The Fractured Reflection
"Ready. Aim. Fire!"
The crack of rifle fire echoed over the chill of the Atlesian summer air. Brigadier General Winter Schnee stood at attention as she saluted with the rest of the officers to her left and right. Standing in front of them all was General Ironwood. All of them were wearing their parade dress uniforms, shoes shined and uniforms wrinkle free with creases ironed in place. Every piece of their uniform was looked over for perfection, for the honoured dead deserved nothing less.
"Ready. Aim. Fire!"
It was so easy to lose track of those around her when she stood at the General's right hand for so long. Even before that, as a Schnee, she was raised to be above everyone and everything around her. But the General was a human above all else, and through his actions, she too remembered that she was only human. And as a human, things need to be celebrated, cried over, and remembered. From the smallest child to the oldest parent, life was worth every rise and fall, no matter who you were in the world.
"Ready. Aim. Fire!"
At least Mistral had enough respect for the dead to send bodies back, and if they could not, they at least gave the effort to bury them.
Before her, three dozen white caskets were suspended over open graves; each having a white flag with the spear and gear of Atlas draped them. Each casket held a body; a soldier of the Atlas Military. Each casket held the body of someone who was once a daughter or a son, a father, a mother... They had friends and family who loved them, and now they had nothing. The family and friends they once had were crowded around their loved ones, saying their final goodbyes before the bodies were lowered into the cold Atlesian soil.
On a hill nearby, a single soldier pressed a brass bugle to his lips and began to play a haunting melody over the stillness of the afternoon air. Winter could hear people's sobs and choked cries as children were hushed for wondering why their parents were being hidden, buried in the ground. As the last call of the bugle lingered over the cemetery, soldiers began to work systematically and folded each flag with precision. Once the flag was folded into a triangle, they would present it to a family member, then move on to the next one.
Once they were finished, the bodies were then lowered by pulleys into their final resting place. Winter watched as one woman walked towards a lowering casket and placed a hat on top of it before it got too low. It was black with a single blue band wrapped around it. From her position, she saw the General's jaw clench and his hands shake as they balled into fists, fighting off the emotions that make them human. Winter was trained, but it was still hard for her as well, she was blinking a lot more often, keeping the tears at bay, she recognised her from when Ironwood knocked on the Coal family's door to tell them their son had died.
With him, she saw how families were torn apart by a few simple words. Some were silent, simply numbed by the news and unsure what to do now. Most people broke down in hysterical crying. Others were simply angry and lashed out at anyone near them, most of the time it was Ironwood himself. She watched as a man that was half the size of the General pushed him across the hall and shouted at him, saying it was his fault his daughter was dead. Winter only unsheathed her sabre twice, they got the message crystal clear after that.
The other officers began to file out one after another as the holes were filled with dirt. The ending of the burial ceremony had several families leaving with tears in their eyes and sorrow in their hearts. A few people stayed behind to stay just a little longer with the dead; the General was one of them, and Winter refused to leave his side. Ironwood personally went to each of the Specialist's families to deliver the news. Winter began to go with him after he returned with a few cuts on his face from when someone threw a bottle at him.
With the last grave filled, the General finally left his place and walked between the fresh soil, Winter not far behind with her cane in hand. They walked silently through the military graveyard; each grave was marked by a small, white stone pillar that stood two feet tall. Each bore the name of those who were buried, the day they were born, and the day that they died. Each plot was spread out perfectly from the others, forming neat and straight lines all over. Winter stopped when Ironwood did; the two officers were now standing in front of a large stone statue depicting soldiers from each era of Atlas.
From the settlers of Mantle with swords and shields to the first musketmen and onwards to the modern soldier, each of them stood in a large circle holding up a large torch that had been lit for the first time over ten years ago. The tomb of the unknown soldier. Flowers were laid before it along with pictures of people were who believed to be dead but have not been found yet. Etched into a brass plate, the words of the tomb stood out for all to read:
For every soul named and laid to rest, a hundred go unnamed, unremembered and unmourned in the unknown.
