little fuzzy, but what can be gauged is that all twelve of Vale's ruling council members were either executed or killed in some form of counter attack by their guards. The black clad figures, calling themselves the "Iron League", declared martial law over the radio, and began controlling the streets.


That night, a protest of about twenty students from Vale University walked towards a street block, chanting that this was an undemocratic takeover and the Iron League should announce their intentions. They were shot like dogs and were left to rot in Lavender Square for the next week.


July 10 80 AGW is when we got the Huntsemen's reaction to the situation, via the defense of Beacon Academy when what is reported to be three battalions of troops landing at the Academy in hopes of intimidating the staff and students there to yield to their rule. From what we can deduce from the stories given by returning foreign fighters for both the White Fang and Iron League, the academy yet stands in a figurative sense, in defiance to this new rule. According to Chernaborg Darrov, an Iron League veteran, and foreign fighter from Mistral who recently quit the organisation after an eighteen month career provided an insiders perspective as to how the Iron League is going in terms of securing its territory. When pertaining to the supposed "Beacon question" the Iron League continues to divert "thousands" of troops to an ongoing siege. Beacon is subjected to "bombardment daily, and every few weeks the Atlas bombers fly past to try and crack the damned place."


This is also the day we got the first look at Coal Argyle Wilkshire, who used his first public appearance to announce his stewardship of Vale, and the beginning of a new order for Vale. General James Ironwood, the man tipped to stop this madness was present, and to the shock of the crowd, and by extension all of Remnant, announced that the large battle fleet assembled over the city would "Support this new form of government for as long as it takes, in order to stabilize."


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Coal Argyle Wilkshire, leader of the Iron League and Vale during his fist address.


The rest of the world watched in a mix of horror and fascination as a dictatorship once again festered. While the other two kingdoms broke off diplomatic relations, Atlas has continued trade with Vale despite embargoes enforced by its other nation brethren, an action I fully support.


The Faunas have continue to prove themselves to be a malignant tumor in the otherwise perfectly healthy body of modern society... A tumor, that for the greater good of Vale and our society must be extracted, with extreme prejudice!
Coal Argyle Wilkshire- September 12 80 AGW


September 12 80.AGW, was when a bombshell dropped. The situation cooled in August, as things appeared to return to a state of normality. That was when Wilkshire returned to the center stage, and delivered a proclamation, the Faunas were, for their own "good" to be relocated to the vast industrial sprawls of Vale, where they would operate the factories and manufacture weapons and goods for "the war effort". It was during this same address, Wilkshire also announced a ten thousand Lien reward for information pertaining to the Huntsmen.


Later over the next few days, according to diplomats and traders in the city, the Faunas district in west Vale was systematically emptied by footsoldiers, and they were frog marched across the city.


October 29 80.AGW, according to sources close to the inner circle of Vale's ruling council, a car bomb exploded outside the unofficial Iron League Military Headquarters in Wilkshire manor. This was latter followed up by a revolt in the Faunas camp Alpha 4, where several hundred Faunas escaped.


October 30 80.AGW, the White Fang claim responsibility for the attack, and declared that they would begin an armed resistance against them. While there had been several other smaller scale White Fang attacks, this one was, according to their statement "The beginning of a new era." which according to military experts meant that there may have been a change in leadership, or they'd gained a new foothold.


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Members of the Iron League evacuate Wilkshire Manor.


November 80.AGW to August 81.AGW was a quiet period, no information came out of Vale from reliable sources, only wild accounts about vigilantes, and more escapes from Faunas camps.


The arrival of September brought a new development, with the arrival in Mistral and other kingdoms, of what could be only described as propagandists and recruiters from both the White Fang and Iron League. Both sides came to recruit among their respective circles, the White Fang among the Faunas and later, to the surprise of everyone, Humans. The Iron League meanwhile was attempting to begin the mobilization of entire “Foreign Battalions”, for the purposes of bolstering ranks, and as speculated by most of the public, propaganda purposes.


This was all very telling of the conflicts stage, it showed that the White Fang were willing to put aside species differences in order to combat Iron League troops, a possible indicator that the group was suffering heavy casualties.


