Deep within the twisted ruins of Mountain Glenn, the Force Recon Marines moved with the calm precision of men who had seen far worse. To them, this shattered city, crawling with Grimm, was just another battlefield—a far cry from the chemical hellscapes, brutal ambushes, and weeks-long firefights they had endured in the Second Korean War.

Marines like Anthony and David, seasoned veterans of those horrors, treated the mission like a walk in the park. They navigated the crumbling infrastructure with an air of familiarity, their weapons ready but their expressions relaxed, even amused.

Anthony crouched behind a pile of rubble, his Desert 45 holstered at his side and his suppressed M27 sweeping the area ahead. David knelt beside him, peering down the street through the scope of his rifle.

"You hear that?" David asked, his tone deadpan.

Anthony arched an eyebrow, his face lit faintly by the green glow of his night vision goggles. "What? The sound of your bitching? Yeah, I hear it."

David smirked, scanning the ruins. "No, man. It's quiet. Too quiet."

Anthony snorted. "Jesus, you've been watching way too many movies. Look around—there's nothing out here but us, dust, and some dumbass Grimm waiting to get popped."

As if on cue, a low growl echoed from a nearby alley. Both men immediately focused, their rifles aimed toward the sound. A Beowolf emerged, its glowing red eyes locked onto the Marines. It snarled, crouching to pounce.

David tilted his head, unimpressed. "One? Just one? This is the best they've got?"

"Pathetic," Anthony agreed.

The Beowolf lunged, and Anthony fired a single, controlled burst. The rounds struck the creature in the chest and head, dropping it mid-air. It disintegrated into black dust before it even hit the ground.

"Like I said," Anthony muttered, "pathetic."

For Marines like Anthony and David, the battle-hardened veterans of the Second Korean War, the Grimm were formidable but ultimately predictable. They lacked the ingenuity of human enemies—the ambushes, the guerrilla tactics, the booby traps that defined urban warfare against the North Koreans.

"Remember Kaesong?" David asked as they moved forward, their squad fanning out to cover the street.

Anthony grinned. "Yeah, that shitshow? Stuck in biohazard suits for a week, with those lunatics trying to gas us every chance they got."

"And now we're here," David said, gesturing to the ruins. "No gas, no snipers, just oversized monsters with anger issues."

Anthony chuckled. "Piece of chocolate fucking cake."

The squad moved methodically through the city, clearing buildings and eliminating Grimm with ease. Unlike the younger, greener troops struggling to adapt to the horrors of Mountain Glenn, the Force Recon Marines operated with a level of confidence and camaraderie that only came from years of fighting together.

Their movements were fluid, each Marine covering the others as they swept through the ruins. Every shot was deliberate, every action purposeful. "The Grimm ain't got shit on us," one Marine said, reloading his rifle. "You see one, you've seen 'em all. Just aim for the glowing red parts."

As they fought, the Marines traded jokes and insults, their humor a way of keeping the horrors of war at bay. When a particularly large Ursa charged their position, Anthony grinned. "Finally, a challenge." He dropped it with three well-placed shots from his M27. "And I use the word 'challenge' lightly."

Though not officers, Anthony and David naturally fell into leadership roles within their squad. Their experience and calm demeanor inspired confidence in the younger Marines, who looked to them for guidance.

"Fernandes," a fresh-faced Marine called out, his voice shaky. "What's the plan if we get surrounded?"

David glanced back, his expression unreadable. "We don't get surrounded. Stay sharp, keep your head down, and trust your team. You'll be fine."

Anthony chimed in, smirking. "And if you screw up, don't worry—we'll tell your mom you were a hero."

At one point, the squad came across a larger group of Grimm—Beowolves, Creepers, and a few Beringels tearing through the ruins ahead. For most units, it would've been a daunting sight. For Force Recon, it was target practice.

"Light 'em up," Anthony said, his voice calm.

The Marines opened fire with precision and discipline, their suppressors keeping the noise to a minimum. The Grimm fell one by one, their bodies dissolving into black dust under the relentless assault. Even the larger Beringels stood no chance, their thick hides no match for the armor-piercing rounds of the squad's rifles.

