Day 2
3 Years Ago
Operation Tyrant Spear
Unmarked settlement, Mistral
Miya couldn't see, no, she couldn't bear to open her eyes lest she sees the lifeless eyes of her aunt staring back at her. The smell of blood choked her throat.
Death surrounded her
She let out a whimper as she tried to move. Pain lanced through her leg, and Miya let out a tiny whimper. But, the pain was nothing compared to the throbbing she felt in her chest.
"Liar…" Miya whispered.
Auntie said mama and papa had escaped. Auntie had said the humans aren't going to do anything, even when auntie held her so tight. Auntie said it was all going to be alright, right after she told Miya to close her eyes.
"Captain, we got a live one," She opened her eyes, to see a human staring down at her. The man's indigo eyes were cruel, the man wore a wicked smile on his face.
Another man loomed across, his face expressionless, "A firing line and you still miss. You're a shit shot, man."
The guns they held were still smoking.
It was nothing like the toy her neighbors played with, carved out of wood and harmless. This was loud and scary, and it had been pointed right at her.
She looked away, tears blurring her eyes. She wished she didn't.
Everyone was dead. Everyone.
Big brother Aoi, grandpa Yobi, even uncle Yashi. Everyone in the village, everyone she had ever known lay on the ground, blood soaking the in the red earth. Their bodies twisted in unnatural angles, their eyes wide in horror or scrunched shut in terror. Blood leaked out of the big holes in their bodies, holes made by those terrible guns.
"Shoot again?" a voice said.
"Waste of ammo," the other man snorted, "why can't we just bring her with us?"
"Too young, even for the boss. Useless even as a slave. Leave her for the Grimm."
"Miya!" A voice screamed. Miya looked up, to see big sister Maya scrambling towards her. Her clothes were torn, and she was bleeding from the scalp. There was a thick metal collar around her neck. Tears streaked down her eyes as lifted off the lifeless corpse of auntie off her.
"Maya," Miya croaked, reaching her hands out, "Maya!"
Maya screamed as she was pulled back by her long rabbit ears. The humans didn't spare Miya another glance and dragged her sister away. Maya kicked and screamed the entire way, begging and pleading. It was the last time they will ever see each other.
Miya watched as the humans disappeared from view. Vanishing into the forest forever. The other humans went with them, laughing and joking, none of them sparing her another glance. With them, chained and collared, were a pitiful handful of survivors. She recognized Maya's classmate Shiro, her white fluffy tail matted with blood. She saw Saki, the daughter of her father's friend, her once beautiful horns broken and bleeding.
Miya didn't a sound, even as the Grimm howled in the distance. She didn't move, even as a pack of Creeps came sniffing through the village. She didn't care, even as the Grimm creatures lunged at her throat.
It was only when gunshots tore through the air, did Miya flinch.
Were the humans back? What more could they want? What more could they do?
"Captain, we got a live one,"
Those exact same words, spoken by another person. She looked up, her eyes finding themselves in the lost in another set of deep indigo eyes glaring back at her.
They were of the same colour as the cruel human's, but they were...different.
She couldn't see his face. The large human was masked, revealing nothing but his eyes. His eyes were hard, but yet, they were kind. Yet, this human too stank of blood.
He reached down to her, picking her up as if she was made of glass. She winced as her leg throbbed.
"Who are you?" Miya asked.
"Hello little one," the man said, his voice soft and uncertain, "my name's Cardin."
Present day, 0800
SDC Manor
Miya opened her eyes. She had been dreaming. About what, she couldn't remember.
Her body ached and she felt sick. She was hungry, and her throat was dry.
She sat up, her mind taking in her surroundings. For a fleeting moment in her heart, she had hoped the entirety of yesterday was a very vivid nightmare.
It wasn't.
She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, but she couldn't. What good would it do? The sensation of helplessness was painfully familiar.
Someone walked over to her and knelt down. The machine whine of motors told her it was Mr. Schnee.
"Mr. Schnee," she looked up at him. The man was nothing like his usual neat self. Dark circles under his eyes stood out shockingly clear from his pale skin, and his hair was a mess.
"Morning Miya," he forced a smile, "how are you feeling?"
"Thirsty," she admitted, rubbing her eyes, "I wanna go home…"
"I can help with the thirst," Whitley smiled, giving her a bottle of water, "but I'm afraid I want to be anywhere else but home at the moment."
Her eyes lit up as she saw the offered bottle of water. She grabbed it immediately and drank greedily from the bottle. It was the best-tasting water she had ever had. Miya didn't know going without water for over a day could make her feel so sick.
She felt Whitley pat her head, and stand up.
"What's going to happen to us?" she asked.
Whitley hesitated. He was about to answer when he was suddenly cut off.
Shouting started to echo across the gym. Loud, angry, and promising violence.
Miya looked up. The men in masks were running around, their weapons at the ready. Something was happening.
"Mr. Schnee?" Miya croaked, surprised at the sound of her own voice, "What is happening?"
Whitley looked down again and put on a fragile smile, "Nothing, dear. Are you hungry?"
Miya shook her head. It was a lie, but the way her headmaster was obviously more concerned with other things.
"Lie on the ground, dear," Whitley said gently, "something has got them spooked."
0800
Looking Glass Hotel, Atlas
"Morning Clover,"
The Captain of the Ace Operative glanced up from the observation post. He smiled, "Qrow! What brings you to this humble little command center? I thought you were out there fighting Grimm."
"We're on rotation. There's a lot of those bastards out there." The veteran huntsman shrugged and handed his friend a cup of coffee. "Heard from Ren you were here. Didn't know you took over."
"Yeah. Winter's boys need every minute of training they can get," Clover nodded his thanks, taking the cup of coffee. He took a small sip from it before answering, "She also requested for me to oversee general command. We definitely need all the luck we can get."
Qrow dragged a chair and plopped down beside Clover. Putting his feet up on the table, he gestured to Schnee Manor, "Any developments?"
"They asked for food and water this morning, a large amount. At least we know the hostages are being fed," Clover said, "but some of the hostages seem to have medical issues."
"Shit," Qrow said simply.
"Nothing too serious, luckily," Clover said quickly, "headaches, and other signs of stress, dehydration, and hunger. So, within what is expected. Some of them were complaining about a drawing on the wall, but if a drawing is their biggest concern then it hasn't escalated too much yet."