October 81.AGW to January 82.AGW, was a period now known to be called “Operation Scalpel” by senior Iron League and Atlas officers. The campaign report, which was leaked by the hacker N0vA, whose identity remains unknown to anyone, showed the level of determination and collaboration between Atlas and Iron League battalions. The two launched a joint assault against several White Fang held towns in Vale’s agricultural district, which ultimately failed. Coal Wilkshires’ micromanagement lead to the wrong targets being bombed by Atlas, and often having his commanders not pursue retreating White Fang soldiers. This ultimately ended with little land changing hands, and Iron League casualties.


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A graphic showing the current situation in Vale, as of April the 7th 82.AGW.


January to now has been three months of brutal fighting in Vale, with an upsurge in civilian resentment, according to refugees fleeing the kingdom and reports smuggled out by traders. There have been more riots, more civilians burning Iron League property and vandalising it. While official channels say this is the number of hooligans, the arrest of high profile artists and citizens shows that it is otherwise.


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Sable Hannah,renowned artist and one of the victims of the crackdown, arrested on April 18 82 AGW.


We hope here that Vale may finally be free as the resistance against this evil regime, and that this upcoming celebration may be one where they rid themselves of these oppressive shackles.


Written by Weiss Schnee, treasurer of the Free Vale Alliance.
 



Autumn Wellesly stalked through the foggy streets of Vale's commercial district. Iron League soldiers marched through the streets, patrolling it for vigilantes and other so called "subversive" elements. Autumn's was on a mission, a mission that would hopefully help see the end of the White Fang who had festered in the south, inside his dark grey great coat sat the papers for the transfer of three of Atlas' best to his unit, Iron League General Staff had entrusted on of their senior small units commanders to use them and to break the news. He opened the door to the large bar where the trio had been ordered to wait for them, "The Hunters Inn", although it shared a name with the now outlawed group, it was a favorite among off duty Atlas and Iron League soldiers.


Autumn opened the door and walked into the smoky room, in the center of the bar sat a stage where a band from Vaccuo was playing a set. Soldiers sat everywhere, drinking the memories away or celebrating their graduation from training. The major sat down at the bar, hoping the other three had read their orders and would seek him out. Autumn took a cigar from his coat and lit it, beginning the long wait.



@theunderwolf @Pentagon @Ironrot
 
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B O O M E R





The wind blew slow that day, but fast enough to course through the hair of an individual with a certain white mane. Feet dangling off the side of a massive building an epic...wait. Panning to the man it could be seen that he was picking his teeth and was hunched over a duffle bag beside him, he was looking down on the city and clearly not taking the epic scenery in. He looked at his finger "Damn I thought I brushed my teeth this morning, I need to like lay off the candy and stuff." The guy says flicking whatever he dug for off the building and probably, into the hair of an unsuspecting civilian. That's really gross. The man got up standing on the very edge of the building and looking to the people he deepened his voice as he flung his hand out to the horizon, oh god what the hell was he about to say. "Boomer, the villain Vale deserves but does not need right now." he says then pulled his hand back to him as he noted some soldiers below him "You know because these little pieces of crap are here, got to show them who the real villain is here." Boomer says snapping his fingers besides his head as the soldiers got below him. "Don't worry Vale, your psychopath wont let some children take you over, no no, papa Boomer goin to kill them all." He says talking to himself "I should not talk to myself makes me seem nuts" he says.

Boomer jumped off the building and used his hammer to skid down the side. "Time to tell Valey boy there good friend is back in town" Boomer says as he lands on a dumpster top and slides to the ground proceeding to sniff his armpits to make sure he did not stink. Boomer walked out of the alleyway, by the looks of it he was in contested territory, even he was not stupid enough to go into full fledged Iron legion territory, he just needed to find some of them. Not the whole fleet. He saw some Iron legion scrubs doing you know iron legion stuff. One was facing him and the other three were facing away, but he seemed pretty normal other then he looked like a scum of Vale, that or like a dust dealer, yeah he was shady as hell. But he was to fast for them to react as soon as the one guard was about to talk a hammer coming at the speed of missile, or whatever a missiles speed is, jeez you critics. Proceeded to connect with the head of one of the guards sending him flying into a wall "Knock knock!, there any brain in there!..WHO am I kidding now there is not." Boomer says as all gaurds fired upon him, Boomer did a little jig like he had just been shot by a firing squad then laughed as a crazy grin came on his face his Mohawk standing up "My turn children"





