The Winter Rebellion
Chapter 1: The Specialist
Breathing in the cold, biting, night air, Hunter Operations Specialist Winter Schnee wondered, for what seemed to be the millionth time in her military career, why the hell she had to charter a flight for immediate return to Atlas when a double encrypted conference call on her scroll would have sufficed. General Ironwood's long existing paranoia had reached peak levels with recent developments and he hardly spoke through electronic means, citing "a serious lack of communication security that could cripple the military infrastructure." Of course, she would never complain out loud and cold would be the day in hell when she disobeyed a direct order.
But that didn't prevent her from sighing in discontent as she marched along the exposed gangway towards the terminal, clutching her weapon case in one hand and a small personal bag in the other. Further yet, with her personal cruiser still undergoing numerous repairs from the war and no scheduled military flights to Atlas, Winter had been forced to take a civilian airship on the long journey from Mistral. The General had been indifferent to her displeasure, telling her that the sight of a high ranking officer such as herself mingling with the people would boost morale and lead to an increase Atlas military approval. Her own morale had been the terrible cost with the cramped seating, the screaming children, and the unsavory grunge of the general public.
There was a grunt in uniform scanning the crowd for her as she left the arrival gate. He was holding a sign that read "SCHNEE" on it in bold letters, oblivious to the furtive side glances and the nervous mutters he attracted from those around him. Winter rolled her eyes.
Brilliant, she thought, another idiot in the Atlas military.
She quickly walked up to him and snatched the sign out of his hands, causing him to jump in surprise.
"Oh! Specialist Schnee, I didn't –"
"Quiet," she said sternly, "Let's go."
Handing him her bag, Winter strode off towards the exit, her imposing figure cutting a path through the crowd in which her subordinate followed. Outside, a familiar unmarked black SUV was parked at the curb. There was a yellow ticket on the windshield for leaving an unoccupied vehicle in the loading zone which Winter quickly plucked from beneath the wiper and threw into the a nearby garbage bin. No doubt someone in the Department of Dust Vehicles would later run the identification plates on the unpaid ticket and figure out the government had wasted time in ticketing itself.
Her escort must have been close behind as the vehicle had unlocked itself after detecting the access key his scroll, allowing Winter to open the driver side door and seat herself at the wheel while stowing her weapon case on the floor behind her. The soldier opened his mouth to protest before thinking better of it and ran around to climb into the passenger seat, her bag on his lap. Winter stepped on the accelerator and minutes later they were on the main highway into the city.
It was quiet on the road, though, with the late hour, that was to be expected. She sped along slightly above the limit, the ride cushioned by both the advanced Atlas Tech suspension and the smooth Atlesian road surface. Winter enjoyed driving. Growing up under the careful watch of her father, she had never been allowed a car, always chauffeured to and from school by a driver. When she had left home to attend the Academy, her training had placed her behind the wheel of a Multi-Purpose Atlesian Transport Vehicle and, for the first time in her life, she had felt the thrill of complete control. That feeling hadn't left her after all this time. Even when she had an entire division under her command, nothing could beat the simplicity of turning the wheel and having the tires follow.
Out of the corner of her eye, Winter saw the soldier trying to sneak quick glances at her while attempt to stare rigidly ahead, clearly caught somewhere between curiosity and fear. He was young, almost a boy really, clean shaven with light blonde hair and honest green eyes.
"Did you recently graduate from the Academy?"
Her question startled the boy. He flinched in his seat and turned red, embarrassed at having been caught unaware.
"Yes, Ma'am," he answered, "Last year, Ma'am."
"Do they still teach subtlety at Atlas?"
He looked confused. "I-I'm sorry, Ma'am, what do you mean?"
"Subtlety," Winter repeated. "Did they teach a class on subtlety?"
The boy paused.
"No, Ma'am, they did not."
"So when you decided to write my name on a piece of paper to announce to an entire airport just exactly who you were there to pick up, you were just being ignorant and not idiotic."
"Yes, Ma'am. I mean… no, Ma'am."
She narrowed her eyes at the road in front of her.
"You understand that there is tension at the moment."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"And you understand what it looks like when there is a military escort for a member of the Schnee family."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"Don't ever do something like that again."
"Yes, Ma'am."
The Atlas Central Division building sat directly in the middle of the city of Atlas. It was perfectly cylindrical, a massive pillar of concrete, glass, and steel rising into the sky above the surrounding skyscrapers including the nearly as impressive Schnee building. The view from the top of the ACD headquarters was spectacular with the entire city sprawled out beneath it. On a clear day, one could even see the faint outline of the CCT 60 miles to the west, the only structure in all of Atlas that was taller than the ACD HQ.
