The Unit and the Traitor
Present Day
Kuo Kuana, Menagerie
Ever since the Fall of Beacon, times were uncertain for the faunus.
The brazen attack on Beacon had seen millions of faunus driven out of Vale and across Remnant, hatred and suspicion reignited as decades of social progress burned alongside Beacon Academy.
The White Fang, A once united front, protesting against discrimination and oppression had gradually shifted to a full-blown terror group.
As is the fate of such groups, it was bound to devolve into splinter groups and infighting once a major figurehead falls. Ghira Belladonna had been that figurehead. The assassinations of the Belladonnas had caused a ripple through the faunus world, and like maggots in a corpse, factions formed and festered.
The power vacuum left in such events allows the ruthless and the ambitious flourish while the young, the dumb and the naïve followed like Creeps off a cliff. Before they knew it, they were fighting each other as much as they were fighting the humans.
Traitors and fools, all, Ilia Amitola mused. She grimaced at the thought almost immediately. Then, what did that make her? Didn't she call for the head of Ghira Belladonna before Blake came back to Menagerie? Wasn't it her conviction to the cause that drove her to participate in coup d'état?
"Ilia? Are you alright? You aren't sick, are you?" Dandee asked, between mouthfuls of her meal, "You hardly touched your food. "
Ilia cast a side-glance the dog faunus beside her, then back down at the half congealed gloop that passed for dinner. "Just not very hungry."
"Then…may I?"
Ilia shoved her tray towards her comrade in arms, deliberately looking away.
"It's not that bad," Dandee scoffed, mistaking her actions for disgust, "you aren't sick, are you?"
Ilia hummed, "Maybe." She stood up, feigning dizziness, "I think I'll go for a walk."
In truth, she just could not look Dandee in the eye. After all, it was hard to look someone in the eye when you know it is most likely going to be their last day alive, especially when you are leading them to their demise in a few hours time.
But her squad were hardline White Fang, proudly part of the Albian brothers faction. No amount of persuasion could sway their conviction and loyalty.
Just like Ilia years ago, they had been charmed by Adam Taurus's rhetoric, firming believing their brand of retribution was justified. When Adam renounced Sienna Khan and defected to the Albian brothers, their squad had followed, alongside many others.
"Take care, Ilia. I'll get you some meds if you aren't feeling better."
"Thanks, Dee." Ilia squeezed Dandee's shoulders, and took off, desperately trying and failing to ignore the beaming smile of her squad mate.
The streets of Kuo Kuana were still busy despite the time of day. However, the atmosphere was a far cry from what it was 7 years ago. When the Belladonnas still governed the settlement, one would almost mistake the place for a holiday town in the Southern Valean regions. People smiled at each other more, and there was a sense of normality despite the circumstances the faunus faced.
Now, people kept to themselves. Their eyes averted and locked to the ground as they went about their lives. Where once the markets sold daily foodstuff, livestock, and other wares, the now peddled arms, munitions and even slaves from their off island raids. Ilia ignored the chained humans in cages, and ignored the armed White Fang patrol in the streets. The old Ilia would have rejoiced to witness her brand of justice being wrought onto their perceived oppressors.
But now, Ilia only felt sick.
Life carried on, businesses still ran, and the sun still rose in the morning.
This was not the Menagerie Ilia had fought for.
Blake had been right, if only she could…
No, now is not the time. Ilia chastised herself tried to steady her heart. She had started on this path years ago, from the moment Blake planted the seeds of doubt in her mind. But only when she gathered the courage to reach out to "outside forces", was she truly committed to her path. Weather this path was that of righteousness or treachery remains to be seen.
The night air was cool and damp, an earthy fresh smell hung thick in the air. Thunder rolled in the distance, out beyond the jungle.
Ilia's skin shifted colours to the pitch black of the night time jungle. She crept out of the settlement, unseen and unheard. She was a shadow in the night, an illusion a mind conjures to fill the darkness, her experience as a sabotage operative coupled with her natural talents made her naught but a shadow flickering on the edges of any prying eyes.
The winds howled, and she moved, her footsteps barely a whisper among the loud insects that sang their tune into the darkness. She skirted wide round the run down wooden houses of the settlements edge. Then, she doubled back just to make sure she isn't followed.
Ilia checked the time, and approached the designated house. It used to be a farm house, owned by one of the few humans that immigrated and settled in Menagerie when she was but a toddler. He was been dragged out and shot along with the rest of his family after the Albain brothers took power. They didn't even spare the children.
