Atlas
General Ironwood's mouth was set harder than his namesake. None of the men under him dared even look in his direction, lest they attract some of his ire. His gaze was moving at superhuman speeds across the screens in front of him, which was unsurprising given the extensive enhancements his visual faculties had undergone. His screen was full of what looked like jumbled letters, codes, and numbers like to someone with normal eyes. To someone with Ironwood's implants, the information displayed on the screen was automatically converted into electrical signals that allowed his brain to perceive the information in a three-dimensional fashion, rather than the simple two dimensions a screen displayed its data on.
This allowed him to visualize maps and plans without the need of perspective projections. What used to be a complicated mess of windows and alerts soon became interconnected meshes that allowed for intuitive rearrangement with a simple thought. He could also use any screen, no matter how its display was configured since the implant did most of the work. It was quick, efficient, and most importantly, secure. As far as they knew.
The still organic areas around his right eye twitched as new information continued to pour in. He had long given up trying to pay attention to the Level 1 information that gathered in the furthest layer of his vision like storm clouds on the horizon. His attention wasn't even on the Level 2 or Level 3, but rather on the Level 5 threats that kept popping up like the heads of a Hydra. Who knows? Maybe a Hydra does pop up somewhere. That would be just my luck.
Drowning amongst the reinforcement requests from deployed Hunter teams, distress calls from Atlesian squads, and reports of Mahan Grimm showing up around Kingdom borders, James Ironwood didn't quite catch the automated reports of heat signatures popping up around Beacon Plateau, or the miniscule twitch in Grimm concentrations towards what used to be Beacon Proper. If he had, he might have been able to finish the puzzle that was spread in front of him. If he had finished that puzzle, he would have sprung into action, realizing the immediate danger that faced Sanus.
But he didn't, and so he continued to fight to stay ahead of the Grimm, while putting together a puzzle with half its pieces missing. A tough, but futile battle.
Beacon Ruins
CLANG
CLANG
CLANG
The pounding of metal was loud enough to be heard of miles around. The sound, both tinny and powerful at once, echoed off the rubble and fallen trees, disturbing the Grimm patrolling the fallen academy. They skulked through the ruined hallways, digging, bashing, doing their best to find the source of the sound. They could feel…something. None of the younger Grimm understood it, frustrating them to no end, and they scratched their muzzles to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling it aroused in them.
The older Grimm stayed away from one area particularly; years of survival-honed senses identifying the culprit. They knew this feeling that plagued the smaller Grimm. It would not do to be rash now; after all, being rash only led to death. A similar thought was going through the mind of the genius who tolled under that rubble.
Jaune Arc
Jaune rolled his shoulders and fell onto his makeshift mattress in the corner of his lab, breathing an almost violent sigh. It had been a full day since everything had gone to shit, and here he was, with no real progress to show for it.
He closed his eyes and willed his muscles to relax, taking deep breaths in a meditative exercise. This feeling was driving him nuts, especially because there was nothing he could do about it, which was viciously ironic. He had gone over his entire inventory, which hadn't gone unscathed during the battle.
He had lost everything above ground, which amounted to about 60% of his Dust and most of his less volatile weaponry. Mercury's sabotage attempt had destroyed half his working bodies, and the unfinished bodies had been destroyed in the power cut. Cleaning that mess up was something he was putting off, despite his best judgement.
He had changed into a new body and dumped the old one into the furnace, putting the weapons and armor into a bin. He would have to manually recycle those components instead of relying on his machines; he didn't have enough electricity to run his lab at peak efficiency. It was like being stuck in the past, or in a cave with a box of scraps.
His weapon and auxiliary Dust stores were mercifully left untouched by Mercury, who apparently was smart enough to realize that messing with volatile prototypes and a near-magical source of energy wasn't a good idea,
Jaune had spent the past 4 hours cleaning the entire lab and bringing it to something slightly resembling a usable state. The physical labor left his mind free to think of a plan to approach Emerald, Mercury's partner, without either of them dying. She was the obvious first target as she would either have been an accomplice in his plan or would have executed a complimentary plan. Once he had some more context about Cinder's strikes, he could plan better.
Half his plans of getting to Emerald went up in smoke off the bat, most of them consisting of a meeting of their base and a very, very large explosion. He couldn't also rely entirely on stealth either, since he would have to go all in in streamlining his loadout, which didn't leave a lot of room for error. He couldn't risk being caught and if he was, the element of surprise of his survival would go up in smoke. That was the only major advantage he had right now: his enemies didn't know that he had survived. He would have to strike hard, strike fast, and exfiltrate. All without leaving behind any evidence leading back to Jaune Arc.
