AN: Sorry for the wait. Life got very complicated and very busy. Rest assured, this isn't abandoned. Just need to sort out life first. Enjoy! As always, please leave comments!
Calm
2200
Schnee Manor
It was pain that brought Ilia back to the world of consciousness. The nerves in her arm pulsed rhythmically, pumping fire through her veins until it pulled Ilia in and out of lucidity. There was a rattling overhead, and as she looked up she realized both her arms were cuffed to the heating unit on the wall. Ilia frowned. What the hell was going on?
She had been going back home when…
Memories came rushing back. She had been attacked, and somehow they didn't kill her.
Ilia looked around, the familiar surroundings nudging at the back of her mind. Then, it clicked.
Schnee Manor. She was back in Schnee Manor.
She had been betrayed.
Ilia expected anger. Anger and rage at the betrayal, or failing that perhaps even sadness. How could she have been so stupid to have trusted the Schnees not to sell her back to the White Fang? How could she have believed their honeyed words of giving her a new chance in life, a chance to set things right?
How could she have been so naïve?
But Ilia felt nothing. Nothing, but the crushing weight of despair.
Perhaps this was karma, the fate of all traitors. How could Ilia expect loyalty and trust when she herself has betrayed those very principles?
Something moved in the edges of her vision, and Ilia snapped her head around, her emotions suddenly forgotten.
A scorpion faunus sat in a chair over her, watching her with a bored expression on his face. She didn't recognize him, but he looked like a Black Claw. Instinctively, she tried to get up, to move. The handcuffs rattled loudly as they scraped across the metal piping.
"Rise and shine, little miss," the man cocked his head, and his stinger twirled over Ilia's head. The stinger flickered, gently dragging along her stomach and slowly circling just right above her hammering heart. Ilia shuddered at the touch.
"Don't touch me," she growled.
"Or you'll what, hmm?" the man inquired. The stinger suddenly stabbed down, and Ilia hissed as it pricked the skin on her chest. He dragged it across her sternum, drawing a thin line of blood right above her heart.
Summoning up her energy, Ilia twirled her legs, sweeping them in an arc right into the chair. The wooden legs shattered, but to her dismay, the faunus had leapt off, giggling.
"Temper, temper," he whispered once his laughter subsided. There was a glint in the man's eye, and Ilia suddenly felt a wave of bloodlust boil off the man like steam. "I'm going to have fun with you…"
"Tyrian." Someone said. Ilia looked, recognizing the voice, "I need to talk with her. Alone."
The man called Tyrian grunted in disappointment, before slinking off.
"Adam," Ilia whispered, feeling her heart sink.
"Ilia," Adam said, his voice brittle and barely contained, "how nice of you to join us."
Her reply was cut off as Adam's boot crashed into her throat. Ilia gasped, choking and coughing. She struggled, fighting against her metal restraints as they rattled against the heating unit.
The pressure was immense. Ilia coughed and gagged, trying to breathe.
"Fifty lives. Fifty fucking lives were lost because of you," Adam growled, grinding his heel into Ilia's larynx, "I ought to let Tyrian have his fun just so you can experience a tiny fraction of what you put their families through."
He lifted his boot up and stamped down hard. Ilia howled, taking the full brunt of the strike to her face. Blood wept down her split lips, and her throat began to bruise.
"But no," Adam said, "that will have to wait. There's plenty of men and women that want to get their hands on you."
Ilia didn't say anything. She could see it now, her lifeless body being paraded across Menagerie as the Belladonnas had been.
Blake….
She looked around the room, to find her old friend standing in the corner of the room. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Ilia saw those lifeless eyes react. Then, it was gone.
Wishful thinking on her part, or perhaps a trick of the light.
"Dammit, Adam," Ilia wheezed, "but I doubt any of us are going to get out of Atlas."
"We were all damned the moment we stepped onto Atlas. But you, the only way you are leaving this manor is in a body bag," Adam promised,
Ilia's eyes fixed on Blake, "perhaps I've damned myself the moment I let them kill Blake…and let you bring her back."
Adam crouched, bringing himself to face Ilia, "Do you want to be brought back, Ilia? Might be a good idea, for you to serve the White Fang once again, to right your wrongs in death. Your skills are valuable and hard to come by, after all."
Ilia swallowed the bile in her throat. That is a very real possibility and not a fate she wished upon anyone. Her eyes darted to Blake once again, then back to Adam. The man seemed to take no joy out of this, which could only mean one thing.
He was deadly serious.
Ilia shook her head in horror, "You wouldn't…you-"
"I trusted you, Ilia. Your team trusted you," Adam seized her hair, his vice-like grip pulling her close to his face. His eyes were hard, and brimming with sorrow and rage, "I would, and I should. There are fates much worse than death, Ilia, and Tyrian has the knowledge to make it happen."
Those brilliant blue eyes of Adam drilled into Ilia's very soul. Ilia looked away, unable to hold his gaze. Shame and anger burned within her chest. She closed her eyes, feeling tears slowly threaten to form in her eyes.