Now it stands abandoned, rotting and forgotten by the populace.
Ilia checked the main door, grimacing at the crude graffiti vandalizing every surface. It was unlocked.
Drawing out her sword, Lightning Lash, she edged in.
The darkness of the interior was oppressive. There was an intense smell of dust. Rats scurried.
Ilia swept up the hallway, checking each room cautiously. The place was deserted. Chairs and tables were overturned. The wall sported graffiti and the floor was littered with junk. A picture frame caught her eye. A family photo of the now deceased owner and his family, smiling brightly on the beaches of this once beautiful island.
How did it all go so wrong?
She heard a faint noise, upstairs.
Ilia hesitated. "H-hello?" She hissed, as loudly as she dared.
Suddenly, an arm locked about her body, pinning her weapon. She felt cold steel kiss her throat.
"Say it now, and say it right." a soft whisper in her ears.
"M-Myternaster." She choked back.
"Drop the weapon."
Ilia let the sword go, but never heard it clatter to the ground.
The grip released.
Ilia turned around, only now her body started to tremble. Fear and terror bubbled within her chest.
A figure stood in front of her, wiry and lean. A black balaclava obscured the face, and Ilia saw her own wide eyes reflected off the large bulky night vision goggles that glowed a dim red.
She made to speak, but froze as she felt a muzzle of a weapon rest against the back of her neck.
"Do you have a name?" The figure whispered. It was a man's voice.
"I-Ilia Amitola. White Fang infiltration specialist."
The man nodded, "I am Lie Ren. Russel, she's cleared."
The pressure of the gun went away, as did the wave of fear she felt.
Ilia glanced back to see another similarly dressed man, his features similarly obscured. Somehow, she knew the man was smiling beneath his mask. Her Lightning Lash dangled from his belt as if it belonged to him.
How did they manage to sneak up on her without her noticing? Indignity suddenly flushed her face. She was a competent operative, and yet she must have looked like a bumbling recruit in front of these people. Her skin must have shifted colors, because the man called Russel snorted.
The analytical part of her mind raced, and she deduced that one of these two had some sort of fear semblance.
"What the hell are you people?" Ilia hissed.
The man called Lie Ren didn't answer, but gestured to follow.
They led Ilia upstairs into the master bedroom.
In the darkness, a shadow loomed forwards, distinctly female. She flipped her night vision goggles up to look Ilia in the eyes.
They were as cold and harsh as the Atlesian weather. Beautiful too, Ilia thought, were they not radiating with killing intent.
The woman looked Ilia up and down. Like the men around her, she was similarly lean and dressed in full black fatigues. An assault rifle was strapped across her chest in a combat rig, and Ilia spied a soot-dulled sword on her hips.
"Are you Mirror?" Ilia asked.
Ilia froze as the man named Ren leaned in close into her ear, "Don't talk until instructed."
She frowned, but nodded hesitantly. These people already rubbed her the wrong way.
"Tell her what you told me."
"Myternaster."
"Tell her your name."
"Ilia Amitola, White Fang Infiltration specialist."
"And address her as ma'am."
"Ma'am." Ilia said almost droning like an Atlesian knight.
The woman nodded once, and slid off her balaclava. Ilia took a sharp breath as snow white hair tumbled free from the confines of the face mask. There were only a handful of people in Remnant with such a distinct genetic trait, but there was only one that was a military Huntsman.
"Specialist," the woman said. "Yes, I am Mirror. But you may know me as Winter Schnee."
Ilia nodded, suddenly wishing she still had her weapon. Had she just willingly given herself up for execution? "Every White Fang knows."
Winter smiled, yet Ilia could only imagine a Beowolf's predatory grin, "As they should."
Ilia looked away as ice ran through her veins. They Schnees were the primary targets for the White Fang attack in Atlas 5 years ago. However, not only did they fail to kill Winter…they made a very dangerous individual also very motivated.
"Now, Ilia Amitola," Winter's ice cold eyes bore into Ilia's very soul, "I believe you have something to tell us."
Qrow had tipped off Atlas intelligence on a potentially significant asset held by the White Fang. Only Qrow knows the nature of the asset, but it was significant enough to risk a deep strike into White Fang territory.
They met their contact, a White Fang defector by the name of Ilia Amitola. The intel checked out, and the operation was green lit.