He was also operating under very little intel. He knew where the base was, and the rough area where the command center was, but other than that he would have to wing it once inside. He couldn't afford to waste days on building microdrones and scouting the inside of the base.
His gaze flicked to the glowing crystal sitting on a desk in the corner of the room. It glowed with a dark light from within, its source non-physical. It was Pyrrha's aura, concentrated and stored in a pure Dust crystal. The events that had transpired on Beacon tower flashed through his mind, breaking the seals he had put up around them.
I killed Pyrrha. His inner voice was emotionless.
A psychologist worth his salt would have a field day with his thoughts.
But Jaune, you had to! There was no way of saving her. Another voice spoke, brighter, more earnest. It was either your hand or Cinder's. This was the cleaner option.
He had killed her.
There was no way she was getting out of that situation alive. This way, she at least has a chance at coming back.
A snowball's chance in hell, sure.
That's still better than zero.
Jaune sighed. He knew that what he had done was…something that was very hard to rationalize, even to himself, but he had done it nonetheless. Cinder was too powerful to defeat, and escape was next to impossible. Even he, who had triggered the explosions, had managed to barely cling to life and had lost half of that body's limbs.
Then there was the issue of the time loop that had made him suffer through the battle repeatedly. He had had to watch Pyrrha die at that villain's hand and witness friends and classmates fall and fall again at the tearing claws of the Grimm. As far as he knew, he was the only person to be sent back through time, and the only trigger that caused it to happen was Pyrrha's death. That was, until he had done the deed himself.
The effect of Pyrrha's death was obvious: broadcasted to the rest of Vale, it had caused chaos, anger, and panic in record quantities. The emotion effect amongst Beacon's inhabitants was like that of a nuclear bomb going off. Most had heard of Jaune Arc, Beacon's young genius weaponsmith who had managed to impress even the smartest engineers. The shock of watching the betrayal live created a veritable feast from the Grimm, who's next attack was thrice as ferocious as any before. Vale had fallen before Pyrrha even hit the ground.
Whatever (or whoever, there was a scary thought) had sent him back in time was obviously benefiting from this. They had had him repeat the gauntlet until he had delivered the final blow, whereupon they let the flow of time continue unmolested. Whoever was responsible wanted Vale to fall, and that made it an enemy.
But he can manipulate the flow of time itself! What's to stop him from exploiting this power whenever Jaune did anything to strike back? How can you win against someone like that?
Jaune's breath came in shorter gasps. He closed his eyes and crossed his legs, meditating and bringing his body back from the brink of panic. This required logical thought, not rushing in blindly. First things first, getting to Emerald. He opened his eyes, reaching out for his pen and paper unconsciously, writing down thoughts as they flowed through his mind. Pages upon pages were filled with unconnected words, random phrases, numbers, and diagrams. As he continued to fill the notepad, things started to condense, random drawings from different pages would mesh, tables of numbers were calculated, and his computer screen flashed with information as he pulled it from his databases.
He sat in this trance for close to an hour, fingers flying over his keyboard and moving his pen across dozens of sheets of paper. Finally, he sat back and stretched, groaning contentedly. This was what he lived for. The planning, calculation, the pure engineering of constructing a plan. Analyzing success criteria, potential failure points, possible paths, balancing every priority, ensuring that all his needs were satisfied, this where true pleasure lay for him.
On the computer screen in front of him was the final suit he had decided upon, along with an evolving plan he had come up with on another monitor. The plan was not concrete, but he had programmed in potential situations and pitfalls into it and modified an existing decision engine to help him figure out the best action in the heat of things. It wasn't perfect, but it would clear up programming power in his brain and let him focus on the execution of said plan.
"Emerald Sustrai, it's time we had a little chat."
White Fang Base
"Hey, hey you see that bush?" A deer faunus in a White Fang grunt outfit shook his partner's shoulder. His partner, a rabbit faunus jumped with the sudden touch.
"Lay off man, you almost gave me a heart attack!" The rabbit faunus smoothed his sleeve, trying to stop himself from shaking. Every time he got spooked his body dumped adrenaline into his body and caused him to shake with fright if he didn't fight or flight. It was extremely embarrassing for him.
"It's urgent! I could swear that bush moved just now."
