Cascade
5 Years Ago
A week after the Assassination of General Ironwood.
Memorial Military Hospital, Atlas.
"My name is Bane Skylar. Squad leader of Black Claws unit 01, and a White Fang revolutionary."
The man sat in front of a row of microphones and cameras, his singular remaining arm was cuffed to the stands. He looked sickly and pale despite his bulging muscles, a fact further emphasized by the receding black veins that crawled across his skin.
"What was your mission?" a reporter asked.
A smile split the man's face, "To kill General James Ironwood and the entire Schnee family."
A murmur across the room. It shouldn't come as a surprise, yet it was another thing to hear it admitted out loud.
"What kind of soldiers were in the Black Claws?"
"Your worst nightmare."
Winter hung upside down from the ceiling, hearing but not listening to the news channel.
Her legs were hooked around a makeshift pull-up bar. Sweat dripped and ran down her body, stinging her eyes and gathering in a small pool on the ground. With a snarl, she curled herself up, again and again, her abdominal muscles burning from the constant exertion. The wounds burned, but she ignored it. Her abdomen was caked in a thin layer of coagulated blood as her stitches tore and reopened.
Winter did not give a damn. Pain and anger was the only thing keeping her from doing anything too stupid. Her mind was restless. The pain that racked her wounds was nothing compared to the bitterness that she tasted in her mouth.
She caught a whiff of alcohol, as she heard her window click open.
"Winter!" A coarse voice from behind her barked, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Hello again, Qrow," Winter greeted. She did one last curl up, then flipped herself over into a pull-up position. She took a few deep breaths and started doing pull-ups. One, two, three, four, she mentally counted.
"Ever heard of taking a break?" Qrow shot back, his face lined with concern, "Brothers! Have you torn your stitches again?"
"I may have," Winter admitted in between reps, "ever heard of coming through the damn front doo- woah!"
The makeshift pull-up bar finally gave way. The metal bar came tumbling down, cracking into her head as she came down. In any other circumstance, the short fall would have Winter land on her feet. But then, out of sheer bad luck, she lost her footing in her own pool of sweat.
Qrow darted in and caught her, just enough for her to regain footing. Winter steadied herself, her mind processing what had happened.
Winter growled as Qrow looked at her sheepishly.
"I, uh. Sorry."
Rage roared up inside of her chest. Winter shoved Qrow aside, and with a scream of effort, she hurled the broken piece of metal aside, impaling it into the wall. "You and your fucking semblance!"
"Winter, please. I'm sorry. You know I can't-"
"Fuck off with that sorry excuse!" Winter snapped, the bitterness on her tongue turning into venom.
A thought surfaced in her mind. There was an almost overpowering urge to punch the drunk idiot into the mouth. Her hands curled to fists and-
Winter caught the surprised look on Qrow's face. The boiling anger in her subsided, as she visibly deflated. She stopped herself before she could go further, before she said something she will truly regret.
Winter took a deep breath, sat herself down in her cot. She buried her face in her hands, and sighed, "I'm sorry, Qrow. That was unworthy of me."
The older man walked in front of her and lowered himself to her eye level. He placed his rough hands on her legs, palms up. Winter hesitantly placed her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. Her hands were trembling, but Qrow steadied them.
His crimson eyes were soft, "Hey,"
"Hey," she whispered back.
"Something happened, didn't it?"
Winter nodded, not trusting herself to speak at the moment.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
She tilted her head, unsure whether she wanted to nod or shake.
"Then let's see to your wound first," Qrow offered, "Aura might do wonders, but it won't help against infection."
For the next few minutes, she sat there in her cot unmoving as Qrow cleaned her healing gunshot wounds. Aside from the blood, her pale skin had multiple ugly purple bruises where bullets had failed to break her aura.
It stung as she felt him wipe away the dried blood. It hurt when he applied healing ointment over her ugly puncture. But it was a minor cut compared to the gaping wound in her heart.
Sometimes, when Winter lay awake at night, she wondered why she had not just bled out in the snow.
"I-" Winter began. Qrow looked up, ready to listen. She forced a smile, "I met with the council this morning."
Qrow paused, a frown creasing his forehead, "For what?"
"My punishment," Winter sighed, and closed her eyes, "for my failure."
"You have got to be joking me."
"Honourable discharge," Winter whispered, "on medical grounds."
"No fucking way."
Winter nodded. Soldiers fighting the Grimm were physically wounded all the time. Modern Atlesian tech could heal almost any physical wound, and perhaps even enhance a body's base performance. Ironwood himself had overcome his life-threatening injuries and continued to serve Atlas with distinction until his assassination.
So they cited mental issues instead, as an excuse to remove Winter from the line of duty.
She opened the drawer next to her cot. In it, lay the letter of discharge.
"They said…" Winter continued, feeling a lump form in her throat, "they said I was lucky to get an honourable discharge at all."
She opened her eyes and looked at Qrow.
