Siege
2030
Ciel's Apartment
They had relocated to Ciel's own humble apartment. It was small, cramped, and like the majority of Atlas housing, it cost an arm and a leg. In Ciel's case, almost both her arms.
Cardin and Russel patrolled the grounds. Local security had been notified in case Ciel's nosy neighbors threw a fit about the armed men patrolling the premises. The crow that had been following them around and flown off, and Ciel wondered how Winter managed to train a crow to do reconnaissance for her.
Ozpin sat in the living room next to Ren, watched over by Ilia – an outsider from what Ciel gathered. She was not given a weapon, but Winter had chosen her place as a point of refuge first. That meant trust, and Ciel trusted Winter's judgment.
Ren's flesh wound had almost completely recovered. He knelt to meditate instead of sitting, his eyes closed like he was in a trance. The air around him was warm, as he directed the flow of Aura. He still had his hands tied, despite his many protests, and his gear and ammunition had been evenly redistributed among the team. His mental state was still in question, especially because it was a direct result of enemy action.
Ciel was happy, despite the situation. It felt good to be needed again, to be back with the unit despite her injuries. She knew it wouldn't last, but it didn't hit her how much she missed working with the unit until today. At least she knew she could sleep soundly tonight.
Winter tapped her radio, "Sitrep."
"Mirror 2, checking in. No movements. Over." Cardin's voice crackled back.
"Mirror 3, reporting. All quiet. Over." Russel's voice hissed.
Satisfied, Winter joined Ciel in the kitchen. They had been on high alert for the majority of the day, and had not had the chance to eat yet.
"So who is he?" Ciel asked, raising her voice over the sizzling meat and ventilation fan. The aroma of cooked beef was already thick in the air. She stirred the pot, browning the meat aggressively.
"The entire reason this is happening," Winter replied as she was chopping onions. Her culinary skills left a lot to be desired, so she had regulated herself to preparation.
"They risked coming here for this boy?" Ciel huffed, "He must be important to them."
"I'm not so sure myself," Winter admitted, "but there is more going on than what meets the eyes."
"Evidently."
"This isn't going to end well," Winter sighed, scraping the onions aside, "we've got them cornered and hunted. Bastards tend to get creative when that happens."
"Agreed," Ciel nodded, "Shouldn't we-" Ciel stopped, sighing at her slip up, "shouldn't the unit be out there instead of here?" She gestured the general area outside, indicating the patrols in the skies and streets.
Winter gave her a thin smile. She knew how much Ciel wanted to be back, despite her injuries, "We should. But they risked their necks to come to Atlas to kill him," Winter nodded to Ozpin, "that is enough reason to keep him away from them. No matter the cost."
"What sort of strategic importance would warrant such a bold attack?" Ciel asked, mainly to herself.
"That's the issue," Winter shrugged, "we don't grasp the entire picture yet."
Ren opened his eyes.
He did not know how long had passed. An hour? Two?
The pain in his leg had subsided, and he was sure he could walk again. His Aura was still depleted, having been constantly channeled to his wound. Ren wasn't planning on getting shot again anytime soon.
"You're up," Ilia said, eating a bowl of soup. She set her bowl down and pushed another to him. "Yours."
The smell of cooked food hit him, and he suddenly realized how ravenous he felt. He swallowed the saliva that built up in his mouth. He looked up to see Ilia and Ciel sharing a meal.
"Yeah," Ren tugged at his hands, "can you untie me?"
"Nope," Ilia shrugged, "my hands are tied. Metaphorically, of course."
"Ciel?" Ren looked at his former squadmate.
The woman shook her head, "Winter's orders. We don't know if whatever controlled you is completely out of your system yet."
"I feel fine," Ren insisted, but he knew it was futile.
"Irrelevant, Lie," Ciel shrugged.
"I want to eat too. Smells great."
Ilia hummed in understanding, "This is great, I'll admit. Smells great, tastes great. Thank's Ciel!"
Ciel gave a small smile back.
"Please?"
"Be creative," Ciel smiled faintly.
Ren chuckled, "We missed you too, Ciel."
When Qrow fluttered back, Winter had fallen asleep. She was curled in the corner, her rifle at her side. Ciel's room was dark, and as per field conditions, they were taking turns sleeping.
Qrow noticed the bags under her eyes, but somehow he noticed she was more at ease. Despite the tension the city is no doubt under, Winter somehow slept more soundly. It showed too, her breathing was deeper, there was no permanent scowl on her face, and she was completely relaxed.
The nightmares that plagued her at home did not chase her today.
Qrow brushed away a stray strand of hair on her face. She looked beautiful.
"Qrow?" A voice came from the darkness.
"Yea, it's me." Qrow whispered back, "I could see the Grimm from up there, but no signs of our guests."
"I doubt they will strike at us again, Qrow."
That was true. The enemy had already struck them once when their trail of fresh. Now, their trail had most likely gone cold, and with the Atlas military on high alert, The White Fang would not be able to move as freely.
"I don't like it, Oz," Qrow said softly, "Salem's influence within the White Fang is deeper than we thought."
"It is to be expected," Ozpin whispered back, lowering his voice further when Winter stirred, "without our intervention in the past few years, her influence has grown larger than ever."
