He woke up to the sound of a Scroll ringing. Reaching for the Scroll, he lets out a wince. Black bruises were already forming on his chest and the aftermath of taking on Yang in hand to hand. Aura or no Aura, a hand-to-hand fight will leave bruises. One bit of wisdom that anyone should know. He grasps the Scroll in his hands and brings it to his ear.
"Morrison speaking." He rasps out. He can't be unprofessional to a client. You only get one first impression.
"Jack, it's Winter." He sits up, holding in the wince with a grim. Winter Schnee calling him isn't something he was expecting. He can't afford anything slipping.
"Winter, I didn't expect to hear from you this morning." He'll let the statement hang. It implies he did expect to hear from her, and that he was looking forward to it.
"I need a second opinion." He raises an eyebrow. He didn't think one conversation would lead to her valuing his opinion. A surprise, but a welcome one, with that value she puts on his thought being key for allowing him to get more information.
"What for?" Step one, gather information, anything he can use. Knowledge is power, and he is, in effect, a one-man army. He has no logistical support, no intelligence agency, and no backup. Winter could be his inside source, even if she doesn't know it.
"That I cannot tell you without you signing an NDA." He's not surprised, but it will make his operations more difficult. If Soldier 76 is acting on information he does not know, well, a leak is the only answer. With him, the private citizen who has been vocal in his support being suspect number one. But that doesn't stop him from asking a few questions first.
"What type of NDA? I can't exactly afford not to tell my clients why I can't be there" The first question establishes a base of limits. He can figure out how it could affect his nighttime operations, masquerading as affecting his business.
He hears the movement of papers, a telltale sign of someone checking on something they don't know. To be fair to Winter, a person without his enhanced hearing wouldn't have noticed it. "A basic one, nothing you learn here can be shared, but you are free to reference this project and its timetable to clients."
So he won't be brought into any wetwork or black-site operations. Not a bad thing, but it does impose a limit on the info he will be able to gather. Until he gains more trust from Winter and her commander that is. However, there is the danger of encountering anyone from RWBY or JN... anyone else from Beacon. Even with the scarring, his features are still defining enough for someone that knew him well to recognize him. Perhaps he can consult over Scroll calls? His injuries changed his voice enough to prevent recognization. As for those he has encountered on the streets? That is what his visor's voice modulator is for.
"Is it possible that I could do any consulting over voice calls? It would allow me to be much more flexible in business." Again, blame it on the security business. No one can't blame him for trying to ensure he can continue to earn a living. It does create the risk of Scroll line tapping. He's done it to the Fang to know how easy it is. That might be enough of a turn off that Winter won't take his offer.
"One moment," Her voice sounds over his thoughts, of course, she can't make that call. He's already enough of a security risk. An unknown, small-time security firm? It is begging for a data leak or a possible hostage situation. Atlas cannot afford that, this war has dragged on long enough, long enough for some morals to fall to the wayside, for friends to become bitter rivals, for battlefields to be made with enough bodies to fill a graveyard from the Great War.
"I've convinced my commander that you are worth the risk. A risk I know you understand." Her quiet warning brings a smile to his face. Any Fang operative or Brothers forbid one of Salems that thinks he will be an easy mark even without outing himself is making a terrible mistake.
He lets that thought be the final one. He speaks into the Scroll, responding to Winter. "I understand, and Winter, thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." She mutters back, no heat behind her voice. "Please make your way to the Valean police downtown station. I will be there to meet you."
Downtown station? The Valean police headquarters... a close operation between Atlas and Vale then, or some political bullshit between Councils. Vale's Council has always been too concerned about appearing strong than being strong. Nothing says strength like appearing as a major partner with the biggest or only military in the world. The answer to that depends on who you ask. But back to the task at hand, "What time?"
"1:00 PM sharp, do not be late." Now there was the heat. It must be where Weiss gets it. She always had heat behind her statements. It chilled as the Vale crisis dragged on, becoming sharper with each passing day. Less sarcastic comments, more insults and anger. We all end up like that by the end.
