A/N: So, I never intended to expand on Strike One's Operation Enduring Shield, but a lot of you interpreted the end of last chapter as "welp, they're all gonna be dead." At the suggestion of Metaboss84, I came up with this mini-chapter to resolve that issue and catch up with JNPR for a bit. This won't be a regular thing, but I may do it again in the future if the situation calls for it. The next "proper" chapter will be going up tomorrow when I get home. Until then, enjoy!

"Sir! Atlas is down!"

Van Doorn swore. The Field Commander decided about five minutes ago that Bradford made the right choice in sending his top operatives on this assault. Even with all of their experience, with all of their tactics, and with all of their technology, the damned aliens were determined to keep their hands, claws, and tentacles firmly wrapped around Japan. One-Seven, or 'Atlas', was the squad's Engineer. If Strike One wanted to make it through this in one piece, his Smoke Grenades would be vital to achieving that goal.

"Five, get Seven patched up. Two and Three, you're on overwatch while Five does his thing. Twelve, I want those Heavies flanked ASAP."

The Commander watched his Medic frantically dash towards Atlas while Colonel Zhang and Major Vance readied their Pulse Autoblaster and Sniper Rifle to gun down any alien contacts who dared take a shot at Five. The squad's Pathfinder MEC, 'Gizmo', dashed off in a different direction to find an alternate way around the Heavy Floaters' hail of plasma fire blocking Strike One's progress. Early on, Van Doorn learned to respect Twelve's ability to think outside the box and outmaneuver her foes. Then again, that was probably why Bradford had slated her for Pathfinder training after she got "promoted" to a MEC.

Van Doorn suppressed a shudder. While he was proud of the volunteers Dr. Shen received when he first started the MEC program, and he was sure that soldiers who found themselves on death's door would rather have their life saved with a quick surgery and robotic limbs, the Commander wasn't sure if he would have the courage to get his limbs replaced with mechanical servos so that he may continue the good fight for XCOM. The idea of becoming an immobile soldier whose sole purpose in combat was to interface with the immensely powerful hardware of a MEC platform… how could those troopers re-integrate with society at the war's end? The moment their limbs came off, they no longer operated weapons of war, but instead became them. He would forever be grateful for the courage of brave men and women like Gizmo who made that choice so he wouldn't have to.

He was snapped out of his brief reverie when he heard the sound of Zhang's Autoblaster spinning up and spitting out a volley of laser fire at a Muton who stepped out of cover to take a shot at Five. The Medic continued to calmly apply the contents of his medkit to Atlas's wounds while Zhang's laser fire chattered overhead. After the first Muton went down, a second stepped out to finish the job his brother set out to accomplish. Before it could even line up a shot, a single pulse laser cleanly punched through the alien's skull and brain matter flew out the other end.

Five finished his work and pulled Atlas to his feet.

"You good?"

The Engineer rolled his shoulders a few times before picking up his Scatter Blaster. "Yeah, just gotta rub some dirt on it and I'll be fine."

A loud burst of laser fire interrupted their brief conversation, and the rest of Strike One looked up at the sound of Heavy Floaters dying in quick succession. Gizmo's modulated voice came over Van Doorn's comm. "Enemies have been neutralized, sir."

"Good," Van Doorn responded. "Let's move, people. Six, you're on point with Gizmo."

The Scout rushed ahead while the rest of the team followed behind, reloading and checking their weapons during the brief respite afforded them by the Pathfinder.

Van Doorn's comm buzzed to life once more. "Commander, this is Six. Battlescanner in the next room reveals a pod of Mutons with two Elites commanding them."

"Understood. We'll need you to go in quiet and undetected to provide spotting support for a Javelin Rocket from Eight. That should soften them up a bit before we send the cavalry in to finish them off."

"Roger that, sir."

The plan should have been flawless. Six ghosted her way into the room without issue, Eight's rocket hit dead center a few seconds later, and then the rest of Strike One charged into the room and started taking up positions behind the closest cover available. It would have been perfect, but the moment the last member of Strike One cleared the holo door, a steel plate slammed shut in its place and five Cyberdiscs led by Dreadnought-class disc floated down from above.