"I trusted you too," Ilia whispered back, "but we lost our way long ago, didn't we?"
Adam didn't answer, and let her go. He stood up, "It doesn't matter now, Ilia. You trusted a Schnee, and look at where that got you."
Ilia swallowed the bile that formed in her throat.
"Least Winter had standards," Ilia bit out.
"You fucking dumb bitch," Adam growled, "do you not see? To them, you are just another dirty faunus!"
Ilia opened her mouth to retort, but steel-toed boots caught her in the teeth.
"But to me, you are less than that. You are a woman that has turned her back to every single person that showed her kindness." Adam snarled, "A venomous taijitsu that poisons its own kin at the first sign of trouble."
Despite her best efforts, Ilia felt hot tears roll down her cheeks.
Adam was right. She had betrayed her parent's love and teachings. She had betrayed Blake's trust and friendship. She had betrayed the original White Fang's ideals, and she had betrayed the new White Fang's cause.
In the end, it is to be expected that this shall be her fate.
Yet, indignant rage burned inside her chest. Who was this man, a man who targets children, to lecture her?
"I'm not a traitor, Adam," Ilia whimpered softly, sucking blood through her teeth, "I was just very lost."
"Keep telling yourself that," Adam said simply, evidently having said his piece. He turned to Blake, "Watch her. If she tries to escape, kill her."
"Blake," Ilia whispered, looking at the motionless doll that used to be her friend.
Of course, Blake didn't answer, nor did she show any form of reaction.
How could she? This walking abomination only wore the face of her friend, and Adam had left her here perhaps as a form of mockery.
"Blake!" Ilia called out, louder this time. Still no reaction. Ilia choked back a sob.
Blake was like this because of Ilia. She had participated in the coup. She had rallied the faunus of Menagerie to overthrow Ghira. She had been the one to shatter Blake's Aura, and capitalized on her old friend's reluctance and hesitation.
As the memories came flooding back, the dam that held back Ilia's tears broke. She wept freely and openly, uncaring of anyone hearing her. "Blake!" Ilia croaked, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry."
Blake tilted her head, slightly, as if in confusion.
"I should have listened," Ilia continued, swallowing hard as she sobbed, "I should have helped you."
The expressionless face of Blake somehow made it worse. For years, Ilia had avoided even looking at Blake. Now, the remnants of her old friend was the only thing in this room. It seemed that Blake had no concept or idea why the prisoner was acting this way, or perhaps it didn't think at all.
The thought sent a tsunami of guilt sweeping through Ilia's heart. Years of repressed thoughts of what could have been, what should have been running rampant in her mind.
Where would she be now, if Ilia had taken Blake's hand offered in peace? Where would Blake be now, if Ilia had listened to her heart instead of the honeyed words of the Albion brothers?
Perhaps nothing would have changed, or perhaps everything would have changed. Perhaps-
Cold fingers snapped Ilia out of her racing mind. Cold, familiar fingers. Ilia looked up, into the red eyes of Blake. Ilia had not heard her approach.
Something stirred within those eyes, as she wiped Ilia's tears away.
Then, it was gone again, turning hollow and blank. Blake drew back and continued her vigil as if nothing had happened at all.
"Blake?" Ilia called out, uncertain.
"What do you plan to do now, boy?"
Adam looked up, unsurprised to see Tyrian prowling the walls like an oversized spider. "Is there something wrong with the floor?"
Tyrian licked his teeth. Adam realized the man's teeth had changed, sharpening themselves into little serrated fangs that cut Tyrian's own tongue. In fact, Tyrian looked more bestial and Grimm-like than he had looked the day before. The man's nails now resembled talons, and the black veins that crept up his deathly pale skin seemed more numerous than before.
"No," Tyrian admitted, licking up the black blood that now dribbled down his chin.
"Then talk to me like a normal living being," Adam said, folding his arms. He had almost said 'like a functioning member of society, but he had to remind himself Tyrian was known as the Ripper of Anima.
Tyrian shrugged, flipping down and landing softly next to Adam in an instant. He rose, but not to his full height. It was as if the man was in a permanent state of prowling, his body hunched and bestial manner.
"Now," Adam said, "what do you want?"
"I want to know what you plan now, boy?" Tyrian asked, his stinger swinging around to a tempo only the madman could hear, "with your little traitor back in your hands, will you fulfill your end of the bargain? Half the hostages for one spineless whore?"
Adam bit down the instinctual anger flashed boiled from his chest. He nodded, "It would make the most sense. They have broadcasted our demands, and have handed over Ilia, albeit that didn't seem planned."
"I heard," Tyrian chuckled, the sound as dry as sandpaper, "the negotiator seemed quite surprised. Did that Winter girl say anything?"