As the squad regrouped after the skirmish, Anthony took a moment to glance around the ruins. The city was a stark reminder of how far they were from normalcy, but it didn't faze him.

"You think this place was ever... you know, normal?" David asked, leaning against a wall as he reloaded.

"Does it matter?" Anthony replied. "Normal or not, it's ours now. Just like Korea. Just like every other shithole we've had to clean up."

David nodded, his expression serious. "At least this time, the monsters don't talk back."

Anthony grinned. "Yeah. Makes them a lot easier to shoot."

For the Force Recon Marines, Mountain Glenn wasn't just another battlefield—it was a proving ground. Their experience, camaraderie, and relentless confidence turned what could have been a nightmare into another day on the job. As Anthony and David continued to lead their squad deeper into the ruins, they knew one thing for certain: they were built for this.

The wrecked remains of Mountain Glenn became a hive of activity as the Rangers and Force Recon Marines worked in unison to rig the crumbling structure with explosives. The building was the key to accessing the underground tunnels, long thought to be the origin of the Grimm infestation. Every charge placed was a calculated risk; the building's collapse would either open the way to the tunnels or bury their path entirely.

Jason crouched near a support beam, sweat dripping down his face as he double-checked the wiring on a C4 charge. Nearby, a Force Recon Marine supervised, his demeanor calm but focused. The tension in the air was palpable, even among the hardened veterans.

"Careful with that," the Marine said, his voice low. "You don't want to bring the whole damn block down on us before we're ready."

Jason nodded, his fingers steady despite his nerves. "Got it. Charges set on this beam."

"Good. Move to the next one," the Marine ordered, gesturing to another column further down the room.

Across the building, Anthony and David worked efficiently, their experience shining through as they placed their charges with practiced ease. Anthony gave Jason a quick nod as he passed, a silent acknowledgment of the younger soldier's effort.

"Rangers aren't half-bad," David remarked as he secured another charge.

"They'll learn fast, or they won't make it," Anthony replied, his tone flat. "This city doesn't leave much room for mistakes."

The team finished setting the explosives, retreating to a safe distance as the detonation sequence was initiated. The charges went off with a deafening roar, the shockwave shaking the ground and sending a massive plume of dust and debris into the air. The building collapsed inward, exposing a gaping hole in the ground where the tunnels began.

For a brief moment, silence reigned. Then, the growls and snarls began.

From the exposed tunnels came a swarm of Grimm, their glowing red eyes and monstrous forms emerging from the darkness. Alpha Beowolves led the charge, their larger, more muscular frames towering over the standard Grimm. Ursa Majors, Death Stalkers, and even a few lumbering Goliaths followed, their sheer size and numbers turning the situation into a nightmare.

"Contact! Contact!" shouted a Ranger, raising his rifle and opening fire.

The building erupted into chaos as the Grimm surged forward. M4s, M27s, M17s, Desert 45s, and squad automatic weapons barked in rapid succession, their muzzle flashes lighting up the encroaching horde. Jason fired in controlled bursts, aiming for the glowing red eyes of the Beowolves. His shots found their mark, dropping several Grimm, but the swarm seemed endless.

The radio crackled with updates as reinforcements arrived just in time. The growling roar of helicopter blades filled the air, followed by the distinct sound of Humvees and MRAPs rolling into the streets.

The 101st Airborne Division and Marines from the 1st Division surged into the fray, their arrival marked by the staccato fire of heavy machine guns and grenade launchers. The new troops took up defensive positions, laying down suppressive fire to slow the Grimm's advance.

"This is the 101st!" came a voice over the comms. "We've got you covered! Push them back!"

Jason felt a surge of relief as he spotted the distinctive patch of the Screaming Eagles on the shoulder of a nearby soldier. The added firepower gave the Rangers and Force Recon Marines a moment to regroup.

Overhead, the skies darkened as two USAF B-21 Raider stealth bombers flew low and fast, their engines a near-silent hum. The bombers released their payload of napalm bombs, the fiery explosions consuming entire sections of the city and obliterating Grimm nests in seconds. The heat was intense, even from a distance, and the flames illuminated the battlefield like a second sunrise.