While the heavy significance of the memorial was not lost on Ruby, relief still washed over her every time she glanced at the still very-much-alive Major Vance standing with his squad at the front of the assembly. Where XCOM's A Team dusted off for Japan with smiles, jokes, and laughter, a sinking feeling invaded Ruby's heart when they returned beaten, bloody, and silent. She watched the first four operatives step off the Skyranger with a pair of body bags between them, and for one horrible moment, the thought occurred to her that Vance might be in one of them. When she saw him finally step out of the transport's cargo bay, Ruby had to suppress the urge to run up and crush him in a hug. Instead, she watched him slowly limp down the ramp with help from Colonel Zhang, whose once-pristine Titan Armor was now scored and cracked from multiple plasma burns.

Several hours later, all XCOM personnel (save for the small skeleton crew required to keep the base running) were summoned for a memorial service to honor the two soldiers whose names were the most recent additions to The Wall. All the operatives, officers, and base workers assembled in neat rows while bagpipes played over Van Doorn's sombre walk to the front of the room. He opened the small box in his hands and gently pulled out the two small placards it contained. The reverence in the room was almost palpable as Van Doorn set the box down on an adjacent table and placed the two placards on the wall, one at a time. When he had finished, the Commander stepped back and snapped a salute to all the names on the wall, new and old. The sound of one hundred men and women copying the action followed suit.

A full minute passed in silence, save for the bagpipe's heavy tones, while the dead were held with respect in the hearts and minds of everyone present. When Van Doorn lowered his salute and turned to face the crowd before him, the piper stopped and everyone listened.

"Lieutenant Helena 'Casino' Magnusson and Master Sergeant Tomas 'Tombstone' Chavez. These two soldiers heroically gave their lives so that the rest of us may live. In their final moments, they did not cower in fear from the danger, but charged into it. They looked Death straight in the eye and told him 'If this is how it must be, then so be it.' They were some of the finest, and I am honored to have counted them amongst my friends."

The silence after his words was almost suffocating. While Ruby didn't know these people, it was clear that everyone else did, and they were having a very difficult time maintaining a professional demeanor. The emotionally-charged atmosphere made one thing obvious to the leader of Strike Eight: Casino and Tombstone were very popular at XCOM.

"Beyond speaking for them at this memorial," Van Doorn continued, "There is another way I wish to honor those who have left us today. Out of all the people I have shared a pint or five with, they were the only ones capable of drinking me under the table." A small laugh rippled through the crowd. "As such, I invite all of you to join me at the bar after this, where we will toast to the memory of two noble souls and speak fondly of the time we had with them. The first round is on me."

He stepped down from the front of the room and made his way out the door in the back. Quietly, everyone else followed suit.

The uproarious laughter and clinking of glasses starkly contrasted to the silence and respect Ruby witnessed at the Memorial Wall. Major Vance explained to Ruby the concept of an 'Irish Wake' where friends and family would hold a party and share stories about the departed. It was a way to honor their memory with positive energy, as opposed to the heavy and depressing tone set by a traditional funeral. Music filled the room through the lounge's quality stereo systems, and several of XCOM's more agile operatives were having fun impressing their friends with fancy footwork.

Ruby looked around the room and saw the other nine members of Strike One gathered a few tables, sharing drinks and smiling while they talked. She also noticed they weren't isolating themselves from everyone else, however. Other personnel would frequently have a seat, share a few laughs and a story or two, then have a toast with Strike One to the memory of Casino and Tombstone. Over the course of half an hour, Ruby watched at least two thirds of the memorial attendees stop by Strike One's corner to spend a few minutes with the closest friends of the fallen.

Out of respect for the dead, Ruby didn't ask Vance what happened on the op. With all the dancing, drinking, and music going creating such a positive atmosphere, it would be wrong to force her friend to relive that dark memory so soon. Instead, she allowed the Major to teach RWBY (well, RWB. Yang actually offered to help Vance) the basic differences between various alcoholic beverages, and watched curiously as he lined up seven small shot glasses in front of her.

"Aren't they a little young for that, Major?" Asked an amused voice behind Ruby. The five operatives looked up with a start to see Van Doorn smiling right back at them.

"Well, uh…" Vance fumbled, "you see, sir. I just felt, that… umm… some education was…"

Van Doorn laughed and waved him off. "At ease, Major. At a time like this, I think we all could use a stiff drink." He looked at the four huntresses, still smiling. "Just make sure you don't get carried away with the Major's instructions, hmm? In any case, I was hoping to borrow Miss Rose for a few minutes. Do you mind, Vance…?"

The Major shook his head. "Not at all, sir. I'm still setting up, anyway. We can wait until you're done."