"I'm surprised they are sleeping at all," Qrow looked over his shoulder, to the men and women in the room listening in to the White Fang's conversations. He turned back to Clover, "How's your team doing?" Qrow asked softly.
Clover grimaced, sighing and shaking his head, "Harriet is stable physically, but she's a mess inside. Marrow and Elm have been staying by her side since she woke, so at least there is that. I should be too, but duty calls."
"How about you?" Qrow pressed, "It never gets easy, losing a team member."
Clover sucked in air in between his teeth. He gathered himself and looked back into the binoculars, "Third one under my leadership. I should thank you, though. Would have been a lot more serious if you didn't come swooping in with the cavalry." He shuddered, thinking about it. There was a very real possibility of the Ace Ops getting wiped in that battle against the Grimm creature.
The casualties at Elysium were staggering already, and Clover thanked the Brothers that not any more of his team were on the list.
"Only wished I got there sooner," Qrow grumbled.
"Seriously, Qrow," Clover looked at him in the eyes, "thanks. I would probably be the only one left in the Ace Ops if it weren't for your intervention."
Qrow held the man's gaze. He was sincere, as he always has been with Qrow since the day they met. Qrow nodded, smiling faintly, "Buy me a drink after all this blows over, and we'll call it even.
Snap-crack! Snap-crack!
Two gunshots rolled like thunder through the air, cutting through the peace like a knife.
The police scrambled to cover, shouting at the surrounding stunned reporters to get to safety.
The radio burst to life, filling the room with incoherent shouts.
Clover fumbled with another radio, isolating the signal and getting a line directly to the authorities on the ground. "This is HQ. What is going on down there?"
He waited patiently for a few seconds and was about to call in again when the radio burst to life. Someone could be heard screaming in the background, and a panicked tinny voice garbled back, "They are shooting at us! Fuck! Jade is injured! What do we do?"
"Hold fire!" Clover said back, projecting all his calm authority through the radio in hopes the other side would listen, "I repeat. Hold fire!"
Clover listened apprehensively, looking down into the binoculars
Snap-crack!
A flash of white. A puff of smoke on the second floor.
Clover put on the headset to the surveillance devies set up. It was chaos and confusion in there too. Angry shouts from the White Fang conflicted with each other.
"What's happening? Report!" Someone could be heard yelling from inside the gym.
"Fuckers are trying to sneak up on us!" Someone else yelled, distinctly female, "They are coming for us!"
"Mei, stop! You're shooting at shadows!"
Cries and screaming echoed as more shots rang out. Clover checked the video feed, sighing in relief when it wasn't because the White Fang had started executing hostages. Small mercies.
Clover looked over to Qrow, and nodded. "Qrow, I'm going to need you to leave. Things are very delicate right now"
The Huntsman nodded, sighing in resignation. Without another word, he left, closing the door behind him.
0810
Looking Glass Hotel, Atlas
"Velvet?" Coco asked incredulously, "What are you doing?"
"Shh!" Velvet hissed, pressing both sets of her ears to the floor.
Coco arched an eyebrow at her partner but was unable to keep the corners of her lips tugged down. It was an amusing sight, after all. Ever since yesterday, Velvet had been keeping a literal ear to the ground, until they had to go on another round of Grimm control.
Eventually, she looked up, her eyes wide and her shoulders tensed.
"Are you done?" Coco asked.
The faunus nodded silently.
Coco tilted her head. It wasn't like Velvet to be this high strung in the morning. She must have heard something. "Are you alright, Velv?"
"You know the situation at the Manor?" Velvet said, nodding in the buildings' general direction.
"How could I not?" Coco shook her head sadly, "Shit, it's all over the news. The resentment, panic, and sadness that's being stirred up is the reason why we're going out there again."
"Well," Velvet put her ears to the floor again, "They seem to have an observation room of some kind, set up right below us."
"Huh," Coco mused, "I suppose this place does offer a good view. Any developments?"
Velvet expression was a grim mask, "There was some shooting earlier. One of the officers down there got hit."
"Damn," Coco stood up and made her way towards her partner, curiosity piqued. She was about to mimic Velvet, but then realized the only reason Velvet could hear anything is because she is a faunus.
So instead, she walked right out to the balcony to see with her own eyes.
The SDC manor is a fortress. Coco was trained as a Huntress, but she couldn't help but wonder what she could do to help. The White Fang had attacked Beacon and killed many of her fellow students before in what seemed like an eternity ago, and they were going to do so again in Atlas. The Vytal festival, a tradition, and symbol of harmony and unity, forever bastardized and tainted by the White Fang.
Coco felt her Aura flare slightly and realized her nails were digging into her own palms. She relaxed her grip.
She knew there was nothing she could do, even if she wanted to.
Her scroll vibrated, and Coco fished it out. Velvet was mirroring her actions.
Emergency Alert. Grimm attack imminent. Threat level: High.
All available Huntsmen report to Atlas Academy immediately.
0900
Council meeting room, Atlas Central Tower.
"Legionnaire Sergeant Russel Thrush, reporting." Russel barked, not bothering to salute. He didn't have to, nor did wish to do so. In his opinion, the only person in the room that deserved any show of respect at all was Goodwitch.
The man was all geared up save for his balaclava, wearing the unit's signature black uniform and body armor. His ballistic helmet and goggles hung loosely on his webbing. A morale patch in dark green contrasted sharply against his black attire, and the council members noticed - with disdain- the words stitched on it: I come, I fuck shit up, I leave.
Councilman Sleet frowned, his eyes flitting from the inappropriate patch to Russel's face, "Where is Winter?"
"Legionnaire Captain Schnee," Russel barked out her full rank word by word, "has sent me in her stead. The Captain has taken it upon herself to continue the training of the assault team after our stand-down orders ten minutes ago."
The councilmembers looked at each other and nodded. To some, it might be seen as a calculated insult to the council. But there is no denying the pragmatism behind such a decision, especially during such a crisis.
"Very well, Sergeant," Sleet cleared his throat, "please fill us in on the situation."