Behind them, footsteps sounded on the stone path they stood upon. Turning to see who it was, she saw it was the same woman who placed the black hat on one of the caskets. The white-haired woman remembered her as the mother of Specialist Flynt Coal. Her skin was a few shades darker than her son's, and heavy bags sat under her eyes from age and nights spent awake, mourning for him. Her frizzy black hair was pulled back into a small bun, streaks of grey mixed in. She was wrapped in a black jacket to protect from the chill as she held the folded flag in her hands.
"General."
"Mrs Coal," Ironwood stepped forward and stood before her. While she stood almost two feet below him, she never wavered. "once again, I am sorry for-"
"Shut it, Ironwood!" she interrupted the General while looking up at him, "I hope you're happy with yourself. It's true what they say though, the old wage wars and it's the young who die!"
"Mrs Coal," Winter interjected, "I wish there was something we could have done."
"So do I!" The older woman's attention was now on Winter. "If you had died in his place, then my boy would still be alive, and his father could see him again instead of working a job with nothing to show for it just to put food on the table! He couldn't afford any sick days so he can't be here for my Flynt's burial!"
"Mrs Coal, please," Ironwood spoke up sternly, "your son knew exactly what he was doing when he volunteered to join the Special Operations Unit."
"I'll tell you one thing, Ironwood," the woman said as she pointed at him, "My son left me, and all that came back was a flag." She clutched the folded flag tightly to her chest as her eyes welled up and spilt over. "The only thing I have left of my baby boy is a flag!" she cried out to him over and over again as her sorrow flowed freely. Winter could do nothing but look away in shame since she was lucky enough to make it out with a blown leg while others lost everything.
A man walked up to the crying woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Opal. That's enough now." He was a young man with bright orange hair and green eyes. What stood out was long, thin whiskers that stood out from his cheeks near his upper lip. She knew him as Bromo Katt, the older brother of Specialist Katt who had died with Flynt in Mistral. She remembered that the Katt family were more on the numbed side when they were told the news. Neon's father and two brothers held their mother as she broke down in tears, then Bromo numbly thanked the general before quietly closing the door.
The young man simply nodded to them before helping the grieving mother back to the Katt family who was waiting for their ride. Winter was glad she was not going through it alone. Looking back at Ironwood, she saw him staring at the ground and shaking his head. "I failed them, Winter," he began softly, "I failed them. They were my Specialists. My soldiers. My students. They came to my school looking to defend the world against the darkness, and now they're dying by the hands of men over this stupid war..." He was angry, furious with himself that it has gone this far.
He was not the only one that felt that they had failed in some way or another. Memories of what had happened to her detachment of soldiers flooded her mind, of fire and shrapnel as it rends through armour and Aura alike. If she had been better, or more observant, eighteen lives could have come home instead of six. She blamed herself, wishing that she had died instead of the man she talked to just before the ambush. Congratulating him on becoming a father before the fire started.
Winter let him release his frustrations through his own misgivings for a few moments before she took a deep breath and stood at attention in front of him, earning a look. "If we're done here, sir, there is something I'd like to discuss with you." The General took a deep breath and collected himself. The moment of remembrance and grieving was over; now he had a war to win. With a determined nod, they made their way to the waiting car. Once inside, the driver rolled up a screen that cut off the back seats from the driver's seat.
"I trust you looked over the file I gave you?" Winter asked as she looked out the window. The scenery began to slowly shift as they picked up speed and drove down the winding roads of Atlas.
"Yes," Ironwood began as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. Pressing the switch, a part of it flipped out and a red light began to blink as a high pitch hum came from it. That device should cancel out any potential bugs that may have been planted either inside the cab or on their bodies without them knowing. "and it concerns me greatly that our intel division hadn't caught wind of this."
"Perhaps they're in on it?"
"Maybe. I still don't like it," Ironwood sighed as he placed the device on the seat between them, "Are you sure these files are real?"