"No," Adam said, "but if it was her doing, I won't be surprised. A Schnee is a Schnee in the end, and Ilia is just vermin to the likes of her. Nevertheless, we need to reciprocate the gesture now, else they will use this as an excuse to not hand Ozpin over."
Tyrian clicked his tongue and shook his head as if Adam had just said the wrong answer to a very simple question, "Fool. Do you not see? They are not going to hand Ozpin over unless we start doing something."
Adam eyed the man warily, "The only thing stopping them from storming this place is because they still think we could still be negotiated with."
"Or, they are buying time to plan an assault," Tyrian pointed out, "you need to force their hand, Adam. We have two hundred souls to spend, and I doubt they are willing to let two hundred lives burned to ash to protect one."
"Tyrian," Adam stopped in his tracks. He turned around to face his handler, "if that happens, they will not back down. They will force an assault, and we will be slaughtered like cornered rats.
The scorpion faunus tilted his head, like a dog that doesn't understand the words coming out of Adam's mouth, "…and?"
Adam wanted to slap the man. He almost did. Instead, Adam said, "…and your mistress will not get her prize as you lie dead with the rest of us."
Tyrian contemplated this briefly, and shook his head, "I have been living on time granted to me by her ever since that fateful day. My death isn't an issue. Ozpin is."
The man straightened, and for a moment Adam could not believe the thoughtfulness that flashed through the man's face, "Why did we not just wait for the perfect opportunity to kill or capture Ozpin? Why did we waste so many lives to wreak such havoc in Atlas? Why am I pushing for a higher body count, even now?"
Tyrian whirled around, splaying his hands theatrically like he was performing for a crowd, "You see, now the entire world knows who Oscar Pine is, thanks to you forcing the hand of Atlas. What we need now, regardless of success, is exposure. The world will know that hundreds of people perished because of him. Hundreds of corpses will leave thousands of grieving families. These souls will find someone to blame. Maybe they will blame Atlas, maybe they will blame the SDC, or maybe they will blame the White Fang."
Tyrian put down his hands, and lowered his voice, "…they will also blame Oscar as well as the few that will have names and faces attached to this tragedy. The council, the leaders, everyone!" Tyrian's face split with a wicked smile, "No one will be surprised if one day, Oscar vanishes, only it will be by the hands of my Mistress and the others that serve her."
Adam's blood ran cold. Tyrian had him backed in a corner from the beginning, but Adam was too focused on Blake to see it.
"Which is why, dear boy," Tyrian said, "if you will not start the bloodshed, then I will."
Adam narrowed his eyes, "The men listen to me, Tyrian. Not a shot will be fired unless I say so."
Tyrian snorted, "You forget, Adam. My mistress has gifted me with knowledge and power –to which you have seen first hand! I will not require any of you to turn the entire manor into a charnel house."
Taking a step back, Adam's mind raced. He had indeed seen Tyrian's power first hand, and there were indeed things in this world that strayed beyond the comprehension of the modern man. But, just what had Tyrian done to-
The drawings. The blood drawings on the wall. They weren't just scribbles of a madman.
"Tyrian, you bastard," Adam snarled. He almost drew his blade.
Tyrian laughed, "Make your choice, or I will make it for you. You will do as I say, or your souls will join the offering I will make to my Goddess."
2230
Schnee Manor, Entrance
When Winter received the news of Ilia's fate, she had resisted the urge to kick down the council's door and demand answers. Then, Clover had demanded that Winter put the team on standby.
The delicate balance had been disrupted, and given the nature of how Ilia was 'delivered', the White Fang's response would be unpredictable.
So, mid-training, they swapped out their training gear. Live ammunition was slotted into magazines, and the team briefed one last time. Within half an hour, all three teams were locked and loaded.
They sat in unmarked vans, disguised among the various news and police vehicles.
Only a handful of people knew that inside those vans sat men and women armed to the teeth, ready to storm the manor at a moment's notice.
Winter listened in on the bug planted above the gym, jumping between police channels and military to monitor the situation.
May Marigold sat awkwardly in the seat next to Winter, her jaws working as seconds ticked by. Unlike the team, she wasn't armed with a rifle, or in uniform. The only reason she is here is because of her semblance.
Winter's team had taken off their gear and left their weapons in the vehicle. They mingled in the crowd, their black uniforms covered by colourful plain-looking jackets that kept out the winter wind.
Russel took out a cigarette and offered it to Ciel. Cardin and Ren lit their own respectively, blowing large puffs of smoke in the cold Atlas air.
Ciel coughed after taking in her first drag, drawing looks from the team. She blushed visibly, "I stopped after I left."
"Don't start again, then," Russel grinned, plucking the cigarette from her gloved hands, and taking a drag from it.
Ciel frowned, the redness in her cheeks deepening. "G-give that back,"
Russel relented as the team chuckled. It was a hollow sound, forced and disingenuous, the laughter made for the only purpose of cutting and elevating tension.
Soon.
Something is going to happen.
They could feel it in their blood.
