"You're talking about a death squad".

The woman was standing in an office in the Atlas military headquarters. An associate of hers had called her and asked for her to come in on a project he had been working on. She had listened to his proposal and couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man she was talking with was also part of the military, but not anyone important. He liked it that way, just high enough on the ladder to have some influence, but not high enough that he got heat when things went sideways. He had handed her some files when she walked in. They were inmate files from Whitestone, three of them. The names and records of the people he wanted to work for him. She looked through the files and didn't like what she saw one bit.

"You make it sound so ugly when you say it like that" the man replied. This was going better than he thought it would. He had expected her to outright reject the idea. If she was still talking to him that meant that a part of her was for it. "All I'm suggesting is that we have some people do a little work for us, the kind of work we couldn't give to regular soldiers or hunters."

The woman shot back "You mean the kind of work no one with a functioning moral compass would do. Orchestrating the murders of another nation's citizens, you realize this could start a war?"

"Only if they find out we were behind it. Look, Ironwood has his own private army doing god knows what for him, I don't see why we shouldn't get in on that action"

"The Special Ops are the Special Ops, you're talking about taking some criminals, kids at that, and turning them into your own personal assassins."

"How is that any different from what we do already? Look at the academies; we take kids, turn them into killers and let them loose on the world. These kids are already killers, they're perfect."

"This is illegal for one. If Ironwood gets a single whiff of this he'll have us both arrested. I did not get my stripes so I could spend every day being someone's cell bitch"

"You think I wanna be on the all-dick diet the rest of my life? Look, there's no way anyone could connect them to us, and Ironwood has more important things to do than worry about what we're doing."

The woman seemed to relax slightly at those words. She picked up one of the files and handed it to the man. "Fine, I'm in, but not him. I can't allow him to be a part of this."

The man sighed. "What's the issue?"

"Do you have any idea the kind of blowback we'd get from the Faunus community if anyone saw him walking around?"

"The press never released his name or picture, and the trial was closed to the public. Poppy retired and went back to Menagerie last week, and Judge Aithne's been dead for years. You and I are the only people on this side of the world who know that guy's real identity. I've thought this through, don't worry."

The woman finally relented at those words. "Fine. So what now?" she asked.

The man went for the door. "Now you grab a coat, we have some people to meet".

oOoOoOoO

They had made their way to Whitestone prison. The man showed his ID to the guard and they were taken to the prison's lowest level. A guard on the bottom floor directed them to a room in the back. When they went inside they found three people cuffed to chairs with bags over their heads.

The woman looked at the bound men and sighed. "Is this really necessary?"

"What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic." He walked up to one of the bound men. "Now then, let's see what's behind door number one." He pulled the bag off the head of the left most captive.

The word that best described this one was average. Average height, average build, average face. There was nothing remarkable about him at all. "Noah Pyrite, age 17." The man spoke as he went through his file. "According to your file you grew up in Mistral, making your way as a con artist. Charms that could keep grimm away, medicine that could improve your vitality, dust, you were like a one stop shop. Of course it was all bullshit. The junk you sold was worse than useless, which people eventually caught on to. You ended up moving to Atlas when things got too hot where you lived. You also had one particular scam you liked to run. You'd assume the identity of a hunter in training and send distress messages to their parents to get them to wire you money. Got caught when you tried it on a couple whose kid had died a week before. Got busted for fraud and now you're three years into a ten stretch. Did I leave anything out?"

Noah had no idea what was happening. He was sitting in his cell when three guards came in, tied him to a chair, and brought him to the basement. Now he was sitting here listening to a man he just met recite his life story. "You've obviously done your homework. What do you want with me?" he asked.

The man stood in front of him with a small grin on his face. "I understand you have a lot of questions. Now for number 2." He pulled the bag off of the next one down. It was a large man with a muscular build. He had black dreadlocks and a scar that ran from above his left eyebrow down to his chin, with a solid white eye in the socket in contrast to the normal green one in the right. If he objected at all to the situation he found himself in, it didn't show on his face.

The man pulled out a different file. "George Garwood, age 17. Grew up in Vacuo. Loved fighting, you were so good at it everyone thought you had what it took to go pro. Even had a couple matches in the Under-15 circuit. Of course, life doesn't always work out the way you want it to. When you were thirteen you got into a fight with an older individual. Bashed his skull in. Wouldn't say word one as to what the fight was about, ended up getting sent to Big Box for manslaughter. At least until I recommended to the warden that you be transferred to Whitestone. I must say, you're taking all of this really well." The man looked at George while he was talking, that blank expression never left his face for a second.