"Probably just the wind shaking one of the lights." The rabbit faunus spoke, his previous fright bolstering his confidence. "Happens all the time. Most people on their first day are just like you, jumping at anything that moves. Just relax." He sat back in his chair, watching the nervous-looking recruit. His only faunus feature were his large blue-brown doe-like eyes, which further added to his terrified expression.
"Ugh, fine. You'll see it's nothing." He got out of his chair, pushing the golden-brown haired faunus off to the side. He leaned out the window, holding his binoculars to his eyes. "Yeah. Nothing. No one's gonna attack this place."
He lowered his binoculars and started to turn, only to have a leg fly out from under him, destroying his balance. His hip hit the edge of the open window and he teetered, the sudden motions freezing his body. He felt hands on his legs and bushy tail and he flew out the window, landing in a heap at the bottom of the watchtower.
The deer faunus moved away from the window, all traces of his previous emotions gone from his face. He took the walkie-talkie off his belt and tuned it to the emergency broadcast channel. "This is Tobias! Wellers just fell out Watchtower 3! He was alone, possible intruder, all personnel investigate, now!"
With the fake announcement done, the deer faunus put the walkie-talkie back into his belt and opened the window opposite the one Wellers had 'fallen' out of. He stepped out onto the ledge and heaved himself onto the dark roof. He wasted no time in watching the base rouse itself and opened the box he had stashed here before Wellers' shift. He took off his White Fang uniform and quickly put on the patchily colored, earthen-toned, lightly armored tight suit. He draped a few strands of camouflage netting over himself, connecting them to each other. One wire remained which he plugged into his helmet.
It was sleek but rigid, making his head look different than the real shape of his skull. The netting served a similar purpose: breaking up the real shape of his body and changing it to avoid detection and recognition. His view of the world lit up as the HUD came online, displaying data from sensors in the suit and those on the outskirts. Night vision, infrared, SONAR, LIDAR, and visual data all poured into his suit and into his eyes. He strapped a short sword to his waist and two throwing knives to his legs. He finished the ensemble by strapping some armor on vital positions on his torso and legs.
He put the White Fang uniform back into the box and closed it. He turned to the perimeter and searched for a mine he had tagged before getting into the base. He aimed and threw the box, watching it sail over the first responders and onto the mine. The mine exploded but he didn't wait around to watch it.
The moment the first responders flinched back into the protection of their jeep, he leapt from the watchtower and onto flat ground next to the road, wisps of white aura the only indication of his aura-assisted landing. He scrambled into the bushes lining the side of the road and watched two more jeeps drive by, sliding to a stop in a tactical stop, blockading the road.
He breathed a sigh of relief. The first part of his plan had worked out great. The dead guard was to distract their attention to the watchtower, and the mine was to make them think there were multiple intruders and deploy in greater numbers. The more people here, the less people there would be near the command center. With this near-emergency situation, discipline would be close to breaking point and they would descend into chaos if there were any more out-of-the-blue attacks.
Shock and awe. It felt great using their own strategy against them.
He remained in a crouched position and moved as fast as he could to a nearby barracks, moving in its shadows along a path he had mapped out while on the roof. There would be minimized risk of encountering any soldiers here, and the riskiest barracks seemed to be already deployed on patrols.
He made it to the chain-link fence that separated the command structure from the rest of the barracks. It was a square, squat, two-story concrete building that looked like a mix between an older office building and a Soviet bunker. Lights shown out of less than half the rooms, which made sense. Most of the higher ups and officers would be out closer to the action to direct and supervise the sacking of Vale. All the better for him.
White aura pooled around his feet and he used some of the Gravity Dust in his soles to barely clear the barbed top of the fence. Some of his netting caught on the barbs and were ripped out, but he didn't notice. His attention was on the unexpected two-man patrol that was walking towards him from his right, walking away from his distraction. They were too close to risk movement and so he crouched still, randomizing the color of some of the panels on his suit to help blend into the rocky ground. It came at the cost of armor and added weight, but what good was armor if he had the wrath of an entire operating base concentrated upon him?
He watched them as they slowly made their way over to his location and walked past him. He relaxed and then immediately froze as the Faunus further away turned, face slightly turned up and his nose twitching.
Bear faunus. Superhuman smelling ability. Son of a-
The faunus's eyes bored straight into his. He reached into his holster and only managed to pull his gun out halfway before his arm was torn away below the elbow and hit his partner. The first soldier stared in shock at his new stump, blood barely visible on his face in the dark light. His partner recoiled backwards and into a sword. His frenzied heartbeat caused his heart to cut itself to pieces against the steel of the sword and he dropped soundlessly to the ground.