"Is that why they kept you hidden?" Qrow asked, "has she done that before?"
"Once. A long time ago," Ozpin closes his eyes as he reminisced, "when three Mistrali Dynasties still warred over their split kingdom. When the Veiled Houses and Vak Sultanate had just started their hundred-year war. Before the first settlers of Solitas even set foot on this frozen wasteland." He opened his eyes, and smiled bitterly, "She didn't manage to keep me long. I bit off my tongue."
Qrow winced. "Damn."
"Indeed," Qrow could hear the worry the boy headmaster's voice, "However, within these hundred years, after the Great War, technology has improved at an almost blinding speed. It seemed like a heartbeat ago when I was still riding horses around the Kingdom of Vale."
"And now they have the means to contain you, indefinitely." Qrow breathed.
"Yes," Ozpin nodded, "that worries me,"
"I won't let them get you, Oz," Qrow promised, "I'll still be capable for at least a few more decades."
"It is not that, my dear boy," Ozpin said, "from my understanding, these types of technology require extensive funding, research, and testing, to achieve."
"Yeah?"
Ozpin was silent for a moment, and Qrow could almost hear the gears in his mind running through multiple possibilities. Finally, he spoke, "Unless the dynamics of the world has shifted drastically within the past five years, only Atlas, or Atlas trained talent, is capable of developing and implementing such technologies."
"Shit, Oz." Qrow bristled, his blood suddenly cold.
"They knew where to strike, where to look for me. They knew the methods of getting in and out of arguably the most secure Kingdom on Remnant," Ozpin said calmly, "let us not forget about Beacon, and how they broke through the most sophisticated firewall ever made to turn the Atlesian Knights into our enemy."
Qrow remembered that night. The night of fire and death. Droves of unsuspecting students, soldiers, and civilians killed as the guns of betrayal roared. The desperate cries for reinforcements on the Atlas radio. The slow agonizing destruction of multiple Atlesians warships, their final waltz of death crushing and burning hundreds in their wake.
No amount of alcohol would block those memories out.
Ozpin sighed, his true age seeping through into his voice, "Salem seems to have long infiltrated Atlas. Perhaps even before I took up the mantle of Headmaster. I dare not guess how deep her influence goes for this Kingdom, and the rest of Remnant."
2300
White Fang safehouse, Atlas.
The cramped apartment of the traitor had been abandoned as soon as it became clear their quarry had moved. The air patrols had intensified, and by now all of the civilians had cleared the streets to cower at home.
Atlas was on full lockdown, and to an extent, Mantle was too. No one was allowed in or out.
The White Fang were running out of places to hide. There were only so many safe locations available to them before it was considered compromised.
They had to move fast and stay scattered until the target could be located and taken out.
So it came as a surprise when Adam ordered all the surviving forces to rally to a single location after dark.
When the sun set and the darkness descended upon the flying city, the Fang commandos materialized out of the shadows.
In a Dust warehouse on the edges of Atlas, the surviving Black Claws gathered around their strike team leader. They took a knee, their weapons at their sides. A few of them were not present, having been sent to patrol and keep a watch for Atlesian forces.
Adam nodded, satisfied that all the surviving men had been accounted for.
"Brothers, sisters," Adam began, "there has been a change of plan."
They looked on at him. Adam could feel the fighting spirit in the air. These brave warriors were ready for action, despite the hell they had been put through in the morning.
"We have lost the scent of our high-value target, that much is certain," Adam admitted, "but I have come up with a plan that has the possibility of drawing him out."
They listened, attentive.
"However," Adam took in a deep breath, "this might next attack is, admittedly, walking a very fine line."
He could see a few uncertain glances around, but their heads were still fixed on Adam.
"Throughout the years, Remnant has slowly shifted its attitude towards the faunus for the better. Even here in Atlas," Adam took off his Grimm mask, revealing the SDC brand that had marked his face for the better part of his life, "even the SDC bastards, Brothers damn their soul, have reformed entirely after the death of that tyrant. Our actions are already vindicated, and thus we must press on further."
He traced the angry malformed skin with his fingers as he spoke.
"Which brings me to the next point. Our next target, is SDC Manor."
The Black Claws shifted in their positions. Their faces remained neutral, but Adam knew the mixed reaction that got.
"Some of you might not know," Adam continued, "the current SDC chairman is a far cry from the rest of his family. Some of you, like me, are in the White Fang because of Jacques Schnee. Others, more recent, might be here because they crossed paths with Winter Schnee. But Whitley Schnee seems to be the only man I know where a bullet actually did him some good."
A soft chuckled rippled through the men.
"Right now, the SDC manor is a school in all but name," Adam said, and paused as the implications set in, "it is not a combat school. There are many of our kind attending too. This is why I am giving you all a choice.
"You are soldiers. The Elite of the White Fang. The sword of the Faunus that strike fear into the hearts of those that oppress us," Adam gestured to each one of them as emphasis, "But these are not Atlesian commandos, Khan's Guardsmen, or even plain elite Huntsmen. These are children we are talking about, human and faunus.
"Skill and restraint are what sets us apart from the rest of the White Fang, be it Khan's or Ablion's. We are here to complete a mission, and we shall not deviate from that. But when the Atlesians catch wind of this, we might have to resort to some extreme actions to complete the objective.