"Weiss wouldn't lie to me." That much was true, ever since they were young she had always gone to her big sister whenever anything bothered her. Even in the large, cold manor, Winter had always had a warm smile for her younger sister; except for the day their father had tried to marry her off to someone she did not even know the name of. It was good for business and the family, he had told her. She had told him off and joined the military to escape him, only to realise that her actions had the consequence of leaving little Weiss alone with him.
So she did her best to help her younger sister and train her the best she could to prepare her to become a Huntress; to escape their father's inexhaustible reach and influence. She was so proud of Wiess when she heard that she would be leaving Atlas to attend Beacon. That pride turned to ash as Weiss became just another name on a roster when the war broke out. People were calling it a police action at first, a security measure and a force to root out the White Fang. It was only after the first bomb fell, the people finally gave the "police action" the proper name it deserved:
The Second Great War.
And the man who planted the seed of war and nurtured it fully now stood in one of the most influential positions in the world. The elected Chancellor of Public Health, Arthur Watts.
When Winter arrived at the base the day after the news began about the Third and Fourth assaults, she was beyond furious at her younger brother. When she came in that day, she was ready to run him through with her sabre for what he did, but instead, she opened her locker and found a folder case hidden amongst her belongings. When she opened it, she read a small note left by Weiss, hoping she had made the right choice in trusting her sister. She had spent the entire day reading over the files and felt disgusted at what the younger Schnee had found.
It was only after a very long thought process and mentally arguing with herself did she bring the files to General Ironwood's attention. While the timing could have been better, the sooner he knew, the better.
"Why though. All the pieces fit into place, except for the why," Ironwood traced the metal band just above his eyebrow. It was a small tell Winter discovered whenever he was thinking too hard or when he was stressed. "He wanted power, he organised an attack, and he assassinated his predecessor so that he could be elected by a vote of peers instead of a public vote; as mandated by the emergency policy during times of crisis. Then he starts telling everyone that complete control is the only way to ensure the safety of the people. A policy I hate to admit works if only in theory.
"With a nation behind him and popularity on his side, he forces the war into its final stages, where casualties will be at its highest. He knows that Weiss knows, that's why he sent her back out; hoping the problem will take care of itself. Not to mention that your brother is at his side constantly, probably as a hostage along with you." He ran his hands down his face and sighed heavily. "I hate looking at a chess board with missing pieces, it's more Ozpin's game than mine."
Pocketing the device that was still on, the General and Winter got out of the car and began to walk across the base to the offices. "Any word from him, sir?"
"Nothing, not a message, sighting or body to be seen. The man isn't even here and he still frustrates me."
They walked through the hallways, Winter limping as quickly as she could on her cane as they entered the office of General Ironwood, only to find it completely totalled. Papers and books were tossed about as well as personal effects scattered and scratched. At first, Winter thought someone had caught on already. Maybe their cancellation device was not effective anymore, and Watts's men tore the office apart looking for the evidence. A breeze caught a few pages and made them blow around the room, amending her earlier theory into someone left the window open, and judging by the black ball on his desk, a bird flew in.
Said black bird began to dance around his desk, its small claws tapping on the expensive wood under it as it cawed and flapped its wings around. If Winter did not know better, she would say the pest was laughing. Ironwood simply sighed heavily and hung his head. "Winter, if you could please get one of the sanitation personnel." With a nod, Winter turned and took a step to leave.
"Let her stay, Jimmy, I'm not going to say anything that'll spill the beans," A frustratingly familiar, gravelly voice came from the room. Slowly turning, she saw Qrow Branwen sitting in the General's chair, his feet kicked on top of his desk and lounging like he owned the place. In one hand was his flask, in the other, a bottle from Ironwood's personal liqueur cabinet being emptied into that flask. Winter stared in disbelief; she had only looked away for two seconds and the man appeared out of thin air like he so aggravatingly often did.
"What are you doing here Qrow?" Ironwood nearly yelled.
The shabby man simply shrugged, "You always have the good stuff."
"QROW!"