"It wasn't your fault. None of that was your fault! How could they-"
"They said I was negligent. Complacent in the line of duty." Winter pressed on, "My complacency had led to the assassination of General Ironwood, Chairman Schnee, his wife, his younger daughter, and the deaths of 107 civilians. 34 of which were children."
A breath hitched in her throat and she felt Qrow's hands squeeze around hers tightly. Qrow frowned, "Winter. Did you just say-?"
"Do you understand now, Qrow?" Ignoring his question, Winter gave him a thin and brittle smile. "No one is going to pin the blame on General Ironwood. To do so is to pin the blame on the council. Since they pushed for lax security. "
The anger returned as she continued, burning like acidic bile in her throat, "Lax security. Lax screening. Lax everything. And for what? Cheap labour in Mantle? More votes to secure their position? They might as well have rolled out the red carpet for the White Fang!"
But as quickly as the anger came, it was swept aside. Winter took a few moments to compose herself, chewing over her next words. "The blame falls on the highest-ranking specialist leading and overseeing the ceremony. But Major Brann Forrest had died of his wounds yesterday….so that leaves…" Winter gestured elaborately to herself like she had been taught to as a child during SDC parties, "yours truly: Specialist Captain Winter Schnee."
"But!" feigning surprise, Winter widened her eyes with mockery despite the hot tears now cascading down her cheeks, "Due to the tragedy that had befallen my family, my exemplary service record to this Kingdom, and my inspiringly heroic actions that went above and beyond the call of duty…"
Winter shifted aside the discharge papers revealing a small box. She opened it and fished out a small medal. A silver and blue heart, emblazoned with intricate swords and proudly displaying the symbol of Atlas. Qrow's eyes widened at the sight of it, "I am to be discharged on medical ground, and awarded the Iron Heart."
Winter laughed, hollow and bitter. She tossed the prestigious medal aside without looking like it physically stung her.
Qrow bit back a snarl of rage and disgust. He knew how much she worked, how hard she had fought, how much she had sacrificed for Atlas. The bodies weren't even cold and those snivelling politicians were already in motion, swooping in like vultures and rats.
He knelt by Winter's bed and pulled the still laughing woman into a tight embrace.
She did not resist.
"We will find a way to fix this, Winter," He promised, "I swear it."
Qrow felt her body shuddering from laughter. As the woman buried her face into his chest, he felt hot tears seep into his shirt. He held her tighter. It was times like these when he wished he had as much talent coming up with comforting words as he had with insults.
"I honestly don't care at this point, Qrow." She whispered from his chest.
"Winter?"
She drew back and looked up into his eyes. Qrow's heart shattered at the sight.
"They wouldn't even let me see Whitley," she croaked, "I only found out Weiss died when the Councilman Sleet was talking about the casualties."
Qrow felt Winter's hands cling onto him like her life depended on it. Her lips trembled.
"Those bastards kept me in the dark for all this time. Why? Just for some petty show of power? Or some play to throw me off? Why, Qrow? Can you tell me why? Please. I don't know!." Winter hiccupped as she pleaded. "She fought for four days, Qrow. She died three days ago and I wasn't by her side. I didn't even know! They wouldn't even tell me! My baby sister...I…"
As she buried her face deeper into Qrow's chest, convulsed by wracking sobs, Winter Schnee howled.
Present Day
Somewhere in the Menagerie
They had commandeered the White Fang's vehicles parked at the black site. Cardin hotwired a troop transport truck as the rest stripped the corpses of their Grimm masks. After giving their disguises a quick wash in the rain to get rid of the blood, they began exfiltration.
"What are you doing?" Ilia hissed. Cardin and Ren had tossed two dead bodies in the back and hastily covered them with a tarp.
"You'll see," Cardin said, and ignored further protests.
Russel drove, maneuvering the vehicle through the muddy roads skillfully. Under the guidance of Ilia, they drove north, avoiding settlements and sticking well within Albain controlled territory.
Ozpin had been talking to Winter through the entire ride. He wanted to know if there will be repercussions for Atlas soldiers being found in Menagerie, and especially a Schnee. He wanted to know if it would affect the SDC Chairman, which by now would have been Weiss Schnee.
"Save for Whitley, they are all dead," Winter told him flatly if only to shut the man's incessant line of questions. She still had a mission to focus on.
There was a pregnant moment of silence. Ilia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly aware of how unarmed she is.
"I'm sorry Ms. Schnee," Ozpin offered, "the years were not kind to you. Weiss was an exemplary student, driven and motivated. I truly believe she would have led SDC into a brighter future if she had the chance to."
Winter nodded wordlessly.
"And what of Atlas?" Ozpin continued, "The military will surely be implicated if your presence is known."
"Yes, and no," Winter took a moment to think about her next choice of words. She looked Ozpin in the eye, "I cannot confirm nor deny my current affiliation."
The former headmaster seemed to get the message and simply nodded.