"I know some of you are not willing to cross that line, despite your devotion to our cause. I giving you a choice, not as a commander but as a friend," Adam stood up, signaling the end of this gathering, "Those that do not wish to join me, I understand. I will not hold it against you when I complete the mission. You are to exfiltrate tonight under the cover of darkness. Link up with our contact, callsign Dime, in Mantle, and let him know there will be a second group. Dime is human, but we need him. Don't cause any unnecessary trouble. Understood?"
As one, the Black Claws grunted in confirmation.
Adam nodded, satisfied, "Back to your posts."
In the end, Adam only counted seven Black Claws that were willing to stand at his side. Along with him, Blake and Tyrian, they only had ten men to storm Schnee Manor.
Storming the Manor is the easy part. But defending themselves against the inevitable counterattack, and completing their mission, would be a much more difficult challenge.
The entire idea was distasteful, but it was Tyrian's idea after all. Adam could not offer anything else on the table, so he had no choice but to go along with it.
No, it wasn't true. He had a choice, but that would mean the certain death of Blake. That was not an option he was willing to consider, no matter how much he would love to take Tyrian's head from his shoulders. But if things really went south, how many faunus children will be caught in the crossfire?
"You sure about this?" Yuma asked, hooking his arm over Adam's shoulder and leaning in close, "I have no love for human children, but…"
"But what, Yuma."
"That Tyrian fellow," Yuma hissed, keeping his voice low, "he's gonna mess shit up. He's the fucking Ripper of Anima. You know what he has done to human children."
"If you don't care, then why worry?"
"I don't," Yuma said defensively, and all too quickly, "but you still don't shoot a handful of pups even if they are just animals, you know? Heck, I'd hesitate with baby rats if I had to go through like, ten of em."
"You could leave, Yuma."
"Like hell I'm leaving you alone with that freak," Yuma snorted, "someone has to be there to pull your ass out of the fire."
Adam sighed, and gave a weak smile. He clasped his hands around his comrade's shoulder, and squeezed, "Thanks, brother."
Adam looked round at Tyrian. The man was praying. No doubt to the abomination named Salem.
He could kill him right now. Just a simple thrust of his sword to the back of his neck.
If the man does cause trouble, then Adam will strike him down. Surely Salem would understand that.
The Black Claws moved under the cover of darkness.
The Atlesian military and law enforcement stuck to the harsh lights in the streets, and Bullheads scanned every nook and cranny with thermal cameras and spotlights. They had thought the light was to be their solace in the night, but it just made more visible, like illuminated targets down a range.
Never has Atlas been gripped with such terror before. The floating fortress of modern kings and queens had become a cage. For that night, they experienced what the citizens of Menagerie experience almost every day.
The distant wall guns of Mantle roared, as Grimm stalked the ice fields in the distance. Clouds of black Nevermores and Griffins were blown from the skies by Atlesian warships and manned flak cannons. Great gouts of flamed punched through the large airborne Grimm in the distance, and tracer fire from the wall guns lit up the night sky, shredding apart the wave of creatures closing in on the Kingdom with airburst explosives that almost looked like fireworks.
Many citizens would stand at their windows, their mouths wide open as the full might of the Atlesian fortress was unleashed. Never before had they seen such an overt show of destruction.
For some, the sight was awe-inspiring and relieving, for nothing could possibly penetrate the wall of guns. But for some, the sight was terrifying, for what could be out there to warrant such firepower? But for most, it didn't matter. They all saw the news of the attack at the military base. The media - either uncaring about the emotional misery it inflicted, or fully trusting the capabilities of the very establishment they criticized - fanned the flames further, never letting a tragedy go to waste.
The guardians of Atlas had to strike a delicate balance of hunting down terrorists in their streets and repelling the Grimm drawn by the misery and terror.
The Atlas elite, for once in their lives, experienced true uncertainty, their kingdom's illusion of might shattered in one night. That terror was made all the sweeter, for it was fresh, like a raw wound ripped open by the Black Claws.
Eventually, the search for the intruders was abandoned altogether, to further reinforce the borders.
To the average Atlesian soldier, the White Fang had just vanished into the night, like ghosts in the snow. To hunt for phantoms was a waste of time and resources that could be used to fend off the Grimm.
When the sun rose the next day, silence dawned upon the flying city. The encroaching darkness of Grimm was driven back by the light of Dust and firepower.
The people of Altas breathed a sigh of relief, believing that the worst has come to pass.
Once again, they were wrong.
0700
Student Dorms, Schnee Manor
Miya screamed, immediately awake. It felt like her entire body was encased in ice. She kicked and floundered as she rolled out of bed. Pain shot through her skull as she cracked it against the hardwood floor. She curled up, clutching her head.
Her panicked mind tried to make sense of what was going on. She had been sleeping in her assigned dorm, and then-
Laughter. She heard laughter carried by the pattering of feet, followed by her dorm room slamming shut.
She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow.
Miya sat up from the floor, suddenly aware she was in the middle of an ice-cold puddle. Ice cubes floated and slid around her, and her sleeping gown was wet.
She recognized that laughter. She would recognize it anywhere.