The one-armed faunus froze with his mouth agape and eyes wide. The assailant pulled back his free arm and threw a knife straight into his mouth. He too dropped silently. Wiping the weapons on the clothes of the soldiers, he dragged the bodies into the shadows behind a nearby empty storage shed. The path to the command center now free, he made his way over considering his angle of attack.
White Fang Armory
The conversation bubbling in the armory died almost immediately as the green-haired girl stalked in. She walked over to her locker, the soldiers all around her hastily finishing up the maintenance on their weapons. They knew how wise it was to avoid her when she was angry and now that her partner still hadn't returned from his mission she was simply a stack of Scorch Dust sitting next to a blazing fire. A lieutenant had gotten on her bad side and had now was looking at years in physical therapy healing his broken spine. No one had tried to antagonize after that.
She reached her locker and unpacked the weapon maintenance station, a metal cabinet with cleaning supplies, spare tools, and other materials in drawers below a metal surface that had a light and magnifying glass attached.
She pulled out her twin revolver sickles and unloaded them before placing them on the table. She started to disassemble her weapon, cleaning each component with the utmost care, utterly losing herself in her work. She had fully disassembled the weapon and was cleaning the receiver when she felt a presence behind her. She whirled around with the sickles in each hand only to see the janitor staring at her weapons and clutching his broom. His portable cabinet of cleaning supplies was next to him, coming up to about navel high for the man.
"What do you want?" She growled. This one must be new. Every other one knew to stay away from her and they always found creative reasons to go clean another floor on another wing. It was amusing to her.
"Just…just trying to clean m…ma'am." His voice was a little high pitched, probably in fright and his blue-brown eyes were wide with fear. His face was pale, and his golden-brown hair peaked out from under his hat.
She glared at him for a few seconds more, enjoying his cringing, before turning back to her bench. The janitor moved to his cabinet and started opening drawers. She refocused on her weapon, losing interest in the new janitor as he cleaned the lockers and floors left messy by the hasty retreat of the other soldiers.
She started reassembling her weapons, only to discover a part missing: a screw that attached the chain to the handle of the right gun. She looked around her to find it, and saw it glinting under feet. Wait a second, it's in the shadows, how is it glinting?
Her eyes widened as the screw disintegrate into pure light and sound straight into her face, blasting her backwards. She fell onto something hard and arms snaked around her torso. Before she could even move an inch, the sharp edge of a blade stopped all thoughts.
What? Who? The janitor?
She felt herself lowered into a sitting position on the ground, with her assailant kneeling behind her. Her head was pulled backwards, and the janitor's face loomed upside-down in her vision. There was no trace of fear in his eyes and a large smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, which shimmered with dark humor and a promise of utmost harm.
"No one ever looks at the meek twice. Shame you didn't learn that lesson earlier." His smile disappeared. "Now, you're going to tell me everything about your last mission."
Her right hand was pinned under the 'janitor's' foot as he kneeled behind her, while her left was pulled behind her with his left hand. His right hand held the sharp motivation for her to remain still. Her mind whirled. She had to stall until she got enough room to use her semblance and escape. Some brave idiot bursting in would do the trick. Someone had to have heard the blast of the flashbang.
"Why? You're faunus, the White Fang are doing this for you."
"I'm the one asking questions, you would do well to remember that." The pressure against her throat increased, turning her involuntary gulp painful. "Your stalling won't change a thing. No one's coming here. Now I ask again, what was your mission?"
Emerald looked around in vain. There was no reason to believe the man, but there was no reason to only hope on a distraction.
"Fine, I'll tell you, on one condition."
"We'll see. I seem to have all the chips right now, but I guess we can come to an agreement if your information is deemed…thorough enough."
Emerald nodded the tiniest of nods. "Alright, fine. My mission was to lead the south flank of the White Fang through the agriculture zone and capture the farms."
A yelp of pain escaped her as the knife made a small cut into her throat. "A lie."
Her breathing deepened, and her head was forced further backwards. "Fine! I was helping hack the…" Another scream escaped her as he lengthened the cut.
"Not far to the jugular little Emerald." He chuckled mirthlessly.
She was almost crying now. For all the bravado and self-confidence she showed on the outside, there was something broken inside her the entire time. Cinder had helped hide that and make her into the woman she was today, but the reality of dying at the hands of this psychopath broke that.