Moments later, the US Navy joined the assault. F/A-18 Super Hornets streaked across the sky, their afterburners leaving trails of light as they dropped 2,000-pound bombs with pinpoint precision. The ground shook violently as the bombs struck, leveling Grimm nests and sending shockwaves through the city.

Anthony and David fought side by side, their movements fluid and efficient as they gunned down Grimm after Grimm. The glowing green of their pupils—an effect of Compound-Y—made them appear almost as fearsome as the monsters they were fighting.

"This all you've got?" David shouted, firing his suppressed M27 into the charging horde. "I've seen toddlers scarier than you!"

Anthony smirked, his Desert 45 barking as he took down a charging Death Stalker with two precise shots. "Don't piss them off too much. We've got a long night ahead."

Nearby, Jason held his ground with his squad, his confidence bolstered by the presence of reinforcements. He fired his M4 in quick bursts, his aim steady as he dropped an Alpha Beowolf mid-charge.

"Rangers, hold the line!" shouted Lieutenant Carter, rallying his troops. "We've got this!"

As the battle wore on, the combined efforts of the Rangers, Force Recon Marines, and reinforcements began to turn the tide. The Grimm's numbers dwindled under the relentless assault, and the reinforcements' superior firepower finally gave the soldiers a chance to push forward.

By the time the sun began to rise, the area around the collapsed building was littered with Grimm remains, their black dust settling like ash over the battlefield. The underground tunnels loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but for now, the troops had secured the surface.

Jason leaned against a wall, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Around him, the other soldiers did the same, their faces a mix of exhaustion and grim determination.

Anthony approached, his Desert 45 still smoking from the fight. He gave Jason a nod of approval. "Not bad, Ranger. You held your ground."

Jason managed a faint smile. "Thanks. Just... trying not to get eaten."

David laughed as he joined them. "That's the spirit. Welcome to the big leagues, kid."

As the soldiers regrouped and prepared for the next phase of the mission, the ruins of Mountain Glenn fell eerily silent once more. But everyone knew the true fight lay below—in the dark, uncharted depths of the Grimm-infested tunnels.

The air was still thick with dust and smoke as the troops gathered around the massive hole created by the building's detonation. The destruction revealed the hidden underground city of Mountain Glenn, an eerie reflection of the surface. The troops stared in stunned silence, their flashlights and mounted optics illuminating what looked like a sprawling metropolis frozen in time—complete with collapsed skyscrapers, broken highways, and abandoned vehicles.

Jason peered over the edge, his breath catching at the sight. "It's... a whole other city," he muttered, awe momentarily overriding his exhaustion.

"Looks like the surface but worse," said Anthony, crouching next to him. "Bet it's crawling with Grimm down there."

David grinned faintly, his green pupils glowing faintly in the darkness. "Wouldn't mind clearing it out, though. Looks like fun."

But before anyone could admire the sight further, a sharp voice came over the comms.

"All callsigns, this is High Command," the transmission crackled, its urgency unmistakable. "Cease all operations and proceed to immediate evacuation. I repeat: Evacuate immediately!"

Confusion rippled through the ranks. Lieutenant Carter grabbed his radio, barking into it. "High Command, this is Echo-2-1. We've just breached the underground section. Why are we pulling back?"

The answer came in a panicked yell from another unit on the comms: "TACTICAL NUKE, INCOMING!"

The words hit like a sledgehammer. For a moment, the troops froze, their disbelief evident. Then the urgency of the situation set in.

"MOVE!" Carter bellowed, his voice snapping everyone into action. "Evac now!"

The troops didn't waste another second. The area erupted into a flurry of activity as troops scrambled for the waiting helicopters. Rangers, Force Recon Marines, and reinforcements from the 101st Airborne Division and 1st Marine Division abandoned their positions, sprinting for the extraction points as the whir of rotor blades filled the air.

"Go! Go! Go!" Anthony shouted, shoving a younger Marine toward a nearby Chinook. He turned to David. "You'd better not get nuked on me, man."