Blanche had a really distinct shrill laugh that grated Miya's sensitive ears.
That laugh plagued her when Blanche and her friends destroyed her homework an hour before it was due. It haunted her when Blanche called her a stray animal when no one came to pick her up after school. It echoed in her head when Blanche hit her in the face during dodgeball, hard enough to knock her over.
There was suddenly a lump in her throat, and she tried to force it down. But it was too late. Hot tears escaped from her eyes, and Miya sniffed, feeling the familiar ache lance through her heart.
It hurt.
She took solace in the fact that it was just iced water this time. Her bed will dry off, and-
Miya curled up into a ball and sobbed. She didn't want to get out of her dorm, but she knew she would miss breakfast. But…she really did not want to leave her room.
Maybe she should tell Mr. Schnee, or one of the teachers, or that nice man, Klein. But what would happen then? Would it get better, or worse? She thinks it would get worse.
If only Cardin was here, she thought, or one of her "uncles". She felt safe with them. He had been back for a short period, but yesterday something happened. Something very important, enough to keep Cardin and her uncles away for the entire day.
It wasn't just that. The entire school went into lockdown, and students were not allowed to go home, and the dorms were suddenly filled to the brim. Her friends were here, but at the same time, that meant Blanche was here too.
Miya wiped her tears.
Perhaps…perhaps she should just stay in the room for a while. Get cleaned up and dressed for class. She knew Cardin would not approve of her missing breakfast, but in truth, she only ever felt hungry when she was back home. It showed too, because even uncle Russel noticed she got thinner every time they returned.
Maybe today will be a better day. Maybe Cardin will come and pick her up, and they can finally go for ice cream together. Who knows, maybe Uncle Russel and Ren will join too.
The thought put a smile on her face.
Miya stayed in her dorm, deciding to skip breakfast entirely.
She helps with chores at home, and cleaning up the mess Blanche had made was no different. Like the rest of Schnee Manor, her dorm room was half the size of her home in Mantle. It faced where the sun rose every morning, and sometimes she doesn't draw the curtains for this reason.
It was beautiful to look at. She wishes Cardin could see it, but if he's back in Atlas or Mantle there is no reason for her to stay in the dorms.
It was a cloudy morning this day. There were lots of planes in the sky from yesterday noon to morning. There were lots of fireworks last night too, and Miya wondered what the occasion was for it to last almost the entire night.
She looked out the window, and frowned.
There were some people outside. They looked different, pale like ghosts. She spotted them wearing masks, and carrying swords and guns. Maybe they were new Huntsmen? The protectors of humanity!
She knew Mr. Schnee employed some Huntsmen for security, and in truth, Miya was thinking of becoming one in the future.
One of them looked up and saw her. He looked normal. Miya liked his hair. It reminded her of a warm fire. She waved at him. The man looked at her for a moment and gave a small unsure wave back.
Her scroll rang. It was the alarm she had set.
Grabbing her bag, she walked out into the long marble hall of Schnee Manor. Around her, students milled about, laughing and joking with their friends.
Miya had a few people she could call friends, but she wished she had more. Some people don't like her rabbit ears, and others don't like her because she was from the outside of the Kingdoms.
Bandit, some called her. Thief. Animal. Especially that one older girl, Blanche Browning. There were others, but Blanche was particularly mean to her.
The first lesson of the day would be IT class. She knew a bit more about computers and scrolls because sometimes Cardin would play games with her on it. She wished the classes were as exciting as games, but -
A series of loud bangs echoed through the manor. Miya yelped. Some other students screamed, surprised by the sudden commotion. Others stood, stunned and puzzled at the sudden loud noise.
Angry shouting rang in the distance. Miya took a step back, suddenly feeling very scared. Something was wrong. Teachers never shouted, not like this. The voices were too deep, too angry. The primal part of Miya screamed in alarm, and a wave of dread washed over her. The screams of shock turned to screams of panic. Miya's eyes widened, her heart was pounding.
What was going on? She needed to find a teacher. She needed to get help. But fear rooted her to the spot.
The shouting became louder, and some students had started to run.
"W-what's happening?" She heard someone ask.
Then, she saw them. Monsters. Tall hulking monsters with the faces of Grimm. Their skin was as pale as ghosts that haunted the school halls at night. These people weren't Huntsmen. They were monsters wearing the skin of Huntsmen!
She turned to run, but her body refused to cooperate.
A creature with terrifying red eyes skittered towards her, making terrible noises that sounded almost like laughter. Something unfurled from his back. A terrible bladed tail.
It lunged towards her.
Miya screamed.
Whitley looked up from his desk, frowning.
There was a loud commotion outside. Could the students be fighting? Surely not. Easing himself up from his table, his exoskeleton whining, he strode out of his office.
Some students froze at the sight of Whitley, like they had been caught doing something they shouldn't. Perhaps it was his perplexed frown, and the rare scowl on his face, but Whitley needed to find out what was happening. If there was a fight going on, that was unacceptable. He needed to break it up before anyone got hurt.
Thunderclaps echoed and rolled down the halls. The screams intensified.
Whitley froze.
He knew that sound. It was easy for the civilian to mistake those booms for fireworks, after all, it was the most reasonable explanation in Atlas. Whitley's conscious mind certainly thought so.
