DRONE LINK: INITATED, the main screen in the Atlas command center beeped. Ironwood watched, fists clenched as the drone now began to assess the damage of the shattered settlement.

BASE DAMAGE: 100%

CIVILLIAN PROPERTY DAMAGE: 98%

STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY OF WALLS: 15%

DEFENSES: OFFLINE

MILITARY CASUALTIES: 99.9%

CIVILIAN CASUALTIES: UNKNOWN

A vein dilated above his right eye, and the technicians in the room busied themselves in their computers, unwilling to catch his attention. The only person unfazed was Winter Schnee, his right-hand man-or woman.

"How could this have happened?" he asked, anger in his voice.

"We received reports of a possible White Fang operation, and these were forwarded to the Major in charge of the Garrison." she replied coolly.

"Then why am I looking at this?" bringing his quivering finger up, pointing at the screen.

Winter recalled the conversation she had with the Major in charge.

"Double the guard. Check all incoming shipments and scan the surrounding area for movements." she ordered over the comm line.

"Calm down, Winter-" his languid voice and disrespect for rank angering the Schnee, yet she said nothing as he spoke "-those filthy animals can barely fight one of our own men, what makes you think they can do anything against a garrison."

"I would not be so sure if I was you. Know this; your failure to discharge your duty will result in serious repercussions for you." Winter said icily.

"But you're not me. So, chill." with that he disconnected.

She sighed. She would need to open a case file on Specialist Robert Aurum, to find out how this idiot passed inspection on the first day.

She would have thought a fellow specialist would have appreciated the gravity of the situation. She was wrong. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden call from Robert Aurum himself. Bringing her scroll up, she narrowed her eyes. Why would he call her privately? Probably begging her to save his ass.

"It's from the Major in charge, General." she said, handing the scroll to him.

Ironwood picked up, and even though the loudspeaker was not active Winter could hear the desperation in the Specialist's voice.

"Winter! You've got to help me! Ironwood's gonna have my head on a plat-" the unlucky specialist squeaked.

"This is General Ironwood, Major." he barked, and Winter could tell by how Robert had stopped talking that he was afraid.

"Tell me, how, when you were warned of an incoming attack, you still failed." Ironwood commanded.

"Uh-the-the thing is s-sir, that we...we sort of underestimated them..." came Robert's faltering voice

Another vein dilated in Ironwood's forehead.

"Several thousand people are dead because of your 'underestimation'. Now listen well; I expect you to surrender to the next commander that arrives in your position and immediately arrive at headquarters. Failure to do so will mean that your allegiance clearly lies elsewhere. Do you understand?" without waiting for an answer, he closed the call.

"Winter, open his case file and prepare a few military judges for a court martial." he sighed. The council was going to give him hell, and on top of that he had to head to Beacon in a few weeks or so for the Vytal competition. Meanwhile Winter busied herself in the task she was given.

Immediately though, various distress calls appeared on the screen, which zoomed out to a map of Solitas itself. Various bases, settlements, garrisons and units began to flash red, the dots scattered all over the map. Calls were patched in; video cams from battles unfolding all over the continent were displayed. One such prominent call took center position.

"We are under attack!" screamed 2nd Lieutenant Buller of the 2nd Army Group which was garrisoned 35km east of Atlas. His sweat and dirt streaked face filled the screen.

"What's the situation soldier?" Ironwood calmly asked. The Lieutenant stared right at the General and began to babble.

"Hostiles converging on our position! Ambush! We are taking heavy fire!" his eyes seemed to bulge out of his skull. Still, with a cool head Ironwood continued.

"Identity of hostiles? Strength of attacking force?"

"It's the White Fang! Bloody hell, they are everywhere! FUCK, THEY'VE GOT MORTARS! HIT THE GROU-" the call was cut off, the video link gone.

Similar pleas of help rang through the command center. It seemed the White Fang had gone on a major offensive against the unprepared Atlas targets. Ironwood was enraged, unable to understand how the normally covert terrorist group had been able to gather its forces for such an offensive. His mind lingered upon the escape and sightings of Roman Torchwick, master thief, and the corresponding rise in White Fang activity. The link was inseparable; how could they not have seen it?