"They are not ready, are they?" Ren said solemnly, referring to other teams.
"It's impossible to get them to our standards within two days, man," Russel said, "but we need the numbers, and they have some experience."
Silence fell as no one bothered to say anything else. They scanned the windows, and mentally rehearsed their role. They prepared their mind, visualizing shooting and killing. They ran through scenarios in their heads and thought about what they will do if certain problems arise.
"You think Ilia's alright?" Russel asked suddenly.
"No," Ren said flatly, "I'd give her a day before some idiot goes overboard."
"Pity," Ciel sighed, shaking her head, "she seemed nice enough."
"She has a lot of human blood on her hands, let's not forget that," Ren said mildly.
Russel grunted, "She saved your life, Ren. We owe her that much."
The man just shrugged. "But, we have a duty to protect the children too," Ren said, "I don't like it, but unless we plan to strike first, we cannot risk complicating the situation."
Cardin's expression darkened, "If they kill Ilia, what then?"
"Then we go in," Winter said from behind them. She huddled in to join the group, her hair covered by a black beanie, "but if we've reached that point, we might as well strike first."
"Captain," Ciel nodded, "any developments?"
Winter nodded. She gestured for a lighter, and Cardin obliged. She took a deep long drag, watching the embers of the cigarette burn brightly in the dim light.
"They are releasing some people now, not everyone, but a significant number."
Cardin visibly perked up, "Shit, how many?"
"Fifty or so," Winter said, "good chance Miya might be in there."
Cardin closed his eyes and looked up to the dark sky, no doubt praying.
Winter continued, "Gear up and be ready after your cigarettes. Doesn't seem like a trap, but we can never be too sure."
"Yes ma'am," they replied. Ren had already stubbed his cigarette out, and Ciel simply extinguished hers with a pinch of her fingers. Russel looked at the group and grumbled as he tossed his away.
Cardin made to move, but Winter stopped him, "Winchester."
"Ma'am?"
"Go look for your kid. But, assemble as soon as the order is given. Understood?"
Cardin nodded, "Yes ma'am," He hesitated, "Thank you, Winter."
The scene was captured on camera, when a young faunus boy no more than ten years old strode out the front gate of Schnee Manor. His steps were uncertain and staggered, like a drunken blind man finding his way.
It was the first of the hostages to get released.
Cameras flashed and excited chatter rose from the barrier.
No one moved a muscle to help.
It was unknown if this was a trap, or if the child had just escaped. No one wanted to risk the guns of the White Fang, for they were inevitably watching the entire situation unfold below.
No one took action, even as more hostages emerged.
Five, ten, twenty, children of all ages stumbled out. Some walked, as if in a trance. Others, made a break for it, rushing towards the barrier with tears in their eyes.
"I can't believe this," Coco growled. She started forwards, projecting her voice, "Move!"
She leapt forwards, vaulting past the barrier without a weapon. The soldiers and policemen shouted at her to get back, but Coco ignored them. Grabbing a stunned student, she turned and carried the boy back.
Velvet was immediately behind Coco, bounding her way to the slowest and carrying them back.
More people emerged from the manor. Thirty, forty, fifty.
Only then did emergency medical personnel rush forwards. The military and police stayed behind, their trembling guns pointed at the windows. At any moment, the White Fang might open fire, and it would be a blood bath.
Coco and Velvet jumped the barricade again, uncaring about the protests of the police. Some of the civilians rushed forwards. Mothers and fathers, calling for the names of their sons and daughters were pushed back by soldiers and policemen, keeping them out of danger.
There were cries of relief, and howls of crushing despair.
For some of the hostages and their families, the ordeal was over. For the majority, the nightmare continues. Parents sank to their knees, some bawling tears of happiness, others of bitter disappointment.
Behind the glass window of Schnee Manor, Adam watched. He could hear the weeping. It reminded him of the protests, and the aftermath of the massacre.
He wondered if he had made the right decision, after all.
2245
Councilman Sleet's Office, Atlas Central Tower
Sleet looked out his window, taking in the grand vista that was Atlas. He could spot the flashing red lights of emergency services lighting up the distant manor, and smiled inwardly.
Looking back at his scroll, read the breaking headlines. News had spread. Fifty hostages were released. Not the promised half, but it was more than what Sleet had expected. After all, he couldn't expect the faunus to keep their words, much less those not raised in Atlas.
A string of angry footsteps rang out in the opposite room, amplified by the quiet night. He knew who it was before his door was unceremoniously slammed open.
"Ah, Miss Hill," Sleet said, without looking up from his scroll, "I was not aware of any scheduled late-night visits. People will start talking if this happens more than once."
"Can it, Sleet." Robyn growled, "Did you plan this?"
Sleet turned his scroll off and looked up. With agonizing slowness, he adjusted his glasses and set down his device, "My dear colleague, you are going to have to be more specific than that." "The faunus girl that Winter brought in!" Robyn snapped.
