Remnant
Mountain Glenn...
Anderson jolted awake, his face drenched in sweat, his body still trembling from the vivid nightmare that had gripped him. He frantically scanned his surroundings, only to find his team lying in the same hospital beds, each one clad in their gear, with their weapons close at hand.
"Argh... What the fuck happened...?" Anderson muttered to himself, attempting to rise, but he quickly thought better of it when he noticed a figure approaching. He feigned unconsciousness, keeping a close eye on the woman in doctor's attire who entered the room.
"I know you're awake, so cut the crap," the doctor said, her voice direct yet oddly reassuring. Anderson couldn't help but open his eyes, meeting her gaze.
"I don't know how hard that fiery Yumi hit you, but you're the first one to regain consciousness after the scout team hauled you guys in. They figured you'd be up sooner. Just need to run some tests, check your vitals, and you'll be good to go. Kudos for knocking some sense into that girl and reminding her she ain't invincible. Your gear must pack a serious punch to crack her Aura and put a bullet through her knee," the doctor's words were pragmatic as she began setting up her equipment.
Anderson listened, feeling a mixture of relief and concern. Memories of the intense ambush and subsequent blackout came flooding back, his heart still pounding in his chest at the vague recollections of the chaos they had faced.
And how thoroughly he got his ass handed to him...
"It was a hell of a situation," Anderson replied
The doctor nodded, her expression stern. "I don't know who you lot are, but you're either scavengers hoping for a quick payout from the city's remains, or you've been living under a rock if you don't know the basics. Judging by what the survivors you rescued shared, I'm leaning towards the latter."
Anderson nodded, acknowledging their outsider status in this unfamiliar world.
"Sorry for the trouble we caused," Anderson offered sincerely, acknowledging their ignorance.
The doctor let out a sigh, a mix of exasperation and sympathy in her gaze. "Well, I've dealt with my fair share of knuckleheads and numbskulls. Just exercise some caution next time. The world of Remnant doesn't dole out second chances, especially in places like Mountain Glenn."
"I'll keep that in mind," Anderson replied, grateful for the warning.
The doctor completed her examination and tests, satisfied with his condition. "Alright, you're good to go. Take care out there."
As Anderson gingerly swung his legs off the bed, feeling the lingering ache in his muscles, he made sure to check on his teammates, ensuring their well-being.
As he gathered his gear, the doctor spoke once more, "You may not be from around here, but you're still doing good by helping the survivors. Thanks..."
"Argh...! Feels like my Abuela beat the crap out of me..." Ramirez then started to regain consciousness.
"Shut it, Ramirez... Save the drama for your diary," Anderson quipped, his patience running thin.
"Ah, look who's back among the living," the doctor's attention shifted to Ramirez, her distinctive fox ears now visible. Ramirez's eyes widened, and he let out an uncharacteristic shriek.
"AHHHH!!! Aaaahahhh!!! IT'S A FURRY!!!" Ramirez's outburst echoed through the room. Anderson's own eyes widened at the sight of the doctor's ears, but he managed to maintain his composure.
"Stay still, will ya? I'm just trying to do my job here," the doctor's tone held a mix of irritation and amusement.
"HELP!!! SHE'S GONNA SHOVE A VIBRATOR UP MY ASS!!!" Ramirez's wild proclamation left everyone momentarily stunned.
"Enough of this nonsense!" The doctor's patience finally snapped, and she quickly administered a sedative to quell Ramirez's antics.
"AVENGE ME, BROTHER!!! AVENGE ME!!!" Ramirez's dramatic cries roused Daniel and Jack from their slumber.
"What in the everloving fuck was that?" Jack's groggy voice grumbled.
"Uhh... are those... fox ears?" Daniel's voice held a mix of confusion and curiosity.
"You got an issue with Faunus or something?" The doctor's response was sharp, her expression unyielding as she addressed Daniel's inquiry.
As Daniel and Jack stirred, Anderson couldn't help but chuckle softly at the chaotic scene unfolding before them. He stood up, his muscles protesting the movement but slowly easing into action. The doctor's eyes narrowed as she looked at him, her demeanor shifting from annoyance to curiosity.
"Guess it's time for the grand awakening, huh?" Daniel mumbled as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.
Jack, on the other hand, groaned and glanced around, clearly disoriented. "What... What the hell is going on?"
Ramirez, now sedated and snoring softly, was oblivious to the attention he was drawing. The doctor let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. "Well, he's certainly a handful."
"Apologies for his... enthusiastic display," Anderson said with a sheepish grin, still amused by the situation.
The doctor offered a small smile in return. "I've seen worse. At least he's not shooting up the place."
"That may have well happened," Anderson said as everyone laughed.
"We should probably get going soon. Where are we exactly?" he said, his voice more serious now.