Deep down, he knew why. Years of inactivity save the occasional Grimm problem made them complacent. It had made them weak. But now they would rise with their might and crush this insurgency. Calling up his subordinates on the main screen, he issued his orders.

"Lieutenant General Karnak Redd and Admiral Jones Sterling will be provided the Atlesian 200 Models. You will also have full access to Fort Niantic's resources in the north. Use it as a staging post for your operations."

"Are you sure, sir? That Fort has our finest troops and resources. Also, those models haven't seen action yet." Karnak asked.

"This insurgency threatens to drown us in fire. Not until the military steamroller has passed from top to bottom of Solitas will it be quelled. Thus, I provide you with the resources to carry this campaign out. After today, the White Fang will cease to be a force for we are the foremost military power in Remnant. You say these new models have not been tested yet; well this shall be a fine opportunity. Do not let me down gentlemen." Ironwood concluded, leaving no place for discussion.

"Understood, General." They disconnected.

The screen returned to the drone carrying out its assessment of the town.

The main screen beeped, turning everyone's attention to it.

HOSTILE DETECTED, it said, the drone camera zooming in.

A young man, or perhaps even a boy wearing digital patterned clothing and wielding a barbaric-looking onyx black chainsword stumbled through the ruins. The Grimm mask obscured his features, but one thing was evident:

He was of the White Fang. Of their famed special operations group, judging by his uniform and the method in which they had attacked last night. If reports were to be believed, all of them died in the blast, save for a sniper. And now this boy. If captured, he could yield vital information. The gears began to turn in Ironwood's mind.

"Organize a squad now and take him in! Use anything you've got!" Ironwood barked, slamming his fist on the table. The technicians began to type out orders to regional officers.

"S-Sir...it seems like most of our specialists are engaged in the conflict. So are most of the android and human infantry divisions." A young technician stuttered nervously. Ironwood gritted his teeth. Although confident in his student's abilities, he knew the finest, the most suited for the mission were training for the competition. Running a school administration and the running of the army was a difficult task; he had to balance it somehow. He couldn't fail on any front. He trusted Karnak and Jonas to discharge their duty... but he had to answer to the council; to pacify them somehow. Naturally they would be upset by this turn of events. But Ironwood had an answer; the little rat's head on a platter presented to them. Justice would be done and everyone would be happy.

But who to send? Everyone seemed to be busy at this critical moment. The soldiers and specialists against the Fang and he would not want to risk his students before the Vytal Festival. He could spare an air division, maybe even a few troops, but more was required.

Then an idea came to him; though admittedly it wasn't one he'd like. He'd have to rely on a friend.

Ozpin.

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Herman awoke upon a rough, uneven surface. Thick grey hazy smoke surrounded him and he could barely see five feet ahead. Coughing and choking, the smoke filling his lungs, he slowly got off the concrete and steel rubble.

"Looks like the monster has awoken." came the harsh unwelcome voice from behind him. Herman swung around to see the same damn PMC from his...nightmare? It had felt so real. The pain and misery of the event flooded through him and with a cry he rushed the merc...

...only to see he was no longer there.

"Heh. You might be a damn savage, but that doesn't change what you have done." the PMC mocked. Herman swung around to see the bearded man grinning-not a pleasant sight. It looked like a predator before it devoured its prey.

"How the fuck are you still alive! I saw you die!" Herman raged, blue eyes dilated in shock.

"There's more than one way of living, monster." the older man sneered.

"Why the fuck are you calling me that?!" the boy snarled, getting ready to attack.

"You'll see soon. You'll see." he ominously repeated, walking into the dust.

"Come back you bastard! I'm not done with you!" Herman raged, charging after him. But the PMC gave no reply, nor was he seen.

Herman was now confused and angry. He had to get out, for he knew deep down that there was no way Flash or Clyde could have survived that blast. Not without an Aura. He hoped the specialist had died too. His commlink was busted, and he jerked it out and threw it away in disgust. He'd have to find Hassan.

