Escape From Remnant: A Tarkov X RWBY Crossover

Chapter 64: Raid

"Would you like a drink, sir? You look on edge." Asked Oliver Fox's young female assistant who had just delivered a stack of important papers he needed to look over to his desk.

"Yes please. Give me a whole bottle of Canadian Club, no need for any glass I'll just drink straight from the bottle." He responds trying to maintain his professional composure.

Ever since the mission to eliminate these upstart mercenaries trying to steal his company's most precious technology failed his mental state had taken a nose dive. He found himself overthinking especially about worst-case scenarios more now. The situation had spiralled out of control and he was prepared to throw everything to make everything return to as it was before, in his control.

Terragroup lost the entirety of the Black Division's 19th Squad or was it Contingent? He didn't know anymore, luckily he had about 40 of them to throw around and if he could he'd throw all he could at this issue to solve it for sure. Of course, that wasn't feasible but oh so how much he wished it was.

As his assistant left to go grab his drink he picked up the phone on his desk and dialled the number of his main contact for Black Division's objectives. According to her she should be at the UN base they are using for the upcoming raid to eliminate these men or destroy what they were after. What he got from the contact after his order to fix the issue immediately after the failed operation was that they were going to destroy the last potentially intact laboratory that conducted interdimensional experiments. It was also the most likely target the runaway mercenaries were going to hit since it was the only option.

The lab under the streets of Tarkov was already hit and covert agents reported it had become a war zone between raiders and mercenaries now. Thus if the mercenaries are most likely to be already there or going to be there. He assumed the Black Division operators were gonna lie in wait and ambush them when they arrived if they weren't there already.

The wait though was hellish, he was told that he would get a call from the Black Division command centre when the mission began. Up until now he'd been fighting the urge to call them prematurely and preemptively for an update on what was going on. Obviously, if he did nothing really nothing would have happened since he was the literal CEO but it could show he was slipping and quickly losing it. Eventually, the wait got to a point that it felt more painful than any layer of hell described in Dante's Inferno. Thus he took the plunge and dialled the number of the Black Division command centre.

The command centre was located in a black site away from human civilisation somewhere in the Balkans. Why the Balkans? Because it's a more obscure region with governments that generally had weaker authorities and were more easily paid off. All they had to do was enrich some politicans and suddenly their lips were sealed. It was also geographically sound being at the crossroads of eastern and western Europe plus near Asia and Africa. The fact that the country where the black site is located is also both a NATO and an EU member makes it all the easier.

Inside the command centre's operations room, dozens of operational staff from all over the world would work making sure the mission went well. They were veterans of their home countries' respective militaries all paid varying great sums by contract to work for the Black Division. Digital screens displaying all sorts of relevant information were plastered all over the front wall. Indeed this was the infamous Broken Palace which field operatives reported to and got orders from. Already they had multiple unmanned drones complete with thermal and night vision running surveillance on practically everything important for the upcoming operation. The staging ground that was the UN base they were taking off from, the group that was making it on foot, and the old laboratory.

On the table of the liaison officer, a woman named Lynx of some sort of North American caucasian origin, a red wired phone rang which only meant the big boss was calling them right now. She picks up the phone and answers while everyone's eyes are on her.

"Hello, sir?"

"Has it begun...?" He asks nervously, in the background faintly she could hear the CEO stretching the bare skin on one of his wrists to soothe himself.

"No sir, our forces are still preparing for the raid."

"Oh...okay...thanks..." The call disconnects right then and there and she puts the phone handle back into place.

"False alarm people! Big boss is just nervous that's all!" Lynx then shouts to everybody who had eyes on her in the room in a much less professional tone and voice to which everybody takes as the cue to continue their work.

"Fuck this guy man..." she laments to the man right beside her casually, her professional mask instantly slipping as she falls back into her office chair.

"Tell me about it. I should get the fool a box of fine cigars next time we meet." Replace the officer next to Lynx, he was known as Garbage Man and served as a general of sorts for the Black Division. The guy was a former high-ranking British Royal Marines officer who left after the government refused to pay him for what he was worth as usually they do to professional soldiers like him. He then found solace as a literal garbage man in London for a couple of years before joining up with the Black Division.

As such the man was old with all his hair now grey but that didn't stop him from carrying out his contract dutifully.

"Cairo! What's the status on the squad moving in on foot!" He calls out for one of the drone operators further down the room at his own station.

"Still tracking them! You can literally see them on screen in front!" He points to the screen, frustration haunting his voice at the lack of the Garbage Man's perceived inflexibility.

"Make them bigger than if you want me to see them! I could be as old as your grandpa young cunt!" For all the massive space that the screens and monitors took up, it was just too much and some tabs and information displays had to be sized down appropriately to fit everything in place. The technicians all did their thing upon the counter complaint without question or objection, trading off some other information such as weather forecasts and information of the various operators they stretched the camera views to be bigger giving the man an opportunity to view it clearly.

"Final-fucking-ly! Let's see what we're working with here."

At the UN base, 30 men dressed in high-tech black equipment and gear from head to toe got ready. They were some of the best veterans that money could buy, special forces, security experts, men who had resumes packed full of previous experience. Beforehand the 10-man large light infantry squad, designated as the 11th, had left in vehicles to make their way into Tarkov on their own on foot. Here though, it was the 8th and the 22nd getting ready to board several Mi-8 helicopters painted in the stark white colour scheme of the UN. They all knew of the plan, their squad leaders had formulated one with each other and the higher-ups early on and now it was happening.

They even had a plan to deal with the mall's current inhabitants, those scavs that their drones have been observing. They seem to live in the mall but due to the EMP blast taking everything out, they can't access the labs' CCTV network remotely. As such they don't know if they know about the lab or not but it would hardly be an issue since the operators of the Black Division can adapt at a moment's notice to terminate these ants.

As such, it was soon showtime...

About an hour has passed...an hour of Texas using whatever limited resources within the room and on both of their persons to patch up Floridaman's wounds. Floridaman looked like complete shit and his left eye was most likely crushed. Whether it was preventable with medical care or not didn't matter, his being alive was already good enough. Their captors either didn't loot them completely or didn't bother to take some stuff, in fact, they missed a bunch of stuff in their pants that were in the various pockets. They had left a sanitised bandage in both their pockets and some vaseline in Floridaman's which was enough to cover up the wound and kill some of the pain.

Still, though, he was in a comatose state, nearly completely knocked out. If that man wanted him to feel bad for what happened then he sure did what he intended to great effect. If Texas could, he would go back in time and take the brutal assault upon himself without hesitation.