All that can be said is right in that instant he drove his hammer to the ground and a massive explosion released. What happened to the soldiers...That's for another day. There was one left but he had been blown into a garbage pile. The younger guard got up and shook his helmet and head as a dark figure loomed over him, the guard quickly pulled a pistol only to have a hammer connect with his hand, pretty sure his hand was broken now, the guard yelled in agony. Boomer looked at him "
So I'm nice enough to let you live and you pull a gun, HOW INCONSIDERATE!. Lets not do that please." Boomer says the guard now on his knees grabbing his hand. Boomer snapped a couple of times "Yo yo yo, its just like a scrape don't worry, Now I need you my little mouse to send a message for me" Boomer says as the guard quickly used his good hand to grab a knife and cut towards Boomer only to meet face to face with a rocket launcher, the guard stopped "Hey kid my eyes are up here not there, you don't want to stare at rockets those are really boring" Boomer says "What the hell kid, are you a damn walking arsenal, stop pulling weapons on me, I just want you to do something for me, its not like I'm trying to kill you yet GOD" Boomer says the guard yelling at him "Okay...what do you want" The guard says a bit defeated but still pissed as hell.



"Tell your little buddies for me, you know that big ugly guy who wears the war uniform that Boomer is back in town." Boomer says as the guard gets up and goes to check on his other friends, actually going to grab a weapon. "Woah woah woah kid, did you really think a psychopath just lets his messenger leave without some WOUNDS!" Boomer yells as his rocket power Punch Line barred down on the guys back, the guard moved but not quick enough, it smashed down on his good arm, you know, the one without the broken hand. Boomer watched as the guard fell to the ground "Yeah just like get the message across, like you don't have to do it right away just sometime, I mean I can always go find more guards but you guys were just a low ranking battalion. A pawn, so you were no prob. Later kid." Boomer says lighting a cigarette and stepping over the bodies "Ill send like a civilian to help you or something because you cant really check pulses with no arms...Damn HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO ANYTHING. Stupid." Boomer says hitting his head as he walked out of the alleyway "OH GOD, I NEED A DOCTOR, SOMEONE CALL THE LEGION SOME HOBO JUST JUMPED GAURDS." Boomer yelled like a child as he ran through the streets heading back to his rooftop.



(( @Bullet Tooth Tony The soldier can find your charrie probably ))

 
Hidden within the confines of a school building, a figure moves about in the shadows. Picking up the pace, the figure dresses and holsters a sword. Slowly strolling out of the building, the shadows of the interior draw back, revealing a female clad in street clothes and light weaponry and armor.


This person is Chelsea Locheart, a used-to-be student of beacon. But due to the conflicts between the Iron League and multiple organization in Vale, she was caught in the crossfire. Being a Faunus herself, it was apparent the Iron League wouldn't leave her alone, so she found purpose in stopping their tyrannical parade.


Chelsea walked out of the academy and took to the streets of vale. Her right foot clacking any tanging on the concrete as the armor creaked around her leg. She slowly strolled through the streets, looking for League patrols she could threaten and disperse. This is her way of stopping the Iron League, as she can't individually impede the organization. Being a sword wielder she can't compete with those in large vehicles or large armies, but she can stop the leagues patrols.


Chelsea turned the corner to see a man with a white Mohawk yell for a medic and that a patrol was attacked by a hobo, to which the man stormed off through the streets. Chelsea immediately walked over to the scene of the crime. When she got closer, she cringed at the massacre. She dug around in her back pocket for a cloth and tied it in her hair to hide her ears, and she hid her tail by coiling it in the back of her jacket. Chelsea kneeled down to one of the patrol members and bandaged the mans arms to stop the bleeding. "What happened here?" She asked the infantry. The man replied "Fellon. Attacked us... Wanted us to send a message to the higher ups. Who are you?"


Chelsea smiled and said "I'm just a civilian. No need to worry."


"A civilian? Oka-" he was interrupted,


In a split second she drew her sword , Dreischwerz and cut the soldiers head off, immediately after, two vortices of wind appeared out of nowhere, slicing the mans body into thirds.


Chelsea flicked her sword, splattering the blood on it all over the wall. She then went on to finish off all the other patrol members of the group. She then licked off all the remaining blood as she removed the cloth on her ears and revealing her tail once more. Sheathing her sword on her waist, she strolled onwards, with a melancholic look on her face.
 
Skye lied in wait, her staff engraved with a rune that refracted all light around it blending into the nothingness of the rooftop. She pulled her cloak tight to the top of her head, only the smallest tendrils of blonde swirled through the air. She had been perched on that rooftop for hours and while she had prided herself on her patience, finding an opportunity to strike was going to take longer then she expected.