There was a checkpoint located at the front with a guard house in which several soldiers were stationed at all hours. It was to one of these guards whom Winter flashed her scroll identification. Seeing her name and picture on the screen, he snapped to attention immediately and saluted, deactivating the laser gate and waving her through. Winter drove into the underground parking garage, passing another guard house at the entrance. The perks of her rank included a designated parking spot, but she didn't bother. She stopped the truck at one of the elevators leading up into the main complex and stepped out, taking her weapon case and duffel bag with her.
She heard her escort call out from behind. "Ma'am, I'm supposed to-"
"Goodnight, Private."
Winter checked her appearance in the elevator, the smooth steel walls acting as a mirror. A few stray hairs aside, she looked presentable enough considering the haggard conditions of the flight. Her white coat had retained its usual lack of wrinkles and her gray boots were spotless. She removed her sword from its case and fastened it at her hip. The trip up to the 76th floor was uneventful. She had to transfer cars on the 40th, but other than that the journey was silent, fast, and smooth thanks to efforts of Atlas engineering. The elevator opened to a small lobby. There were four elevators that went up this high, one pair opposite the other. The walls were a dazzling white while the floor was covered in gray carpet with a large, white, Atlas emblem embossed in the center. At the end of the lobby furthest from the landing there was a pair of frosted glass doors with another Atlas emblem etched into the surface. A small black scanner let her enter.
There were only a few soldiers left at this time of night. Those who were unlucky enough to have to work the night shift quickly stood at attention and saluted as she passed. She nodded in greeting as she made her way to the general's office. General Ironwood was unlike other heads of state, headmasters, or CEOs. He preferred a center office far from any windows; his reason being that "any half decent sniper could pose a significant risk," never mind the reflective, triple-thick, bullet-proof glass.
She knocked on the door. The door, she mused, was probably the only piece of wood in the entire building. It had been a present from Ozpin when Ironwood had been promoted to general and was one of the personal things Ironwood held dear. A thick, rich chocolate with a tinge of burgundy, it was carved in one piece from a large Scarlet Tree from Forever Fall. Ironwood had been adamant it be installed at his office and not at his home like Ozpin had suggested since Ironwood reasoned that he spent most of his time at work anyways.
"Come in."
Winter stepped into the office, shutting the door behind her. The room was lit only by a lamp the general had on his desk. He was sitting at said desk, paperwork laid out on the glass surface.
"General Ironwood, sir," she saluted.
"Welcome back, Schnee," he greeted, gesturing for her to take a seat in the chair across from him. "How was the trip?"
"It was adequate, sir," Winter replied evenly as she sat down. Such small talk only served to fuel her impatience especially when he knew she did not care for public airships. General Ironwood seemed to guess as much, a faint smile lingering at the corner of his lips.
"Good," he began organizing some papers, arranging them into neat piles. "How is the situation in Mistral?"
"Improving. Infrastructure has been the focus of repair across the kingdom. The wall has been repaired completely. Dust lines have been restored and water is running. Most residential buildings have either been torn down or rebuilt. Some families are sharing space, but there are less out on the street since our troops have been able to organize communal living quarters for those without a home. Food has been rationed though that is to be expected with the loss of farmland. However," Winter hesitated, "there have been some issues regarding the citizens. I felt a growing sense of…disapproval, among the people. And not just from the lower class but also the aristocracy. In order to avoid any further trouble, it would be best to complete our objective quickly, establish any remaining Mistralian authority figures as a rudimentary government, and remove ourselves from the area."
Winter waited to see if her superior would react, but his gazed remained focused on his work. After a few more seconds of shuffling papers, General Ironwood looked up.
"Is that what you believe to be the best course of action?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
The general seemed to think for a second then leaned back in his chair, the mellow light casting a shadow over his face. To Winter, his visage seemed more lined than usual, deep wrinkles forming in his brow. His hair had also changed, turning almost completely gray. Yet he still had not lost his most identifiable features: his strong jawline and his piercing blue eyes. It was with these eyes that he gazed at her curiously.
"Have you ever wondered why I haven't made you a division commander yet?"
She was taken aback. "I'm sorry, sir?"
"You are definitely more qualified than many that already hold the position. You have successfully completed many missions, regardless of difficulty, you have followed countless orders to the letter, and you have shown outstanding technical skill on the battlefield. And yet, here we are."
Winter frowned. She would be lying if she hadn't thought of a promotion, especially for her actions during the war. However, she figured that there were many deserving of such honor and the general would do what was best for Atlas.
"Yes, sir, I may have wondered. But I trusted you to act in the military's best interests."