"The cameras and mics were successfully planted last night, although two out of the three camera feeds had malfunctioned shortly after placement. Otherwise, we have an understanding of enemy numbers, and hostage locations," Russel reported, "our team was temporarily put on standby when there was some shooting early this morning, but would seem they thought that we were preparing to mount an assault, and thus reacted accordingly."
"Anyone hurt?" Robyn asked.
"One officer dead," Russel said, "bullet passed through her legs and nicked an artery. The officers on the ground were not authorized to engage, so there was no one to cover the medics going in. Bled out right then and there."
Glynda shook her head, sighing in defeat. Robyn's jaws were working hard. Sleet pursed his lips, as if unsure what to say, and Camilla showed no reaction at all.
"Communications were established afterward," Russel, continued, "After confirming the situation, the team was given the stand-down order and RTB'd for training. As for the demands, I'm certain you know the details, and they have yet to alter it."
"We will not give in to the demands," Camilla said flatly, "we will not even broadcast their message. I refuse to allow Atlas to be a platform for their terrorist propaganda."
"With all due respect, councilwoman," Robyn said flatly, "this very attack is already a propaganda victory, on top of the military base attack."
"Your point being?" Camilla snapped back.
"Aggravating them might result in hostage execution," Robyn explained through gritted teeth, "what is a video being broadcasted in the news network compared to that?"
"Are your men ready to go in, Mr. Thrush? If it does come down to it." Councilman Sleet asked, cutting in before Camilla could snap a reply back, "if they do start killing hostages, then it is an action we must take."
Russel Thrush nodded giving a wry smile, "But of course, my good council members. It's not like we will sit back in our cozy heated offices and -."
"Mr. Thrush, please." Robyn sighed in exasperation.
"Many apologies," the smile dropped. "We will have to. It's going to be a bloodbath, let me tell you. Anyone will a modicum of military and historical knowledge could see that."
"Elaborate, please," Glynda waved on, "explain your thought process."
Russel looked at his former teacher. She understands, of course, Robyn too. However, the other council members don't.
"Traditionally, a defending force has a three-to-one advantage over the attackers. If I had the exact same 10 terrorists attacking the manor, they will be able to hold us off with just 3 or 4." He kept glanced over at Glynda, and saw her nod in approval. She did teach the class this particular lesson after all, "Of course, this is excluding factors such as mission objective, traps, and so forth."
"You must understand, solider," Sleet coughed gently, "Atlas power also comes from the perception of our power. We cannot be seen as a soft target for terrorists, so we must eliminate them with…acceptable casualties."
"My good councilman," Russel tilted his head in mocking confusion, "please do tell me what you mean by acceptable casualties?"
"Enough, Russel," Glynda warned tiredly, "What are the projected casualty numbers of a full-frontal assault?"
Russel sucked air through his teeth, "Forty percent civilian casualties at a minimum. You are looking at potentially 80 small little coffins if this all goes right. Is that acceptable enough for you?"
He let the number hang in the air.
"What of the military? Is there any way the military or military huntsmen can tip the scale to our favour?" Sleet asked quietly, the gravity of the situation seeming to finally set in.
"Our boys in white are trained to combat Grimm first and foremost," Russel said sadly, "many might not even have the mental strength to pull the trigger at another living being."
Camilla scoffed, "Surely not. Surely a group of rag-tag animals cannot be a match for our men."
"They are anything but a ragtag bunch of animals, miss," Russel hissed, "Even if our men are up to standard. I cannot list the number of things that could go wrong." Russel's eyes flashed dangerously, " The Black Claws, as you remember, are enhanced soldiers. They are well trained, well-motivated, and will give our best of the best a run for their money as evidenced recently. They are not a force to be underestimated."
"You sound like you almost admire them." Camilla mused,
"We clashed multiple times in the past," Russel shrugged, "Lost a lot of friends to them. It is not admiration. It is caution."
"What I'm hearing," Camilla leaned in, "is that your unit can't handle it."
Russel pivoted his head to look at the councilwoman. He still wore the smile, but now it was cold and brittle. His eyes are like granite, and Russel's stare bored into her soul. It was the look that an apex predator gives to his next kill.
A thought suddenly invaded her mind. Camilla wasn't exactly ignorant of Winter's unit and their operations, but what is it stopping them from turning those skills against the council? This man could sneak into her home and slit her throat without anyone knowing. She would die at home covered in her own piss and blood, and the only person that will give a damn would be Sleet. He would be next in line for the same execution.
Cold, gut-wrenching animal fear gripped her heart. It was suddenly difficult to breathe.
The man was speaking again, but Camilla had to force herself to breathe again to listen.
"I'm sorry," the councilwoman hesitated, "can you say that again?"
Russel said, her voice calm and steady. There was an unmissable edge to it, like a cold blade pressed against one's throat. "I said, I will be going in with everyone else, Councilwomen. I know the risks. They know the risks. Be certain you do too,"
The meeting ended without any progress. As far as Russel was concerned, they had wasted precious time. Time that could be spent training. Instead, these people squander it, more concerned about image than lives.
Russel knew there was a time when General Ironwood had absolute power and control over Atlas. He wondered if someone like Goodwitch would have the power to enact a state of emergency because at least under those circumstances, things could get done.
"Mr. Thrush,"
Speak of the Grimm, Russel instinctively tensed at Glynda's voice. He turned around, smiling, "Ah yes, Ms. Goodwitch. What can I do for you?
Glynda sighed, "If you think I forgot about your semblance, you are sorely mistaken."
Russel shrugged, "Camilla questioned the unit, despite everything we have done. It was but a simply playful jab."
Glynda glared at the man. She held his gaze for a moment, before sighing, "Just don't do it again. Robyn might pick up on that because she was a huntress too. She might not be so...understanding."
"Try me,"
Glynda jumped, at the voice. Russel didn't react at all, and simply gave another false smile, "Hello esteemed Councilwoman Hill, and Ms. Marigold! What a surprise."
"Drop that bullshit, Thrush," Robyn waved, "I don't need my ego stroked like those idiots. Plus, the insincerity is just outright creepy on you."
Russel flashed a wiry smile, "I aim to please, Ms. Hill."
"And for the record," Robyn pointed at Thrush, "while I do not approve of semblance usage in this way, it was gratifying to see Camilla's face drain in horror."