Just as she brushed the dirt off of her pant legs, mayhem struck. Debris and blood littered the streets, a sigh left her lips as she watched the men try to retaliate in vain. The man with white hair wasn't an ordinary combatant, his own explosion laying waste towards everyone around him, but seemed to be null towards him. Skye catalogued him as extremely dangerous and when she saw him retreat back towards the skyline, she decided to tail him. Her blue eyes skimmed over a white haired girl bandage a man, only to kill him.


'That was a pointless murder.' Her footsteps were light, always twenty paces behind, her weapon still camouflaged by her aura. It wouldn't be smart of her to let any unknown variable go awry, she was nothing if she was not thorough.
 
B O O M E R






Boomer had stopped and clicked a button on his hammer that made it reload, it was in duffle bag form so it was not hard. He looked back and heard a scream of what he expected was the soldier "What is it boy, did timmy fall in the well?" Boomer yelled back to the guy, he got no answer of course so Boomer grumbled and walked back, he passed by a chick with quite the.....smile, yeah that was the word, there was nothing else Boomer had noticed, JUST THE SMILE. QUIT MAKING ASSUMPTIONS. Boomer had just guessed that she had something to do with the screams seeing how she had a smile on her face and she had passed the alleyway, no one passes by someone in need unless they were cray cray. "Have you fallen and cant get up" Boomer yells as he walks in on the mess "Leave you alone for five seconds and you all self combust into finely cut chunks, what kind of soldiers are you" Boomer says joking around he slapped his hand on a chunk "I hope this is your shoulder, but I cant be sure" He says wondering who killed his messenger "Clearly there is another villain out there, no sane person butchers people who were already dead, or had no way of attacking, I like this person already." Boomer says wondering how he would get the message across now.

So he grabbed some chunks and formed them into a word, It said BOOM "Really disturbing but it works, can't even finish my own name....wait I could have just used the blood." Boomer shrugged and Rubbed his hands on the wall to get rid of the blood, one he was done he walked over to his guard buddy who was dead, who he had not used the parts of to make his name and slipped something under the chunks before leaving "What a hot mess that was" Boomer says to himself walking out of the alleyway covered in blood after making his symbol out of them. Boomer looked to a house and legit stared at it for a good 2 mins before kicking the door open and going inside, this part of town was in shambles so no one was probably home, he quickly cleaned up a bit, he did not get much blood on his clothes but he cleaned his hands and such in the sink, bad water but it worked slightly, once done he walked out and yawned.





Boomer wiped his hands on his shirt and looked out over the horizon "Knowing these douches someone will destroy that as well so I guess I should go kill more Iron legion people, should kill a lot of them, leave behind a calling card, go all super villain on them." Boomer says aloud as he walks down the street hands in pockets not even paying attention to the girl on the roof, more following the girl with a big, smile.

 
The Hunter's Inn wasn't Laurence's kind of place, if he was being honest. Too expensive for his taste, and too near the front lines to let him step easy. Not that 'front lines' meant a great deal in urban pacification, but anywhere were he could hear the sounds of occasional, violent, conflict was too dangerous for him. He got enough danger in his day job.


He strode into the warmth of the Inn manfully, despite his misgivings. Being a soldier was nothing if not the doing of things you don't want to, and Laurence had long ago abandoned freedom of choice while wearing his grey-and-white. He wasn't in proper uniform, of course. Being marked as important was being marked for death if you're in enemy territory, and there were few parts of the city Laurence would classify as 'friendly'. He wore his uniform like he was an enlistee: unbuttoned, misaligned, and very clearly not bearing any insignia of rank. The more silver and gold you had on your lapels, the more likely a sniper would make you his next target. He made up for his indecorum, in his mind, by being very comfortably armed. His revolver sat as his him, his long rifle slung over his back, carried comfortably rather than in the expectation of immediate combat. He wore no coat, no hat, just a long forest-green scarf, and welcomed the warmth of the Inn.


Laurence found his contact, and grimaced. He had hoped there was a mistake, or the man would prove dead, or the orders changed at the last moment. Laurence still held out hope that the man was a spy, but the chances of that seemed slim, and would only mean more paperwork. He hated the idea of working directly under the Iron League, mad zealots as they were. Who knew what some of their political appointments would have him do? For all he knew he'd be ordered into rocketfire and be dead before the morning. At least with Ironwood or the Major some level of competence and decency could be expected. He just hoped Dora company would be in good hands when he finally met his maker.