But his subconscious knew.
The deeper bass, the harsher crack, the slight concussive wave that washes over the body.
It was suddenly hard to breathe. It felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest. His world swam, and he struggled to take control. His old wound ached. A dull pain throbbed from his legs that he could no longer feel, like phantom knives stabbing into his soul.
Every single instinct screamed for Whitley to run, to get as far away from the noise as humanly possible. In a slight moment of weakness, he almost did.
Until he saw the faces of the students around him. They were looking at him, puzzled, oblivious to the danger that was at the other end of the corridor.
Without a second thought, he walked towards the gunshots, ignore the dread gnawing at him from inside. He had to do something.
Klein appeared, skidding to a halt in front of Whitley, his face pale. Whitley had never seen him so terrified before.
"Master Whitley!" he called out, "It's them! It's the Fang! We need to get you to safety!"
"Forget about me, Klein," Whitley said, trying to keep his voice steady, "get as many children as you can."
"But-"
"Use father's emergency tunnel," Whitley said, "and seal it off."
"What about you, Master Whitley?" Klein said, his voice almost shrill. His eyes changed, and his rougher personality came out, "Don't be a hero, young master. You are not your sisters. At least they know how to fight."
"I won't fight," Whitley admitted, "but if it's the White Fang, they are here for me. Get the children out."
"No!" Klein barked back, "I will not leave you! I will not sit by to watch them take one of you away from me again! I will not-" He choked back a sob, suddenly overcome with emotion. He blinked his tears away, "I have failed you all once before. They took Weiss away from me, and they almost took you. Don't make me do this, Whitley."
"I will be fine, Klein," Whitley forced a smile. He pulled the man into a hug, "now, please. Take as many of the students with you as you can."
"But-"
"Go!" Whitley roared, pushing Klein away.
He strode his way past the screaming crowd, back straight and eyes forward. He walked with purpose, like how a Schnee should look regardless of the situation.
It wasn't hard to spot them. The White Fang chased the students, their rifles banging bullets into the ceiling. Glass and stone shattered, showering the screaming children with debris. When they spotted him, they aimed their rifles at him.
Spreading open his arms, Whitley raised his voice, as loud as he could, "I am Whitley Schnee, Headmaster of this school. You will not harm-"
"Shut up," Yuma snarled. He strode towards Whitley and pressed the barrel of his rifle under the boy's chin. Whitley winced away as the hot barrel singed touched his skin.
"There is no need for bloodshed, sir," Whitley said softly.
"That will entirely depend on your actions and the actions of the Atlesian council. Do as we say, or we shoot you, and every child we can find." Yuma promised.
"I will cooperate," Whitley said, unable to completely stamp out the fear in his tone. He swallowed hard, steadying his nerve, "just don't shoot anyone."
"Then the first order of business," Yuma nodded, "Get everyone into the gym. Now."
They were herded like sheep to their destination. Some of the children wept and sobbed in terror and confusion. Others looked lost, not understanding the situation they were in. The teachers fared no better, and Whitley knew he didn't too. With each step he took, Whitley felt more and more certain he was walking to his own execution.
"Please," he begged, "just let the children go. I will stay, just let the children go."
The White Fang gave him a flat look, and drove the butt of a rifle into his stomach. Whitley would have collapsed had his exoskeletal legs not been locked.
He gasped and wheezed, his vision blurring for a second.
Someone screamed.
"Mr. Schnee!"
"Shut up!" one of the terrorists barked.
The man that hit him grabbed Whitley's collar and dragged him near his face. Whitely averted his gaze, unable to bear the hot breath of the man, "Shut up and walk, Schnee. And keep your hands up, or I'll kill you."
They were nothing he could do.
"To the walls!" Adam shouted. Whitley realized he was one of the few that looked normal. Yet somehow he was much more intimidating than the ones with Grimm pale skin. Some children flinched.
All they can do now is to comply.
The multipurpose gym was a large open space that doubled as the main hall. Before, it had been an arena built specifically for Winter and Weiss to hone their combat abilities. Then, Whitley had it converted, overlaying the entire floor with polished wood and installing sports facilities in the walls.
Now, it was to be their prison.
"Do as he says, children," Whitley said, trying to keep the shake out of his voice.
They were all lined up against the pristine white wall.
He suddenly had the mental image of the wall splattered with blood, his blood and the blood of the students.
He felt sick.
Whitley didn't dare break down. He had to remain steadfast and strong. If he were to panic, or to allow his tears to fall, who else would the children look to?
But as they were lined to the wall, Whitley couldn't help but feel terror shake his core.
There were over two hundred students now cramped onto one side of the gym. Ten White Fang soldiers stood in front of them in a line. Some of them looked unnaturally pale, their black veins visible on their pale skin. One of them, a girl with cat ears, looked like a walking corpse with how still she was standing, and how lifeless her eyes were.
For a brief moment, Whitley feared that they would start shooting, to begin gunning them down in cold blood.
A scorpion faunus was laughing in delight as he dragged a student into the gym. It was Miya.
She was held up by her arms, kicking and screaming as her feet dangled off the floor. With a careless toss, the child was hurled into the crowd. Whitley dived forwards, catching the rabbit faunus. His legs whirred in protest.