"Robyn!" Glynda exclaimed.
Russel barked out a laugh. He stopped, and cocked his head, "Well, now that I have been chastised enough, is there anything you wanted?"
"Yes, actually," Robyn said, nodding to May.
May stepped forward, "I wanted to talk to Winter, but since she isn't here. I would like you to ask your captain for me."
"I mean," Russel shrugged, "I assume you want someone in the manor dead. That is the plan, but I suppose I could always aim for certain spots."
"Tempting, but no," May snorted, "In fact, I want to join the assault team."
Russel arched an eyebrow, his smile falling, "It's not that simple, May. You are a Huntress, not...whatever we are."
"I am more than capable of handling myself," May said, "I want blood, Thursh. They killed my friends. They-"
"I know, May," Russel's tone softened, "but it's not that. We could definitely use more people to handle the hostages, but no way in hell are you joining the main assault force."
"My semblance, Thrush," May insisted, "I could help. I don't need to be directly in the middle of combat, but my semblance would surely be useful."
Russel frowned, "What is it again?"
May promptly vanished from view.
"Well fuck," Russel breathed, "that might actually come in handy."
May appeared again, "I can take more than one person. It's a bubble, you see. I can probably sneak half an assault group through right under their noses."
"I think you better come with me back to the Kill House," Russel said, "but ultimately the decision is down to Winter."
May nodded, satisfied.
Russel blew a raspberry, "Sleet and Camilla are not going to budge, are they? We really might need a lot of body bags at the end of this."
"I don't think they are," the former deputy headmistress admitted, "their line of thought may have some merit, however."
"I don't see it," Robyn said flatly, "but by the pace this is going, there isn't much to be done."
"Then please, both of you," Russel sighed, "think of something. I need to get back to the Kill house. With tomorrow being the deadline, I want to get as many runs as I can."
The councilwoman nodded, and Russel suddenly realized that his former deputy headmistress looked very, very tired, "Good luck, Thrush. You've come a long way since Beacon."
Russel inclined his head, and for a brief moment, he flashed a genuine sad smile, before turning around and heading off without another word.
0945
Councilman Sleet's Office, Atlas Central Tower
"The council is at a deadlock, Camilla," Sleet sighed, flicking his Scroll over the morning news, "you should see what the tabloids are writing about Atlas right now. Despicable."
Camilla huffed, "and you think that if we caved in to said demands, the people would view us in a better light? Whatever we do, our actions will be criticized. That is the nature of the people."
Sleet grunted in agreement. He leaned back in his seat, taking a slow sip of his morning coffee, "I still think we should let the military overwhelm these terrorists."
Camilla shrugged, "I agree too. But the people of Atlas and Mantle will not vote us back into office if the situation is going to be as bad as Winter and her dogs say."
"I suppose not," Sleet conceded, "but at this rate, we will have to give the terrorists something tangible anyway. We only have until tomorrow until they start shooting, and we can't wait that long."
Camilla nodded. She could already see the headlines plastered over every major news network. Council inaction leads to slaughter. The councilwoman straightened, "So, the message? We broadcast and negotiate with them for a few more days?"
"I think that would be best," Sleet admitted, "I am not prepared to hand over a Bullhead over to those animals."
"For the record, I do not want to give them anything," Camilla frowned, "but what of the people they requested? They are former White Fang anyway, and it might be a good chance to toss those animals out."
"That will be stepping on Winter's toes," Sleet pointed out, "her entire last op was to extract that boy and that defector."
"We should ignore that bloodthirsty whore, Sleet," Camilla laughed, "She shouldn't be anywhere near the decision-making process. The fact that she brings in former White Fang defectors says as much."
"One of them is human, Camilla," Sleet shrugged, "how can a human be part of the White Fang? That boy is an invaluable asset, apparently. Huntsmen business that only Glynda understands. The military has been keeping an eye on him since he set foot on Atlas soil."
"and the other one? The defector? Is he actually a faunus?"
"She," Sleet corrected. Camilla watched in fascination as her colleague's lips curled into an ugly sneer, "Ilia Amitola. She could pass for a human, but no. She's a fucking animal like the rest of them. Her nature will show one day, and we will all regret it." The man cleared his throat and regained his composure, "Many apologies. That was unsightly."
"Seems like you knew her."
"My daughter did," Sleet admitted, "they went to the same school together at one point. Hell, she even came for a sleepover once or twice. To think I harbored a rabid dog under my roof." he shuddered.
"Didn't you send your daughter to that elite boarding school?" Camilla asked, "Not everyone could afford to send their kids there, much less a faunus."
"A cheat and liar could get anywhere in life, Camilla," Sleet smiled bitterly, "my daughter didn't even know she was a faunus until she came back one day with broken teeth and in need of several stitches."
"Brothers," Camilla hissed, revolution coloring her voice, "and now she's on Atlas soil living off our generosity. Handing her over might just do us a favour."
"Yet, we can't." Sleet said bitterly.
Camilla looked to the office entrance, ensuring no one was listening. She leaned in, a wicked smile on her face, "Not openly, at least." She whispered.
"Camilla," Sleet warned, "tread carefully." For a moment Camilla feared that she had misjudged Sleet. She was getting ready to backtrack, before he continued, "We don't want anything leading back to us."
Camilla smiled. There was a predatory edge to it. "A wise woman once said, 'The Hearts of men are easily swayed'. Are you familiar with that quote?"
Sleet nodded, "An obscure noble of the Veiled Houses during the Hundred Years War. Ancient Vale and Vacuo history. The name escapes me."
"Indeed," Camilla looked impressed, "I wasn't aware you knew history well to recall such a detail."
"An interest of mine," Sleet confessed, "but please, continue."
"My point is, once we release the message, the people of Atlas and Mantle will know of their demands," Camilla said, "and somehow, someone, somewhere, will leak the entire dossier of Winter's little former terrorist. Her age, her look, her faunus heritage, where she lives, and so forth. The entirety of Remnant will know."
"…and the people will push for the exchange, or some might even take matters into their own hands," Sleet said, his eyes widening, "after all, why would we not trade a former White Fang for at least a hundred children."