"Ah, Miss Amitola. Or Ms Ivo, whatever she calls herself now," Sleet shook his head sadly, "a noble and self-sacrificing soul, it would seem. A mystery how she got past the officers in charge."
"You know damn well she did not make the decision herself!" Robyn pressed, "You could have jeopardized the entire negotiation process."
"Ms. Hill, please. Calm down," Sleet said, "I think your hostility is misplaced. We should be rejoicing! A former terrorist has renounced her past allegiance, and has willingly traded her own freedom away for the lives of fifty innocent children! What a story that is." Sleet smiled at Robyn, flashing his teeth, "A fine and uplifting tale of nobility and self sacrafice, do you not think?"
"That's not the issue-" Robyn began.
"Is it not?" Sleet interlaced his fingers, "Unless you are telling me you aren't happy with the achieved results! Surely not!"
Robyn didn't say anything, save for the murderous glare in her eyes.
"I thought as much," Sleet grinned, "now, if we have no further business…."
"Answer me, Sleet," Robyn growled, holding out her hand, "Take my hand and tell me you had nothing to do with this. Do that, and I'll be gone."
Sleet's eyes narrowed, "Robyn. It may come as a surprise to you, but you are not entitled to the truth."
"Winter deserves to know. I deserve to-"
"Being a walking lie detector does not automatically entitle you to the truth, Robyn," Sleet leaned back in his seat, calmly looking up at the stunned councilwoman, "even if you are lacking in basic courtesy, having mingled with the Mantle crowd for too long, surely you must understand that trust and truth must be earned."
Robyn's fists shook. For a moment Sleet wondered if she was going to strike him, "If you have nothing to hide, then-"
Sleet snorted, "Please, Robyn. Ironwood made the same argument when he was trying to implement a mass surveillance program. Sure, it might have helped catch the terrorists that eventually killed him, but you voted against the bill too didn't you?" Sleet narrowed his eyes, "The same principle applies. Do not be a hypocrite now."
The councilman stood up, giving once last contemptuous look at Robyn, "You and that outsider, Glynda. Both of you should know how things work by now. We are done here, Ms Hill. Good day to you."
Turning off the lights, he walked out of his office, leaving his colleague in darkness.
When he gets back, perhaps he should open a bottle of wine in celebration.
2300
Nicolas Schnee Road, Residential Area
Ciel panned her rifle across the windows, looking for any sign of movement. Hidden on a roof of the many buildings opposite the manor, Ciel could cover the entire front entrance of the manor. Ren lay next to her, eyes glued to a set of binoculars. Ren's emotional vision lent him an almost unfair advantage when it came to spotting targets, but it sapped at his Aura at an almost constant rate.
Movement. Ciel dialed her scope in. "Eyes on a potential shooter, second floor, three windows from the left of Snowflake." She reported.
"No hostile intent detected," Ren said, "He's as nervous as you are."
Ciel huffed. There was no use hiding her emotions from Ren. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him crack a smile.
The man was teasing her, she realized.
The radio crackled to life, "This is Mirror 1. Stand down. All hostages secured."
Ciel was about to get up, before Ren hissed, "Shit!"
"What?" Ciel leaned back into her scope.
Ren grabbed the radio, "Mirror 1, Mirror 1. This is Mirror 4. Killing intent detected within the mansion. Two signatures, no visual from the window. How copy?"
"Mirror 4, this is Mirror 1. Received. Keep monitoring the situation. Over."
Ciel could hear Ren's breath hitch, and he whispered a curse to himself, "Mirror 1, This is Mirror 4. They are all lighting up. They are all getting ready to do something. Must have been an order, over!"
"Received. Mirror 5, hold position. Mirror 4, rejoin the unit. Standby to engage."
With an oversized coat covering his gear, Cardin elbowed his way through the crowd.
"Miya? Miya!" He bellowed, "Miya, where are you?"
That earned him a few stares, but he didn't care.
He strained his ears, to listen for his little girl to call, to yell. He prayed to the Brothers that she was one of the fifty that was released.
A flash of brown. Rabbit ears bobbing in corner of his eyes.
"Miya!" Cardin shoved his way towards the pair of ears, but slowed down when he realized it wasn't who he was looking for.
Velvet Scarlatina crouched in front of a shivering boy, clasping his face in between her hands. She whispered of encouragement to him, and the boy nodded, his eyes puffy and red. She looked up at the commotion behind her, and frowned when her eyes met with Cardin's.
"Looking for someone?" A voice asked. Cardin glanced round, seeing someone familiar.
The woman paused. Her expression immediately soured, "I know you."
"Leave him, Coco," Velvet said, standing up. She glared at Cardin, "What do you want, Cardin?"
Coco folded her arms, "Cardin Winchester? So, you are still alive. What the fuck do you want?"
"Don't sound too disappointed," Cardin snapped, not in the mood. He reigned his temper in when Coco's eyes flashed dangerously. Now is not the time.