George shrugged as well as he could while tied to a chair. "Eh" was all he said in response. He didn't know why he had been brought here, but he didn't really care that much either. He was eating lunch when he had suddenly fallen asleep and next thing he knew he was down here. "I'm a get the rest of my lunch when we're done, right?"

"All things in time, son" the main said. "Now, number three". He pulled the hood off the third person with a look on his face like he caught a whiff of something foul.

Beneath the third hood was a young looking boy with white hair and brown eyes. He was about medium height, but he was incredibly skinny. He seemed to recognize the man standing in front of him, a grin widening on his face as realization set in. "How's it going officer? I never thought I'd see you again." The boy began to laugh. He looked over and saw the woman standing next to the door. "Oh shit, you're here too? Is this some kind of reunion party? I guess all we need now is those people from-"

The woman walked up to him and punched him across the face. A loud crack rang through the air as blood flowed from the boy's mouth. The woman glared at him with burning hate in her eyes. "Shut the fuck up" she spat. It took everything in her to keep from killing the boy then and there.

Reid Wenland was serving a life sentence for multiple homicide. He had grown up in Atlas, right in the middle of the rising tensions of the Faunus Rights Movement. When he was ten years old, his parents were killed in a White Fang attack. After that he had fallen in with a radical pro-human group, the poison they spouted was like the gospel to his ears. When he was twelve, he threw a firebomb through the window of a Faunus shelter. Ten Faunus burned to death that night, four of them kids his age or younger. When he was arrested, all he said was "I don't see what the big deal is, not like I was killing people". He pled guilty at trial, avoiding the death penalty due to being a minor, and the case was settled quickly. The actual death toll had been kept out of the media in order to prevent an incident, but the rumors whispered in the streets were enough to send tensions to near boiling point. The only people who knew for certain who he was or what he had done were the judge who sentenced him, and the cops who arrested him. Two of the officers in question were in this room as a matter of fact.

The man spoke again. "I understand you all may be confused, but I assure you what is happening here now is for your benefit. Congratulations, you've all been given a second chance at life."

Noah spoke up first. "What do you mean by second chance?"

The man could barely conceal his enthusiasm. "You've all been granted early release. Records wiped clean. People of your skill deserve better than to rot in prison, and I decided that all of you are going to work for me from now on."

George spoke up next. "Work for you? Need a job done, call a hunter."

The man laughed. "Can't get a hunter to do the things I need done. I'm not gonna lie, you kids are going to get into some ugly shit. Alright, we've spent enough time down here, let's get you suited up and shipped out." He motioned to the guards and they began to untie the captives.

They walked back to the elevator and eventually made their way outside the prison. There was a truck parked in a field nearby. Standing next to it was a young girl with straight black hair and blue eyes. The man looked at the girl and smiled at her. "Boys, meet the final piece of the puzzle." She looked as if being anywhere else would be preferable to where she was now. Noah put on a friendly smile and extended a hand toward her, but she slapped it away.

"Do not touch me. Do not speak to me. Do not look in my direction." She looked Noah right in the eyes as she berated him. She pulled a cloth out of her pocket and wiped her hand.

"She seems nice" Reid said with a faint chuckle. "Who is she?"

The girl answered his question. "I am Unit A6125. Atlesian Mobile Weapons Platform Model 15, Codename: Oriana. Let me make myself clear, I am only here because I was ordered by my creator. The sooner I am able to rid myself of you people the better." She said "people" the way others would say "colon cancer".

The man stepped next to her and placed a hand on her head. "Some of the guys from R&D whipped her up. I looked through the design documents and I just had to have her on my team. This right here is a bona-fide murder machine. She'll be going along with you guys as a field test. She'll also make sure you all stay in line. I gave her an order to waste the three of you if you get out of hand."

Oriana interjected. "Please, give me a reason."

The woman opened the truck and pulled a bag out of the back seat. She opened the bag and pulled out three scrolls and a credit card. She handed a scroll to each of the former convicts, and gave the card to Noah as she spoke to them. "You'll be taken to a transport station. Your tickets have already been taken care of. You'll have to take care of acquiring weapons on your own, hence the card. Once you land you'll have a few days to prepare before the operation begins. Keep your scroll on you at all times. We'll use it to contact you when it's time to work." She pulled a second bag out of the truck. "Change of clothes for each of you. Showing up at the station in prison blues would raise lots of unneeded questions." She pulled a folder out of her coat and handed it to Oriana. "These are their applications. Hand these in as soon as you arrive, okay?" Oriana nodded.

As the three boys put on their new clothes, Noah turned to the man and asked one last question. "Where are we going?"

The man had a large smile on his face. "Beacon Academy."