There was no moon tonight. Thunderclouds gathered overhead, obscuring the skies. Occasional bolts of lightning split the air as the rain poured into the jungle below. Underneath the pitter-patter of the rain, wildlife croaked and chirped in the trees, in the grass. Their melody and the constant drumming beats of rain masked the soft footfalls of four figures prowling in the night.
"Team 1 approaching the compound from the south west, 50 meters."
"Copy, team 2 approaching from the east. 100 meters"
The compound was well hidden in the jungle, far away prying eyes and from the pockets of civilizations scattered around Menagerie. White Fang sentries laughed and joked as they chatted away from their posts. Good spirits and high morale meant the absence of Grimm…which also meant poor awareness and security.
Winter sighted her rifle on the first target, night vision painting her world in a dull red light. She clicked over to thermals, then back again to check for other targets. Besides her, the other member of Team 1 mirrored her actions.
Two sentries stood smoking outside perimeter wall, huddled under a nearby tree. Their rifles were slung back and their White Fang masks around their necks. They were patrolling the area but had obviously abandoned their patrol patterns once the rain started. They were young and undisciplined, which made it more of a pity.
"I got left." She whispered.
"I got right," Lie Ren replied.
A crack of thunder, and two bodies dropped simultaneously.
50 meters out, Cardin Winchester and Russel Thrush dispatch two other soldiers, ramming their blades into the base of their skulls and severing the spine.
Blood washed away in the torrent of rain, into the red mud of Menagerie.
"Team 2 moving in," Cardin hissed into his earpiece.
Winter's voice crackled back. "Copy. Let's do this."
As she has done for the past 5 years, Winter will sink her blades into the throat of the White Fang.
Almost to the second, Ilia and her team got the call. An emergency deployment.
Facility 103 had failed to check in. That could only mean one thing.
Winter and her team had broken through into the black site.
They could not risk mobilizing large forces without provoking an already fragile situation between the various factions. The Albian brothers will not risk and open conflict against Sienna Khan. The solution was to send in an elite team of Huntsmen to deal with the problem.
The mission was simple. Go in, and eliminate the threat.
The elevator hummed as Squad INDG descended into the underground. The lights flickered painfully over their heads. Ilia Amitola squinted as her eyes ached and burned. Thirty minutes of scouting forwards into the dark compound only to be immediately trapped in this light box was less than ideal. Then again, this entire situation was less than ideal.
This was her proof of loyalty, after all. Just as she had cut the throats of several humans to prove her allegiance to the White Fang. Only this time, she felt like vomiting.
Raindrops dripped off her clothes and pattered gently into an ever growing pool of rainwater by her feet.
"Who do you think it is?" Dandee asked, checking her rifle for the umpteenth time. She was nervous, as she always was prior to an engagement. Her white dog ears twitched as if irritated, flicking off beads of water.
Gran narrowed his feline eyes as his lips curled in distaste, "Doesn't look like huntsmen. No style, came in quiet."
Nick snorted, baring his fangs "They must be very good then. Our boys got wiped up top."
"Then be quiet and stay on alert," Ilia snapped, her ire rising. She knew she was leading her team into a trap. She knew they were not going to survive, not after what she had witnessed up top. Maybe they could put up a decent fight, but at that point it still would not do her conscience any good.
All of a sudden, she wasn't so sure Winter is going to stick with her end of the bargain.
They were good. Ilia knew that their movements and gunshots were concealed by the torrent of rain. They had picked off sentries and other security members off one by one. No alarm was sounded, else a team would have been sent in much earlier.
It was a bold move, to attack the White Fang in the middle of their own territory, and an even bolder- or dumber- move to pick their operation time in the dead of night. Not all faunus possess night vision, and even those that do have varying degrees of clarity. But that is still a significant amount more the humans, who become all but blind in the darkness. It was a tactical and one of the many biological advantages the faunus possessed over humans, and something which Ilia herself had exploited on multiple occasions.
But that very fact might have led to complacency, and Winter exploited it to its full extent.
Just like how the White Fang exploited Atlas's complacency 5 years ago.
"A lot of our brothers and sisters died this day," Ilia her words hollow to her ears, but she pressed on, "be it human or traitor, we must get our revenge."
The others grunted in agreement, perhaps too focused to sense the shakiness in her voice.
The elevator juddered as it began to slow.