Van Doorn nodded appreciatively before putting a hand on Ruby's shoulder and steering her out of the lounge to the relative quiet of the hallway.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Ruby asked, wondering what the Field Commander of XCOM could possibly want with her, especially at a wake for two friends that Ruby didn't know.

"I have something for you." Van Doorn reached into the back pocket of his dress uniform and pulled out a small file storage device. "As I'm sure you're aware, it's standard procedure for operatives to carry video recording hardware into combat. It allows Bradford and squad leaders to tactically review what happened and adjust field strategies accordingly." He looked at the data stick in his hand and Ruby saw a wistful smile play across his lips. "This is my video feed from Enduring Shield. I would like you to watch it when you have the chance."

Ruby took the device when Van Doorn handed it to her. "Thank you, I think? I'm… not really sure what brought this on, sir."

Van Doorn smiled. "When you sit down and watch it, you will see that I made no costly mistakes. A small slip up here or there that required the likes of Major Vance to quickly rectify, but none of my orders were deadly errors. What happened on the base assault was something none of us could have possibly predicted, and the only choice we had was to adapt. It is the same choice you must make, Miss Rose, when your ops don't go according to plan."

He gestured to the numerous medals decorating his dress uniform. "Apparently, the people around here think I'm the best leader there is. While it may be true, the fact is I still lost two soldiers on an op where we fielded the best of the best. People die in war, Miss Rose. The best you can do is mitigate those losses and make the most of the ones you can't avoid."

They stood in silence while Ruby mulled over his words and the sound of music from the lounge played in the background. When the song changed, Van Doorn sighed. "Ah, Christ, they're playing The Green Fields of France. I gotta get back in there sort this shit out." He winked. "Have fun with Vance's lesson, alright?"

He spun around and re-entered the lounge as the extremely drunk operatives reached the chorus, 'Did they beat the drums slowly, did they play the fife lowly, did they sound the death march as they lowered you down…'

"C'mon guys, I'm gone for two minutes and you're playing this? I realize that the Dropkick Murphys are Irish and all, but this is not appropriate music for a wake!"

"Jauney Boy."

Leave me alone, Cardin.

"I said hey, Jauney Boy."

Cardin, today's a really bad day for this.

"Jauneeeeyyyyy. I know you can hear me through that thick noggin of yours."

Jaune sighed, coming to terms with the fact that Cardin wasn't going to leave him alone. "Spit it out, Cardin."

The bully laughed. "Now was that so hard, Jauney Boy? It doesn't hurt to show a little courtesy to your betters."

Jaune had to restrain himself from snapping in half the pencil he was holding. He lost enough of them as it was, and didn't need to needlessly add to the growing number that was MIA/KIA. Before he could say anything, he heard Pyrrha assert herself from his right. "What do you want, Cardin?"

His tormentor shrugged. "Not that it matters, but I believe I was talking to your fearless leader and not you." He looked back at the slumping figure in front of him and clicked his tongue. "Honestly, Jauney Boy, do you always let your girlfriend talk out of turn like that?"

"Not my girlfriend, Cardin," Jaune replied, a hint of exhaustion evident in his voice, "And Pyrrha can do whatever she wants. I don't have to keep my teammates under my boot heel for them to respect me as their leader."

Cardin's eyes narrowed, only for a moment, before he started to laugh again. "Oh, Jauney, you are such a joker." He took the vacant seat to Jaune's left and drummed his gauntleted fingers on the table. "So, what's with all the baggage, Jauney Boy? Couldn't help but notice you've been lugging it around for a while now. Ozpin hire you guys as the new janitors or something?" His eyes widened, and his voice became conspiratorially low. "Wait, don't tell me, he found out about-"

"Cardin?" He looked up to see Pyrrha smiling sweetly at him. "Finish that sentence, and I'll take it as express permission to beat you within an inch of your life the next time Professor Goodwitch pairs us up for sparring."

Jaune would be lying if he said it wasn't satisfying to feel Cardin stiffen next to him. Once he regained his composure, Cardin gave the table a final tap before standing up, evidently preparing to leave. "Good talk, Jauney Boy. I'll find out what you're hiding sooner or later." He smiled. "I always do, you know."

After CRDL's leader sauntered off, Nora leaned over the table and whispered to Jaune. "I am curious, Jaune… how long do you think we're gonna be carrying this stuff around? It's hard to get comfortable enough to sleep in Port's class with these supply cases in the way."

Jaune rubbed his eyes, as if that would will away the fatigue that had been plaguing them. "As long as it takes, Nora."