Chapter Three: The Ground Game (Except It Isn't A Game, It's Life-Or-Death)

Contrary to the belief of a certain anthropomorphic falcon a few universes to the left, not everyone preferred the air. If that was the case, then wars would likely not have begun until at least the invention of the balloon (honestly, kites just wouldn't cut it), and the borders of nations as we know them would be very different from what they are today. However, that most decidedly did not happen, resulting in the formation of the oldest type of war: ground warfare. In which two or more opposing sides would inevitably clash at a given location and try to beat the living dickens out of one another. Nora was correct in her earlier assessment, those White Fang fighters had indeed been transports, and they had done that part of their job admirably. A veritable deluge of mooks had been deposited upon the academy grounds, and what they lacked in literally everything else they made up for in sheer numbers. And they did lack in everything else, to give some perspective to the numerical advantage they held.

Pyrrha Nikos liked ground combat. That isn't to say she didn't like aerial combat, on the contrary, she excelled at it. But here, with her own two feet on terra firma, Miló and Akoúo̱ in her hands, she felt almost invincible. Given the current circumstances, she held a growing suspicion she might need to be in order to make it out of the day intact. That isn't to say she was defenseless. Bar the two highly advanced weapons she held, her body was coated in a carbon-fiber/dustweave armor, capable of deflecting or absorbing a frankly ludicrous amount of anything that happened to be swung or shot her way if it somehow got past her near-flawless guard. However, given that she and her friends were being shot at from almost every angle, it was only natural to worry, at least a little. Flicking a mechanism, Miló shifted from the form of a xiphos to that of a rifle. Sighting her targets in the blink of an eye, she briefly stood, downed four mooks, then ducked for cover as a hail of bullets decided they quite earnestly wanted to live in the space she'd just been in. Muttering bitterly to herself, she glanced at her compatriots. Neptune Vasilias was preoccupied laying down strafing fire with that odd electrical weapon of his, and Jaune, her partner, was busy covering the prone form of one Sun Wukong. Sun's ingenious use of the hard-light holograms briefly turned him into an army, holograms mimicking his every move, but a sniper had laid him out, and they'd been pinned by a crossfire. As it was, Jaune's medkit ("Never leave home without it, eh Pyr? Could be handy one day.") had been near-exhausted patching the wound, and he was currently busy making sure his fellow blond didn't die from internal injuries. Deciding not to focus on the negatives (and most definitely not focusing on the skip-beat-bop her heart did thinking of all the small things Jaune did), Pyrrha returned to focusing on not dying, and pulled up her comms.

"Blake, are you there? It really would be grand if we could get some air support."

A crackle, buzz, then some choice words that Pyrrha really thought might not have been necessary. "-ing hell. Pyrrha, where are you? Weiss just finished saving CRDL. Again. I can send her to you."

"I have three combatants and one wounded at the quad by the theoretical physics department. If we could get a medivac that would be most appreciated."

More visceral swearing. "Just what I needed to hear. Who's down?"

"One Sun Wukong. He saved our lives with those holograms of his. Please, hurry!"

Blake's voice was considerably muted when she spoke next. "Not again… Ok. Weiss is on her way, and I've got a quick-response team right behind. You might want to plug your ears, though."

A sinking feeling shot through Pyrrha. When it came to combat training, there were two teams who literally threw caution to the wind, and both of them had an unfortunate habit of destroying everything around them as a side effect. She'd really liked the theoretical physics building. It would meet its end either at the hands of team FNKI, or…

Blake spoke once more. "The Coffee Cart is on it's way. Hold on, what is it now Hen-"

The feed cut out. Pyrrha sighed once more. Team CFVY was on its way. And so was the hellstorm they would inevitably bring with them.