"Aura up," Ilia announced, her Lightning Lash snarled with crackling energy as she extended the blade, "Stay alert, stay alive."
For as long as you can, she mentally pleaded.
Winter's team had carved through an entire platoon of White Fang for this "package". The initial impression of the White Fang outpost was shattered when they went underground.
Ilia was right. The facility up top was just a cover.
The entire floor had a sanitized look to it, white floors and pillars lined with rows and rows of desks, scientific equipment. The underground had concealed an entire floor that looked more in place for a laboratory or a hospital.
Of course, that was until they started shooting.
Corpses of the White Fang defenders littered the lab, across dirty red smears of blood streaked across the white surfaces.
Four figures loomed in the furthest room, their silhouettes illuminated by the dull ceiling light.
"Talk to me, Cardin." Ren held onto the injured man as the pair hobbled around, "Where are you hit?"
Cardin Winchester grumbled and growled, as if embarrassed. "My backside."
"How's he lookin'?" Russel hissed back, his eyes still fixed down the sights of his rifle and down the hallway they cut through, "Ren?"
"I'm still alive, dammit." Cardin growled back, "Man fuck that guy. Shot me in the ass!"
"Well we did try to shoot him first," Russel retorted as he sniggered.
"Quiet," Winter snapped, looking up from the hacked scroll. The code breaker has almost finished its work. Soon, they will be able to extract whatever "the package" is.
Winter glanced at the package in question. Whatever it is, it is locked away inside an intricate looking pod that looked like it could fit Cardin. Cables and machinery connected to the pod, and it was still thrumming with energy and power.
If Winter had to guess, it had something to do with that Grimm substance the White Fang have been using to enhance certain individuals. Either that, or they had just uncovered another relic. "Russel, keep covering the damn hallway!" Winter hissed.
Russel didn't reply, but he grunted an acknowledgement. They weren't in the clear yet.
Cardin had been hit, his Aura and armour having taken too many shots. The wounds were not fatal, but it hindered their operational effectiveness. The pain must be immense, despite where the man was shot.
"Ren, have you given him morphine?" Winter asked, her eyes not leaving the blinking blue screen of the scroll.
The man nodded, "Already given him a shot."
"I'm gonna be standing for the Bullhead ride back," Cardin growled through gritted teeth, "man, out of all the fucking places. That fucking faunus shithead-"
"Would have shot you in the balls if he had better aim," Russel finished for him, "You fuckin' idiot. Next time I'll be point man."
"Your scrawny ass can't take a single shot before breaking your Aura," The large man retorted.
"And your ass was large enough to be a big fat juicy target."
"Shut up, both of you." Ren snapped.
Cardin grumbled, and hefted his rifle. He moved his legs experimentally, wincing at each movement, "Ren, gimme a cig?" Cardin asked.
Rolling his eyes Ren fished out his pack of cigarettes, and held one up for Cardin. Cardin rolled up his face mask, leaned in and bit onto the offered cigarette. He lit it using the heat of his still smoking barrel.
"Thanks," Cardin muttered. Smoke exhaled from his mouth and nose, and drifted into the still air.
"Transfer is complete," Winter announced, "Let's grab the damn thing before-"
"I hear something!" Russel hissed. "I think someone is coming down. Must be Ilia's kill team."
There was a distant chime. An elevator.
Winter and Ren's head snapped up. Winter hit the light switch, and plunged themselves into darkness. Cardin stubbed out the freshly lit cigarette, briefly lamenting the loss.
The squad flipped down the singular tube on attached to their helmets.
There was a whine as thermal sight goggles powered up.
The White Fang kill team entered the research facility, their weapons raised. Dandee took point, her shotgun axe raised high and ready, her ears folded back with anticipation.
The smell of Dust and gunpowder assaulted their enhanced senses. Fine clouds of debris and pulverised concrete still hung in the air, illuminated by beams of flickering light. Bullet holes perforated the walls and black explosive marks were scorched on permanently onto some areas. Glass and torn metal crackled underneath their boots as they advanced.
"Shit." Nick whispered.
Blood. The smell of blood hit them like a tidal wave, almost overwhelming in the enclosed environment. Ilia could hear Gran choke back a gag, but that in turn made her stomach twist with disgust.
White clad Fang fighters lay in pools of their own blood and piss as their bowels loosened with death. Many of them had their heads blown out, and only a few sported blade wounds of some kind.
Ruthless. Professional.