"Exactly. We can either let the people 'force' our hands, or we can expedite the process by sending in some of our own people. Hell, maybe if we send in Triad or Mafia after her, no one would even blink." Camilla finished, "Either way, we will get what we want. If this gets half the hostages released, Winter will have to bite her own tongue and accept the result."
1030
Council meeting room, Atlas Central Tower.
"Then it is decided," Sleet said, "we will notify the news networks and allow them to broadcast the terrorists' message and demands in the afternoon news. This will allow us to negotiate the release of some hostages."
Glynda nodded, satisfied, giving Robyn a small smile of relief.
"Camilla, Sleet," Robyn said, "Thank you."
Sleet simply nodded, "After much consideration, Ms. Hill. I do believe you are right. The council was in a deadlock, and it serves those poor children no purpose if it continues as such."
"I'm glad we can come to an agreement on this," Glynda said. Camilla watched in satisfaction as Gylnda's shoulder seem to deflate as the tension eased from her, "Perhaps we should get Winter to let the terrorists know? Allow her to negotiate?"
"I think we just need to keep her updated," Robyn said, already sending messages and instructions to her subordinates on her scroll, "her job is crucial should the situation devolve. The White Fang are getting what they want, it doesn't matter who delivers the message."
"That is true," Sleet agreed, "with the terrorists' deadline being tomorrow, perhaps we should also find a way to negotiate a longer time? It would increase the chances of Winter's success."
"We could try to," Glynda said, "but I fear they will know that we are stalling."
"Maybe," Camilla said. She looked at Sleet, "although I am still apprehensive about giving in to their demands, but it is a chance to negotiate and to wear them out."
"Ladies, make no mistake," Sleet sighed, "some will see this as Atlas caving in to the demands of the terrorists. After that, more groups will be encouraged to take similar approaches. We should expect similar situations to occur all over our Kingdom and assets in the future."
Glynda nodded sadly, "I can see your concern, and I wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it is time for the reestablishment of some of General Ironwood's former plans."
"We shall see about that," Camilla huffed, her face darkening at the mention of the deceased General.
"We shall indeed," Sleet agreed.
1030
CQB Facility "Kill House"
"How was the meeting?" Cardin asked without looking when the door swung open. It was only when he heard two sets of boots, did he turn to look, "Oh, hello May."
May nodded in greetings.
"Fuck those pen-pushing motherfuckers," Russel grunted, "Sleet and Camilla. Snakes, the both of em',"
"What's May doing here?" Cardin asked, ignoring Russel's little outburst.
"I'm here to see Winter," May explained, taking off her jacket and rolling her neck, "I want to be part of the assault group."
"I doubt-"
"She has one hell of a semblance, Cardin," Russel cut in before Cardin could voice his doubts, "allows us to go in all sneaky, like."
Cardin shrugged, "Winter's up in the catwalk, still running the other team through their movement."
"My thanks," May muttered, walking off without casting a look back. She passed Ren, who was already coated in white powder from the dummy ammunition. He was carrying two heavy boxes of training ammo. They exchanged nods of greeting as they passed.
"What's May doing here?" Ren asked, dumping his training rifle on the table.
"Want's to the assault," Russel said.
"I don't-" Ren began, but shrugged. It was up to Winter to decide in the end.
Cardin snorted, "That's what I said."
"We are in this mess because of Robyn, you do know that, right?" Ren said, looking back in May's direction.
"Maybe she'll wise up," Russel suggested.
"Doubt it." Cardin huffed.
They began loading dummy ammunition into their practice rifles, their practiced fingers already used to these repetitive motions from years of experience.
Russel looked around, breaking the breif silence, "Is Ciel in yet? Any word on the surgery?"
"See for yourself," Russel almost lost his balance as something hard hit him across the back. He spun around, the curse dying in his throat. Ciel stood behind him, her face flushing with embarrassment. She hesitated, "I may have misjudged how powerful these things are."
Cardin whistled, impressed. Russel's grin widened at the sight. Ren simply nodded in approval.
Clad in her a black sleeveless undershirt, her enhancements were on full display.
As with most Atlesian design, it was snow white and accented with bits of jet black. Both her new arms looked equally intimidating as well as sleek, retaining an elegant edge to it.
There were deep scars running across Ciel's well-defined back muscles, left by intensive Aura healing. For the uninitiated, the recovery period would take months. For Huntsmen with Aura unlocked, it could take a day.
For Ciel, with some Aura training learned from Ren, it only took a few hours.
Ciel waved, her flexing her new arms experimentally. Soft purrs and whines could be heard as she moved her arms. She flexed her fingers and held them out steady.
Her hands weren't shaking anymore.
"It works," Ciel stated flatly, "dexterity leaves something to be desired, but not much different from my previous state."
"Have you tried shooting yet?" Ren asked, marveling at the cybernetics.
Ciel nodded, "I am combat-ready." As soon as she said those words, she faltered slightly, as if remembering something.
It was gone in an instant.
Instead, she dropped into a boxing stance and executed a perfect flurry of punches. The speed was almost blinding, accompanied by the soft sound of whirring motors. There was real weight and power behind the punches, splitting the wind sharply and leaving behind white blurs as she chained punched after punch. Ciel stopped, and looked up, her face flushed slightly red at her own display.
"Uh," she started, fumbling on her own words. For all her prim and proper front, Ciel still stumbles on her own words when flustered.
It was not needed.
"Cool," Cardin smiled savagely, "real fucking cool. You can break skulls with that."
"Atlas Intel has confirmed that there has been a severe security breach in our systems," Winter said, raising her voice up above the background sounds of training, "After manually analyzing the attack at Elysia and the subsequent footage taken yesterday, we have the confirmed identities of the hostage-takers."
Muffled gunshots and explosions echoed through the walls, as outside the room, the assault team went through their drills again. Without Winter and the rest of the team to supervise, they were left to their own devices to overcome to different potential scenarios thrown at them by the practice droids.
Winter had gathered the team for her initial brief, and that meant there was going to be some sensitive information divulged.
The Legionnaire Captain stood in front of a board, scribbled with notes and building plans. Potential breaching points, choke points, and traps were marked all over, as well as photographs of the hostages held in the Gym.
Winter knew her old home best, but she always thought of a scenario where she would have to defend against an attacking force, not as the assault group.