"I was looting the Maiden's aura transfer machine under Beacon." She managed to get out, her voice hoarse. "That's the truth. Please don't kill me." A tear broke from the wetness in her eyes and traced a path down her chocolate brown face. His eyes traced that tear and she dared hope he would show mercy.
"I see. That's a better job than stealing the possessions of a dead man."
She gasped. "You know where Mercury is?" She blurted out, her emotions playing havoc with her self-restraint. Mentally she was back in her childhood years, with the familiar threat of death hanging over her at ever moment. She had never felt so defeated.
"He's dead. Got trapped in one of Arc's vaults and starved to death." His voice was blunt, emotionless, and cold as ice. "Good riddance."
Emerald slumped. She had suspected this for the past couple of days but had held out hope that Mercury was simply pinned down by Grimm or had had to take a detour.
"Well Emerald, you have been very cooperative today. Unfortunately, your information just isn't what I was looking for."
Emerald's eyes widened in fear. "What?! I told you what you asked for!"
"Where is that machine now?"
"Vale Industrial District, Sector 81, Wells Electronics Manufacturing warehouse. It's hidden behind a stack of empty Schnee Shock Dust Crates. Are you happy now?"
"One last thing. Which maiden are you going after next?"
The cold metal dug in slightly deeper into her wound and she blurted out the answer before realizing what she'd said. "The Spring Maiden!"
"Thank you. As a show of good faith, I'm going to take back this unfortunate implement. I hope you stay cooperative, I'd hate for you to get hurt before you get to state your condition." The knife disappeared from her throat and the man reached for something behind him.
Emerald barreled forwards, breaking the man's grip and reaching her weapon table in a blink of an eye. She dumped all her energy into an illusion, flooding the room with copies of herself. She watched the man, who had put on a helmet (why?) step backwards in confusion. She had the illusory clones all circle around him. She went with the crowd, circling around her tormentor. He had pulled out a sword from a drawer in the janitor trolley but had no armor. She would take her time killing him, taking pleasure in his pain. She would have plenty of time: as he said, no one was coming.
She waited two seconds, three, four, now. She had half her clones leap at the man who batted them off and retreated from their assault right into her waiting jaws. She held her blades to her side and leaped, intending to impale them into his back.
Instead, she found herself four feet in the air, the man's expressionless helmet staring up at her, his sword all the way through her abdomen. She gaped in shock, the cold of the metal traveling through her core and shutting down vital processes. She tried to pull herself off, but the blade was too slick with her own blood.
Her struggles grew weaker as blood continued to leak out of her, slowly. The pain was worse than anything she had felt. The man stood, staring at her. She swung at the side of his helmet, hoping for a reaction, but all she got for her troubles was a bruised hand which only added to the pain addling her brain.
"Why?" She croaked out. It was all she could manage. The man seemed to understand her meaning behind that one word.
"You know why. Some may call this psychopathic. I call this justice." He put her down and pushed her off his sword, leaning in to speak into her ear. "When you get to hell, tell your master than Jaune Arc will not stop until the entire debt has been repaid."
Her eyes widened as her mental faculties shut down. Her last thought was disbelief and her last image was that of the man stalking off, stashing his helmet in his trolley, and pushing the trolley out of the room as if he truly was simply just a janitor and not a phantom risen from the dead.
Jaune paused as the door closed behind him. His eyes were closed, and his emotions in turmoil. Putting the lid back on them, he barred the gate behind him and took an elevator to the bottom floor, activating fire alarms as he went. He stopped by the janitorial closet to put his 'borrowed' clothes back on the real janitor and donned his armor. He left the same way he entered, through the maintenance door that only the help used. It had been unlocked and had offered Jaune the perfect setup for his plan.
Jaune sprinted for the fence and hopped it, detonating the charges in the janitor trolley. The side of the command center blew out and a plume of smoke rose 30 feet into the air. Jaune smiled grimly.
The mission had gone swimmingly. He had managed to prove that he could make a body that could pass for a human-like faunus (apparently just increasing the size of his eyes was enough to make him look non-human), infiltrated the White Fang base, gotten the information he had wanted, rid himself of an enemy, and had made a successful escape. It truly was almost flawless.
But then why did he feel so empty?
AN: Thanks for reading guys! Please do review! If you have any thoughts or ideas, or if there are any typos or issues, a PM would be preferred since that enables me to respond easier. Hope you enjoyed!
Also, almost a thousand goddamn follows! Thanks you so much for the support guys. I know it's nowhere close to a lot (even just in RWBY) but it's a lot to me. Thanks again.
Until next time!