"Contact, on our 6!" Ren hissed, "Vehicle approaching!"
"Maintain speed." Winter ordered, her voice low, "Check your weapons."
It was another truck, loaded with troops in the back. It thundered towards them and blared its horn twice.
"Fuck," Russel cursed. "We getting pulled over?"
"We're ready," Winter hissed.
Russel dropped his speed slightly and edged over to the side. He unholstered his sidearm just in case.
The truck immediately gunned its engines and roared around them, horns blaring again. The troops loaded in the back waved and saluted to their "comrades in arms" as they overtook. Ilia waved back from within the truck, then breathed a sigh of relief.
"That was close," Ilia muttered.
"We could have taken them," Cardin assured. He cursed as Russel hit a bump, agitating his wound. Russel just laughed.
They arrived at the designated point and promptly abandoned the truck. Ilia finally understood what the two corpses were for. They dragged the bodies into the driver's seat, set the transport on fire, then hurtled it off a cliff face.
The crash and fuel explosion rumbled in the night, lost in the rain and thunder.
A tragic accident, nothing more.
They made the rest of the journey on foot. Ilia and Ozpin were dragged by Ren and Cardin respectively as they bound cover to cover, still on high alert.
Ilia knew they had arrived when her sensitive ears picked up the distant growl of turbines through the din of the storm.
"30 seconds early," Winter commented, checking her watch, "not bad, boys."
"Just another day in the office," Cardin chuckled.
A Bullhead, painted black and flying low just above the choppy waves, roared into sight. In less than a minute, they were on board, disappearing into the darkness like ghosts in the night.
The Bullhead shuddered in the turbulent air, twin engines roaring as it fought against the stormy winds. The team, dripping wet from the rain, sat in silence within the aircraft.
There was usually no talking, in the Bullhead. The noisy turbines made it almost impossible to communicate, and Winter hated hearing the tinny renditions of each person's voice over the hearing protection they wore.
Cardin grumbled and cursed as he shifted uncomfortably in the metal seats. Due to the poor weather conditions, Winter had to order the idiot to strap in instead of standing around and imitating a marble pea in a spray can.
Russel was snoring, his head rolling and bobbing up and down as he somehow managed to fall asleep. The man's ability to fall asleep at the drop of the hat in any condition was a trait Winter was secretly jealous of.
Ren's eyes were glued to Ilia and Ozpin. He still had his pistol out, and he was pretending to fiddle with it, tossing it from one hand to the next and spinning it deftly in his fingers. Winter knew him well enough to know he was still on edge.
Ilia, for the most part, knew she was being watched. She kept her eyes to the floor. Her skin shifted colours now and then as the aircraft experienced sudden drops or intense shaking. Winter suspected the faunus was getting mildly airsick. Good. She would not be able to do anything too wild if she was about to empty half her guts.
As for Ozpin…
It was still hard to think of the boy as Ozpin. He had the demeanor of the wizened headmaster, and he exuded an almost infectious calm. Her mind was burning with the power she had witnessed in the underground facility.
It wasn't a semblance, and it certainly was not some form of technology. Perhaps it was in a similar vein of the Grimm enhanced soldiers of certain White Fang units. Whatever it was, Winter wanted to weaponize it.
As soon as those thoughts surfaced from in her mind, Ozpin met her gaze.
His eyes narrowed, and Winter returned his stare.
He knew.
"Is that Argus?"
Those were the first words Ozpin asked on the entire flight back. His distorted voice crackled into Winter's earpiece, and she recoiled, her skin crawling. Winter looked out the window, and they were indeed flying over the port of Argus on their way back to Solitas.
"Yes, headmaster," Winter replied.
The boy headmaster was silent for a few heartbeats, "It has changed dramatically." He finally said.
Indeed, Winter knew what he meant.
Her military career had taken her to the small coastal town of Argus multiple times, and soldiers liked to take shore leave in this part of Mistral. Once, it had been a beautiful city, bustling with commerce. The cultural diversity Mistral offered was reflected in this hub as traders from all over Remnant converged in this port on their journey to Mistral.
Now, the stone walls protecting the city were lined with static defenses ranging from anti-air flak turrets to large cannons capable of decimating hordes of Grimm in a single shot. Outside the stone walls were rows and rows of hastily built housing and temporary tents, their very own slums that mirrored the societal and wealth divide in Atlas and Mantle.
As they swooped over the Atlas-controlled island base, white armoured walkers and soldiers could be seen standing guard, forming a physical wall of armed deterrence dividing Atlas and Mistral.
"Has James lost his mind?" Ozpin growled, "The fool is going to-"
"General Ironwood," Winter cut her, "is dead."
That got Ozpin's attention.
"I beg your pardon?"
"General Ironwood is dead," Winter said again, "assassinated by a special White Fang commando group 5 years ago."