"Not today," David shot back, hauling a wounded Ranger onto his shoulder and making a beeline for another chopper.

Jason, still processing the order, found himself being dragged toward an Osprey by Private Collins. "Move your ass, Henderson!" she yelled. "You wanna get vaporized?"

He snapped out of his daze and sprinted alongside her, the weight of his gear suddenly feeling insignificant compared to the threat of a tactical nuke.

The helicopters and tiltrotor Ospreys lifted off one by one, their engines roaring as they ascended into the night sky. The troops inside barely had time to catch their breath, their eyes fixed on the gaping hole below.

From the air, the scene looked apocalyptic. The underground city stretched endlessly beneath the ruined surface, its shadowy depths hinting at countless secrets—and dangers. But there was no time to ponder what lay below.

The tactical nuke detonated minutes later, deep within the underground city. The bright flash of the explosion lit up the night like a second sun, followed by a thunderous roar that shook the helicopters even at a safe distance. The shockwave rippled upward, collapsing entire sections of the underground city and causing massive tremors on the surface.

The troops in the choppers held on tightly as the turbulence rocked them. Jason stared out the window, his heart pounding as he watched the ruins of Mountain Glenn shake and crumble. Dust and debris rose in massive plumes, obscuring the area in a haze of destruction.

"It's like a man-made earthquake," Collins muttered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the rotors.

Anthony, seated in another chopper, watched the devastation with a grim expression. "They weren't kidding about minimizing fallout. All that damage... and it's still cleaner than a surface blast."

David nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Cleaner, sure. But there's no way everything down there's dead. Grimm don't go out that easy."

The helicopters regrouped at a safe distance, circling as the dust settled. The devastation was staggering. Entire sections of Mountain Glenn had collapsed, both above and below ground. The surface was riddled with cracks and sinkholes, the city's already broken infrastructure reduced to rubble.

High Command's voice came back over the comms. "All callsigns, this is High Command. Tactical detonation successful. Return to base for debriefing and reassignment. Out."

Jason leaned back in his seat, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. They had survived—but barely. The sight of the underground city and the power of the nuke left a lingering unease in his mind.

Collins glanced at him, her face pale but steady. "You think that did it? You think the Grimm are gone?"

Jason shook his head. "I don't know. But if they're not... we're coming back."

The tactical nuke had bought time but raised more questions than it answered. As the helicopters headed back to base, the soldiers aboard carried with them the weight of survival—and the knowledge that the fight was far from over. Mountain Glenn was shattered, but its secrets, and the Grimm that lurked within, would haunt them long after they left.Perspective of Professor Ozpin and the Vale Council

The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a large projection screen displaying footage from the ruins of Mountain Glenn. The room was tense, with the Vale Councilmen and women seated at a long table, their faces reflecting varying degrees of confusion, concern, and hostility. Professor Ozpin and Glynda Goodwitch stood near the screen, their expressions unreadable as they processed the chaotic images being played before them.

The footage began with grainy, shaky shots of what appeared to be unknown soldiers—clad in strange uniforms, their helmets and armor unlike anything the Council had ever seen. The soldiers moved with precision, their actions swift and calculated as they engaged the Grimm. The weapons they wielded were baffling; the flashes of light from their firearms bore no resemblance to Dust-powered weaponry. Instead of glowing with elemental energy, the flashes were harsh and mechanical.

One Councilman leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "What in the name of the Brothers are those weapons? They're not using Dust."

"They're mechanical," another Councilwoman said, her voice tinged with unease. "No elemental signatures. Just... brute force."

Glynda adjusted her glasses, her sharp eyes narrowing as the footage zoomed in on one of the Force Recon Marines. The glowing green pupils were unmistakable, a detail that did not go unnoticed by the others.

"Huntsmen?" Glynda suggested, though her tone was uncertain.

"They fight like Huntsmen," Ozpin murmured, his gaze fixed on the screen. "But their weapons, their tactics... they are far too coordinated for independent Huntsmen or Huntresses. This is something else entirely."