Herman continued walking through the smoke, which was clearing now. Good, he'd soon find a way through all this rubble, although he was slightly awed by the destructive power of Dust.

Then as the smoke lifted, he saw and heard and smelt the full majesty of what he had done.

First was the assault upon his sensitive nostrils. The stench of putrefaction was thick as the smoke, and it was accompanied by a harsh metallic tang, one Herman was accustomed to. The smell of blood.

Second came the attack upon his Faunus ears. Wailing, screaming, groaning and moaning. The sounds of a dying, shattered people, a ghastly orchestra of pain. Young voices mixed with the old; Faunus howls and human cries.

Third came the offensive sights. The smoke had mostly lifted now, and all Herman could see were shattered bodies. Large limbs and small torsos littered the rubble, old wrinkled hands peeked out from beneath the wreckage, a pair of legs, fins half torn off poked out from the remains of a building. The torn bodies of Faunus and Humans were everywhere.

But the worst were those who lived. Some of those limbs still twitched helplessly, their unseen owners gibbering and squeaking. A large, powerfully built man seemed puny and insignificant as he wept, crouched in the destruction, clutching a small package to his chest. A Faunus girl, a little fox wept as she tried in vain to wake another, older Faunus girl up, her fox ears flat upon her head. A skinny, gaunt eyed human woman desperately scrambled across the ruin, trying to look for someone or something.

Herman could only stand in horror as he saw the Hell he had created, his guts rising up to his throat. Was this what the White Fang worked for? Equality in death and destruction for humanity and Faunus?

His spine and skull started to tingle, tiny charges of electricity dancing up and down. His hands shook, and his face turned pale as chalk.

Was this what he worked for? Deep down, in the darkest recesses of his soul, Herman knew that this would happen. They had discussed the bomb; he knew of the civilians; he knew they would be affected. So why didn't he stop it?

Because he was a coward, blinded by misguided vengeance. A coward, who would have planted the bomb and fled far, far away, had the Atlas military not tried to stop them.

His father and mother would hate him for the monster he had become. Herman looked down at his bloodstained hands, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He could've stopped this, he could've spoken out or not even have joined the Fang. He didn't speak out, because he was afraid. He didn't speak out for the humans, because he was not one. He didn't speak out for the Faunus, because he was not that either. And now, he realized with dread, no-one would speak out for him when terrible justice descended upon Herman Grauer.

A sudden movement, and Herman's instincts kicked in. The same blond haired gaunt woman who was scrambling about the ruins had acquired a knife. She swung too slowly, for the boy had nimbly dodged and brought Nihil down upon her in an overhead arc. Unarmored, without an Aura, the chainsword teeth hissed as they cut through muscle and bone, eviscerating flesh and shattering bone, cleaving across her body. Herman watched, eyes dilated, disgusted as she fell back, the body separated into two halves with a meaty schlick, from her upper right shoulder to her lower left abdomen.

As she came apart, Herman felt the charges dance up and down his spine with greater intensity, and his eyes began to burn as the enviroment began to decolorize slightly.

The half Faunus couldn't hold it back anymore. He fell to his knees and puked, rising on shaky knees after a minute. He felt groggy and sick, and felt the piercing hot gaze of the shocked survivors.

"MONSTER!" one yelled, the rest joining in.

"YOU KILLED THEM ALL!"

"HAVE YOU NO SHAME!"

"CURSE THE FANG!"

They closed in, ready to swarm. But then one man was tackled to the ground by a hairy beast which began to tear into him. More Grimm followed, howling in delight as their prey began to flee in panic. A large shadow flew over the skies, raining quills upon the populace, a few landing close to Herman. Herman wordlessly stumbled past the slaughter, not caring where he was going. The Grimm were all around him, yet none attacked. Well, maybe one or two did, but Herman acted as he was trained to; he killed them. It seemed to get easier now. Perhaps he had become one of them; a true soulless monster, uncaring, unceasing in its desire to kill. Or perhaps there were juicer, weaker targets.