She shot the headmaster a glare, "The lack of tight security cost the good general his life, as well as the lives of my mother, my father, and-"
Winter took in a sharp breath, and she looked away. Her knuckles gripping her rifle were white from the effort.
A wave of calm suddenly washed through her, and she let out a sigh. The whirlwind of emotions forming within her chest suddenly dissipated, and she nodded to Ren.
"Thank you, Lie."
The man nodded back.
Winter turned her attention back to Ozpin, "Ozpin. You may have been the headmaster of Beacon. You may have had the respect and trust of General Ironwood, Qrow, and Glynda. But let it be known, I will not allow you to disrespect his memory in my presence."
They held gazes for a few heartbeats.
"My sincerest apologies, Ms. Schnee," Ozpin inclined his head. He seemed genuinely shocked and remorseful at the news. He sat back, as if deep in thought. "Who else, Ms. Schnee?"
"What do you mean?"
"Who else have we lost while I was locked away?"
Winter cast a look at the men, her boys, sitting around her. Russel was still asleep. Ren had shifted his stare to the ground, and Cardin slumped visibly in his seat.
"Too many people," Winter said, "way too many."
0630
Main Operating Base Elysia, Atlas
The Bullhead landed in the Atlas airfield as the first rays of dawn crept up over the horizon. White-clad engineering contractors scurried like ants towards the setting aircraft, tools and machinery at the ready.
The landing was rough. The high altitude winds buffeting against the flying city grounded any aerial operations save for the most experienced pilots.
The aircraft hatches slid open, and Winter hopped out without much ceremony. Soot and burnt Dust clung to parts of her face, and her hair fluttered freely in the strong winds. She looked around, eyes searching for the man that was always there to greet her at the end of each mission.
A tall man, his black windbreaker long coat contrasting directly to the white-uniformed personnel milling around, stepped up towards the Bullhead.
"Hey there, Ice Queen." He greeted, but soon realized that his greeting had been lost in the howling winds and the whine of engines powering down.
Winter smiled anyway. He saw her mouth move as she uttered his name, "Qrow."
Qrow smiled back as he felt the tension in his shoulders ebb away. Every mission Winter embarked on carried the risk of her returning in a body bag. Or, Brothers forbid, not coming back at all.
She had almost died in his arms half a decade ago, and it wasn't an experience he was too eager on repeating.
But, he had given her the intel. He had sent her deep into enemy territory, knowing full well she would take the mission. Some things are bigger than his personal wants.
Of course, Qrow would have gone with her, had he been born with a different semblance.
An engineer jogging past him suddenly dropped his scroll. Qrow closed his eyes and offered the poor man a mental apology when he heard the unfortunate man's anguished wails at a cracked screen.
Behind Winter, came the rest of the squad, still carrying their weapons and gear. The biggest of them, Cardin, said something to Winter. She nodded, and he jogged off after saluting.
There were two others that Qrow did not recognize, a boy and a girl.
He locked eyes with the boy. The boy's eyes widened, and Qrow saw the familiar smile of recognition.
Ozpin.
So Winter had succeeded after all.
As the engines died down, Qrow could finally hear again.
"There you are, Ice Queen," Qrow grinned as they came up. He paused to look the two strangers up and down. "My dear Winter. You haven't gone and found yourself two little friends, have you? How adorable. There's hope for you yet."
Winter rolled her eyes, but Qrow could see the edges of her mouth twitch up, "Qrow. Not in front of the men."
"So you aren't denying it. And here I was thinking I was good enough. Didn't know you to be so greedy."
"Of course you are, darling," Winter whispered just loud enough for him to hear. She cocked her head, "but before that…Ren, Russel!" The boys behind her snapped to attention. "Escort Ms. Amitola to the designated quarters before she freezes to death. Dismissed."
The two men snapped a sharp salute, following Atlas military protocol to the letter. They marched in sync, their rifles slung over their shoulders and their heads held up high. The girl, Ilia, followed them, her movements oozing uncertainty and her teeth chattering as the winds blew.
"Qrow Branwen," Winter said, and at that moment Qrow knew he was in trouble. She never used his full name without reason, "would you care to explain to me why Ozpin is now a young boy?"
Atlas.
How long has it been since she had set foot in the flying city? 10 years? 15? Ilia couldn't remember. It had almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The architecture of Atlas was still as she remembered all those years ago. Grey, white and blue, the brutal functional angles denoting military or huntsmen jurisdiction while the elegant classical architecture denoting the wealthy elites. Everyone else lived in poverty and squalor down in Mantle, although still leagues better than the settlements and villages scattered throughout Remnant.
She will always remember the look on her parents' faces on her first day at Atlas Academy. They had wept in joy, happy that they had collectively worked hard enough to give their one and only daughter a fighting chance at a better life.
Look at how she squandered it, how she squandered her parents' love and sacrifice.