Laurence retrieved a stool and sat next to the man, finally noticing the acrid smoke surrounding his contact. Laurence made no reaction, no gesture of greeting or welcome, or even an acknowledgement of existence. If the man wanted to speak to Laurence, he would. Laurence contented himself with a glass of water, and waited in silence.
 
Pentagon said:
The Hunter's Inn wasn't Laurence's kind of place, if he was being honest. Too expensive for his taste, and too near the front lines to let him step easy. Not that 'front lines' meant a great deal in urban pacification, but anywhere were he could hear the sounds of occasional, violent, conflict was too dangerous for him. He got enough danger in his day job.
He strode into the warmth of the Inn manfully, despite his misgivings. Being a soldier was nothing if not the doing of things you don't want to, and Laurence had long ago abandoned freedom of choice while wearing his grey-and-white. He wasn't in proper uniform, of course. Being marked as important was being marked for death if you're in enemy territory, and there were few parts of the city Laurence would classify as 'friendly'. He wore his uniform like he was an enlistee: unbuttoned, misaligned, and very clearly not bearing any insignia of rank. The more silver and gold you had on your lapels, the more likely a sniper would make you his next target. He made up for his indecorum, in his mind, by being very comfortably armed. His revolver sat as his him, his long rifle slung over his back, carried comfortably rather than in the expectation of immediate combat. He wore no coat, no hat, just a long forest-green scarf, and welcomed the warmth of the Inn.


Laurence found his contact, and grimaced. He had hoped there was a mistake, or the man would prove dead, or the orders changed at the last moment. Laurence still held out hope that the man was a spy, but the chances of that seemed slim, and would only mean more paperwork. He hated the idea of working directly under the Iron League, mad zealots as they were. Who knew what some of their political appointments would have him do? For all he knew he'd be ordered into rocketfire and be dead before the morning. At least with Ironwood or the Major some level of competence and decency could be expected. He just hoped Dora company would be in good hands when he finally met his maker.


Laurence retrieved a stool and sat next to the man, finally noticing the acrid smoke surrounding his contact. Laurence made no reaction, no gesture of greeting or welcome, or even an acknowledgement of existence. If the man wanted to speak to Laurence, he would. Laurence contented himself with a glass of water, and waited in silence.
Autumn smiled at the captain as he walked to the bar and sat next to him, he finished his drag from the cigar, putting it out in the ashtray. "Laurence Grau I presume." he said, offering his hand "I'm major Wellesly, your new CO." he said, with an air of confidence, he'd read Grau's file extensively the previous night and was somewhat intimidated while at the same time being in admiration of the soldier. From his record it appeared he was a cold and collected operator, something the Iron League needed more of in the field rather than recruits give two months training. "How are you finding Vale?" He asked, attempting to break the ice with some menial small talk, buying time till the others would arrive.


@Ironrot @theunderwolf @Pentagon
 
It had been a long time since Kelli had last found a lead to what may have happened to his parents. In fact up until now it had largely just been heresay, claims of possible White Fang involvement where always false, and Kelli knew that well enough. His father would have never joined those radicals anyway. He knew that their deaths were a possibility, but at the end of the day he always hoped that the Iron League had just imprisoned them, unlawfully because they're arseholes, and that he could track them down.


Then he would free them, and perhaps they could all get to Beacon and see about how they could bring an end to all of this mess.


Meanwhile he was walking towards The Hunter's Inn. Though his hood was 'suspiciously' up, he avoided most of the attention via a stolen V.I.F, or 'very important faunus' armband. Usually such things were reserved for Faunus that actively supported the League in exchange for monetary or political compensation. For Kelli it was just something he'd lifted out of a home and was using to his advantage.


Keeping his eyes down, Kelli made a point to give right of way to any human who walked the path, and ignored any comments or remarks about him. Not just because it was better for his cover that way, but also because he didn't want to get into a fight. Though it was certainly times like these that he'd wished he could have had claws, or maybe little ears, even eyes, indicative of his species, and not antlers. Would make everything so much easier.


Finally reaching his destination, Kelli stepped inside the Inn and up to the bar. One look from the bartender earned him a subtle nod, and Kelli was thankful for the scarf he could hide his smile behind. The Barkeep had been an old friend of his father, the latter having kept drunkards and rabble-rousers in line many a time before this had all started.