She held onto him, shaking and sobbing. Whitley lowered her to the ground, shushing her.
"I-, I want to go home," she sobbed, "please? Let me go home."
"We're going to be alright, you'll see," Whitley whispered back, soothing her as best he could.
Miya shook her head, unable to form a response.
"You'll see. Your father is coming. My sister too. Don't worry, Miya. I will not let anything happen to you, to any of us. I promise."
The Black Claws moved swiftly. Desks and chairs were tossed in a pile, blocking doors and hallways. Curtains were drawn and lights were switched off.
Already, they could hear sirens in the distance.
The White Fang needed to get the word out.
They needed to let the entirety of Atlas know, they want to talk to Winter Schnee.
0830
Looking Glass Hotel, Atlas
Velvet Scarlatina did not like Atlas. She came to Atlas along with her partner, Coco Adel, because they were invited to Atlas Academy as guest instructors.
Velvet had taken this chance to visit her father, despite her heart telling her not to. It didn't go as bad as she had anticipated. The man had aged significantly, and Velvet couldn't bring herself to completely ignore the old man. She had promised him she would come to visit more often.
They were supposed to leave yesterday. However, an unexpected Grimm horde, the largest Velvet had ever seen, materialized in the dark.
She did not know the details of what attracted the old eternal enemy, and it wasn't her business to know. Velvet and Coco were Huntresses, and they had a duty to fulfill.
The subsequent battle had been hectic, and they had to withdraw multiple times to resupply. Coco had to even change barrels multiple times on her minigun due to how much ammunition she had expended.
It had been three hours since they got back to their hotel room, and Coco had fallen asleep on the spot.
Yet, somehow Velvet woke up a few hours later. Perhaps it was the sirens outside. Perhaps it was the distant booms of gunshots of clean-up Grimm operations, or perhaps it was her nightmare. Velvet suspected it was a combination of all.
She had dreamt of Beacon. Velvet moaned as she clutched her chest, feeling the tightness slowly ebb away. Such an amount of Grimm so close to a Kingdom, Atlesian ships flying through the skies, explosions, fire, blood, and death.
The operation reminded her too much of Beacon.
Velvet wiped a tear away. It still hurt like an agitated old wound, remembering the friends she lost that day.
It was all in the past.
Those that mattered to her were alive, and...she blinked, a sudden thought intruding her head.
Cardin Winchester. Cardin fucking Winchester was here in Atlas and Mantle. He had come up to her a few days ago, and Velvet had instinctively slapped the man.
She didn't see him during the operation, but he very well might have been assigned to a different sector.
Or he might have given up the Huntsmen's path altogether after Remnant.
Or he might have perished a few hours ago, killed by Grimm.
Velvet hoped the bastard was dead and his bones were being gnawed on by- no. Velvet shook her head, slapping her cheeks softly. Such hostile thoughts were unworthy of her, even if Cardin Winchester was a bastard.
Velvet groaned, rolling out of bed. She cast a look at her still sleeping partner in the other bed and sighed with envy.
Coco could sleep through the Fall of Beacon if she wanted to. Even the sirens outside did not bother her.
Then again, maybe it was her faunus ears picking up on the high-pitched whines.
Putting on a jacket, she decided to investigate what the commotion was all about. The sirens sounded close.
Velvet stepped out on the balcony of her room, feeling the cold breeze of Atlas wash over her face. She opened her eyes to take in the glory of Atlas.
She did not like Atlas, but it was undeniably beautiful.
Schnee Manor stood majestically close by, one of the few landmarks in Atlas next to the Academy and the CCT. It still boggled her mind how ridiculously large it was, considering it used to only house a family.
It was a pity she would never see Weiss Schnee again. She was a good friend and a good person.
Small distant cracking snapped her out of her thoughts.
She scanned the view, her faunus eyes and ears picking up suddenly alert. She felt the familiar rush of adrenaline starting to course through her veins. Her subconscious was telling her something.
She listened hard, hoping to catch the distant cracks again.
Crack boom, crack boom.
It was coming from Schnee manor.
What in the Brother's name was going on there? She focused her hearing, trying to cut through the howling winds and the din of Bullheads flying over.
"No!" A voice boomed from the manor, "Get back!"
She opened her mouth and closed it again, it suddenly felt very dry. Her stomach lurched.
"Oh, shit," was all she could manage.
"Bring me Winter Schnee!" the distant voice demanded. There were several loud cracks. Velvet flinched.
Gunfire.
"Bring me Winter Schnee now!"
Winter's scroll beeped. The rest of the squad's scroll began chirping too a few seconds after.
Her heart sank when she read the message. Like she knew from the beginning, a cornered enemy is the most dangerous.
She leaned back on her seat, biting the corner of her lips. Blood dribbled down her chin.
Winter opened her eyes, feeling nothing but cold fury. Taking the radio, she hit the send button.
"Looks like we're on, boys," She growled.
Winter cast a look at Ciel, "Ciel, sister. We might need you for this one."
Ciel straightened, and nodded, "I'll get my weapon."
0900
Council meeting room, Atlas Central Tower.
"This," Councilman Sleet growled, "is a disaster."