He clears his throat, pushing those memories to the deep corners of his mind. Now is not the time for a flashback or to be remembering the "good" times. "Understood, I'll see you then."
A click of the phone answers him. More similarities to Weiss, he can't get complacent in that idea. Winter is her own person. No matter how much Weiss and her act alike, he cannot act like he is working with Weiss. For now, however, it's time to plan how he will sneak a holdout weapon into Vale's third most secure building.
One of the things often taken for granted is Vale's subway network. Made in the aftermath of the Great War, it was one of the first projects undertaken by the new Council. Back when the Council stood for something, outside of whoring themselves out to the next doner. One would think Vale would focus on naval transportation and bridges over underground tunnels, but nothing improves travel time and transports supplies like trains. The crown jewel of this undertaking was the rising rail bridge that, to this day, connects the Industrial District to the Commercial District. Its two tracks have very few breaks, transporting both goods and passengers. Of course, Beacon made sure the line could transport military-grade hardware. As well as be destroyed with a few surgical strikes.
Why would a clerk find one Jack Morrison on a passenger list this bright morning? It's the fastest way to make it to the High Rise District, which houses the Valean police headquarters, where he is heading. Also conveniently right with the penthouses, country clubs, and mansions of Vales Elite few. The rich always fancy making a statement and, in this case, who owns the police.
He steps up as the train pulls to a stop, waiting in the line to exit the passenger car. It's a decent walk to the headquarters, but it gives him the time to do something he let fall to the wayside, to see the people. The last time he was in the High Rise District, it was mostly destroyed. The fighting had gotten more and more fierce as the years dragged on. By the end, he must have at least fought twice in every major area in Vale. Sometimes against the Fang, other times against Grimm that broke the so thin line Ironwood and him developed from scratch. A neon sign catches his attention, each letter flashing with colour over and over. Most would see it and remember another time they walked by, him on the other hand? He remembers being held up on its third floor, firing from the half-destroyed building into the streets. Grimm falling or howling with each shot. He didn't bother to aim, he recalled. Too many to fire accurately, they just needed to thin them before the melee began.
Nora gives us some fire!
On it Fearless leader! He shook the memory loose, her voice nonetheless ringer in his ears. He gave the building one last glance. It stood tall again, rebuilt and open for business after those years of devastation. Ozpin wouldn't have remembered it. The old man has seen too many burnt homes for one building to stand out against the rest. But in the end, it didn't matter that he did, it was just another building, another ghost of the Crisis. Just like him.
He continued his walk, passing by another dozen blocks before reaching the headquarters. His first view of the build confirmed that Atlas was here in force. Coupled with the grand architecture that formed all of Vale was the white and matte grey of Atlas. The secondary and tertiary twin Bulkhead pads had the ubiquitous Atleasan gunship. He could make out that their secondary 30mm autocannons were unloaded. Likely a demand from the Valean Commissioner for them to even be in "his" city. Before long, he reached the entrance. Facing him at the door is the duty officer, standing by a metal detector. It's time to see if his preparation paid off.
Between the layers of his jacket is a plastic knife, made from a high-strength but flexible polymer it would serve perfectly. First comes the pat down, a quick thing as he complies with what is requested. Next, he steps through the detector, and with no alarms, he is waved through towards the front desk and his next obstacle, the X-ray. Of course, he came prepared, a trick stole from the Fang on how they fool airport security. He triggers the wireless signal as the officer sends him through, overwriting the machine's displays once the X-ray finishes. Instead of displaying his frame, blade and all, the officer received a weapon-free scan, letting him enter.
He moves to the front desk. The officer manning it, a female Faunus looks up. "Can I help you, Sir?"
"I'm here to speak with Specialist Schnee. I was told to meet her here." Clear and concise. No need to give any extra information. He receives a raised eyebrow in return. To be fair to the officer, he would be sceptical too.
"Name?"