She stuck a photograph of a familiar face, or rather, mask. The mask itself was symbolic and had cultural roots to tribes that used to roam the Valean forests. It showed rank, achievements, and – as the team knew- bulletproof as well.
"Adam Taurus," Winter pointed to a security capture of Adam, identified by his signature mask and red hair, "this man is the leader of the strike team, and is also who our forces are negotiating with. Born here in Mantle, we found records of him and several of his team in SDC company records."
"Shit," Russel sighed, "faunus child labour?"
Winter nodded solemnly, "Born in the mines, Adam's last name is not his fathers. He never had one. His mother, Eve Taurus, died in the aftermath of a Mantle protest crackdown."
Ciel grimaced, shaking her head. The foreigners glanced at the female member of the group quizzically but returned their attention to the Winter.
"Semblance?" Cardin asked, focusing on the mission at hand, "any official records?"
"None," Winter shook her head, "I was hoping either you or Ren could shed some light on it."
"Ren?" Cardin nodded, "You were the one that got your ass kicked. Enlighten us."
"Shut up," Ren grimaced, remembering his close brush with death, "Some sort of force absorption, from what I saw. He glowed red before striking me. It didn't just go through my Aura, it shattered it completely."
"Theoretical," Ciel began, "Energy absorption, storage, and release. Very lethal."
"Reminds me of an old friend," Ren mused, his mind drifting to Yang Xiao Long. He wondered what became of her, but quickly refocused his wandering mind.
"Practical," Ciel frowned, thinking about a potential counter to this threat, "Overwhelming firepower to break his Aura from range. Gas weapons to incapacitate. Bolas for immobilization. All possibilities."
Winter scribbled up the recommendations on the board, nodding approvingly, "Sound suggestions. Gas might out of the question, though. Exposing children to those types of chemicals will cause severe health issues or even death."
"That, and the type of gas we use is very flammable," Cardin said, "I don't think insurance covers that."
Russel cracked a grin, "Then it's down to good old firepower."
"Next up, Tyrian Callows. The ripper of Anima himself," Winter nodded to Ren, "Ren, you are familiar with the man, and we have all seen his capabilities on the field."
"Looked into the bastard before," Ren said softly. His eyes were hard, "I've heard stories about the man as a child, used to scare me."
"As you have experienced first hand, Lie, he is arguably more dangerous than Taurus," Winter said. She opened her scroll, and with a gesture, sent out an extract of a report she had uncovered, "it took years, and the cooperation of both Atlas and Mistral officers to apprehend the man. Officially, he died in a Grimm attack during transportation. Unofficially…"
"Salem?" Cardin hazarded a guess, speed-reading through the killer's records, "coordinated Grimm attack and some shady last words recorded by the pilot. I don't know, I'm just guessing."
"That again, solidifies our suspicions," Winter continued on, "they are here for Ozpin, and the White Fang's benefactor may very much well be this Salem."
Ren frowned, "Just one person? Sure, she may be as old as Ozpin. But, she is still one person. The White Fang must be receiving supplies and training from multiple sources. Support is far too broad and much too numerous for one individual, or organization."
"That may be the case," Winter said, "but from what Ozpin told us, we now know that the substance the Black Claws use to enhance themselves is not scientific by any means. That, and the means used to contain Ozpin for years speaks of coordinated effort and funds. If anyone could pull that sort of connection and power off, it would be someone with similar experiences to Ozpin."
Cardin grimaced, "I could have guessed. Recent events were enlightening, to say the least."
"I mean," Russel snorted, "they look like Grimm. The leap wasn't that hard to make."
"I still can't believe it," Ren admitted.
Ciel simply shrugged. "They still torture like people, I can assure you." She said, earning several grimaces from the team.
"What of Tyrian's semblance? What do we know about it?" Russel asked.
"Seems to be some sort of Aura disruption," Winter said, thinking back to their brief encounter, "When I fought him, he tore through my Aura like it wasn't there. Close call, that one."
"Theoretical, Aura disruption. Practical, wear more armour." Ciel concluded.
"Or don't get hit." Russel said.
That earned him a few eye rolls and a snort of amusement.
"What?" Russel asked, exasperated, "I am right!"
"Next," Winter continued, picking out more photos from the envelope. She looked at one, and paused. Winter looked Ren in the eye, "Lie."
"Yes, ma'am?" Ren looked surprised, to have been called out again, "Another one I know?"
"One big happy reunion," Russel snorted.
"I need you to keep an open mind. Cardin, Russel. Both of you too." Winter said.
Ren frowned, unsure why. He understood when he saw the picture.
Cardin frowned, crossing his arms as he searched his memories for that familiar face. Russel leaned forward, looking at the picture intensely, instantly recognizing the shadow thing he fought recently. Ciel showed puzzlement, somehow the face staring back at them looked familiar too.
Ren's reaction was far more visceral.
"Fuck," Ren choked, "fucking shit!"
"Blake Belladonna," Winter said finally, bringing up her picture on the board. It was quite evidently Blake, yet at the same time, it wasn't. Corpse pale skin, blackened blood red eyes that looked utterly devoid of emotion.
"How is she-?"
"Initial hypothesis," Winter said, "was that she was injected with the same substance used by the Black Claws. But as we all know, her death was confirmed a while back. "
"So-" Ren sputtered, "The coup in Menagerie-. How is she-?"
He was referring to coup that took the lives of the entire Belladonna family. The White Fang had uploaded the video of the bodies being paraded through Kuo Kuana. This happened shortly after the Fall of Beacon. Winter remembered that Weiss had reacted poorly when she stumbled upon the video online, so much so Jacques actually called Winter to resolve the situation.
"She was at Elysia," Russel said softly, "but she felt…wrong."
"You fought her?" Cardin asked, "Shit, where?"
"Corridor with the grenade launcher," Russel clarified, "slipped past you all and went for Ozpin."
"What do you mean, wrong?" Ren pressed,
Russel shrugged, "You know, the feeling you get when you are near Grimm? I had that with her."
Ren was silent. He stared into the photograph of Blake, his jaws working hard. He closed his eyes, and Winter knew he was actively using his semblance to calm himself down. Slowly he nodded, "Don't worry. I will not hesitate." He leaned back, and the team could see him physically deflate from resignation.