"Mum, dad. I'm sorry," Ilia whispered. She closed her eyes, her cheeks prickled and numbed themselves to the oddly familiar sensation of the Atlas winds. Her parents must be disappointed. To have raised a killer, and then a traitor. Ilia was sure there was a circle of hell specifically for the likes of her. Even the Brother of Darkness despises betrayal.
Yet here she is, standing in the middle of Atlas again, escorted by Schnee henchmen.
Two others approached them. A male black-haired faunus and a blond woman, their dark complexion and clean white uniforms a direct inverse from the black combat gear of the two Schnee goons flanking her. Even their haircuts are similar, the woman's blond wolf tail to Russel's mohawk, and the man's swept-back long hair to Ren's.
"Welcome back, legionnaires." The woman said. There was something akin to pride in her dark pink eyes.
"Specialist Captain Bree, Lieutenant Amin," Ren greeted. Ren and Russel snapped a salute.
"At ease, then drop the formalities, boys," Captain Bree waved a dismissive hand.
"Force of habit, Harriet."
"You kids make me feel old, you know that?" the faunus folded his arms, "Not fun."
"You're not much older than we are, Marrow." Russel snorted.
"Hush, child." Marrow nodded towards Ilia, "Who's this? Some poor recruit you are hazing?"
"Ilia Amitola," She said, doing her best to keep her teeth from chattering. Her eyes fixed on the soldier's tail, "I am not a recruit."
She must have been staring at his dog tail, because Marrow snorted, "There's more of us in the military than you think, girl."
"She's faunus too, Marrow," Ren offered, "but we are not at the liberty to discuss anything at the moment."
"Got it."
Harriet frowned and looked around as if searching for something. Concern crept into her expression. "Where is the big guy?"
"Cardin was shot," Ren said flatly.
A pause. The pair's eyes widened.
"In the arse," Russel added completely straight-faced, "he's in the infirmary now. Took a ricochet in his arse cheek. Nothing too serious."
Russel burst out laughing, and even Ren cracked a grin.
"Jackass!" Harriet exploded, her eyes flashing yellow. "C'mere you fuckers!"
She whacked the two boys on the side of their head, like a mother to her children for a harmless prank, then hauled them into a headlock in both arms.
Russel was still laughing as he struggled. Ren just stood motionless and awkward, his body half bent to accommodate the shorter woman.
"Marrow! Help me!" Russel cried, half-choking and wheezing, "help! Ilia!"
"Get fucked, Thrush." Marrow said flatly, "You too, Lie. One of these day's we're gonna stop believing your lying asses."
"I'll believe it when I see it, Marrow." Ren struggled to say, his voice taking a pitch, "But please. Not in front of-" He choked and coughed as Harriet squeezed harder, "Hare, please."
"Call me ma'am, boys. And I'll consider not embarrassing you in front of your new friend."
"Ma'am!" the pair croaked.
Harriet released the two, chuckling, "Carry on. I'll see you at training."
They ushered Ilia along, and she was glad they did pick up the pace. She must have been turning blue from the cold because they broke into a light jog. She was still wearing shorts fit for the tropical beaches of Menagerie, after all.
The indoors were no better, despite the lack of wind.
"This entire thing wasn't what I expected," Ilia admitted as they walked down the empty hallways. Her voice echoed in the white corridors, and she winced at how loud it seemed.
Ren shot Ilia a sidelong glance, "Elaborate."
Ilia wasn't sure if she wanted to speak her mind, but at the same time, they haven't beaten her to silence yet as she would if she was escorting a prisoner. Ilia shrugged, trying to play her uncertainty off casually, "I was expected to either be shot, manhandled, and thrown into a cage, or tossed out the Bullhead halfway to Atlas. Or at least be in handcuffs."
"We could still do it," Russel offered, "if it makes you feel better."
"Ilia," Ren said, his tone steady, "we are not bandits, nor the White Fang."
She bit back an instinctual retort at the comparison. But then again, isn't that why she left? Isn't that why she offered the heads of her friends and comrades up on a silver platter to these humans?
"You are still conflicted."
Ilia looked at the floor, and she stopped walking. The two men slowed down too, their rifles hung loosely on their slings. They didn't urge her onwards.
"Yes," Ilia admitted after a lengthy pause, "yes I am." She looked up, at the impassive faces of the humans. "Is it that obvious?"
"My semblance allows me to read a person's emotions, Ilia." Ren explained, "Right now, you look like a modern Atlesian art piece."
"I-uh. What?" Ilia frowned, slightly baffled and unsure if that was an insult. She had no idea what passes for modern Atlesian art pieces. Judging from the snort of amusement from Russel, it was probably an insult.
"You don't need a semblance to see it," Russel said.
"I know what you are feeling right now," Ren continued, ignoring the girl's confusion, "not because I empathise, but because I see it." He smiled, "and you do not have a drop of killing intent in you."
"What do you mean, killing intent?"
"Hostility. Bloodlust. Killing intent, whatever you call it," Ren clarified. His eyes softened, "you are tired of it all. That makes you a non-combatant."
