Only one word could be used to describe the landscape in the vault. Vast.
The vastness of the expanse was unparalleled. Never had something so large and so empty been conceived in all of recorded history. James had long lost sight of the vault door. There would be no going back now.
Time had ceased to have any meaning on his trek. There was no wind. No weather. The sun shone down on him but he felt no heat. Onwards he still pressed. James tried to take as few breaks as possible and didn't bother eating unless absolutely necessary. His limited rations were all he had left.
Even worse than the never ending, flat, grassland, was being burdened by his own thoughts. He was still furious at Watts and then that fury found itself being applied to his current condition.
How RWBY betrayed him. How Penny betrayed him. How Winter betrayed him.
Why couldn't they just see? Why didn't they just work with me… I sacrificed so much… were what he kept telling himself. But he wondered if it was all just bullshit. Excuses, just as Arthur told him.
Winter's words hurt the most. She knew all about Mettle. What it could do to him. She should have been there to catch him and prevent things from being pushed as far as they did.
Everything she had told him made him wonder. Wonder if he'd made the right choices?
But what could I have done? Mettle… once it's put in motion, nothing can stop it. I couldn't have done anything else was what he told himself next. But it was such a simple answer. One that he couldn't fully accept.
His body ached. Most of it was mechanical, steel and cybernetics mixed with flesh. But that didn't mean he couldn't sweat or get exhausted. Was his refusal to die before just nothing? Just to die in the middle of nowhere without ever doing a thing?
No… I have to keep fighting. I can't give in.
Renewed resolve filled him. As he kept moving forwards, he was filled with new thoughts. Is it me that wants to live and fight, or Mettle?
He couldn't push that thought aside like he had earlier. If Mettle was to be blamed for everything pushing him onwards, even if he was consumed by fear and paranoia and sacrificed everyone else but himself, then his will to live, to fight on, was nothing more than the product of his semblance.
If that was the case, he was merely a tin man dancing on the strings of others. A few nudges, a push there, and he would play right into anyone's hands, all while believing it to be unavoidable.
But the other choice was equally terrifying for Ironwood. If his will to live on and carry the fight forward was his own, born and driven by his own will, then that meant everything else was too.
Saving Atlas wasn't the wrong idea. But what about all that followed? Was it necessary to silence Sleet? To end evacuations? To bomb Mantle?
Was it all his will? What he wanted? Or was it all out of his hands? Was he a slave or was he free? Was it all just his unconscious desire?
It can't have been…
Ironwood was weakening. How many hours had he been limping aimlessly? Could there really be no hope?
Have to rest. Just for a while. James stopped and had a sit down. He then went from sitting to lying down. The grass was warm despite there being no sun to emit heat. He'd long learned to simply accept the logic of this place. This endless vault.
James then wondered if he would get back up and keep going. That's what he always did. Always getting back and completing his goal with single minded resolve. Like a slave.
He wished Winter was here. That bright eyed girl who ran away from a ruined family, who grew up learning from him. Loyal and brave and strong. She was always there to support him. When the whole world thought Atlas was behind the Fall of Beacon, she was there. When he placed the dust embargo, when he chose her to be the next Winter Maiden. Even the little things. When they had lunch together. When he told her a silly story from his time at the academy and she burst into laughter.
When he might have been losing himself to Mettle, she would reassure him. When he'd needed sound advice, she would give it. When he just wanted to talk, they'd talk.
He cried when he had to fight her. Why? Why did I have to lose the trust of her? Of all of them…. Why did it have to be her?
Tears welled up within him and were let loose. He just couldn't stop himself from thinking of that girl who just needed a father.
Did she betray him? Or did he betray her? In the end, she did it out of her own free will.
Utterly unlike him.
I'll just sleep for a bit. Get some rest.
"Winter. Why couldn't you just stay by my side?" he said with sadness, crying silently as he did so.
He heard a voice calling for him.
"James! James! Wake up! The fog!"
Arthur?
Ironwood was roused from his weariness, broken by the sound of Watts closing in on him.
"Fog?..."
Taking a good look around him, he widened his eyes as a great, colorless fog was seeping all around them.
A/N: The plot thickens. More to come.
I wish Winter and Ironwoods fight had a more emotional weight to it. Especially on Winter's part. He's her mentor and father figure. She should feel something more than apparently indignation. Hope it's explored later on.
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