Atlas central command.
"…and the latest PR operation should bring food distribution requirements down to the acceptable levels as outlined in the council's latest Ten-year plan."
General Ironwood nodded along with the other assembled staff of the Atlesian High Command as the representative officer of the Department of Logistics finished their report. As the thin Staff Officer sat back down in her chair, Ironwood briefly pondered at his presence, here in the darkened, steel-lined chamber that held the most influential people in Atlas.
Ironwood had been summoned from his station overseeing security for the Vytal festival to participate in the annual summer wargames, and to be present at the Bi-Annual meeting of the General's Staff. As the headmaster of Atlas Academy, Ironwood was one of the highest ranking members of Atlas' government, having inherited the role several years prior after the tragic murder of his predecessor.
Around him, at a vast meeting table surrounded by high-backed chairs, were Admirals, Generals, Administrators and Officers, all of them persons of high rank and prestige, or representatives of such people. Atlas' Government believed in military efficiency, and that was what it got: none of Vale's bureaucracy or Mistral's parliamentary infighting or Vacuo's gerrymandering-wracked congresses:
The people in this room made the decisions. Streamlined the process of government. Gave the orders.
And those orders were obeyed. That's what soldiers DID, after all.
However important they were, though, the meetings could sometimes be quite tedious affairs. Ironwood shifted slightly in his hard seat: his ass was starting to fall asleep from sitting for so long.
"Thank you, Commander." A deep, wizened voice spoke from the shadows at the head of the table, their speaker barely visible in the low light, "And now, General Ironwood, what have you to report on the matters of the upcoming Vytal Festival?"
The general's eyes looked towards the far end of the room, where the muscular bulk of High Commander Sandwick Reed, supreme commander of the Atlesian armed forces-and by that nature, the de facto leader of all of Atlas-sat in a well-cushioned command chair, flanked by a pair of his personal staff officers. The Admiral's scarred face, the red lens of his cybernetic eye glinting in the low light, his silver hair cut short in a military crew cut, peered across the vast chamber to fall on the Academy headmaster. Medals of Valor glinted on his crisp uniform jacket, and the servos of his prosthetic left arm whirred in the silence of the room: unlike Ironwood, who hid his augmentations under a glove and a high collar, Reed wore the scars of his valor with pride. And goodness, he had earned them: the High Commander had begun his career as a Cadet when Atlas was still known as Mantle. Through the tumultuous years of the fall of the Old Kingdom and the reorganization into Atlas, Reed had slowly risen through the ranks, engaging both in front-line battles (as testified by his scars) and political wrangling. His contacts, counter-contacts, and counter-counter contacts had finally allowed him to secure an almost unassailable position in Atlas' hierarchy. No one could touch him. And those who DID…well, little was seen from them ever again.
In short, he was not a man to be trifled with. Ironwood owed his position to his relationship with Reed….and he and Reed both knew it.
Ironwood rose from his seat thankfully, trying not to let the mild discomfort of his stationary position show as he felt the eyes of the other officers' fall on him. He could feel Reed's eye scanning him closely as he began to speak.
"The Vytal festival's security measures have been doubled since the incursion into Beacon tower three months ago." Ironwood said as he leaned forward. He could feel the collective eyes of the General's staff on him: he knew the heat was up, considering what had happened a few months prior…
"I have marshaled additional troops to secure Vale's borders, in cooperation with the Vale Rangers and local Huntsmen. We have sealed off all access points that lead to the abandoned sectors, and forbidden entrance by the Huntsmen academy students to those areas."
"What was Ozpin thinking, sending a team of rookies into a hellhole like Mountain Glenn…" one of the Generals muttered off to Ironwood's left.
"Certainly made a mess of things." Another officer, an Admiral, replied.
"Wasn't Eisen's daughter wrapped up in that fiasco?" another General commented. A murmur briefly ran through the assembled personnel.
Ironwood himself fidgeted slightly: he still felt a touch of frustration over the affair of the Grimm Incursion led by Roman Torchwick. When Ruby Rose had offered up a hint to the location of the rebellious forces, he'd been prepared to deploy his fleet to conduct a deep search of the area of the abandoned Mountain Glenn.
And then Ozpin had intervened and sent not a small specialist team, not even a team of professional Huntsmen, or even fourth year students.