He sighed, "I'm looking for someone. Child faunus, rabbit ears, brown hair, blue eyes, around seven. Her name is Miya, have you seen anyone like that?"
Velvet narrowed her eyes, "No. No, I haven't."
Cardin swallowed, still daring to hope. "Please," he fished out his scroll and showed Velvet a picture. "I remember you have a good memory. Please Velvet, have you seen this girl?"
Velvet frowned as she took in the details of the picture. It was a picture of Cardin and a child on a beach, evidently taken in another Kingdom. A beaming little girl quite literally hung off Cardin's outstretched arm like she was dangling off a bar, an oversized sunhat hanging off her neck.
She looked nothing like Cardin. Even the tint of Cardin's brown hair was different. It evidently wasn't his child.
But did it matter? Velvet thought.
Velvet's face softened when she realized the man was genuinely worried and searching for someone.
She shook her head sadly, "I have a photographic memory, Cardin. I really haven't seen the girl you are looking for."
Cardin's grip tightened around the scroll, and for a moment it seemed like the screen would crack from the pressure. Cardin nodded, "Thank you. Please, if you do see her, then-"
Velvet's ears picked up something. A tinny voice, originating from Cardin's ear.
He was wearing an earpiece, she realized. That was only confirmed when Cardin placed his hand on his ear, his face darkening. His entire demeanor changed, and all of a sudden Velvet felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
His eyes had taken a dangerous quality, and when he looked at Velvet, she was sure she was about to be attacked.
She heard someone speak from the other side of Cardin's earpiece. It was indistinct but she caught briefly, "Squads on standby."
Cardin looked at Velvet and Coco, "Get to safety. Thing's might get ugly."
Not waiting for a response, Cardin took off running, shoving aside anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way.
"What the hell did he mean by that?" Coco snorted.
Velvet thought hard. The oversized blue coat he was wearing did seem a little too bulky, and the fact that he had an earpiece. When Cardin had turned to run, Velvet also saw a slight bulge on his back, almost like he was carrying a weap-
"Coco," Velvet whispered, realization dawning upon her, "I think we should do as he says."
2330
Schnee Manor
"What now?" Yuma asked, falling in step with Adam, "Are you sure about this?"
Adam shook his head. He could be truthful with Yuma, "No, but if this goes south, it won't make a difference anyway."
Yuma folded his arms, "If this goes south, we would have to shoot our way out."
"I know," Adam said. He swallowed nervously and took a few deep breaths. "Prepare the defenses in the event that I fail. If the first strike doesn't put him down, Atlas will assault the building."
"-and the hostages?"
"Split them up, and use them to your advantage, but not immediately. I don't want Tyrian getting wind of this," Adam said, "If Atlas storms the building, do what you need to do to survive. If Tyrian lives, this manor will become a mass grave."
Yuma sucked air through his teeth, "Shit, man. This feels wrong."
"Just don't waste ammunition shooting the hostages. If they run, they run." Adam whistled, and in a blink of an eye, Blake fell in step beside Adam. She tilted her head as if to question.
"Tyrian," Adam said simply and dragged his thumb across his throat.
Blake nodded and melted into the darkness.
"Up! Get up!" Voices boomed from the entrance. Several of the White Fang were filing in,
Whitley looked up from the ground, frowning. Were they about to release another batch? He had tried to get Miya to safety, but the gunman had ignored him completely.
"Two groups!" Yuma shouted, "split into two groups!"
Some of the children began to cry. Whitley saw one of the White Fang raise a pistol in the air but thought better of it.
"Hurry up!" the man barked, and several other White Fang moved in, their rifles at the ready. They drove themselves straight down the middle, and the crowd parted, scrambling away from the advancing soldiers.
"Do as they say," Whitley said to the people around as he hobbled up, "come on."
Miya looked at Whitley as if he was crazy, but he gave her a small smile, "Everything's going to be fine."
"Sir!"
Clover nodded, "I hear it."
The terrorists were moving the hostages. But to where? He needed eyes on the ground, someone who can't be detected.
The only person that came to mind was Qrow, and his semblance was a risk Clover was not willing to take.
"Fisherman to Mirror 1, status report." Clover's voice crackled over Winter's earpiece.
"All teams on standby, ready to engage."
"Be advised, hostages on the move."
Winter glanced over at Ren, and gestured to her eyes, then to the building.
Ren nodded. He frowned, "They are slowly moving out of the gym, and seem to be further split into groups. Doesn't seem like they are letting them out."
"Did they see us?" Russel hissed, "seems like they are preparing for something."
"Killing intent has faded significantly," Ren added, "but they are in a combat-ready state. Doesn't like they are about to execute people."
Cardin was silent. He was going over his gear, again and again, checking and rechecking his rifle. Russel nudged his friend with his boot.
"What?" Cardin asked flatly, his eyes not leaving his rifle.
"Clear your head," Russel said, "or get Ren to do it for you."