"And that," Russel added in, "is why we haven't dumped you in a shallow ditch with a hole in your head."
Ren glared. If looks could kill, Russel would have been lying in the said ditch with a hole in his head.
"Qrow, while I am absolutely elated for you and Ms. Schnee," Ozpin leaned into the table as he graciously accepted a steaming hot cup of coffee from Qrow, "you must forgive me for saying that I am shocked."
"Comparatively?" Winter said as she stretched her sore legs, "To find out that you can come back from the dead is incomparable to the revelations of our relationship." She looked the boy in the eye, "That's not a semblance, is it, sir?"
"No, it isn't," Qrow confirmed, dragging out a chair besides Winter. "Comparing a semblance to my powers is akin to comparing apples to oranges, Ms. Schnee." Ozpin took a sip of his drink before turning his attention to Qrow, "Qrow, how much have you revealed to her?"
The older man shrugged, "Not much that James hasn't already. It honestly became irrelevant these few years and I have not thought about it. With you gone, things just sort of…fell apart."
"A pity," Ozpin said, looking wistfully in the air, "perhaps the burden of command was too much for Glynda to bear." Ozpin frowned, and looked expectantly at Qrow, "Do you happen to know where Glynda is?"
Qrow gestured through the window at the general direction of the ocean, "Headmaster of Atlas academy. James offered me a senior teaching position too." He unscrewed his hip flask. The smell of whiskey filled the air as he took a sip from it, "He had wanted to separate the military and the academies after mass protests in Mantle about a year after you were gone."
"General Ironwood told me Atlas is held aloft by an ancient staff. The nature of it was still classified and above my paygrade, I'm afraid." Qrow offered Winter his flask, and she took it, taking a small sip in return. She swallowed, frowning at the flask in her hands as if it was not what she was expecting. She looked at Qrow, "You drink this swill? What happened to the bottle I left you?"
"Saving it. Qrow grinned, "What? Still don't enjoy the taste of poverty?"
"Ugh," She grumbled, "bloody peasant." Winter grinned.
"And what of the Winter Maiden, Fria?" the boy headmaster enquired, "is she still in good health?"
Qrow shook his head, "Passed in her sleep a year after Beacon fell. We don't know where her abilities went after that."
Ozpin grimaced, "Unfortunate. Two steps forward and one step back."
"Fria? The old lady?" Winter frowned, "What has she got to do with anything? What do you mean, Winter maiden?"
"Oh boy," Qrow breathed.
"But before we begin," Ozpin looked into his coffee as if contemplating, "I ask you keep an open mind."
"Headmaster," Winter chuckled, "the very fact that you are sitting in front of me has me questioning if I'm losing my grip."
"I assure you, you are not." Ozpin began, "Tell me, do you believe in destiny?"
"No," Winter said flatly. "That would ultimately imply that some people were born to die." Her jaws clenched and unclenched, "And I have killed a lot of people."
"A fair philosophy," Ozpin conceded, "the Brothers were not as all-powerful as some religious sects make them out to be."
"You speak like you know."
"That's because I do."
Winter didn't blink, and her breathing slowed. She locked eyes with Ozpin, studying eyes that were much too old for the man with such a youthful face. That coupled with the fact that it was undeniably Ozpin that sat in front of her, forced her to at least consider the possibility.
"Ozpin." Winter said, not breaking eye contact, "Just how long have you been walking Remnant? How old are you, really?"
The boy closed his eyes, as he thought about the question. It took him a few heartbeats, but when he smiled, Winter saw the face of a very tired old man. "Consider the amount of time it takes you to blink. To bat your eyelids up and down. A few fractions of a second at most," Ozpin looked up into the ceiling and closed his eyes again. "I am reaching a point where I consider entire lives to come and go in that instant."
"Bullshit," Winter snorted.
"I assure you, it isn't." Ozpin opened his eyes and returned his gaze to the soldier in front of him, "And I'm not the only one.
Winter snatched the hip flask from Qrow and downed it.
2030
Kuo Kuana, Menagerie
The doors slammed open, flying off its hinges as Adam Taurus burst in.
"Corsac! Fennec!" He growled, "Bastards! Where are you?"
Two Albain bodyguards stormed forth pointing their ceremonial shortswords at the intruder. The Albain brothers looked up from their half-finished dinner, scowling at the man's rude entrance.
Fennec gently put his fork down as he swallowed the mouthful he was chewing, "Stand down, men." He waved the guards aside as they backed away.
"Adam Taurus," Corsac greeted, "what brings you to us this morning, child?"
"You incompetent fools," Adam said and slugged the man in the mouth. Corsac cannoned backward and tumbled back from his chair, teeth shattered. Fennec yelped in surprise, and the guards moved in.
Adam surged forwards to meet them, straight into the masterful cuts of the bodyguards. The blade glanced off Adam's sheath, and before the bodyguard could readdress, Adam punched him in the throat.