The doctor's smile faded, and she became more solemn. "You're in Mountain Glenn, a place that's seen better days. It used to be a bustling city, but now it's just a dark underground haven. A shadow of its former self, overrun by Grimm and plagued by danger. The survivors you rescued are grateful, but they've been through hell."
Jack chimed in. "Speaking of well-intentioned actions, can you tell us more about this place? We're new to Rem- the surface, and we could use some guidance."
The doctor considered their request, her fox ears flicking thoughtfully. "Alright, I'll keep this brief, like an in-game tutorial. Remnant is a world filled with darkness and danger, thanks to the Grimm – creatures that thrive on negativity and fear. But it's not all doom and gloom. There are pockets of hope and resilience, like the Huntsmen academies that train warriors to protect humanity."
Daniel leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Huntsmen? Like warriors? Like mercenaries?"
"Exactly! Not on the mercenary part..." the doctor confirmed. "Huntsmen and Huntresses are skilled fighters who battle Grimm and other threats. They're a beacon of hope for the people of Remnant. Getting into such a role requires a license and proper training, though."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying we should become Huntsmen?"
The doctor chuckled softly. "Not everyone can become a Huntsman, but having combat skills definitely won't hurt. Just remember, the world is complex, and not everything is as it seems. Trust is earned, and sometimes appearances can be deceiving."
Anderson extended his hand, offering a handshake. "Thank you, Doctor... for everything. We'll be exploring the city for a while. Make sure to cuff Ramirez to his bed, and tell him that we're just exploring the city."
She shook his hand firmly. "Just doing my part. Now go, before I change my mind and decide to keep your friend as a pet."
"Alright, men, let's gather our gear and head out. Find a bar or something because damn do I need a cold one."
"Alright then. Oh, that reminds me, I never gave you my name. Dr. Faelan Vulpes, I know, it's a very ominous name."
Anderson extended his hand, offering a handshake. "Thank you, Doctor Vulpes. We appreciate everything you've done for us."
"We have a bar just down the road if you want to quench your dry lips. Tell the bartender Vulpes sent you."
The Marines stepped out into the dimly lit expanse of Mountain Glenn, their eyes adjusting to the gloomy surroundings. The underground city was a labyrinth of abandoned buildings, makeshift shelters, and winding streets. The scavenged stadium lights cast eerie shadows, creating an atmosphere of both mystery and danger.
"Alright, gentleman, listen up," Anderson barked with his trademark toughness, shouldering his weapon with a practiced ease. "We're on a damn scouting mission, but that don't mean we can't enjoy a little R&R while we're at it. Keep your wits about you, 'cause we're gonna find that oasis, grab a cold one, and squeeze every ounce of intel we can outta this place. And mark my words, we might be here a while, so let's make this cave our own."
Daniel and Jack nodded in unison, their expressions etched with a steely resolve to slam that sweet elixir down their throats, finally quenching their goddamn desert-dry throats.
As they trekked forward, Ramirez, still groggy as all hell and seemingly on another damn planet, stumbled along behind them. He muttered to himself, his words laced with colorful Marine-style language, "Damn, I feel like I got hit by a fuckin' freight train... Wait, did that doc really have fox ears? This has gotta be some fucked-up dream or somethin'."
"Ramirez, cut the bullshit conspiracy theories for now. We've got a damn bar to locate," Anderson ordered, managing to stifle a chuckle despite the absurdity of their situation.
The city's eerie silence was broken by the distant howls of Grimm, a reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows. Despite the grim atmosphere, the Marines pressed on, their determination unwavering.
After navigating a series of winding streets, they stumbled upon a humble-looking establishment, its windows glowing with a welcoming, inviting light. A weathered sign above the entrance proudly proclaimed, "The Iron Anchor Tavern."
"Well, well, well," Anderson grinned, his eyes narrowing with a hint of excitement. "Looks like we've stumbled upon our goddamn oasis. Vulpes must've been pointin' us toward this place for a reason."
They stepped into the tavern, their entrance causing a few heads to turn as curious gazes followed their every move. Inside, they found themselves in a warm and inviting space, with wooden fixtures and a roaring fireplace that provided a stark contrast to the desolation outside. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and lively conversation, offering a rare sanctuary from the unforgiving reality of Mountain Glenn.
Approaching the bar counter, they were met by a burly bartender, his bushy beard adding to his rugged appearance. He flashed them a friendly smile as he wiped a glass with a worn rag.
"Welcome to The Iron Anchor. I don't recall seein' you folks 'round here before. Vulpes sent you, huh?" he inquired, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"Damn right, Vulpes sent us, and we're parched as hell," Anderson responded gruffly, settling onto a barstool with an air of authority.
The bartender let out a hearty chuckle. "Well, you boys picked the right hole-in-the-wall for that. We've got the toughest damn drinks this side of the underground. What's your poison?"