The general smiled and leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk. "Precisely. You trust me. And I trust you. Completely."
Winter watched as General Ironwood stood and walked to his filing cabinet in the corner of the room. He unlocked the top drawer with a key and procured white folder. Even in the dim light, she could make out the large red letters stamped across the front: Level 6 Restricted. Level 5 restriction was the highest level of security, clearance provided only to those at the top such as the general, the joint staff, and the division commanders. Winter had never seen a Level 6 restriction. She could only assume that meant these were the general's personal documents, papers only he had ever seen.
"There are very few people in whom I trust. You are one of them. That is why I need you by my side," her eyes were wide as he placed the folder down and slid it across the desk. "Particularly with what we are about to face."
Winter looked up in alarm. "Sir?"
The general's blue eyes hardened to steel.
"We are not pulling out of Mistral."
Atlas' climate was unique. It was cold year round, the seasons only differentiated by the length of the days and whether there was snow on the ground or not. Taking a weary sip from a glass of water, Winter leaned against her balcony railing and waited for the sun to peek over the horizon. It was the tail end of summer so sunrise would be early for a few weeks yet. She had only just gotten home having spent the better part of the night in her office studying the files General Ironwood had provided her.
Some parts of the operation had already commenced, namely, the construction of larger barracks in Vale, the crackdown on black market trade in Vacuo, and her own unknowing efforts in Mistral. There were still finer details to hammer out, but that was where she came in. The general made clear that the coming months were going to be busy for her, but that he had the utmost faith she could successfully accomplish "the next step in Remnant survival."
Winter sighed. She had to admit she had her doubts. The plan was heavy-handed and would exacerbate the tensions already stemming from prolonged Atlas occupation and would likely stir up dormant pre-war sentiments regarding kingdom unification, not to mention the fact that Atlas was still mistrusted due to its presence at the Fall of Beacon. The exposure of Cinder's plan and the defeat of Salem did little to change the public perception of the Atlas military even when the truth was revealed and Atlas did its part in defending strongholds around the world from both Grimm and Maidens. Salem's scheme had been ruthlessly efficient, targeting the kingdoms' councils during the confusion and chaos after the incident at Beacon. When the rubble cleared, Atlas was the last kingdom with any form of recognizable government as General Ironwood had survived the Atlas attack with some last minute intelligence provided by Emerald Sustrai. The Atlas council was not so fortunate. From then on, the war was fought on the village level, small bands of hunters roaming and providing assistance when possible. Then suddenly, two years after Beacon, Grimm stopped attacking and stories began to spread of the death of Salem at the hands of the Seven.
The sun came over the mountains just east of the city, bathing the sky in a spectacular glow, deep orange and yellow fading into a light pink. Winter had travelled to every corner of Remnant and she still held the opinion that no place had sunrises like Atlas. The air here was clear and crisp, allowing colors to reflect wonderfully. It was one of the joys of coming home.
She retreated into the warmth of her apartment, shutting the glass door with a touch of a button. Her position paid well and after saving for several years, she was able to afford a beautiful two bedrooms and one bath only ten minutes from Central. Winter couldn't help but feel pride as she walked to her bedroom. She had gotten this far on her own strength, her own sweat and blood. Her father had all but disowned her. Of course, in the public eye, Jacques Schnee had nothing but praise for his oldest, always sure to mention that one of his daughters was a high ranking military officer doing her part in protecting Atlas. She understood this was a façade as her decision had all but rotted away her relationship with her father.
But that was fine. Winter had never looked back and rarely thought of the days gone by. When her head hit the pillow, her mind was filled with the first steps of the upcoming operation. She drifted off into a fitful but well deserved rest. At least she would have if her scroll hadn't begun vibrating on her nightstand. She groaned in frustration, rolling over to check the number. The bright screen showed an Atlas government issued ID code.
She tapped the receive button.
"Schnee," she announced.
"Specialist Schnee, ma'am," a familiar voice belted into her ear.
It was that blasted grunt who picked her up from the airport earlier.
"You! Who gave you this number?" She demanded.
"General Ironwood, ma'am. I tried to inform you before you left the vehicle. I am ordered to assist you with anything you require."
Damn it all. She was too tired to do anything about it at the moment, but, rest assured, she would have a word with the General when she had the chance.
"What is it that made you feel like you had to call me this early in the morning?"
"I-It's an emergency, ma'am," the voice stammered, "It's your sister."
Winter quickly sat up, all signs of fatigue instantly vanished. She hadn't heard from Weiss in over a year.
"What happened? Is she in trouble?"
The other line was silent for a moment.
"No, ma'am. She is the trouble."
A short first chapter.
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