Liberating Remant

Chapter 26 Unwanted Sacrifices

Remnant

Mountain Glenn...

The Marines took a moment to regroup and assess their surroundings. Anderson, acknowledging the gravity of the situation, turned to Ramirez, his voice laced with determination. "Ramirez, conduct a headcount with Daniel. Let's keep moving and find a secure location for the survivors."

Ramirez nodded, his casual demeanor momentarily replaced by a focused expression. "You got it, boss. Lead the way."

The Marines cautiously continued their advance through the treacherous caves of Mountain Glenn, the survivors trailing closely behind. Daniel, their trusted corpsman, made it a point to periodically pause and tend to the survivors' minor injuries, offering words of comfort and reassurance. He understood that the physical wounds were not the only ones that needed attention, and he aimed to restore a sense of hope and trust among the group.

Jack, ever watchful, whispered to Anderson, his voice barely audible in the dimly lit surroundings. "It's hard to fathom them sending children as scouts. Why the hell would they subject children to this? Crawling through every nook and cranny?"

Anderson's eyes narrowed, his gaze contemplative. "Once we're out of danger, we'll seek answers. We need to understand their tactics and motivations."

Meanwhile, Ramirez found himself engaged in a spirited discussion with the middle-aged woman who had shared her story earlier. She regarded Ramirez with a mix of curiosity and irritation, her voice laced with frustration. "Marine, hope is what has sustained us. Hope that one day, someone would come to our aid. And here you are."

Ramirez, never one to shy away from banter, retorted with a hint of sarcasm, "Considering what you say about the Grimm, it's still hard for us to wrap our heads around it. I guess we can weaponize 'hope' to our advantage." The woman's glare intensified, clearly unimpressed with the Marine's response.

"You're the first people I've encountered who don't believe that the Grimm are drawn to negative emotions. Have you been living under a rock? Is your entire nation dwelling underground?" Her frustration seeped into her words as she addressed Ramirez.

"One, we do live under a rock. Two, it's not a kingdom, it's a nation. And three, what kind of bullshit is this 'Aura,' the so-called manifestation of our soul?" Ramirez nonchalantly replied, prompting a nudge from Daniel, reminding him of the importance of cultural sensitivity.

"Hearts and minds, Anderson," Daniel interjected, his voice calm but firm. "We must avoid disrespecting the beliefs of the locals. We can't afford a repeat of the Iran incident."

Ramirez grimaced, his mind momentarily drifting back to the past. "Yeah, I remember getting reamed by the captain back then. Had to swallow my pride and endure the consequences," he muttered, recalling the dressing-down he received from Captain Anderson. Ramirez took personal offense whenever someone's actions jeopardized the team's mission.

Jack, genuinely intrigued by their shared history, pressed for more information. "What exactly happened in Iran?"

Daniel, focused on the present mission, responded succinctly, "We were tasked with dealing with a local warlord during the Iranian civil war. The CIA believed he had crucial intel on the Butcher General, a notorious terrorist. Ramirez, in a moment of indiscretion, cracked an offensive religious joke that nearly got him killed. The captain made him shovel shit and delivered a lecture on winning hearts and minds. As further punishment, Ramirez was confined to desk work and had to make the captain's coffee for a month. Every soldier's nightmare, trading combat for paperwork."

Jack winced at the story, remarking, "I'd feel sorry for him if he wasn't such an asshole."

"Oh fuck you! And fuck all of you!" Ramirez cursed, but his outburst was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.