Bloody footsteps led into darkness ahead, only barely illuminated by sparks of electricity. Ilia's eyes could penetrate the darkness, but she still needed time to adjust.
"I'm scouting forwards. I'm taking the left side. Team, take the right." Ilia said, and before the others could mutter their affirmatives, Ilia was already on the move.
Her skin flickered and turned pitch black, blending seamlessly into the darkness.
"Goodbye. And I'm sorry."
Winter listened as boots crunched on shell casings and shattered glass.
She looked at Russel, who was crouched low on the floor. He had taken a peek from the ground, and gestured back at her, fingers held up and signalling.
3 X-Rays, Huntsmen. Friendly split off.
Winter gestured to Ren and Cardin.
Backup Russel. Deploy ambush. Check your fire for friendlies. Cardin, with me.
Ren shifted to Russel's position and placed a hand on his back, ready to move and support.
Winter took a deep breath, feeling her heartbeat quicken slightly at the anticipation. The edges of adrenaline were already starting to creep into her senses, and ready to be unleashed in a moment's notice.
She looked at Ren, and flashed a hand signal.
Get ready.
Russel was crouched, ready to pouch, his rifle at the low ready position. Ren held his rifle with one hand, and he could sense Russel's muscles coiling like a loaded spring. He gave the man a squeeze on the shoulder.
They were both ready.
Winter smiled.
Those bastards were in for one hell of a surprise.
"You smell that?" Nick asked, his nose scrunching in distaste.
Dandee nodded, "Tobacco."
Gran edged closer, his Dust pistols at the ready. Bullet casing clinked underneath his feet.
There were three dead brothers in the corridor, and judging by the bloodstains, one of them was shot and killed while dragging a wounded comrade away. The wounded man must have crawled to the wall, before expiring.
"Bastards," he whispered.
Something made him stop.
"Gran?" Dandee whispered behind him, "What's wrong?"
Gran ignored his teammate, as he did not know how to explain. Something was off.
The dead man closest to him had an unnatural death pose. Despite the absurdity of that thought, something was off and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Perhaps it was the way he was leaning, or the way his arms were placed, as if they were too natural, like he was hiding something.
Then, he saw it. The corpse seemed to be holding something in between his curled up form, and it was not his weapon. He kicked the man's hand aside.
His blood ran cold.
"Get back!"
Winter hammered the detonator.
The claymore exploded, shaking the entire underground and rattling loose pieces of the ceiling.
Gran was shredded. 700 barbed steel flechettes tore through his Aura, shattering it in an instant. He was flung back, the entire front of his body pulverised into a bloody mess.
Nick cursed as debris ricocheted and tore into his Aura. He popped down just in time, deafened by the blast. He didn't hear the hot shrapnel whistling past his head. Dandee pushed Gran's shredded body off of herself, cursing and screaming as she scrambled backwards to safety. Her vision was blurred, her ears rang, and she could feel her Aura almost break.
She turned back and fired blindly into the general direction of the blast. Lances of multi coloured Dust streaked through the smoke as she unloaded her weapon in a panic.
Her aim was off. Way off.
Russel Thursh popped from cover, and hammered two shots after the fleeing faunus, the shots from his suppressed rifle like loud coughs in the confined space.
Dandee caught the barrage in her head. Ironically, the perfect headshot saved her.
The faunus pitched back almost into a somersault as her Aura shattered. Instinctively, she rolled away and into the flimsy cover of the cubicles.
Russel and Ren advanced forwards, hammering shot after shot at the concussed enemy. Dust rolled in the corridor and fireballs flashed in the dark.
There was an audible click of an empty magazine. "Empty!" Russel shouted as he rounded behind Ren to reload. Ren immediately started to fire, keeping up the barrage.
"Ilia! Ilia!" Dandee screamed, flinching as a bullets chipped and tore the cover around her. Paper debris flew around like confetti. Lead ricocheted, shattering lights, concrete and kicking up more fine dust. "Ilia! Contact!"
Nick jumped out, his high calibre rifle boomed.
Ren stopped his advance as heavy rounds chewed and clawed at the wall beside him, spraying him and Russel with fragments. He grunted as the round smacked him square in the chest, almost knocking him off his feet. Ren fired back, full auto, covering their retreat.
"You alright?" Russel shouted above the din.
"Hit my plate," Ren grunted, sucking air back into his bruised lungs, "Aura's fine."