Kelli could have been the happiest kid on earth at this moment... If not for the drunken soldier clapping him on the back, followed by an obnoxious, and obviously alcohol influenced, voice.


"Well lookie here everyone, we are being graced by one of our very own Vee Eye Effs!" the drunkard exclaimed, wrapping one arm uncomfortably around Kellis' shoulders as the other went up to flick at his antlers, "Ya know, I always thought you animal freaks were schemin' connivin' low lifes with no proper morals, and then some of you, like yourself, sell out your own family just for a warm space to sleep, provin me right."


Though he didn't care much for the man or his actions and word, it seemed he wasn't escalating beyond those words and trying to flick the ends of his prongs. Kelli tensed on the off chance he was going to have to do something himself, but hoped that maybe one of the others in the room would retrieve their drunken friend before he made a fool of himself.


@Bullet Tooth Tony @Pentagon
 
Abram re-read the document yet again as before he entered the Iron League bar. He had never heard of a Soldier being directly transferred between the two organizations. Attached as a specialist maybe. He was hoping that was the case this time and someone had just gotten a little over-zealous with the paper work.


Pulling a cap over his ears, Abram stepped inside. He didn't wear a 'traitor' band like some of the enlisted faunus, instead opting carry his papers everywhere he went. Thus, Abram had learned that Iron League members would ask far fewer questions if he wore his uniform complete, correct and with an Atlas Military cap to cover his ears.


"Major Wellesly" Abram paused for a moment, rather than saluting. He didn't know the Iron League's policy on saluting in the field. The pompous gits probably expected the formally in lue of safety. He took a seat only when Autumn invited him to.


Drawing his transfer papers, Abram pushed them across the table. "I received these papers."
 
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Cerise was breaking several speed limits. And she didn't give a crap. "Don't drive angry." Her father had always said. Cerise didn't care. Driving was more fun angry. Besides, she was in an official atlas transport. Traffic laws didn't apply to her. It was a beautiful thing to. All leather seats and hardwood paneling. Hell she thought she saw a minibar in back. It was a true Atlas luxury car and it handled beautifully. "Porr thing," She crooned as she pulled out of a beutifly handled hair pin turn," They've never driven you a cent past 25 have thaey, well I'll fix that." She finished with a maniacal grin as she pushed it to fourth gear and saw the speedometer leap up like an excited puppy. It was excellent catharsis, and she felt herself calming as she swervd past the few other cars on the highway and as she regretfully pulled off she came to a realization that made her grin.


She arrived at the bar with characteristic flair sending the car into a screeching drift ending in a perfect parallel park in front of the bar, surprising what looked like a drunkard Iron soldiers accosting a young faunes. She swore loudly in the thankfully soundproof car. Then exited and calmly strode up to the soldiers. Subtly checking their ranks as she did so. She outranked both of them by quite a bit. Thankfully, that ould make it easier. "Privates!" She declared as she yanked them away, "I believe it is your job to harass faunes when you are ON duty. Not off."


"What business is it of yours man?" The soldier asked.


Being used to it, Cerise let the boy comment slide by and repied, "Keeping the peace, now find a different bar before I call your direct superiors and have THEM yell at you!" The soldeirs got the hint then and walked away snorting as Cerise turned to the small boy and asked "Are you ok sir? I hope they didn't rough you up to bad.


@Veirrianna Valentine
 
Ironrot said:
Abram re-read the document yet again as before he entered the Iron League bar. He had never heard of a Soldier being directly transferred between the two organizations. Attached as a specialist maybe. He was hoping that was the case this time and someone had just gotten a little over-zealous with the paper work.
Pulling a cap over his ears, Abram stepped inside. He didn't wear a 'traitor' band like some of the enlisted faunus, instead opting carry his papers everywhere he went. Thus, Abram had learned that Iron League members would ask far fewer questions if he wore his uniform complete, correct and with an Atlas Military cap to cover his ears.


"Major Wellesly" Abram paused for a moment, rather than saluting. He didn't know the Iron League's policy on saluting in the field. The pompous gits probably expected the formally in lue of safety. He took a seat only when Autumn invited him to.