Glynda Goodwitch was many things. A renowned professor. A valued coworker and friend. A fierce combatant. She was not often patient. A swarm of drones spiraled out from behind her as she stepped once more onto the academy grounds. Each mechanical marvel immediately locked onto a white fang member, and let loose with a rather large dose of purple-tinged electricity. All around her the assailants fell like flies, only the opening act to her wrath. Typing in a command code, turrets sprang from the walls of the school and began a systematic annihilation of all who dared attempt to harm it. Any aircraft that bore the symbol of the White Fang dropped from the sky as if a hand had reached out and plucked it from the air. This may have been Ozpin's fortress, and she would speak to the man about why it was so heavily-armed later, but it was also her school. These were her students that these- these insignificant miscreants dared fire upon. They would know her wrath.

The battered remnant of the Glass Slipper touched down just outside the battlefield, before a very depressing and final noise rang from the engine. Cinder let her head hit the dashboard. She then repeated this process. Her coordination of the aerial assault had been flawless, the battle had been in her favor, and then it had crumbled as soon as she was taken out of the equation. Oh, they still fought on, their goal was to destroy as much of Beacon as they could, after all. Try to draw that bastard of a Wizard out of his tower. But without the aerial support she would have been oh so happy to provide, they didn't stand a chance. She didn't know how in the hell Ozpin had mounted a resistance so fast, but the old man had certainly done so with a vigor she honestly didn't think he had. Salem had always spoken of him as an incompetent moron, after all. And perhaps he was, on a larger timescale. However, this battle had certainly swung in his favor. Those pilots were a minor challenge, and she was legitimately impressed that pouring a few thousand gigawatts into the tanklike thing that had plowed into her beloved craft only served to temporarily disable it, but whoever was piloting the ship that sliced the Glass Slipper into ribbons was of an entirely different caliber. Her readouts showed the plasma that had scorched her ship, and in order to do the damage it had the craft had to have been going at least mach three. If it wasn't for her disposable soldiers still fighting at Beacon, Cinder had no doubt that ship would have sliced her ship apart instead of peeling away to start being noble and saving lives. Whoever it was, Salem definitely needed to know that Ozpin had more than one dirty trick up his sleeves. She didn't even know weapons could accurately function at those speeds.

Wait.

She had to report to Salem.

Oh.

Fingers definitely not shaking in the slightest, she activated the customized communications that would allow her to abase herself before the Witch. Salem probably couldn't strike her here, at the heart of Ozpin's power, but she definitely couldn't stay at Beacon. And the rest of the world was quite a lot closer to her mistress' usual reach. She swallowed, tenser than the tensegrity tower she'd smashed into on her descent. Hesitating then no longer, she pressed the call button. The dial tone played, ominously. An explosion sent a transport caterwauling through the sky, ominously. And then, the chime of 'accepted' reverberated throughout the craft. Never before had a glockenspiel played with such dread. A bluish-white hologram appeared on the console.

"My mistress, I bring news of the assault on Beacon. Uncensored, though I wish it was not so."

The hologram of Salem shifted slightly. "The assault failed, then? Good, all is as we planned."

"My lady Salem, I beg- Wait, planned?"

Salem chuckled, shifting once more into a comfortable position. "Yes, child. It was always meant to fail. Why else would I instruct you not to take any of the more formidable fighters the Fang had to offer. Numbers were enough to draw out the defenses Ozpin had to offer."

"Erm, my lady… that may not have been the case. Ozpin… well…"

A darkness spread across the cockpit. "Ozpin mobilized almost immediately, didn't he. Didn't he, child?"

"Yes, my mistress."

"Well, then. This is still workable, though I wished you could have drawn the insufferable man out." The darkness receded slightly, but only just. "We are intelligent, are we not? Thus, we shall simply have to extrapolate from incomplete data. All of his children couldn't beat back an assault of this scale so easily. Therefore, Beacon has some automated defenses, no?"

"Yes. Though, if I may, not all of them seemed to have been activated. Only a few batteries, powerful though they were, appeared, where there was room for dozens for each one that did reveal itself."

"Hmm." The darkness began to fade more, slowly, agonizingly, at a snail's pace. "So, his fortress hides yet more surprises then he's ready to show. Interesting, child, no? You see? Even in light of your… inability to complete your task fully, we have come upon a useful discovery."

"Mistress, one more thing, if I may?"

Salem's voice was as daggers on ice. "Speak."