"How did they get in?" Camilla demanded, "Most importantly, why did our facial recognition not pick up any irregularities?"
"A glitch, surely," Sleet sighed, "it is pure speculation at this point."
The door swung open, and the remaining two council members walked in. They had evidently been busy throughout the night.
"Goodwitch, Hill,", greeted Councilman Sleet, "It is good to see both of you unscathed from the…mess at the military base." He took a moment to study the two. It was evident they did not sleep well, if at all.
"Thank you, Sleet," Glynda nodded, taking a seat at the table, "Let us not delay any longer."
"Now that the Council has convened, onto the first order of business," Robyn grunted, her voice hoarse, pouring herself a cup of coffee, "Mantle Militia and Huntsmen are geared and ready to counter any additional Grimm threats. Most if not all of the students in Schnee Manor are from Mantle, and the anxiety and unrest is bound to attract more attention than we already have."
"Good decision," Glynda slid open a report on her scroll, "The Grimm horde that formed yesterday night had been eradicated save for pockets of survivors. However, our sensors show signs of another horde forming. Teams have been rotated out for refuel and resupply. The hunt continues as we speak."
"The wall guns," Camilla said slowly, consulting her scroll, "they are being rearmed. There were reports of some maintenance issues, but the majority should be back online within five hours."
"And now for the most pressing matter at hand." Sleet sighed, "Terrorists have taken Schnee Manor. They are making demands to speak with Winter Schnee. Our negotiators were fired at, and one of them had been wounded in the initial barrage. Threats were made, that if they do not see her within half an hour, they will kill thirty hostages. How do we approach this?"
"How long was that ago?" Glynda bristled, her face suddenly pale.
"Fifteen minutes," Sleet answered, "but we have unconfirmed reports that Winter Schnee is already at the scene and engaged in talks."
"Who gave her the authority?" Camilla sneered.
"I did," Robyn said, narrowing her eyes at the Councilwoman, "and even if she didn't have the authority, I say she made the right call."
"Procedures must be followed, and-" Camilla began, but Sleet waved her off.
"We shall deal with this...transgression...at another time," Sleet said, giving Robyn a glance, "however, I am in agreement with Ms. Hill here. This gives us more time to plan out a course of action."
"Animals," Camilla sneered, "We need to make this clear to these extremists," Camilla interlaced her fingers, her frown deepening, "The rule of Atlas Law must be applied here. On that, we must not be swayed. If Winter Schnee is the only person they are willing to talk to, then she will have to be our negotiator. But we must let her know to not give these terrorists anything."
"Even at the cost of our children?" Robyn asked incredulously, "Would you be saying the same thing if it was a school full of Atlesian children?"
"Ms. Hill, it is an Atlesian School, even if the majority of the students are from Mantle. They are the children of Atlas. But nevertheless," Sleet emphasized calmly, as it was a typical meeting, "we must establish a bottom line of negotiations."
"Is the reestablishment of military command on the table?" Glynda asked, "I am afraid this might be too dangerous for the police, or even the Huntsmen, to handle."
"No," Sleet said sharply, "under no circumstances are we to have another General picked from the military, and emergency powers granted. Not even in this situation."
"We are clearly over our heads," Glynda pointed out, "Only those under General Ironwood had any experience in this department."
"We know what happened to them," Robyn huffed, suddenly remembering how Winter came to owe her a favor.
The decimation of Ironwood's leadership circle had all but crippled the Atlesian military as a fighting force. The consensus between Camilla and Sleet was that the only threat Atlas would face will be that of Grimm, thus they adopted a stance that was in line with the wishes and sentiments of the other Kingdoms of Remnant.
It didn't occur to them that the strike that killed General Ironwood might happen again.
Sleet scoffed indignantly at the jab, "It was a show of good faith to the people of Remnant."
"It was to get rid of old loyalties, and you know it," Glynda remarked tiredly, "but that hardly matters now. We have a situation in our hands, and the more time we spend bickering about our past mistakes, the more time the terrorists will have to prepare."
"I concur with Goodwitch," Robyn nodded, "are we to begin negotiations with Menagerie? Perhaps they could shed some light on this situation, or even offer a way out."
"Out of the question," Camilla snapped, "To negotiate with any faction in Menagerie is to choose sides in their messy civil war."
"Then we send the military in," Sleet said, "A show of force, that we will not bow to terror tactics."
"It will be a bloodbath, Sleet," Robyn gasped, exasperated the councilman even suggested this idea, "Glynda and I were there in Elysia. These people are not your normal terrorists or even Huntsmen."
"I will not toss the lives of my students away for a political statement, Sleet," Glynda glared at the older man, "We cannot hope for the students of Atlas Academy to storm the manor, or even for full-fledged military huntsmen to do the same. I spent the entire night with the survivors of the attack. They might have graduated, but they are still my students."
"I apologize, Goodwitch," Sleet remarked smoothly, in a tone that implied he was anything but, "I'm certain, however, there will be more than one volunteer if it does come down to storming the building. I suspect Ms. Schnee would volunteer, but it will be a lot of responsibility. She is also going to be our negotiator too."
"What of the Ace Ops?" Camilla asked, "Surely our best of the best could be of assistance."