Drawing his transfer papers, Abram pushed them across the table. "I received these papers."
"Good to see you've arrived." the major said with an air of displeasure, he reached and took the papers, beginning to read through them "It appears everything is in order." the officer said, "How have you been finding Vale?" he asked the junior soldier, "And please, enjoy yourself, I organised a tab for the both of you to draw from, so please, have a drink." The commotion at the door drew the ire of Autumn "Excuse me gents." he said, walking to the front.


As he reached it, he saw the Iron League infantrymen harrassing the young faunas and a woman barking at them in Atlas uniform. "You have no jurisdiction here trooper." Autumn then turned to the faunas boy, "Hurry inside or I will have you personally taken to the industrial camps!" He snarled, before turning his attention to the Atlas soldier, "Don't interfere in our business soldier." the major barked, before recognising her, "You're Airman Cerise, correct?"
 
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Kelli knew he'd pissed off some upper being, because the fact that he'd drawn the attention and ire of so many troops in such a short amount of time was clearly a sign he'd angered the gods. Still, given the chance he was Kelli darted inside, both to keep them happy and in the hopes no one would start asking him any questions.


Actually, on the note of questions, why exactly were there so many unusually higher ranked soldiers in the bar today? Putting the thought to the back of his mind, Kelli took a seat and gave the bartender a wave to let him know he arrived.


In the meantime he made a point to take a seat relatively close to the group of soldiers. Eventually he was hoping to make it to Beacon Academy, and if they had anything in the way of potentially useful information, he definitely wanted to hear it. Guard posts or patrol trails and the like would definitely be ideal, any troop movements, those types of things. The type of information that would let him know where to go and when.


Besides, it's not like he wanted to fight. He wanted to be a medic, to help save people and keep everyone alive. Fighting was the last thing he'd ever wanted, especially of this magnitude. Sighing remorsefully for all that had happened since that day, Kelli rest his head on his hands and resigned himself for a bit of a wait before he got what he came for.


Provided there were no more troublesome distractions, that is.


@Bullet Tooth Tony @theunderwolf
 
That's Airman First F@#&ing class Braith to you Major." Cerise said as she checked to make sure the little deer faunes was safe, and escaped then sighed, "Also I do believe that since apparently I am ON LOAN to the the Iron league I do outrank your privates (heh) and have plenty of jurisdiction. Speaking of, I believe we have negotiations to get to. I assume you're paying for drinks of course?" She smiled as she entered the bar and walked happily to the tender


"Hey Crim!" She greeted the familiar bartender with a smile.


"What can I get you Cerise?" He asked with a smile.


"You know that overpriced bourbon you talk about never getting rid of?"


"Yes?"


"I'm thirsty and my tab is covered."


"You want a glass?"


"And the bottle if you please."


He grinned and gave her both.


She grabbed them eagerly and stomped over to what she assumed was the majors table checking the faces around her smiling to recognize the captain. "Hey Captain! Good to see someone else sane here. How've you been since I pulled your ass out of Gotha?" She said as she thunked into an empty chair and poured herself a glass of the bourbon and leaned back taking a sip of the expensive bourbon. Sighed at the amzing taste and nodded at the tables other occupant a friendly looking dog Faunes.


@The bar peeps
 
theunderwolf said:
That's Airman First F@#&ing class Braith to you Major." Cerise said as she checked to make sure the little deer faunes was safe, and escaped then sighed, "Also I do believe that since apparently I am ON LOAN to the the Iron league I do outrank your privates (heh) and have plenty of jurisdiction. Speaking of, I believe we have negotiations to get to. I assume you're paying for drinks of course?" She smiled as she entered the bar and walked happily to the tender
"Hey Crim!" She greeted the familiar bartender with a smile.


"What can I get you Cerise?" He asked with a smile.


"You know that overpriced bourbon you talk about never getting rid of?"


"Yes?"


"I'm thirsty and my tab is covered."


"You want a glass?"


"And the bottle if you please."


He grinned and gave her both.


She grabbed them eagerly and stomped over to what she assumed was the majors table checking the faces around her smiling to recognize the captain. "Hey Captain! Good to see someone else sane here. How've you been since I pulled your ass out of Gotha?" She said as she thunked into an empty chair and poured herself a glass of the bourbon and leaned back taking a sip of the expensive bourbon. Sighed at the amzing taste and nodded at the tables other occupant a friendly looking dog Faunes.