No. he had sent a team of FIRST years, headed by Professor Oobleck. Ironwood respected the hyperactive Doctor's intelligence, but he had always struck the General as more of an academic than a warrior.
And what had come of Ozpin's interference?
The largest Grimm incursion into Vale in recent memory. Only his quick intervention with the bulk of his troops had prevented the swarm from spreading. The damage was still being calculated. To say nothing of the lives lost…
He had been barely able to contain his outrage, both at what had occurred and at Ozpin's impassiveness about the whole thing: did he really believe a bunch of children could-?
"ENOUGH."
Ironwood snapped out of his thoughts with a start, the room falling silent as a tomb at Reed's booming voice, as the aged form of the Supreme commander loomed over the table from his command chair.
"This idle chatter is irrelevant: Continue, James."
Ironwood swallowed hard before continuing: Reed was imposing at the best of times…and this certainly wasn't the best of times.
"In addition, the tests of Unit PR-9 are going well. It has surpassed many expectations, and will be more than prepared for its role in the festival. Dr. Polendina should be praised."
A fresh murmur came from the assembled officers, but Reed's voice shut down any other outbursts.
"I should hope it's performing!" the High Commander boomed "Damn clanker nearly cleaned out the R&D budget for the year!"
Ironwood made a show of straightening his tie, letting the tidal waves of Reed's words wash over him before he continued. He had been one of the most ardent supporters of the Artificial Huntsman Project, in light of alarming developments in recent years…
"She-IT, has proven the viability of the concept, Commander. Once Dr. Polendina works out the associated bugs we can move forward with mass-production. Combined with the Siphon we should be able to develop a suitable force by the end of the next Five-year Cycle. We have already begun filtration of the Academy: hopefully the candidates proposed will be deemed acceptable."
"And the mental conditioning?" Reed replied, "How is that effort coming along?"
Ironwood paused: he'd hoped the General wouldn't bring that up. The Mental Conditioning program had begun as a crash-course of behavioral modification in light of PR-9's…eccentricities.
"Early stage observation is going well." Ironwood replied, "The screening process has already selected several candidates for the second stage. We should have more concrete results within two months, though a lack of proper oversight personnel is posing problems-"
"Need I remind you, James, that our whole operation was almost exposed because of PR-9's lack of self-control?"
Ironwood swallowed hard as Reed paused, the red lens of his eye glowing like that of a Grimm in the shadows of the room.
"PR-9 is quite capable, but we cannot have our units running off like impetuous children." Reed continued before Ironwood could reply, "I'm not entirely thrilled with its penchant for…socializing. Dr. Polendina thought it would be prudent to give the unit a self-aware personality independent of control circuits. I disagreed. It seems to have befriended one girl in particular-"
"Ruby Rose, yes." Ironwood cut in, grateful for a change in subject, "She was the one who engaged the intruder into Beacon Tower and tipped us off to the enemy's presence in Mountain Glenn."
From the shadows, Ironwood heard a pause, followed by an approving mumble from the High Commander.
"Commendable girl. I understand she's only 15?"
Ironwood nodded, using his scroll to project a Beacon ID photo of the red/black-haired girl onto the holo-pad set into the table. Ruby's silver eyes gazed out of the picture over the assembled officers.
"Admitted to Beacon two years early, yes, for display of exemplary conduct and abilities. Professor Ozpin seems to have taken a keen interest in her." Said Ironwood.
For a moment, Reed was silent.
Almost…too silent, as he stared at the picture of the young girl. As though something about her had caught his attention…
"Hmm…someone to keep an eye on" he said at last, "See if we can recruit her. But back to the main issue…" Reed continued, pressing a few buttons on the armrest of his chair, causing Ruby's picture to vanish "I feel it may be prudent for one of our own to keep a closer eye on PR-9: it WILL need a "team" to participate in the Festival, no?"
Ironwood nodded.
"That is correct, sir. I took the liberty of choosing a few potential candidates from teams stricken with "Failures." I will upload them to your console for your approval."
Reed nodded, the red bulb of his eye bobbing in the darkness, before he continued.
" And now, onto the other matter at hand as regards security: what of the change in the scheduling of the Festival?"
Ironwood took a moment to adjust his tie once more before he continued: he'd only just been informed of the decision a few days before, and had spent most of the subsequent nights arguing with Ozpin and the Vale council and preparing his statements.