As the footage continued, the camera captured close-up shots of the soldiers' uniforms. On their shoulders was a flag patch—thirteen alternating red and white stripes, with twenty-three white stars on a blue field. The room fell silent as the image lingered on the patch.

Author's Note: During the 2030s the United States decided to expand farther in the North American continent which led to dealings and cultural values. Plus in the deals, the United States would let them keep their country's cultural values and history. By 2038, North America from Greenland to Panama became the United States of North America. This led to a flag change from the fifty stars representing the 50 States to 23 stars representing the 23 sovereignty lands and making it the third largest country in the world second to China

"What is that flag?" a Councilman asked, his voice sharp. "I've never seen it before. It's not from any recognized kingdom or faction."

Ozpin's eyes narrowed, his hand resting on the head of his cane. "It's not a kingdom we know of. Perhaps... a hidden faction?"

"Mercenaries," one of the Councilwomen suggested. "Highly trained ones, if this footage is anything to go by."

Another Councilman shook his head, his tone skeptical. "Mercenaries don't operate like this. And they certainly don't have vehicles and aircraft like the ones shown here. This... this is something far bigger."

The footage shifted to show the soldiers' vehicles—large, imposing machines with mounted weapons. The Humvees, MRAPs, and other armored vehicles moved through the ruins with ease, their size and firepower dwarfing anything the Council had seen before.

One Councilman clenched his fists. "Those aren't like anything from Vale, Mistral, or even Atlas. Where are they getting this technology?"

When the footage displayed the aircraft, the room erupted into hushed murmurs. The helicopters and tiltrotor Ospreys were unlike the airships of Atlas, their designs sleek and utilitarian, their movements fast and efficient. But it was the jets—the F/A-18 Super Hornets and B-21 Raiders—that truly stunned the Council.

"They're too fast," Glynda said, her tone betraying a rare note of unease. "No aircraft I know of can move like that. Not even Atlas' finest."

"And those bombs," another Councilwoman added, her voice rising. "Fire bombs? That's not Fire Dust. It's something else. Something far more... destructive."

The footage shifted to the tactical nuke detonation, and the room fell into a heavy silence. The explosion deep underground caused the ground to tremble and collapse, creating what could only be described as a man-made earthquake. Dust and debris filled the air, the force of the blast leveling parts of Mountain Glenn.

One Councilman slammed his fist on the table. "They destroyed what was left of the city! That wasn't a defensive action—it was annihilation!"

"They're human terrorists," another Councilman said, his voice laced with anger. "Look at what they've done. They didn't come to help us. They came to destroy."

"They were fighting the Grimm," Glynda pointed out, her tone measured but firm. "And their methods, while extreme, were effective."

"Effective?" a Councilwoman shot back. "At what cost? They've destabilized the entire region. Who knows what damage they've caused underground?"

Ozpin remained silent, his gaze fixed on the screen. His mind worked tirelessly, piecing together what little information they had. The green-eyed soldiers, their weapons, their vehicles, and their flag—none of it aligned with any known kingdom or faction. Their discipline and technology suggested an organization far more advanced than anything on Remnant.

"They're not from here," Ozpin said finally, his voice calm but firm.

The Council turned to him, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"What are you saying, Ozpin?" Glynda asked, though she suspected the answer.

"I'm saying," Ozpin replied, his eyes glinting with intrigue, "that these individuals—these soldiers—are not from Remnant. Their weapons, their tactics, their flag... they belong to a world far beyond our understanding."

The Council wasn't convinced. The destruction caused by the soldiers, particularly the nuclear detonation, had left a bitter impression.

"They're a threat," one Councilman declared. "Whether they're Huntsmen, mercenaries, or something else entirely, they've proven they can't be trusted."

"We need to prepare," another added. "If they return—and I believe they will—we must be ready to defend Vale."

Glynda looked to Ozpin, her expression troubled. "What do you suggest we do?"

Ozpin's grip on his cane tightened slightly. "For now, we observe. We learn. Hostility will only escalate the situation. But one thing is clear: whoever these soldiers are, they're not here by accident. And they may hold answers to questions we've never thought to ask."