"Jack Morrison, private security consultant." She hits a button discreetly or at least tries to. He forces himself to remain casual, presuming the worse could jeopardize everything. He waits, using his peripheral vision to scan the room. Little turns of his head, disguised as shifts in his stance, fed him information. He noticed the casual atmosphere, nothing about the other officers had changed. An amateur would allow that to set them at ease, he doesn't. If you need to take a target, never alert them by informing those on the ground. The SEP taught him that.
"Mr Morrison!" a cultured voice calls out. That relaxes him. Winter wouldn't be greeting him if this was going to be a fight. "I see you are early."
"A punctuate man goes far." He responds. A scrap of wisdom that his Grandfather shared, though he also told his grandchildren not to fib.
"A quality I relish in those I work with." Another Schnee family trait. Weiss never appreciated RWBY's timing. The Crisis wore down her care regarding it. He was the one that needed to be punctuated. The Strike Commander had to be at his finest. The shining model for the VDF and Atlas grunts to look upon. Never mind that he got the job because Oz didn't want to expose Ruby. Or that every Veteran Huntsmen besides Qrow and the Beacon Professors were dead by the Crisis' second year. "Shall we?"
Accompanying that was the universal gesture to follow. 76 falls in lockstep. Moving quickly, Winter leads him towards a guarded door. Manned by two Atleasian troopers who, in confidence, blind or otherwise, open the door for Winter and him without checking any identification, verbal or physical. Atlas' finest, sure. Rolling his eyes discreetly, he glances ahead, finding a nerve cluster of activity. Valean and Atleasian personnal litter the area. Some carried electronics, holo tables, secondary screens and power supplies. His enhanced ears pick chatters about positions and dispatch, a CiC then, for whatever operation Oz and Ironwood have cooked up.
Before he can move forward, a hand is in front of him. Within its grip is a stack of papers. Likely his NDA, Atlas won't forget about the official secrecy act. He takes it, along with the presented pen, a quick signature, and it's back in Winter's awaiting hand. Why is the question, why risk him seeing anything? NDA or not, he's a risk. He cannot grasp why Ironwood allowed him to communicate by scroll call or involved him. James never liked unknowns. It's why he fought so much against Cassidy when... Don't go their soldier.
"Let's get to work." Winter's voice interrupted his thoughts. What work is the question? A local security consultant isn't required for this kind of operation. Not with the VPD in joint consultation instead. His mind churns. Oz wouldn't dedicate RWBY to just any mission. Nor would Ironwood put his top Specialist on the operation if it wasn't about Salem. Now that was worrying.
Time for a bit of intel gathering, plus he was just curious. "What exactly is our work? It can't be my experience, not with the Valean Police and Defence force's cooperation. Both can offer more information on local security standards, armament and suppliers."
"Insight." He blinked owlishly. Out of all conceivable replies, that wasn't in his cards. What insight can he offer? He's a small-time security consultant. Who provided a well-reasoned opinion supporting a vigilante at their first meeting. "Don't look so surprised, Morrison. Your argument for the vigilante had merit."
"One well-made opinion," He stresses. It was not an argument, just a formulated opinion to plant a seed. "Doesn't mean I can offer insight for whatever this is."
She tilts her head and glances, eyebrow-raising. "Do you doubt my choice?"
"I can't doubt without more information." He retorts. What is with Schnee women and avoiding the question?
"This," She motions, right arm waving towards the personnel. "Is the building blocks of a joint task force to observe and counter resurgent Omnic action, an overwatch if you will."
He ponders. It's not inherently horrible. Brothers know he and Ironwood clashed back and forth about intel sources. The Omnics gutted Atlas's presence in Vale during the Crisis' first year, leaving signal intelligence and logistics pushed into combat operations. The less said about the Valean Defence Force, the better. "You want me to provide local opinions and rumours in the business sphere."
"I'm glad to see my belief in your sharpness wasn't unfounded." Ahh, more usual Schnee behaviour. "So, I'll ask once more. Shall we get to work?"
"Let's"