Glynda cleared her throat, "Operator Huntress Bree is still in critical condition. Operator Huntsman Vine was killed in action the day before. Operator Huntsman Marrow has been wounded, so I do not think he is at full capacity."
"Brothers," Camilla sat back in her seat, "that's over half of them."
For a moment, the meeting room was quiet as each council member pondered their potential options.
"What about the police?" Camilla finally asked, "I have heard of a special police unit."
"Ironwood's secret police?" Sleet snorted, "We defunded them when Ironwood was assassinated, have you forgotten?"
"Camilla shrugged, "Must have missed that part in the bill." knowing she had signed many bills without reading a single page of the wordy documents.
Sleet nodded, "But you may have a point. Perhaps we can order law enforcement to deal with the situation with the support of the military."
Robyn sighed, "Might I suggest the law enforcement in Mantle? They will have the edge over Atlas police."
"And why is that?" Camilla asked.
Robyn shot her a flat look. It was clear she wasn't about to spell it out for the councilwoman. What the Mantle department lacked in funding, they made up for with experience.
"I think we are ignoring our most significant asset, however," Robyn continued, ignoring the frowning woman, "Individuals in the military that Ironwood trained-"
"-Groomed," Camilla smirked. Glynda bristled.
Robyn sighed, before continuing, "Individuals like the mentioned disbanded Special Police unit. Individuals like Winter Schnee and her men. They're the best shot we have. If Winter Schnee is to be the negotiator, I suggest having some of her men train, and lead a strike team."
Sleet and Camilla sighed in unison. The two older council members shared a look.
"We have disbanded the Special police for a reason, Ms. Hill," Sleet spoke slowly, "Ironwood was walking down a dangerous path. While we did agree on the formation of Winter Schnee's little unit-"
"The Legionnaires," Glynda snapped, "they were not a small unit. She has requested for more reinforcements since their first casualty."
"That bloodthirsty attack dog of Ironwood has no business in the Atlas military. She formed a unit trained for assassination, sabotage, and warfare!" Camilla exploded, "The training regime is inhumane! Their purpose, sickening! The formation of the unit, if ever found out by the rest of Remnant, will shame us for decades! Winter should be thankful we haven't disbanded her little murder squad!"
"They have directly eliminated numerous threats against our Kingdom and others, Councilwoman," Robyn pointed out, "they may be an unorthodox unit, but we cannot deny their uses."
"What I'm hearing," Camilla narrowed her eyes, "is that both of you are fine with sanctioned killings."
"Might I remind you, Councilwoman Camilla," Glynda said icily, "even Huntsmen train to fight other Huntsmen. While the Kingdoms of Remnant abide by the Code of nonaggression, we must not forget that the Code is just that. An unspoken rule of social agreement between Kingdoms."
"The existence of the Atlas military already goes against the Code, Goodwitch," Sleet pointed out, "if the rest of the Kingdoms find out we are training killers of men, I fear it will spiral into an arms race, then another Great War."
"There is a point there to be considered," Robyn spoke up, feeling the onset of a headache. She despised talking to these people, "unspoken code or not, the ramifications of such a unit's existence would be detrimental. The existence of our military is already on thin ice, but for the military, we can simply say their main purpose is to reinforce Huntsmen. We cannot say so for the unit in question."
"Then what do you suggest, Ms. Hill?" Glynda shot back.
"Then we do as we have always done. Deny their existence." Robyn shrugged, "The Legionnaires only existed in ancient times. Foreigners led by Mantle knights. Ancient history. But right now, we have two hundred children trapped in the Schnee manor, and like it or not the most experienced killers- as you put it-, might be the best for the job."
Sleet frowned, and Robyn could almost see the light bulb flicker in her head. Sleet nodded, thinking deeply.
"If we allow them this opportunity," Sleet hummed, "then we might have more sway over Winter Schnee's unit." He looked up, "Apart from Winter and her group, how many more men does the unit have?"
Robyn said, "Winter's unit is all but four men out of their original thirty. We might be able to recall several others that were discharged medically, but even if we do use them, we are still asking a handful of men to storm a fortress."
"So they still need military or police support," Camilla snorted.
"There was a special police unit that was mentioned earlier," Glynda pointed out, "I am aware of several of them being combat instructors in the military. There is a good chance the others have moved to similar fields of work after the break up of their unit. I propose we form a temporary team comprised of these individuals and military personnel, led by Winter's Legionnaires."
"Very well," Sleet nodded, "I think that is the best option we have currently. Let's start there."
"Are you seriously considering this, Sleet?" Camilla asked, exasperated, "Robyn? Can you not see my concern?"
"I am aware of the potential issues this might cause on our image to the other Kingdoms," Robyn said, emphasizing 'image' on purpose, "but I can assure you, a school of slaughtered children is no better."
"Enough," Sleet sighed, "all in agreement with the formation of the assault team?"
"Yes," Glynda and Robyn said.
"No," Camilla said bitterly.
"Decision is passed by majority," Sleet concluded, "let's get this done."
AN: This took a while. I'll admit writing meetings and politics talk isn't something I understand or have explored or written before, and I honestly have no idea how the RWBY council things work anyway.
It was a difficult chapter to write, and my life is picking back up again. Expect slower updates.
Let me know what you guys think in a review. Thanks!