"If I get her in my sights, I'll do it for you," Ciel said softly. Ren snorted, recognizing Ciel's less than remarkable social experience.
"Brothers, an entire year away from the unit and you're still bad at making people feel better," Ren chuckled.
Ciel blushed furiously at the comment, her embarrassment tinging her ears red.
"As long as you do not hesitate when we face her," Winter said. She cleared her throat, "I assume you know her semblance then?"
"Shadow clones," Ren nodded, "she can use it in conjunction with Dust. Allows her to evade attacks and to confuse enemies."
"Wait, Blake as in the B in team RWBY?" Cardin recalled, "I thought they were all human."
"Shit, yeah!" Russel snapped his fingers, "I remember her now. What the hell happened to her?"
"She was very sneaky, in more ways than one." Ren said, and sighed, "as for what happened, story for another time."
Winter nodded. She pasted more pictures onto the board. The briefing continued, and this time all the faces were new and unfamiliar.
A bat faunus with scraggly facial hair and unkempt brown hair, his tan skin giving away his unenhanced nature. Yuma Shiro, Mantle native. Seems to have connections with Adam Taurus that dates back to his time in the Dust mines.
Charles Capri and Duke Russet, both ex Atlas military. Records showed that they deserted along with several units, faunus and human, after the Mantle protests. Both of them did not have their semblances manifest during their time in Atlas, but it is unknown if they ever developed it later down the line.
There were Huntsmen trained people too. Raj Blackburn, born in Menagerie. Lei Xiao Mei, from Mistral. Both attended the Huntsman academy in Mistral but dropped out shortly after their teammate was wrongfully accused and killed by a local mob. Raj had semblance that of light generation, making him a walking flashbang. Xiao Mei's semblance was lightning generation, turning her into a potential fire hazard.
Then, they had those where they simply drew blanks on. Amber Tium, hails from Vale with no significant or irregular history. Limmy Hans, also from Vale, also relatively unknown.
The team studied the faces of the terrorists, committing them to memory. The team needed to know who to shoot the instant they see anyone. Any split-second hesitation will result in serious injury or death.
The deadline is tomorrow, and if Adam isn't patient, perhaps even later today.
They steeled their hearts and minds for the inevitable bloodshed. It is the only way this siege is going to end.
1700
Atlas Streets
The bus rattled and wobbled its way down the street, its usual route cut off by the military and police roadblocks sealing off the Schnee Manor. Given the size of the estate, most public transports were affected.
Life drifted by in a blur of white, and Ilia could not bring herself to think about the standoff happening just a few blocks away. Even as the vehicle drove, she could catch glimpses of the Schnee Manor.
She was given permission to leave the hideout. Qrow had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to relieve her, as well as Elm of the Ace Ops. The poisonous look Elm had given her was expected, given the fact that Ilia was former White Fang. But, there had been something more to it.
"…..attack on Elysium Military Base was perpetrated by the same group. No official number has been released, however it is believed that military casualties range from fifty to a hundred students and huntsmen….."
It was the same across every news network, from what Ilia gathered. Every screen from shops to public transports were focusing on the situation at Schnee Manor while discussing the precious little details emerging on the military base attack.
Even the bus's TV screen was displaying live footage of the manor as reports talk about every minor detail that has emerged.
It was horrifying, to say the least. It disgusted Ilia, not just the actions of the White Fang but also how the news networks exaggerate and speculate pointlessly purely to fan the flames of fear and anger.
The Huntsmen are going to be busy for the next few weeks if this carries on.
Ilia looked at the news playing in the small holographic screen at the front of the bus, her faunus hearing picking up the news anchor even above the rattling of wheels and the roar of engines.
"…the policewoman has since then died of her wounds, bringing the current death toll up to eight people. The gunmen have since released a statement, claiming that this is retribution for alleged Atlesian military activity in Menagerie. Their demands include…"
Ilia sighed. The war follows her everywhere, it seems.
She stood up, her station was coming up next, as did several others. As Ilia stepped down from the bus and crossed the street over to her apartment, she did notice several eyes lingering on her.
Odd, she thought. Perhaps it was her sword dangling from her hips.
1710
Ilia's Apartment
Ilia Amitola opened the door back to her apartment, knowing the lock had been kicked out. She could see the bootprint on the door, and briefly wondered how much it would cost to fix it.
What she did not expect, was the strong smell of aerosol and bright red words sprayed on her wall.
White fang whore. Faunus bitch. Die, animal.
There were other illegible scrawling sprayed all over, evidently by different people.
Everything was vandalized, broken and smashed. It was like a tornado had swept through her room, tossing her meager belongings to the ground and destroying everything else.
It wasn't the White Fang that did this.
Ilia knew she had to leave. But, to where? Back to Ozpin? To Winter?
It didn't matter, so long as she did not stay here.
The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up, and she had but a split second to recognize the air around suddenly charged with semblance.
"Oh shit." Were the only words Ilia managed before she was cannoned into the room.
Her head cracked viciously against the wall, leaving a hole in the plaster. Ilia grunted, jumping up in an instant as her training kicked in.
Her attacker strode in, a masked man in a black suit. Two women, undoubtedly twins, dressed individually in white and red dresses strode in arrogantly behind. They were in plain clothes that belonged more to office workers than combatants. They unsheathed their weapons, extending into intricately designed weapons of different designs and make. A bat, hand claws, and boot blades.
Ilia's eyes widened. Huntsmen, the bounty hunter kind.
They charged as one. The huntsman folded his bat and fired. Small missiles hurtled towards Ilia. Ilia battered them aside contemptuously, deflecting the blades and leaving them buried in the wall and floor. They detonated a split second later, blowing out fist-sized holes in the plaster.
"Help!" She screamed out loud. She needed to attract as much attention as she can. "help me! Call the police! Call th-"
But the twins were already upon her, a blur of blades. Ilia dodged back, deflecting blows with feverish desperation. Ilia was an infiltrator first and foremost. She worked in the shadows, and struck in the dead of night when the mark was least aware.
Dueling three fully-fledged huntsmen with full Auras would put even the famed Adam Taurus to the test, much less an assassin like her.
Three strikes lashed against Ilia's torso, tearing rips into her shirt. Ilia weaved back and lunged forwards. Lightning lash hissed and spat with lethal lightning. It struck true into the claw wielder's face, deflecting off her Aura but stunning her for a precious second.