The man staggered back, choking and wheezing. The second man leapt over his fallen friend, blades flashing. Adam crouched, his hands hovering over the hilt of his sword. There was a blur of black, and the bodyguard suddenly found a vicious black claw around his throat. Blade-like talons, as long as forearms, seized his jugular. It began to squeeze.
"Blake! Stop!" Adam barked.
The pressure lifted immediately. The bewildered bodyguard turned to see a girl behind. What struck him was not the woman's bone-white skin, nor was it the fact that her hands had morphed from Grimm-like talons. What struck him, were her black and red eyes, empty and devoid of thought or emotion.
"Enough!" Fennec roared, "This madness ends now!"
Dutifully, the bodyguard lifted his hands in submission. Adam's hand left his weapon.
"Blake. Let him go. We are not here for blood."
Without a word, the girl called Blake released her victim. She stood there, unmoving, her empty eyes staring straight ahead.
Corsac groaned as he was helped up by his brother. His mouth was streaming bright red blood, and he glared at Adam.
Adam gestured to a chair, "Sit in the corner, Blake. Wait till I'm done."
Nodding once, Blake strode over and sat like an Atlesian droid executing a string of commands. Adam ignored the look of disgust on the Albain brothers' faces. They have no right to be, not after the formation of the Black Claws.
"What's the matter with you, boy?" Fennec growled, "Have you lost your mind? I could have you killed for this."
"What happened at facility 103?" Adam demanded, "Explain to me this loss of life."
"The Grimm-"
"Don't you fucking lie to me!" Adam roared, "The Grimm do not leave headshots and blade wounds."
Corsac's eyes widened, "How-? But they bodies-"
Adam threw his head back and laughed. "They were our fighters, Corsac. Burned to a crisp or not, they are my men. I at least owe them the courtesy of seeing them off," His eyes flashed behind his mask, and his smile turned to a sneer, "I had to tell their families that lie you concocted. It fucking sickens me!" He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, "How the fuck do I tell multiple families that there wasn't enough of mum and dad or their baby child left to fill a shoebox! For Brothers' sake, I can't even find Ilia's body!"
He snatched the dinner plate that Corsac had been eating off and scarfed down the half-eaten steak. It is not like the idiot is going to be using his teeth anytime soon, Adam thought as he chewed angrily.
"Adam, we are doing everything we can to uncover what happened," Corsac explained, wincing with each word, "we've questioned almost everyone in Kuo Kuana, and-"
Adam raised his hand. "I've been involved in the operation, Corsac. I've been at the site of the attack. I know what's being done, but what concerns me is what isn't being seen."
"What are you saying?" Fennec hissed.
Adam pulled out his scroll and slid open his notes. He rattled off his thoughts and findings. "An entire platoon of fighters were wiped out without raising an alarm. At approximately 0030 hours, facility 103 stopped responding. INDG was sent in and shortly after, stopped responding too. This is not the work of normal Huntsman."
"No, I do not suppose it is."
"Then the following explosion wiped all the evidence off the face of Remnant. Most likely highly volatile Dust ordinance. Sienna does not have access to this kind of ordinance, or if she did, any movement of it would have been reported to us. Guerrillas don't have access to that as well."
"Then what are you suggesting? If not for Sienna or Belladonna guerrillas, then who?"
"Commando tactics, ordinance support, and the skills and balls to take us on the middle of the night?" Adam said, "I do not know, but my gut tells me it's that bitch, Winter Schnee."
Adam Taurus was not having a good day.
Menagerie had been hit hard, and they still had no idea who orchestrated the attack. An entire platoon was slaughtered, and a facility burned to the ground. There were a few other accidents reported on the island, mainly accidents caused by mudslides and bad weather conditions, but Adam has been in the field long enough to know that the avenues of entry and exit are almost limitless. The enemy might even still on Menagerie, or they might be having a stroll in the deserts of Vacuo.
He was about to return to his quarters, Blake following him like a Geist in his shadow. Men that caught sight of him bowed in respect or fear, while those under his command saluted. They didn't even dare look at Blake.
Not for the first time, he asked himself where it all went so wrong.
As he stepped into his private quarters, he felt a presence in the room.
The darkness did not affect his vision, yet somehow it was suffocating and impenetrable tonight.
This wasn't normal, nor natural.
Adam drew his blade.
"Hello, Adam." A voice, smooth as silk, drifted from within the darkness.
He recognized the voice and lowered his blade. "I wasn't told of any visitors, Cinder."
The veil of darkness lifted, and Adam felt his skin crawl. The woman in front of him was human, or at least she used to be. Almost the entire left side of her upper body was Grimm. She was painfully beautiful, in the way a defiled work of art was. The entire left side of her face was scarred and bone white like a Grimm. She used to wear an eyepatch, perhaps out of self-consciousness or shame. But now it was for the world to see. Her left eye was a blood-red orb, soulless and full of malice.