They didn't have an angle on Nick, but then again, neither did Nick. Both sides knew they needed to push.
Dandee scrambled back, while pressing herself as low to the floor as possible. Nick was firing, but she was too scared to move. She couldn't even see the bastards and didn't know where they were shooting from!
Her sensitive ears began to ring as the confined space annihilated her hearing, and Ilia was nowhere to be found. Did those bastards get her too?
Dandee screamed in anger at the thought.
Her semblance! She could use her semblance to-
Above the gunfire, the tiniest metallic clink sounded beside her.
She looked down, to a spherical green object. The words "FCK U" were written in bold yellow letters, seemly squiggled on with a permanent marker.
Then, her world vanished fire and smoke as the frag grenade detonated.
Nick stumbled back, his ears ringing. He roared in pain and confusion. The entire room was now filled with smoke. The dust choked him, and he started coughing and hacking.
Dandee was surely dead, and that useless bitch Ilia was nowhere to be found.
"Fuck!" He spat, "Shit!"
His weapon clicked empty, and he scrambled clumsily at his pouch to reload.
How did this happen? Half the team taken had been taken out in less than 12 seconds. It was ridiculous, it was absurd. But it happened.
From the smoke, two black clad figures emerged. The flickering lights cast an almost ethereal glow to the pair. Their faces were covered, their wiry frames made even taller by the obscuring light. The devices on their head glowed a dull red that trailed their movements, like the glowing eyes of-
An image struck into Nick's head.
They looked like Grimm. The Apathy, the hordes of skeletal monsters that drained away any reason and emotion of their victims before devouring them.
Horror and dread clenched his heart with a sudden vice-like grip. Nick lost control of his bowels, "Oh shit, oh FUCK."
Ilia heard, and felt the explosion that shook the entire underground compound. The lights flickered again. Then, a torrent of gunfire echoed from the hallway and reverberated through her body.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath.
Another explosion, and this time, silence.
Ilia wanted to call out, but she hesitated. Barely any time had passed; there was no way a fight could be over that quickly.
A wave of fear wash over her body, and she felt her skin briefly shift colours. She stopped dead in her tracks. An overwhelming sense of dread clawed and raked at her subconscious. Something was out to get her, something dark and terrible, someth-
More gunshots. Then, silence.
Ilia blinked, and she felt the wave of fear wash away like the sea.
The air was still, and she let out a breath she did not know she had been holding.
That had been the fear semblance that one of Winter's men had. That could only mean one thing: her squad was no more. While Winter promised to spare anyone that survived, Ilia knew their odds of survival were still slim.
She leaned back on a wall, and slid down. The weight of her conscience crushing her was suffocating. Like a dam that had finally broke, she felt tears cascading down her face.
"I'm sorry, guys. I'm so fucking sorry." She whispered, not daring to be too loud. She bit her lips to stifle a sob, "Oh, Dee. I'm so sorry."
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, but she didn't bother to face the threat. If death came, then she would welcome it.
"Hold fire," a voice growled.
Ilia blinked her tears away. It was Winter and one of her goons. If Ilia was honest, she wouldn't mind if they executed her here and now. At least she didn't have to wander if what she did was the right thing or not.
"Now," Russel said as he punched in the release code on the console scroll, "let's see what this fuss is all about."
There was a hiss of released pressure as the pod opened, the front covers sliding back to a mist of cold air. Ren stepped up to retrieve the contents.
"Yo, what the fuck?" Russel whispered.
Ren certainly shared the same sentiment. Whatever he was expecting, it certainly was not this.
There was a boy, a few years into adulthood, inside the pod. At first, the two men thought they were looking at a corpse until Ren noticed the rise and fall of the boy's chest.
The boy had his hands were chained together and there was a metal gag around the entire lower part of his face. He was malnourished, almost skin and bones. His black hair was grown out, covering his freckled face.
Russel cocked his head, and asked the question burning in Ren's mind. "Who the fuck is this?"
The boy's eyes snapped open. Hazel green eyes bore straight through Ren's soul. He saw eyes that were too old, too intelligent for a boy seemingly a few years younger than Ren himself.
Then, the world exploded.
Russel and Ren flew back, tumbling onto their feet and bringing their weapons to bear.
Winds blown by unseen energies howled, dust and shredded debris circled around the entity's bare feet.