The other twin twisted in. In a blink of an eye, Ilia's chest and arm were hammered with three powerful kicks. The girl then rounded, smashing the heel of her boot into the side of Ilia's head. Ilia was cannoned sideways. She smashed into the wall, grunting in pain. Her sword arm fell limp, bruised, and on the verge of breaking even through Aura. Ilia realized with horror that she had just been disarmed.
Standing up groggily, wincing at her arm, Ilia watched at the three attackers circle her. They were closing in, like a wolf pack on its prey. Ilia needed to get out, she must not be cornered.
Ilia charged, taking the huntsman by surprise. But instead of attacking, she leapt, up and over her assailants.
Landing neatly, Ilia bolted down the corridor, screaming and yelling for help.
Residents around cowered in their homes, or simply ignored the cries of the girl. No one opened their doors, no one offered refuge.
Ilia couldn't blame them, of course. The layman would be stricken with terror if such madness was going out right outside the safety of his home.
Something struck her back, and detonated. The explosion threw Ilia in the air, and she tumbled onto the ground. More throwing miniature rockets zipped towards her, and Ilia held up her arms to shield her head. The shots hit home, but deflected off and exploded. Each explosion showered her with a barrage of hot shrapnel, withering away her Aura to breaking point.
She scrambled up, only to be tackled to the ground again.
It was one of the twins. She didn't go for a stab, but instead, she leaned in close to Ilia's face and screamed.
It was a sound no living being could ever make naturally. Like nails on a chalkboard amplified a hundredfold to agonizing levels. Ilia felt it physically, the high-pitched tremors crawling up her very skin, causing her to ripple in a multitude of colours.
Blood welled up from her eyes, ears, and nose as delicate blood vessels popped. Her Aura kicked in, shielding her rattling eardrums, saving it from bursting further.
The floor beneath her rattled and shivered. Glass cracked, and exploded. Ilia's senses crumpled and shattered.
The scream carried on for ten more seconds, but by then Ilia could not hear it anymore.
Her world spun. A wave of nauseousness hit her like a tsunami. Ilia rolled to her hands and knees, and wretched, sick and blood splattering all over the floor.
Fireworks exploded in her vision. Her world spun. The images in front of her face blurred and her eyes were unfocused. For a moment, it felt like she was floating. Then, Ilia slammed into the ground again.
Fists and boots rained down onto her. Ilia screamed as her Aura shattered. The man with the baseball bat was particularly vicious, battering away at her like a pneumatic hammer. Ilia lifted her hands to protect herself. The bat came down, and she felt something snap. Before Ilia could howl, a boot to the face silenced her.
Her mind screamed at her to get up. Ilia reached out weakly with her hands, grasping for something, anything. A boot crushed her wrist. Ilia moaned, not even having the strength to yell out loud anymore.
The figures loomed over her, glaring down at her as if she was an insect. The man knelt down over her, and grabbed Ilia by the head with both hands. For a moment, Ilia thought she was going to die right then and there. It would be quick, one strong twist of the man's arms would snap her neck like a twig.
But, then, Ilia felt something else. The familiar buzz of energy.
Semblance, she realized. What is going to happen? What is going to hap-
"Sleep." The man said. This, Ilia heard loud and clear.
Ilia's mind went blank.
The Triads had suffered a great deal since the Fall of Beacon. While many moved back to Mistral, some of the more well-connected individuals found themselves landing in Mantle and Altas. Under Ironwood's more hardline approach, those that did not lay low in those initial years found themselves in prison or deported back to Mistral.
It was only after Ironwood's death, did the Triads truly begin to expand.
Hei Xiong, or more known as Junior, used to be the head, or "Da Ge/ big brother", of the "Three Bears Group" in Vale. Now, he was but a simple "businessman" of the "10M group". The group even managed to secure ties and funding with someone in the council, but that was only for the Da Ge to know.
Things were different in Atlas and Mantle. These people were equally motivated by politics as well as profit. Junior didn't understand, but he adapted. He still had some influence, and his enforcers, Melanie and Miltiades Malachite were still very loyal to him. Da Ge recognized skill, and perhaps out of respect, put him in charge of the group's more distasteful activities.
Today was no different. Some Atlas elite paid good money for a person to be taken in. And so they did.
"She hit me," Melanie complained, "is it going to bruise, Millie?"
"We can break a few of her fingers for that, Mel," Miltiades checked her sister's face, "but no. Dust singed a bit of your hair, though."
Melanie kicked the unconscious Ilia in the temple, "Dog," she spat.
"Don't" Junior warned, as he dragging his limp quarry by one leg, "they need her alive."
"Brain-damaged is also alive," Miltiades pointed out.
"I'm not risking that with this amount of Lien on the line," Junior said, "now quickly."
"It's not like the police are coming," Melanie protested.
It was true. No doubt by now the authorities have been notified but it hardly mattered. This poor girl had wronged someone very high up in the food chain.
"Come on girls," Junior rolled his eyes, "we have a deadline to meet. Gotta hand her over to the client, and then we get paid."
The hit team gathered their quarry, packing the unconscious body as they would if they were disposing of a corpse. Packing her in a large suitcase, they headed out. She was to be smuggled into Schnee Manor along with the boxes of packaged dinners headed for them in an hour's time, and Junior would receive his bag of lien.
"Never thought we would be bagging a terrorist," Junior admitted, dragging the luggage down. Below, black-suited men in sunglasses were already waiting in black SUVs. They opened the door for Junior and his enforcers, bowing in respect.
"Much more exciting than throwing out drunkards," Melanie said, inspecting her nails.
"But this is fun too," Miltiades admitted with a smile, "I mean, we are doing good for once, right?"
Junior shrugged. It made no difference. He was just paid to make people dissapear, and people disappear all the time. One or a thousand, it didn't make a difference to Junior so long as he gets to roll in lien at the end of the day.
Helping the Kingdom get rid of a terrorist? That was just a nice little bonus.
AN: Sorry this took so long, but as stated previously life.
...and a lot of writers block. Hopefully you like this chapter! Initially, I was just going to have the team storm the manor, but I decided against it. Please review, and let me know what you think!