"I'm fine."
"No you're not," Winter said, "Ren, if you would."
"I-" Cardin began to protest, but almost immediately a wave of calm washed over him. His shoulders sagged. He was entirely unaware that he had been so wound up with tension.
The team was right, he needed to focus.
Mission first. Complete the mission, and Miya will be safe.
Tyrian stalked his way down the corridor, humming softly to himself.
It was an old song, sung long-forgotten language, ancient even by the standards of Her Majesty herself. A requiem of a kind, doubling as a lullaby.
It was a song, to soothe the child into forgetting their tears, and to bravely face their dreams of terrible trials. To grow up, and stand strong against the inevitable cruelty of time. To pray up to the lonesome moon up in the sky, in the hope to reveal future fates.
The ancients were a morbid bunch.
Of course, Tyrian couldn't sing it. He has heard Her Majesty singing the tune several times, and it was the most beautiful song he has ever heard. She had told him, during one of her moments of weakness, that she had sung those songs to her children, her real children, uncounted centuries ago. It was also the last song she had sung to them as she scattered their ashes in the wind.
It will be fitting, in a way, Tyrian thought as he smiled, baring his sharpened teeth that cut his tongue. There would be a lot of requiems commemorating what is going to transpire tonight.
She will not approve of his methods, but any price was worth paying if that meant Salem could have her hands on Ozma once again, be it his life, or the lives of every soul in Atlas.
A presence behind him. All the pieces are almost in place.
"Ah, Adam my boy," Tyrian turned around on his heels, "I must say I am disappointed. Fifty souls, and we still do not have our target in sight."
"If I had released half of them, you would have gone ahead with your insane plan immediately."
"And I still intend to, Taurus," Tyrian said, "it is evident that our mark will not show himself unless we paint the walls with blood."
Adam had his blade unsheathed. The red blade glowed dully in the darkness. "Enough, Tyrian. We have failed this mission the moment the target left Elysium. Give them until tomorrow noon, and if nothing changes, we're pulling out. We've lost too many already."
Tyrian tutted, "No, no, no. This isn't how it works. Or do I have to break your little pet in front of you again for you to listen?"
Adam growled, "Last chance, Tyrian. All I ask is that you have patience. After tomorrow if things still aren't going our way, we will exfiltrate, lay low, and strike again when the chance presents itself. That, you have my word. To continue is foolish and achieves nothing."
"I will not disappoint my Goddess again," Tyrian said softly. He wasn't smiling anymore, "You do not understand the position you are in. You do not understand the position the entire White Fang is in. You do not want this."
Adam's shoulder sagged, "Dammit, Tyrian, what do you want me to do? I can't just kill children and expect the Atlesians to give in to my demands!"
"Getting squeamish now, are we?" Tyrian cackled, "Start with the teachers, then. Or maybe even that Schnee brat. He's old enough. That will send a message!"
"I-" Adam started.
"How about this?" Tyrian gestured to himself, "I'll do the deed. You just talk. Maybe that will work?"
Adam was silent for a moment. Finally, he relented.
"Fine," Adam spat, "In the morning, then. I want to get some rest first."
"Boy," Tyrian's face twisted into a snarl.
"It will send mixed messages, Tyrian," Adam explained, "to start shedding blood so soon after setting so many free, it will be counterproductive. Tomorrow, Tyrian. I promise."
Tyrian closed his eyes and rolled his head, mulling the decision. For a brief second, he exposed his throat.
He needed to end it here. Adam nodded.
Like a bullet, Blake shot out from the darkness behind Tyrian, Gambol Shroud flashing in the dim light. At the same time, Adam struck. He leapt forwards, his blade flashing. He was fast. In a blink of an eye, he has closed the gap between Tyrian and himself. In a blur of red, the katana descended, arcing into Tyrian's neck.
At the very last second, despite having his eyes closed, Adam saw Tyrian smile.
In that moment, Adam knew he played right into Tyrian's hands.
Tyrian's dropped down low, tail lashing out. The stinger impaled Blake in the stomach as Adam's own sword cut through nothing but air.
With a contemptuous flick of his tail, Blake was tossed into Adam, stopping him from pressing his attack.
With the grace of a dancer, Tyrian twirled his body, standing upright. He cackled, "You are too easy to read, Taurus."
Lifting his gauntlet's up, Tyrian fired.
Miya had barely made it out of the gym and up the stairs to the dorms before gunfire echoed through the walls.
Miya screamed, as did many others around when they heard the sudden gunshots crack through the air. Some raced back into the gym, others crouched in fear, some simply froze.
Her heart raced as Whitley held her tight within his embrace, shushing her.
It was the village all over again, and this time she was going to join the rest of her family in death.
She could smell it now. The stench of death, the sharp tang of burnt dust.
"Not again," she whimpered.
Looking up, Miya caught the eyes of one of the gunmen.