"The decision to move the festival to the beginning of the fall semester, rather than the end, was met with some concern by the Vale council and Professor Ozpin, but I impressed upon them the need for both tighter surveillance and a public morale booster in light of the recent attack on the Vacuo CCTS tower."
That last sentence sent the assembled officers back into murmuring. The recent attack on the Vacuo CCTS tower, besides plunging the world into a communications blackout at the worst possible time, was of deep concern to the Atlesian Military due to both who had been behind the attack…and what had apparently been lost. Shipping orders, locations of supply dumps, weapons shipment schedules…and for Ironwood and Ozpin, some very, VERY sensitive information….
"Do we have any confirmation as to who was behind the attack on the Vacuo Tower?" Reed asked the assembled commanders, waving Ironwood back into his seat.
Opposite the Academy headmaster, a Colonel in the Intelligence service, stood, filing through her scroll as she began to speak.
"Eyewitness accounts differ: some report seeing personnel in white Fang costume, while others state clear humans in plainclothes. They moved swiftly and efficiently: they clearly had a target in mind, but seemed to be going out of their way to be seen as White Fang, with frequent spray-paint stenciling and loud gestures and proclamations, as though trying to make sure all witnesses believed it was the White Fang. This lends credence to the theory that the real force behind the attack was-"
"Requiem."
The room hushed at Reed's spitting of the terrorist group name: "Requiem" had become a dirty word in Atlas. The organization seemed determined to stick its' nose where it most certainly didn't belong. Repeated skirmishes with squads of the black-uniformed "soldiers" dashing out of the woods and attacking Atlas outposts and supply dumps with antique weapons and disparate bands of middle-aged men and women, teenagers and children, mixtures of human and Faunus, often presenting accents out of every settled location on Remnant, had somehow managed to make severe dents in Atlas' military operations…to say nothing of morale.
Somehow, the group's leader had fabricated a sizeable body of people who likely would have quickly fallen victim to the Grimm. To say nothing of his armed personnel…and just WHAT they had been up to…
"And what of this "Pyrrhos" character?" one of the shadowed figures seated around the table suddenly spoke up.
At the sound of that name, Ironwood felt the collective spines of every officer in the room stiffen, his own included.
"Can we be certain he is who our preliminary intelligence says he is?"
The Intelligence Colonel spoke again.
"According to official reports, the subject in question managed to escape shortly after General Schnee's murder. Despite a complete lockdown of the building, he managed to make his way to the sewers and escape. While we cannot rule out cosmetic surgery, the subject's…augmentations do make him stand out."
She paused, tapping a few icons into her scroll. Above the holopad, a pair of photos appeared. One was a grainy security camera image of a young man half-dressed in an Atlas army uniform, a strange, malformed arm clearly visible. His eyes were hidden by a shadowed brow, but a mane of scarlet hair was visible.
The second image, on the other hand, was clearer and more identifiable. It looked like it was taken through a small hole in a tent wall, of a gaunt man hunched over a pile of scrolls and old books. A head of hair, the same scarlet and streaked with gold, was perched on his head.
His back was to the camera, but his left arm was visible. Malformed, death-white, covered in Grimm-like marks….
Looking between the two pictures, it was clear to see they were the same man.
Another General, this one in the Marines, leaned forward.
"That photo was taken at a Requiem outpost almost a year ago, after which he promptly disappeared, and our agent abruptly ceased contact. Our fact-finding missions to locate the "Requiem" main base have proven fruitless, as of late. All our agents are sniffed out and disposed of before they can report back to us or are sent to one of their smaller facilities: Neither brings us closer to our penultimate goal."
Reed leaned forward, his red eye flashing as his anger filled the room like a storm cloud.
"I don't have to tell you all that, so long as that man is at large, so long as this organization of his exists, it is a dagger pointed at Atlas' throat…and all of ours."
Ironwood reflexively swallowed at the imagery as Reed continued, his bionic eye seeming to scan the faces of everyone in the room. He reached out, tapping a broad finger on the table to punctuate his words.
"I want this man found. I want General Schnee avenged. And I want a proper "requiem" for this organization."
For a long moment, the room was silent as the assembled heads nodded almost in unison.
"Good." Reed said. For a moment, his eye glanced away from the table as one of his aides leaned down and whispered in his ear.