The boy was levitating now, his eyes almost glowing. Green energies whipped and lashed around the figure, and Ren watched in horror and fascination as the metal bindings crumbled to dust. The metal face mask dissolved away like salt in water, revealing an angry snarl on the boy's face.
That is not a semblance, Ren somehow knew. There was an unmistakable buzz of power in the air, a background hum that set his teeth on edge. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to open fire and kill the threat in front of him with extreme prejudice.
But the men held their fire. The floating boy had not threatened them directly yet.
They stared at each other for a brief second. Eventually, the boy spoke.
"Who…?" His voice was raspy, dry. It was as if it had been years since he uttered a word. He swallowed, and tried again, "Who are you?"
Winter and Cardin appeared on his flank, their rifles aimed at the threat. Ilia trailed behind, her eyes wide with bewilderment at the scene unfolding in front of her.
"On the ground, now!" Winter barked, "Do it!"
The boy turned his head, frowning as if deep in thought.
"You," he whispered, "your voice. I know your voice."
"Last chance!" Winter hesitated, perhaps at the absurdity of her next words, "Stop floating, and get on the ground."
"Do as she says. This doesn't have to get ugly." Ren shouted too.
"Do you believe you have the power to threaten me? To harm me ever slightly?" the boy snapped back, "It is you that do not understand. I am in control here."
Ren's Aura kicked into overdrive, the killing intent radiating from the boy was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end.
Negotiations were over. As one, Winter's soldiers fired.
There was a flash.
Winter was hurtled through the air like a ragdoll, trailing with green energies. Rifles barked in full auto, only for the bullets to be caught in a green force field. They floated, tracers burning red hot like angry fireflies, before dropping onto the ground, inert.
Bullets were ineffective. The boy just ate enough ammunition that would have killed a Huntsman ten times over.
The team moved in without hesitation, melee weapons drawn.
Cardin's twirled his mace as he advanced batting aside chunks of concrete that flew at him. Russel's daggers flashed as he dodged and weaved into the fray. Ren's bladed pistol roared, keeping the boy focused on him.
Cardin's mace thundered, crashing into the force field with enough force to crack the ground around his target. The green barrier rippled and a hairline crack appeared on the energy field. Russel snaked in, his dual blades a blur as he hacked and slashed in vain. It was like trying to cut glass.
They dodged back, green fires missing them by a hair's breadth.
Ren breathed in, channeling his Aura, his inner chi, into the palm of his hands and straight into the tips of his index and middle fingers.
Then, he lunged forwards. The tip of his two raised fingers met the green force field in an explosion of pink Aura.
The focused blast of Aura cracked through the force field, shattering it like a glass orb. The men piled in.
Cardin's mace crashed into the boy's legs, sweeping him off his feet. Russel, his daggers whittling at the boy's Aura with incredible speed. Ren punched out with the bladed end of his pistol, hammering shot after shot into the boy's face until it clicked empty.
The boy screamed, and-
Ren blinked. He realized he was on his back. Somehow, he had been thrown across the room and into a wall. He tried to crawl up, until a stab of pain gripped his innards. His armor plate was dented and shattered in multiple places, crunching inside his combat rig like gravel.
To his surprise, Ilia was beside him, her weapon drawn.
He nodded in thanks as she helped him up. Ren ripped off his balaclava and spat out a glob of blood. He rolled onto his feet, hands already slamming in a fresh magazine in his sidearm.
Cardin was lying on the ground next to him, groaning in pain and cursing. With a heave, he hopped to his feet too. He cast a glance at Ren, and nodded.
Russel was on his knees, his blades bent and blackened by unknown energies. Winter strode in from behind, and pulled the man to his feet. Her sword was drawn.
Her face mask was ripped and tattered, revealing eyes brimming with fury.
The package, the boy that is definitely not a normal human being, panted and groaned as he stumbled unsteadily. His cheeks were bruised, and there were several deep cuts in his body. His eyes were bordering on panic and desperation, and his hands were crackling with green lightning.
Encircle. Destroy. Winter signalled.
Winter's squad broke off in different directions.
The boy screamed. Eye watering green fire leapt from his arms, burning and melting all it touched. The temperature spiked as oxygen was sucked out from everyone's lungs.
But the squad did not stop. They dodged and weaved past the deadly beam, scattering like butterflies in a typhoon. Unable to focus on one target, the boy realized his mistake too late.
Black glpyhs rooted his feet to the ground and bound his outstretched arms in midair.