His eyes weren't cruel like the human's had been all those years back. In fact, they reminded her of how Cardin looked at her when he found her among the corpses of her relatives.
The gunman looked away.
"Settle down!" Whitley barked. Reluctantly, he let go of Miya and hobbled to his feet, "Stay calm!"
"They're gonna kill us!" one of the teachers, Mrs. Peaches, shouted.
"We will if you don't keep walking," One of the White Fang snarled, "Now move!"
Gunfire. Deafening, and distinct, split the night air.
Winter's heart skipped a beat. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.
Were they executing the hostages? Or was it an accidental discharge? Did a fight break out?
Silence.
Then, another string of gunshots. Glass smashed, and someone in the crowd screamed.
"All teams," Winter barked into the radio, "to your positions!"
As her soldiers and members of the special police scrambled to their posts, Winter checked her weapon. She tapped her earpiece, "Mirror 1 to Fisherman. Gunshots heard, what's the situation?"
Clover's voice immediately crackled back, "Fisherman to Mirror 1. Nothing on the camera, but the hostages are panicked. Standby to engage."
"Copy Fisherman, teams are on standby."
This morning, they had already gone into standby once. Now, they were going into standby again. Only given an entire day and a half to train, it wasn't nearly enough.
The gunfire continued, unabated. It seemed to travel across the manor, moving and shifting.
Some of the adults, no doubt worried sick about the children inside, started to weep. People stood out in the open, recording with their scrolls, seemingly unworried about the potential danger they were in.
They were not shooting the hostages. That much was certain.
What Winter should do, was wait.
But, she wasn't about to wait for the fight to devolve into a massacre.
Something was riling the White Fang up, and Winter knew the hostages were going to be next.
"Mirror 1 to Fisherman," Winter radioed, "requesting Greenlight on Operation Skilful Huntsman."
2340
Sleet's Mansion
Sleet sipped his wine, savouring the rich smoothness. The aroma was exquisite, and to a connoisseur like him, it was his favorite. Truly, Southern Mistrali Wine has earned its ludicrous cost.
His wife sat across him, reading her scroll. She hadn't taken to drinking tonight, her mood spoiled by the event happening at the manor. Sleet had assured her everything was under control, and to have faith in the might of the Atlesian army.
His scroll chirped, and he frowned. Only during emergency situations did this happen, especially this late at night. That could only mean one thing.
He smiled and picked up the call.
2345
Camilla's House
Camilla didn't have much of a life outside of politics. With no children, and already at the top of the proverbial Atlas food chain, there wasn't really much else left for her other than to lay back, enjoy life, and rake in the Lien.
Lately, she had been enthralled by series filmed in Vacuo. It was dramatized mythology, about a monk and his band of misfit bodyguards, making a pilgrimage to the Mistral. It was fantastical and utter nonsense. There was a Monkey faunus birthed from a Grimm rock, a perverted pig faunus, and an exiled human Grimm that was banished by the Brother of Darkness.
In the latest episode, the monkey faunus had just relieved himself on the hand of the Brother of Light, and was about to receive his punishment. But, to her annoyance, Camilla's scroll rang, automatically pausing the show.
She could guess what the call was about, and honestly, she didn't care.
Nevertheless, Camilla needed to get this over with, so she can return to the show.
2350
Gylnda's Apartment
Glynda was jolted awake by the sound of her scroll.
The Headmistress had hardly slept these past few days, and the little amounts of sleep she had were tainted with feelings of urgency and visions of blood.
She rubbed her eyes, taking in a deep breath to wake herself. Her arm was numb, and the lights were too bright. Glynda realized she had fallen asleep at the dinner table. She must have been more tired than she realized.
Ozpin. She needed to talk to Ozpin, but she wished she could talk to James Ironwood.
She missed the general dearly, and it took his sudden death for her to realize what could have been.
The scroll chirped again.
The significance of the ringing suddenly hit her like a charging Boartusk.
Fully awake, Glynda snatched the scroll up and prayed to the Brothers that it was good news.
2355
Robyn's Office
Robyn stared at the picture in her hands.
It was rare for anyone to physically print out photos nowadays, given the accessibility of Scrolls, but Fiona had always known the emotional worth of physical items.
Robyn smiled sadly, remembering when the photo was taken.
Robyn had just won the election. Joanna had insisted on a private celebration. The little dinner party her friends had prepared was one of Robyn's most cherished memories. The commemoration photos taken were added to an album Fiona had been compiling since they formed the Happy Huntresses. Each member had their own physical copy.
There will be no more new photos to add to the team album.
Her scroll rang, and for a moment Robyn dreaded picking it up.
Robyn knew what this was about, and she wished she was standing alongside May.
But, she was a council member now, and for the first time in years, she wished she wasn't.
0000
Schnee Manor
"Operation Skilful Huntsmen is a go, I repeat, Operation Skilful Huntsmen is a go!"
Winter Schnee nodded and rolled down her balaclava.
The storming of Schnee Manor has begun.