"I'm afraid…." He said as he suddenly rose to his feet, causing the others to leap out of their chairs, "…that I must close this meeting ahead of schedule. Something has come up that demands my attention. You are dismissed, return to your duties."
With a CLACK! Of boot heels coming together, the assembled officers snapped to attention and saluted. Reed, still hidden by the shadows, returned the gesture and turned away from the table.
At once, more than two thirds of the figures at the table vanished as their holograms winked out: Duties demanded their presence at their duty stations, and so they had been present via holo-avatar. Only Ironwood, Reed, and a few others had actually been "present."
The General gathered up his scroll and assorted paperwork, as did the others, and began to turn towards the door.
"Ironwood!"
The headmaster froze at Reed's bark of his name. Ignoring the other officers all but fleeing the chamber ahead of him, he straightened to attention as he turned back towards the head of the table. The oppressive red eye fell on him, and he suppressed a shiver.
"I wish to speak to you in private tomorrow morning before your departure." Reed said. "We have a matter to discuss."
Ironwood felt the oppressive eye upon him, like a laser burning a hole in his mind.
"yes sir."
Reed's eye bobbed as he nodded, before he turned away and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Ironwood alone in the room.
For a few long moments, Ironwood stood there, his straight posture living up to his name.
Then the General let out a tremendous release of frustrated breath as he slumped back into his chair. He seemed to deflate, somewhat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he loosened his tie with his prosthetic hand. Despite the chill in the dark chamber he could feel sweat beading on his forehead.
"Sometimes I miss open combat." He muttered to himself.
"Oh come now, James."
Ironwood looked up in surprise at the sound of a new voice. Spinning the chair, his eyes widened as a woman stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed, heels tapping like ice picks on the marble floor. He met her gaze, and for an instant felt like a pair of ice picks had stabbed into his eyes.
"Victoria!" he said in surprise, as he rose to his feet.
General Victoria Rosenholz strutted around the table, the click of her heels stabbing into Ironwood's ears.
She was a striking woman, tall and leggy, and filling out her Atlesian Specialists' uniform perfectly. Her platinum blonde hair was cropped close, with not a single hair out of place over her knife-shaped face. A pair of petite lips, painted red, curled up in a smile that held not an ounce of warmth.
Deep, Ice-blue eyes pondered the seated figure of the Academy headmaster as he sank back into his chair, sighing heavily as he massaged his forehead.
"You didn't tell me you had returned." He said, calming his racing heartbeat as she came up and, spinning the adjacent chair to Ironwood's around, artistically settled into it, crossing her legs and laying her hands in her lap. Her smile never wavered.
"I only just arrived an hour ago." She replied "The High Commander wished to speak with me in private before the meeting: I have a new duty assignment."
Ironwood cocked an eyebrow at the woman as he waited for her to continue, meeting her ice-blue gaze: it felt…more tolerable, with one eye than with both.
He and Victoria had formed a…unique partnership in their time together. Her first assignment with him had been akin to Glynda's role for Ozpin, after Ironwood had taken command of the Academy: overseeing the day-to-day affairs of the students at Atlas academy, dealing with the paperwork and admissions matters, combat rankings and so forth.
But even then, the woman's abilities had struck a chord with the General. Her efficiency had impressed him, as had her…strange personality. He'd been surprised by how he'd missed her when she'd been reassigned to field work.
Something about the woman was enticing…and at the same time frightening. Their closed-doors relationship had been going on for some time now…though Ironwood wondered at times just WHICH of them was getting the better end. To call their relationship "love" might be taking it a bit far: it was more a "mutual advantage" setup, both politically and…in other means. Victoria had possessed high-placed contacts that had in many ways been instrumental in ironwood's appointment to headmaster, though they both knew it had come down to Reed's decision.
Though at times he wondered if Victoria's strange abilities could influence even the High Commander…
"I'll be returning with you to Vale. It seems Reed feels my…advice, will be welcome." She said at last.
Ironwood's eyebrows raised at that: Victoria had been operating in a deep-cover operation for several months, tracking Requiem movements across northern Vale. She'd "gone dark" several times, to his consternation, but she'd always reemerged in short order, and her information had allowed Atlas to anticipate several attacks on their frontiers by Requiem and the White Fang.
"Well." He said at last," It will certainly be…interesting having you around." He replied at last. Victoria's face took on a sympathetic pout…except for her eyes. Those never seemed to lose their freezing fierceness.
