Where Qrow Branwen now stood, it was dark and cold. The wind had this terrible, echoing shriek to it that brought back the fight he had just barely survived. Now, all that was left were the remnants. Blood was everywhere. Windows were broken. Buildings had caved in either partially or completely. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought all of this carnage had been caused by a bad storm, maybe even something as benign yet destructive as an earthquake. He did know the truth, however. This was fallout. The kingdom of Vale really never would be the same. The entire damn city of Mountain Glenn, which had a population of just over two million, was utterly destroyed. It had been one of the larger cities in Vale, and it had been reduced to nothing but rubble. He could hardly believe the damage the grimm had done. Even worse, he couldn't believe the amount of lives that had been lost. The Valerian Council was in turmoil. Atlas had been asked to help investigate the situation now that it had truly become our of hand. It was an international issue, and had been for months, but now it was something more. The outcome certainly was far worse than they had expected and much more than anyone had bargained for. In many ways, tragedy didn't even begin to describe it.

"Damn…" Qrow swore, his voice hoarse. His eyes were still wet from tears, and they continued to fall onto the body of the last person he had wanted to die. "I can't believe they even got you, Summer."

He was in a terrible state himself, and he had been carrying her in his arms for what had felt like hours. In reality, it had only been about fifteen minutes. The crew from the Atlesian military base in the Valerian capital was waiting almost impatiently when he stumbled towards it, but they all fell silent upon seeing the body in his arms. The lowest ranking members of the crew cane forward and wrapped up the body in linen, preparing to drop off the non-essential crew members back at the base to begin a report before returning him and Summer to Patch. Qrow shakily made his way into the only open space in the aircraft shortly before it took off. His head was still pounding and he couldn't shake the terrible feeling that always accompanied such heavy losses. There was now almost too much grief in his heart to bear. He nearly collapsed against the wall, holding his head. In a flash, he felt he was back on the field. He could hear the growls of the grimm, the ear-piercing sounds of the heavy artillery, and he could feel the bright sunlight bearing down on them painfully.

Qrow found his legs were beginning to shake again. He could feel how the heat and the fight had all but suffocated him. He remembered slicing through grimm with his scythe but destroying windows and the remains of where he stood in the city through the process. He could feel Summer pushing him back to fight a rogue, frenzied woman that he could have sworn he had recognised. Then, suddenly, the ringing in his ears grew only louder and he found his chest heaving as he tried to process every sensation he was reliving through his breath. It was not enough to stop the torrent. He was seeing the awful flashes of light, the moments of darkness in his vision, that strange flaming arrow. He recalled Summer's screams, and the way she had fought with so much ferocity that it became utterly primal. Qrow was dizzy, now. He knew the woman that they had fought was the same woman who had attacked Tai and Emmett awhile back. There was something about her and her combat style that were incredibly unusual, but even now he couldn't say what it was. The operative who had fought alongside him swore it was a grimm that had killed Summer. Qrow knew better. He had seen an obsidian sword pierce her clean through the chest and who had been holding it. Summer's killer was the strange woman.

"Need a drink?" A young female operative asked, her arms crossed. "You look particularly shaken up."

"Unless you have pure alcohol, I ain't interested," Qrow irritably replied. "What the hell is a lady like you doing here anyways? I thought Atlas didn't like sending delicate flowers out in the field."

The operative snorted. "I'm Hilda Vert. I've been working this job for six years and I don't need to take snark from a huntsman like you when I am just trying to be sympathetic. I assumed you were involved with the girl that died out there, weren't you?"

Qrow looked up, his eyes struggling to focus on anything. All he could see was a blurry figure that seemed to be dirtier from the fight just like everyone else.

"My wife is already dead," Qrow gruffly informed her. "Summer was a teammate of mine, and she was my friend Tai's wife."

Hilda Vert shook her head. "Doesn't seem like she's anyone's wife now."

Qrow shakily stood up and his knees nearly gave out. He steadied himself against the wall, tried to force himself to focus, and finally swung out a fist towards her. His movements were so jerky and so sudden that he caught her off guard, and the punch hit her squarely in the cheek. She let out an angry yelp, drawing the attention of the other two people there. The other operatives were either piloting, navigating, or recording losses and damage down lower in the aircraft. Hilda Vert was quick though and managed to punch him back with more force than he had used on her. When she stormed down below, Qrow found his vision slowly returning and realised the other two people were the last two he wanted to see. James Ironwood was towards the top of that list, although Chad Leviner, who was wounded but alright, was a close second.

"Are you hallucinating?" Leviner asked, groaning upon trying to move even a little to look the man in the eyes. "Or are you just an asshole? We're on the same side, you know."

"We sure as hell aren't," Qrow snapped. "You people make me sick. Who makes comments like that about the dead, let alone in front of people who saw them die and were helpless to do a damn thing about it?"

"The dead don't feel anything!" Leviner snapped. "Focus on the living, or we're never going to be able to move forward and get a grip on our lives!"

"Get a grip?" Qrow growled. "Is that really what you think you're doing?"

"Someone give him a destimulant," James muttered, probing his forehead. The noise of the aircraft, coupled with the noise from the battle, had left him feeling disoriented and a little sick. "Before this turns into something more serious."