"The board is set up," the man said as he got up and simply capped off his flask and downed the rest of the bottle with ease. "The last pieces are in place, we were just waiting on you." Qrow then pulled out the small file folder that held all the evidence that Weiss had collected. "Best find a better place for this than your locked desk drawer." Ironwood simply grabbed the papers out of his hand and shook his head.
"Do you have any idea how much I hate you?" he asked. The man just laughed as he walked towards the window, a slight stagger in his step.
"Just be thankful I can't crap on command. And bring the Ice Queen, she's always fun to have around." With nothing more to say, Qrow jumped out the window and vanished from sight. Winter was stunned into silence as Ironwood simply sat at his desk and pulled out his own flask to take a long drink from it. After a moment, Winter finally found her voice.
"What was that all about?" she asked as she limped to the window to try and find the man so she could shoot ice at him.
"I have no idea, but I suggest you pack your things."
"Sir?" She looked back to the General as he was reading one of the reports on his desk, her attention was quickly taken away from the sound of a loud horn blaring through the base from off in the distance where the naval docks were located. Hovering above the world, a dreadnaught was armed and ready for war. The Mantle of Responsibility had just been outfitted with upgrades and getting ready to take off towards the Mistral front.
"We've got a war to end."
No! No this could not be happening, this was an impossible sight. Tyrian stood on the ridge overlooking the war zone, his eyes wide in disbelief as Arachne, his daughter, was slaughtered by that red cloaked bitch ! He watched as her body flopped to the ground like a ragdoll and she was gone from this world. Falling to his knees, tears fell freely from his eyes as her body transformed from the perfection that she was to the living tide of darkness. He wept for the loss of the Ancient one but took solace that her suffering was short.
His grieving was short lived however when a voice spoke to him from behind. "Tyrian," He knew that voice, he worshipped it whenever he could and dreamed of it when he slept. Quickly shifting so he was still kneeling, he turned to his Queen behind him, only to find where her voice came from. A single Seer was floating before him, its long red tendrils tipped off with white claws, and fangs protruding from its dark, translucent head.
"My Queen!" he cried out in devotion.
"What has happened here?" her voice echoed through the floating Grimm. With each word she spoke, a yellow light grew and diminished with each syllable, "Tell me."
Of course, she knew, she always knew. Gathering his thoughts, he spoke quickly to not waste her time. "It was her, my Queen. The silver-eyed girl with the red cloak. The one who stole Cinder's eye! She killed her! She killed Arachne!" He cried out the name of his dead daughter as his hands went to his face, to cover his shame.
"Tyrian. It matters not if the Ancient One lived or not, what matters is that she is no longer hiding in Vacuo," Salem's devoted servant lowered his hands and looked up, "I will send Ash and Ember to collect the Relic. You, take care of the girl."
Joy soaring through his heart, he nodded quickly and got onto his feet with a quick jump. "Of course! Of course my Queen! Anything for you!" he promised with a maniacal grin on his face and his small, yellow eyes shining with malice.
"Take care of it. Don't disappoint me, Tyrian." With that, the Grimm made a series of disturbing clicking noises before floating away, off to move Grimm in the manner that she needs them to. Turning, he watched as the girl cloaked in red jumped onto a white Nevermore and flew off into the desert. Staring off, he gave a light chuckle as his tongue slipped out and licked his lips in anticipation and lust for bloodshed.
"Eye for an eye."
A/N: So there we have it, another chapter down and this bonus was brought to you by Winter Schnee!
So I rushed to get this chapter done since the Destiny 2 Beta comes out today and I wanted to get something out so I don't feel bad for ignoring it a whole weekend, so there you go!
Thanks to StreetAngelJ for Editing, proofreading and general idea bouncer!
If you enjoyed, please leave a Kudo! Every one gets us closer to that first page! If you already left a Kudo, leave a comment! I love reading them and replying to them. This story is also posted on under the same name so if you read over there as well, come show your support for the series!
And as always, thank you for taking time out of your busy days to read my slice of madness!