"Oooh, James." She cooed, "Are you saying you missed me?"
Ironwood smirked at his partner as she switched her crossed legs, pressing down on the sudden sweat the movement created.
"I won't lie…your…unique personality can be quite…stimulating, at times."
She chuckled at that, though, as always, the warmth never reached her eyes.
Warmth NEVER reached her eyes…
"Well, it's always nice to know one is appreciated." She said as she leaned back in the chair, her eyes never leaving Ironwood's face.
"Quite so." Ironwood replied, feeling a slight sense of… relaxation, "Shall we order in at my apartment? The night should be lovely, the weather service tells me. We do need to…catch up."
For a moment, her glacial gaze seemed to scan his entire face, and he felt a chill go up his spine that had nothing to do with Atlas' frigid climate.
"Sounds enticing…" she replied at last, "But…later. I have a few last matters to attend to."
For some reason, James felt a twinge of disappointment at her words. It must have shown, for Victoria tutted maternally.
"Oh James, be sensible." She said, rising from her chair and leaning forwards over the seated Ironwood.
"We'll be seeing a lot more of each other for the foreseeable future…plenty of time for…"she continued, reaching across the space between them to straighten his tie with her deft fingers,"…catching up."
Ironwood stared into her frozen eyes, trying to calm the rushing heartbeat the woman always seemed to induce. A woman like this…one look into her eyes would tell a clever man she was a powerful ally.
Powerful…and dangerous. He harbored no illusions about his expendability to any plans she had.
of course, considering what BOTH of them were planning….
"We'll be departing for Vale early tomorrow, after I meet with the High Commander." Ironwood said, managing to keep a veneer of professionalism on his face even as Victoria's breath caressed his chin. She was close…VERY close…
"I'll expect you to forward to me any intelligence reports on the matters regarding the security detachments, then," Victoria replied, still nose-to-nose with the General, her smile still on her crimson lips.
"We'll need to be on the lookout for…" Ironwood began, pausing to take a breath, "…for any interference from Requiem…if they are behind the Vacuo attack…the information they stole could be-"
The platinum-haired general silenced Ironwood with a finger to his lips. His eyes widened slightly as she gently shushed him, shaking her head slightly.
"Let me look into this myself" Victoria smiled seductively as she leaned in even closer to Ironwood's face, their eyes separated by mere inches.
"I have a few agents in the field...even Reed doesn't know about them." She whispered, staring into Ironwood's gaze, "If Pyrrhos DOES have the information…if he knows about HER…it won't matter."
For a single, solitary moment, Ironwood contemplated throwing caution to the wind and sweeping Victoria away at that moment.
His ingrained professionalism banished those thoughts before they could even mature.
"If you say so…" Ironwood managed to say at last.
'I do." Victoria whispered, before finally grazing his lips with hers.
[=]
Just a moment, just a single, barely perceptible touch. But it was all that was needed.
Such was how she manipulated men.
Of course, having a pheromone-manipulation semblance and being drop-dead gorgeous to boot didn't hurt either. Men-and women-were like puppets to her whims. Those few she could not lure through her beauty and power, she dominated though their natural hormones.
And those few she could not manipulate at all…well, that's what having the de facto leader of Atlas and the Commandant of the Academy on your side were for.
Ironwood seemed to have melted into his chair, and she could swear she saw sparks flying from his prosthetics. She almost burst out laughing at how easily she played with him…if he wasn't so thick-headed she might actually have a challenge on her hands.
But such was her life…and her ambitions. Getting Ironwood onto her side was the easy part: on the battlefield, the man was untouchable, in his element. As a commander, he gave off this veneer of control that few could match, aside from the High Commander himself.
Ask him to function outside that sort of environment? You might as well as for unlimited shares in Schnee Dust for pennies on the Lien. One need only look at his pathetic attempts to assert himself over Ozpin…or that stuck-up witch Glynda.
Victoria knew full well who the controlling partner was in their relationship…and who was going to profit the most from it. Ironwood controlled the next generation of Atlesian Huntsmen…and the next generation of Atlesian soldiers.
She was going to mold them like clay…all the better to serve her goals… serve her…
Victoria's eyes perked up, as though she had remembered something. Tugging on Ironwood's tie, she brought him back to the here and now.
"Winter is on your staff, isn't she?"
[=]
(AN: Another shorty, but developing some intrigue….)