Qrow jerkily turned towards him. He felt completely numb, at the moment, and wanted to give everyone on the aircraft a piece of his mind. None of them seemed to be affected by what had happened. Had they become numb after seeing too much? Or was everyone in Atlas just so cold that they didn't care about it when people died unjustly. Summer had a daughter and a husband waiting for her on Patch, and she had thought their mission would be a simple one. Qrow felt his hands balling into fists. The mission should have been simple. They had only been sent there to survey, not to fight. Now, she was gone. Within the blink of an eye, her life had been snuffed out and ripped away from her in the same way he felt his heart had been ripped from his chest. Qrow couldn't feel much, but he could feel his own anger.

"I don't need to be drugged, James!" Qrow roared, his already broken temper shattering into a million little pieces. "You people don't understand a damn thing about what people need! I heard ol' Edward Ciel might make a bid for the presidency and, ya know what, I hope he and his entire damn family burn in hell with Lillian Schnee and all of these other assholes! They all have blood on their hands! Frankly, I don't know how you people can't see how heartless you are about —"

Leviner injected him with a light destimulant, having seen and experienced the same kind of post-trauma that Qrow was clearly grappling with. The man protested but his muscles began to relax almost instantly and he slumped against a seat, acutely aware of the burning sensation in his throat. He still, despite his head pounding and exhaustion radiating through his limbs, was pissed at them and wanted to keep yelling. He started to croak out more words and, slowly, he managed to become raspily cohesive.

"None if you know a damn thing about hard work," He coughed out. His body was telling him he needed rest, but his mind was protesting that it couldn't while he felt like he was choking on blood. Summer's screams in his ears were louder still, and he was still struggling to breathe. "I don't know how you people manage to still walk with your heads held high after something like this. How the hell do you sleep at night? Most of us grieve, you —"

"If you think we haven't suffered in our line of work, then you're wrong," James said, his cybernetic arm twitching. He set his natural hand over it, but it did nothing. "Chad nearly died in training, and he was on the ground after the attacks in Mancaster, the DFAMA, and the rest of the capital in September of 2001. I almost wasn't there for my own daughter's birth because of it. A year before that, a ship I was on for the military was bombed near Menagerie and I had to give orders to cut a hole in the other side of the ship to stop it from sinking after nineteen people we all knew died. If you think you're the only whose lost something or someone because of your work, then you're wrong."

Qrow glowered at him. He had never particularly liked James, let alone gotten along with him. He would later realise that the words the man had spoken were true, but he would never admit it. Qrow watched Leviner start to drink, and he watched James slowly begin to write up a report. His mind was nearly impossible to keep in check, and he felt deeply lost. It would have been one thing to lose Summer with Raven's betrayal still being fresh. It was another to lose her so soon after losing his wife. Qrow would never admit how he feared he had caused Summer's death, choosing instead to only blame the damn woman and her odd obsidian blade. There was no one else to blame, except for maybe the grimm. Qrow found himself angrier still, however, upon Chad Leviner remarking to him that he should "consider himself lucky" to not be a part of the Atlesian military because his actions and outbursts would likely get him a court martial. Qrow frowned, his features quivering. He couldn't care less about the way the Atlesian military conducted its own affairs, let alone how the rest of the Atlas council operated. So far as he could tell, most of them didn't know what true loss or sacrifice was.

"Let me tell you about hard work," Qrow forced out. "Trying to raise the child whose mother died to bring them into world when you know you could endanger them just by what your semblance brings. Imagine having to bury your wife so early into your marriage and then, a few months later, find yourself guilty because you fucked a bunch of women you barely knew just to make yourself feel better. Maybe you're poor, too, so you built a bed for your son out of a cardboard box and some blankets because you couldn't afford to give him the childhood he deserves, all the while risking your life just to be able to cover your split rent and food. I doubt either of you are anything like the Schnees, but you're well off enough. Not all of us are so lucky."

Unable to control himself, Leviner slapped Qrow hard enough to activate the man's aura and leave a hot pink bruise on his face.

"When my wife was pregnant with our son, she couldn't work because she works for a dust refinery," Leviner angrily informed him, his heart pounding and blood rushing to his ears. "I was only a new operative, and I was on minimum wage. I had to claw my way up and still probably won't be enough for our son to have a semi-normal life in Atlas. We live in Mancaster, you know. Half our neighbors had to rebuild their homes after the bombs took them away. We can barely afford our apartment, and both of us work dangerous jobs that could leave our five year old orphaned any day! Don't you dare act like you're the only one when this entire world is fucked up!"

"Maybe you're right," Qrow growled. "But they doesn't mean you have a heart, it just means you have common sense!"

He moved to slap him in retribution but James caught his wrist. Qrow swore loudly and ripped his arm away from him.

"I don't know what you're going through because of this," James said, his voice low. "But we're all going through hell right now. You might not see it, but we're not dumb and we're sure as hell not blind. Angelica probably wouldn't even recognise you like this."

"Don't you bring her into this," He hissed, completely seething. "Angel can't talk for herself anymore, and no one is going to talk for her."

"You need to control yourself," James snapped. "Acting like this in the field could jeopardise an entire mission."

Qrow shook his head. "If you think I'm going to give a damn about that anymore, then you're wrong."