Adam only knew she was amused by looking at her human eyes. "I would be a fool to make my presence known, Adam."
"Where are your two lapdogs? We might have our arrangement, but remember that this is still Menagerie. Humans are not welcome to wander around as they please."
"Lapdogs," Cinder laughed, "audacious for you to even use the word. Considering your lobotomized pet."
There was a blinding flash of red. A shriek of metal rang through the air.
Cinder held Adam's sword at bay, just a few centimeters from taking off her head. She smiled coyly as her Grimm hand tightened around the hungry red blade. There was no blood. She had just caught an attack that would have cleaved through Atlas Paladin's armour open with nothing but her bare hands.
"Hit a nerve, did I?"
Adam growled as he pushed the blade, his muscles trembling with effort, "She is not a pet."
"Our mistress granted you your wish," Cinder whispered, "she brought your little obsession back to life after your rabble killed her." She spat out the last few words to drive in her point. "I saw the aftermath. How they paraded her butchered body in the streets. How they f-"
"Shut up." Adam snarled. He pulled back his sword and sheathed it.
There was a rattling sound in the corner. The corpse-thing was trembling.
"Come here," Adam said, his soft tone sharply contrasting the knife's edge his tone took a mere heartbeat ago.
Cinder watched as Grimm hybrid trotted over like a broken puppet. She watched with morbid curiosity as the man shushed and comforted the Grimm girl like she was a child. Like she was still alive.
Cinder could almost imagine the screams of horror emitting from the girl's soul, at least what little uncorrupted remnants of it.
The concept amused and sickened her at the same time.
"She knew damn well what I wanted, Cinder," Adam hissed, "I never wanted…this."
Cinder snorted, "Salem is many things, but she knows the hearts of men better than you do yourself. Face it, Taurus. You wanted this, else you would have put her out of her misery by now."
"I…"
"Remember what she said? You must learn the importance of life and death, child." Cinder chided, "Only then, may she rest."
"I know what she said!" Adam hissed. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Why are you here?"
Cinder folded her arms as she leaned back in her seat, "What can you tell me about the recent attack?"
Adam narrowed his eyes, "How the hell did you find out?"
Cinder rolled her eye, "The Grimm are everywhere, Taurus. They are her eyes and ears. You should know this by now."
"Then you know damn well what happened, probably even better than those idiot brothers." Adam grunted, "All I know is that it has cost the lives of a lot of good people."
"You know nothing, then. Good." Cinder smiled, "let me give you some information as a sign of….good will."
It was then Cinder knew she had the man's full attention.
"Did She ask you to do this, or are you just toying with me and the lives of my men?" Adam asked, his voice low, "Maiden or not, I will at least make sure you get another arm replacement if you are fucking with me."
"You wouldn't be able to scratch me."
"You know I can do more than that."
"Save your bravado, Taurus," Cinder snorted, "do you want to find out who killed your people or not?
Cinder watched the man ponder his decision. His fingers circled and twirled around strands of "Blake's" black hair. He was hesitating.
Perhaps he needs a little push. A little wriggling worm to seal the deal.
"One of them got away, you know?" Cinder said.
His head snapped up, "What do you mean?"
"What else? You had a rat in your midst." Cinder purred, sliding her hands over his shoulder and enjoying his shuddering.
The man's face hardened. "I hope you have proof. I will not tolerate you speaking ill of my people."
"Oh yes. In fact," she snapped her fingers.
A Grimm Seer floated down from the darkness above, and Adam visibly recoiled in horror. Cinder chuckled at his visceral reaction.
"How long has that thing been here? Have you have been watching me all this time?" Adam snarled, "You bitch! I should-"
"Settle. Down." Cinder tightened her grip around his shoulders. The air around them started to heat up. Her human eye blazed, literally. "Our mistress has no interest in your bedroom activities. It is a way of communication, nothing more."
"You expect me to believe that?" Adam snarled.
Cinder looked him dead in the eye, "Do you honestly think there is reception out there? Can you imagine our mistress on a scroll swiping away? Get a hold of yourself, fool, and focus on the important issues."
With a wave of her hand, the bulbous orb of the Seer started to glow.
Murky shadows swirled within the creature's head. Slowly, images resolved themselves.
It had a direct view of the bright interior of an elevator, albeit slightly obscured by the vents. The door opened, and a masked man stepped in rifle raised.
"Clear!" He barked.
Footsteps, and more people entered the elevator.
Two other masked men. A boy, and-
"Fucking knew it," Adam growled, "it's Schnee again."
"Oh, but it gets better." Cinder said. She looked at Adam's face. She wanted to see how he would react. She wanted to savor this moment, the moment where someone realises that they have been betrayed.
A sixth figure stepped through. Her movements were timid and uncertain. Adam's eyes widened in shock, and his breath hitched.
"Ilia," Adam breathed, "Oh Ilia. What have you done?"