@The bar peeps
Autumn was taken by surprise but wouldn't let her control everything, "This is not a negotiation Braith!" he growled, following her closely, "And you Atlas troops have no right to tell us how to govern our territory, Vale is under our jurisdiction, not yours!" he snapped, "If you weren't so important to the war effort, I would have personally had you shot, along with the degenerate you just interfered with." the major said, his eyes narrowing, "Now, you will sit down Airman, and you, the captain and our little friend," he gestured to Abram, "We are going to finally extinguish the flame of the White Fang." he said, before rolling his eyes "And yes, drinks are on the fucking house." he scowled, already rubbed the wrong way by this race traitor.
 
Abram spoke only in expressions. First he gave the table a satisfied smile. He was enjoying the back and forth this soldier had brought. Next he gave the Whiskey a look like it was the prettiest girl in the bar. He didn't know that they aged bourbon like that. Autumn received a wince or some similar look of apology. A powerful arm shot out an caught a passing Iron League member by the wrist.


"Private, fetch me a glass." Abram requested. The private started to chuckle. No doubt he was thinking up some quip about dogs and fetching. Abram dragged the young man down by the arm until they met at eye level. "I wasn't joking, Boy". Abram held him there for a moment to make his point, then released him. He turned back to Autumn. This man though he could actually defeat a guerilla force like the White Fang. Specist arsehole aside, that was an interested proposal.


"Typically a Specialist would remain a member of the Atlas Military, even when attached to an external force. Is that the case here?" He asked of the Major. A private with a somewhat bruised ego slammed a glass down onto the table. Abram checked the glass for spit before pouring himself a glass of the bourbon. While Autumn answered Abram drank the amber liquid. It was smoother than he had expected. He gave Cerise a little smile from the side of his mouth.
 
Laurence shook the man's offered hand, and grimaced. Already, the chain of command was looking fragile, not something worth risking in a unit unfamiliar with itself. A noncommittal grunt answered the pointless question. He didn't want to be rude, nor surly. Just left alone, waiting for luck to pull him out of this terrible situation he had somehow found himself in.


The next entrant bolstered Laurence's spirits, if only somewhat. A faunus joining the squad was a good sign to someone wanting to avoid war crimes or political favors, someone like Laurence. The man didn't salute, didn't make a scene, and had all his paperwork in order. The kind of man Laurence would want under his command, if first impressions were anything to go on.


They weren't, but Laurence was in a wishing mood at the moment, and indulged himself briefly.


Hopes, quickly and tenuously built, were dashed with the incident outside, which he had been trying desperately to ignore. His commanding officer was just as prejudiced as expected, just as zealously patriotic as expected. To make matters even worse the girl was everything the faunus man wasn't. Loud. A drinker. Racist. Irreverent to authority. And, absolutely worst of all, she was part of the air force. If she was a fighter jock he might just kill himself now and save the rebels the bullet.


Laurence managed a nod, perfunctory as it was, and kept as much of the disgust out of his face as he could manage. He even forced himself to smile, ever so slightly. No use making things worse, he figured. Might as well be friendly to his new ball-and-chain, at least. Laurence requested a glass of water, and drank it without relish. The bourbon was tempting, oh so tempting, and he could just reach over and take some. He could, if he was not within the range of at least 3 known artillery hardpoints, all of whom would like nothing more than to kill him.


A sidelong glance at the papers the faunus had presented revealed he was a Sergeant. That was something, Laurence guessed. He leaned towards the man slightly, extending a hand. If they were going to be equals under these fanatics, there was no reason to not get to know an enlisted man, no matter what the Primer might say.


"Captain Laurence Grau, 33rd Infantry. What's your unit, Sergeant?". Quietly, just quietly enough to exempt the major and the airman, he spoke again. "Pleased to meet someone reliable in this mess."
 
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Abram accepted the handshake.


"No unit actually. Specialist division." He gave Captain Grau an apologetic look. "Although, I spent twelve months attached to the 27th and the 52nd before that. That's all before, uh, this lot came in." Abram hoped that he hadn't let the man down. He didn't seem particularly thrilled by the situation but then again, even Major Wellesly looked a little like he regretted some of his choices.


"Anyway," Abram turned back to the group, the Major in particular. "How do you propose we take them down?" Abram was optimistic about this group. He hated the white fang about as much as the Iron League. Maybe more. They were civilian killing terrorists. But now most White Fang recruit were poorly trained Faunus, forced into the hackney militia by persecution. Practically civilians themselves.


@Bullet Tooth Tony


@Pentagon
 

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