"Give me the coldest, nastiest thing you got," Anderson demanded, reclining with a level of comfort that could only come from a lazy ass.
Daniel and Jack followed suit, barking their own drink orders in sync. Ramirez, looking like he'd just been through hell, piped up, "I'll take whatever's strong enough to knock me out cold and back into that batshit dream with the fox-eared doctor."
The bartender arched an eyebrow, a blend of amusement and disbelief crossing his face. "You fellas sure know how to make an entrance. Strong stuff it is." He turned to prepare their drinks, pouring a concoction that could strip paint from the walls.
As the Marines settled into the raucous tavern, they soaked in the lively ambiance. Conversations flowed freely, punctuated by hearty laughter, serving as a stark reminder that even amidst the darkest missions, people could still connect and find solace.
Their drinks arrived, and the Marines hoisted their glasses in a silent toast before taking long, satisfying sips. The icy liquid provided sweet relief to their parched throats, momentarily lifting the burden of their mission.
The bartender, leaning casually against the counter, looked at them with a raised eyebrow. "So, what's the deal with you fellas in Mountain Glenn?"
Anderson, leaned in, his tone laced with frustration and a healthy dose of expletives. "We got goddamn roped into this whole clusterfuck. Came across a few of your scout survivors out there, got ambushed to hell, and got separated from two of our female squad members. Hopin' to God they made it back in one piece."
Ramirez chimed in, "Sí, it's been one crazy ride, amigo. We're here to find our lost comrades and get the hell out of this godforsaken nightmare." The bartender nodded appreciatively. "It's a tough world out there, but every bit of help counts. We've been through a lot in this city, but we're resilient. And it looks like you're not your average newcomers."
"Guess we made one hell of an entrance, huh?" Daniel said, a grin spreading across his face.
"That you sure did. It's not every damn day we get visitors in Mountain Glenn, let alone folks taking on a rampaging Faunus girl," the bartender, Garret, chuckled. "By the way, the name's Garret. If you need anything else, just give me a holler."
"Thanks, Garret. We'll keep that in mind," Anderson said, raising his glass in a salute.
Anderson's tone shifted to something more lighthearted as he continued, "Well, gentlemen, I'd say this detour turned out pretty friggin' well. I may be optimistic, but surely nothing will go wrong for now."
The bar's door swung open with a thunderous crash, shattering the lively ambiance within. Yumi, clad in her makeshift ninja gear, stormed in like a tempest, her eyes smoldering with rage as she locked onto the team. Her very presence seemed to exude fury.
"For the love of all that's friggin' holy, Yumi, dial down the goddamn drama!" hollered her friend, a fellow who appeared both bewildered and mortified by her theatrical entrance.
Yumi, a tsunami of tsundere rage, balled her fists and took a menacing step forward, her voice laced with a barrage of colorful expletives. "You imbeciles! You reckon you can just swagger into our damn town, cause a fucking ruckus, and expect a damn picnic?!"
Anderson and his squad shared incredulous glances.
Her friend, desperately attempting to de-escalate the situation, positioned himself between her and the squad, his voice beseeching, "Yumi, come on, let's not do this shit here and now."
"Hell no! I ain't budging till he spills the beans about his goddamn semblance!"
"They ain't got no aura, Yumi," chimed in one of her more stoic companions.
"I refuse to buy that crap... that piece-of-shit thing could rupture my aura!" Yumi jabbed her finger at Anderson's pistol.
Anderson, his pride wounded by Yumi's words, shot up from his seat with a ferocious scowl. "You callin' my piece a piece of shit?" he growled, his voice a thunderous mixture of anger and indignation. The bar's patrons collectively held their breath, sensing a brewing storm in the making.
Yumi, not one to back down, stood her ground, her glare locked onto Anderson's furious gaze. "Damn right I am! You think that clunky hunk of metal could even scratch a real warrior's aura?"
The tension in the room reached a boiling point as the bar's patrons braced themselves for the impending showdown, their drinks forgotten, all eyes fixed on the brewing storm between Yumi and Anderson.
Garret, the voice of reason among the group, finally stepped in, casting a stern glance at both Yumi and Anderson. "Hold your horses, both of ya!" he shouted, his commanding presence evident. "We didn't come here for a damn bar brawl."
His words carried the weight of experience, momentarily silencing the room. Yumi and Anderson, locked in a fierce standoff, reluctantly backed down, though their glares remained locked on each other.
The tense atmosphere began to dissipate as Garret continued, his tone more measured now. "Let's not forget why we're here, folks. We ain't got time for this petty shit. We'll settle our differences later." With that, he gestured for everyone to take a step back and calm down.
Reluctantly, Yumi and Anderson retreated, though the air still crackled with their mutual animosity. The bar's patrons, sensing that the storm had passed for the moment, resumed their drinks and conversations, grateful for Garret's intervention.
...