He found himself at the remains of the boundary wall. Wordlessly, he stumbled out and into the hills, where he collapsed to his knees. He felt empty inside, and all the good, all the color seemed to have drained out of the world.

The bushed rustled, and Herman hoped that it was a Grimm, finally coming to kill him.

"Private! Good to see that you survived, come on, we must go!" came Hassan's sickly-sweet voice.

The assassin hesitantly approached the boy, noticing that he was crying. Hassan felt uneasy; he had no experience in comforting stricken soldiers, that was what Clyde was for. But Clyde was dead. As he approached the kneeling boy, unwelcome memories forced themselves into the cat's mind.

A crying Faunus boy in a dark Vacuo alleyway, kneeling over the body of a robed man. A large, jagged knife protruded from his back. Another robed figure came from the shadows and placed its soft hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Some may question your right to end another's life, but we understand that you had no right to let your targets live" it spoke in a smooth sweet voice. The boy looked up at the cloaked figure, and took its hand, being willingly led to the darkness.

Hassan shook his head. Of all the times, now was not the right one for bittersweet memories. Placing his hand on the boy's shoulder, he spoke.

"We've got to get back to base. A truck is waiting for us 5 clicks south."

Herman pulled off his Grimm mask and tossed it away. Emotionlessly, he said,

"Get your hand off. I'm done with the fucking White Fang."

Hassan's eyes dilated in shock, and his spine began to tingle. This tingling, was Hassan's 'kill sense', the time he knew when a person had to die. It had served him well over the years, and though he was loath to do it, his hand slipped down to his pistol holster, unlatching it.

"I understand that you are upset..." he began, trying to calm the target but instead shut up upon seeing the venomous look Grauer gave him with those ice-cold blue eyes. The boy rose, and Hassan immediately whipped out the gun...

...but the wolf wasn't there anymore. An armored fist struck Hassan in the side, and the cat recoiled, gun arm outstretched. There was a whirring noise, and Hassan's vision cleared.

The pistol wasn't there anymore. Hassan looked down to his arm, which now lay at his feet. Then he looked at the eviscerated flesh of his right shoulder, white bone peeking out from red rags. His mind connected the events and he let out a guttural cry of pain, falling to the ground, darkness closing around him.

Herman did not feel remorse as he did for the poor woman he had sawed apart. Instead he felt ice cold fury spread through his body. The White Fang were responsible for all of this. They had made him a pawn in their little petty power struggle, drilled him to become a killer, caused him to bring grief and suffering.

He wouldn't disappoint, for now he would bring a little grief and suffering for them too. But he needed a set of objectives, something to guide him. He brought his gauntlet up, typing on the embedded scroll, walking off into the wild.

He needed to get to South-East Vale

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Meanwhile, at the covert White Fang base, Adam Taurus watched the havoc unfold. With satisfaction he saw how the boy exceeded his expectation and set the bomb; then with disappointment he watched how the boy had savaged Hassan. For a moment he had allowed himself to believe that he could have a truly powerful weapon at his disposal, but his experience with Blake should've taught him better. Well, it seems like he would have to make do with Mercury and Emerald. And Cinder.

At least the boy had discharged his duty, and now they could safely relocate to Vale and continue phase 2 of their operation. Yet Adam felt slightly uneasy about Herman Grauer. He had to be put down somehow before Atlas got him. Utilizing his scroll, he assigned 5th Covert Division to tracking him down. Banishing the boy from his mind, he strode out of the command center.

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They found Major Specialist Robert Aurum amongst the ruins, surrounded by multiple dissipating Grimm corpses. In his arms he clutched the gruesome remains of a blond haired, blue eyed woman, whose features were perfectly chiseled. He silently allowed them to cuff him, and take him into the bullhead. He did not care anymore, for without his sister Eva life was not worth living anymore. His carefree attitude was the cause of her death, and he couldn't bear the crushing weight of his failure anymore. Sinking to the cold metal floor, he sobbed freely.