"A-a pilot struck down my craft. Not a student or teacher. They flew in so fast I wasn't able to get more than a glimpse of their craft. They hit me going at least mach three. I didn't know weapons could function at that speed!"

Salem paused. "So, Ozpin is consolidating his forces early. The raven Muninn returns to perch on his master's shoulder, though he knows himself better as Qrow. Mark him well, Cinder, for he is formidable. More than a match for you, it would seem."

This last remark was delivered with more than one helping of levity. Cinder ground her teeth. Salem went on.

"I wonder, perhaps, if Huginn will make an appearance. Her name, at least is truer to her real self. Though Raven was always one to flee… No matter." You will leave Beacon and return to me. There, we shall talk further, and remedy your shortcomings."

The hologram winked out. Cinder swore. She would live, it seemed. For now. She hoped desperately that Salem's remedy was not overly painful. Kicking out the near-shattered canopy, she began the long trek home.

Pyrrha's near-omnipotent sense of patience was rapidly wearing thin. The walls behind which she and her compatriots had taken shelter was slowly being chipped apart by the hail of bullets being shot at it. She'd given up shooting back long ago, her armor was maxed out. Jaune leaned over to her.

"Say, uh, after all this, if you wanted, I got co-op for that new sandbox game. You could… come to my island?"

"That sounds grand, Jaune. What could we do?"

Jaune chucked ruefully. "Sounds silly, but we could build a house of our own. Meet the neighbors, tend the garden, build a life for ourselves. Whaddaya say, Pyr?"

Pyrrha desperately tried not to think about how much she wanted that. For them. For real. The situation around them was degrading rapidly, however. Aerial support had gotten caught in a dogfight an hour ago. No word from Blake. She sighed. "That… sounds grand, Jaune. I'd love to do that with you." No emphasis on 'with you.' She meant it! Really!

Oh, who was she kidding. They were about to die, after all. Why go out with regrets?

"Jaune, there's something I actually have been meaning to tell you, for a while now." She steeled herself. "You've been such a good friend to me." Deep breaths, Pyrrha, you got this. "A-and, if you want, I think we-"

An absolutely earsplitting riff echoed from the skies above. A shadow of what was to come. Pyrrha sighed. Saved by the bell, it would seem. Chaingun fire tore apart any remaining semblance of sanity that remained in this absolute slugfest.

The Coffee Cart had arrived.

Team CFVY did things differently than most. All for one, and one for all, no matter what. Thus, the Coffee Cart was not the vehicle of one person, but the vehicle of the entire team, and it showed. The thing looked more like a gunship than anything else, with everything from small arms to massive cannons set on decimating anything that moved in the surrounding area. Those weapons did their jobs admirably. Within moments, the mooks, and the surrounding landscape, had been leveled. Shame about the theoretical physics building. Coco Adel, the C in CFVY, surveyed her handiwork with pride. "Report!"

Fox (F) was first on the ball. "Fang forces in the area have been reduced to paste. As have the buildings. Who's paying for this again?"

Yatsuhashi (Y), spoke, his baritone literally shaking the whole craft. "Not us. Regardless, we have wounded. Velvet, if you would?"

Velvet (V) sprung to attention. "Initiating medivac!"

The floor of the Coffee Cart dropped to the ground below as Velvet clung to a cable with one hand and prepared a medical station with the other. "Come on! No time to lose. You're all being pulled back, Miss Goodwitch is set to clean up here."

All of them shuddered at that. Professor Goodwitch was a force to be reckoned with on a good day. None of them wanted to be close by when she was anything approaching angry. Gently, Jaune and Velvet lifted Sun into the MedBed (trademarked by Beacon Academy), and strapped him in. Then, clambering onto the platform, they gripped the convenient rails as they were raised into the Coffee Cart.

Coco's voice rang out from the pilot's seat. "All aboaaaaard!"

In time, wearing identical smirks, the rest of team CFVY called back. "AYE AYE, CAPTAIN!"

Slapping a blue button that read 'gotta go fast', they rocketed toward Beacon's hospital, away from the carnage of the battlefield.

Below them, a wisp of black smoke curled into a snarl.