Precise pistol shots shattered through into his Aura and into blazing hands. The destructive beam immediately cut off with a yelp of pain.
Russel and Cardin leapt in, grabbing hold of the boy's outstretched arms, now smoking and harmless. They twisted, restraining him. Ren shot in from behind and kicked out the boy's knees, forcing him to the ground.
Winter rushed in, the tip of her sword aimed at the boy's exposed throat.
Their eyes met.
"Winter Schnee?" The boy gasped through pain. Were it not for the glint of recognition within the boy's eyes, Winter would have driven the sword through his throat. She forced the killing point of her sword away, taking a lock of the boy's hair as it narrowly bisected his skull.
"Yep, one and only," Winter growled, "So now you want to talk."
"And you," the boy directed his gaze at Ren, "I know you. You were part of team JNPR."
Ren's heart dropped. He searched his mind for the boy's face, but he could not recall anyone looking like him in Beacon. "Who the hell are you?" Ren growled.
The boy started laughing, tears of relief streaked down his face, "By the Gods, I thought you were one of her people. I thought…."
"Answer, damn you!" Russel spat, twisting the boy's arm further eliciting a howl of pain. Winter shook her head, and he relented.
"My name was Oscar Pine," the boy gritted out. He took a deep breath, and looked at Winter dead in the eye. "But Oscar is no more. I think you will know me better as...Ozpin."
To the civilian populace living in Menagerie, the odd gunshot or explosion was nothing out of the ordinary. The White Fang had dissolved into internal conflict before, and there were still remnants loyal to the Belladonna clan putting up resistance.
Tonight, however, was slightly different.
The deep bass detonations could have heard kilometres out, after multiple flashes of white lit up a certain spot in the distant forest. The tremors rattled the window panes of cities and settlements around, and the fire turned the night to day, and kept burning until the blazing sun rose from the horizon.
The local officials had cordoned the area off, and the very next day, it was reported that a shipment of Dust had come under the attack of an Elder Grimm. The workers had been overrun despite the best efforts of the singular Huntsman team, INDG, that had been dispatched. In an effort to defeat the Elder Grimm, the members of the Huntsman team had detonated the Dust shipment to annihilate the eternal enemy, and they would be posthumously awarded for their bravery and sacrifice.
Reality was much more different.
"Target designated," Winter reported into the radio, "Kingpin, send it."
The radio snarled back an affirmative, before going silent.
Several kilometres up in the sky, an Atlesian gunship released its deadly payload. A singular missile streaked through the cold night sky with subsonic speeds, cutting vapour trails through the air like a sword. It sailed with pinpoint accuracy, homing in to the designated target, laser painted by Winter's binoculars visually.
Before the warhead struck, it detonated in midair, blooming like a deadly white flower spewing forth pollen that spread and coated the entire facility, clinging onto every surface and entering through the smallest of vents.
For several moments, one could compare the image to a fluffy cloud on a beautiful summer day that found itself in contact with the ground. However, it was formed of something much more sinister.
Then, the spark.
Fire and Lightning Dust crackled through the smoke, igniting the deadly chemical compound.
The result, was a cataclysmic clap as a titanic fireball blossomed into the sky, turning night to day. Everything caught within, burnt to naught but ash.
Winter nodded, satisfied at the destruction of the facility. She turned back to the group behind her, her eyes fixed on the boy in the middle.
"Headmaster," Winter addressed the man, "I apologize for our earlier...misunderstanding."
"Headmaster no longer," Ozpin smiled, with a face that wasn't his, "the fault was not entirely your own. I reacted with hostile intent." Ozpin closed his eyes as he savored the sensation of rain upon his skin, "I do not know how long it has been. I must thank you, Ms Schnee. And of course, my former students too."
The men shifted uncomfortably in the darkness of the jungle, but otherwise said nothing. Ilia could feel their uncertainty and suspicion even as she stood outside of the group.
It was unmistakable now that it was pointed out. The boy spoke in Ozpin's tone and mannerism. The way he walked, and the way he stood. It was Ozpin, yet at the same time, it wasn't.
"When we get back to Atlas," Winter suppressed a shudder, "You have a lot of explaining to do."
"In due time, Ms Schnee. In due time."
AN: Ive rewritten this chapter a few times as I was unsure how to proceed. The package had changed a few times, from literal intel to what we have now. Let me know what you guys think!