Casus Belli
0025
Atlas Air Space
On the bridge of the Ironclad-class Battlecruiser, the AAS Penny, Ship Captain Caroline Cordovin took unhurried steps to the command bridge. Any steps taken too quick with her short stature would just look undignified.
The Grimm alert had been sounded, and the Atlas Army shall respond.
Her ship, along with the AAS Ironwood and AAS Nicolas Schnee, had been on rotation, giving Huntsmen devastating fire support from a distance as they held invading Grimm hordes at bay. While expected, Cordovin could not help feel worried.
The last major Grimm incursion in Remnant had toppled Beacon Academy and eventually the Kingdom of Vale. The first major foreign mobilization of the Atlas military had ended in disaster.
True, General Ironwood and those that followed him were framed and backstabbed, but it doesn't change the fact that the Atlas military had suffered and bled on foreign soil, for an ungrateful foreign populace. Not that the local populace was any more grateful, she reminded herself.
The military had only gotten weaker since. In a way, she was not surprised another terror attack had taken place in Atlas. Mantle was a breeding ground for scum after all, and with the likes of Robyn Hill and Whitley Schnee pouring resources and money into the ungrateful pockets of Mantle peasants, this was bound to happen sooner or later.
She did not like Whitley Schnee. The boy Schnee had spat on everything his father had built and was actively flushing precious resources down the drain in misguided acts of philanthropy. That sent a very clear message to the likes of the White Fang: Violence and terror works. As a result, she hadn't been too bothered by the Schnee Manor Siege when it started, nor will she care if it failed.
But regardless, she has a job to do. Even in this freak thundersnow.
The bridge blast door took a moment to sense her presence- its sensors not adjusted for height- before sliding open.
"Captain on deck!" A cheerful voice spoke over the speakers lining the walls. The bridge crew made formal salutes, standing ramrod straight at their stations.
Cordovin strode to her leather-padded throne and sat down. Only then did she say, "At ease and continue."
A small holographic image of a little girl with ginger hair popped up beside her throne, her smile bright as the sun despite the grim situation in Atlas. Her green sundress bounced and fluttered lightly in simulated winds as she hopped from toe to toe on her bare feet. The small figure saluted casually, "Salutations, Captain Cordovin!"
"Hello Penny," Cordovin greeted absentmindedly to the ship's AI, "you have a report for me?"
"Yes! All escort gunships have been recalled and grounded until the storm dies down. The battle in the manor continues, with over sixty rescu-"
Cordovin waved, "I care not for the manor, Penny."
Penny tilted her head, as if unsure how to proceed.
Not for the first time, Cordovin wondered why an AI assistant was implemented for all Battlecruisers. It was evidently still in the trial phase because its understanding of social interactions rivaled that of a child. Then again, if a person had their memories erased every 24 hours, Cordovin supposed they would remain a child.
The captain sighed, "Tell me about the situation up here. The alert has been signaled, has it not?"
"Indeed, Captain," Penny's avatar bowed, "my sincere apologies. One moment, please."
Next to Penny's holographic form, lines of data leapt up in glowing blue letters.
"The AAS Ironwood and AAS Nicholas Schnee are maintaining standard patrol patterns" Penny chirped cheerfully, like a child too eager to please, "My sensors have also detected anomalous activity within the storm. I cannot give a visual confirmation, but the other ship captains have been alerted."
Cordovin nodded she skimmed through the relevant parts the Ship's Artificial Intelligence has picked out. She frowned.
"Tactical overlay," the ship captain commanded.
Geometric lines fizzled to life in front of Cordovin's eyes, the ship's cameras tracking her retinas. Cordovin could see a 3D outline overlay of the entire city below, a sight currently impossible without multispectral cameras cutting through the thundering blizzard.
"Where is this anomaly?" Cordovin demanded, looking about.
"Above, Captain."
As Cordovin looked up, she saw them. Red blurs of color, pinged by Penny swarmed like ants across the dark sky. With the snowstorm limiting vision and with no other point of reference, it was almost impossible to gauge distance.
Grimm were not known to fly that high. But then again, the presence of Grimm in inland Solitas was already an anomaly in itself, given that they haven't frozen to death.
Cordovin saw a little black crow flap its tiny wings and land on top of her airship, its wings still open and extended as it caught the buffeting winds.
"Vermin," She muttered, briefly wondering how it survived the subzero temperatures.
"Captain?" Penny asked.
"Nothing," Cordovin studied the red blurs. They seem to be multiplying in exponential numbers. "is there no way to further resolve the image?
"Negative, Captain," Penny shook her head, "that in itself is odd. There is some form of interference, to which the source is the manor itself."
"Electronic interference?"
"No, Captain," Penny shook her head. She was about to speak, but snapped upright, "Incoming projectiles! Raising shields!"
In an instant, the shields thrummed to life, bathing the ship interior in bright blue.
Cordovin's face twisted into a sneer. How dare this artificial life execute orders with her direct command? How dare she-
Black spears the size of a vehicle crackled into the hardlight barrier, bouncing off harmlessly. Cordovin's sneer dropped as she realized it was a feather. A very large Nevermore feather.
"More incoming, Captain!" Penny alerted, her voice quivering with mock imitation of human fear, "what are your orders?"
Cordovin gripped her throne tightly. "All hands. Battle stations!"
A horn blared in the distance. An Atlesian airship's call to battle. The aerial leviathans awakened, lightning casting their colossal shadows in the clouds.
On the ground below, a message began to broadcast
"Citizens of Atlas and Mantle. Do not be alarmed. The might of the Atlas Military stands between you and the Grimm. Please remain calm and seek shelter indoors. All licensed Huntsmen, report to your stations. This message will be repeated. Citizens of Atlas and Mantle…."
The deceptive drone of the artificial words echoed across speakers scattered through the streets, cutting above the thundering snowstorm.
Beams of light lit up the skies, turning night to day. Once again, the Atlas gun emplacements cycled to life.
Velvet could spot the flying black shapes that haunted the dark clouds, circling the skyborne titans.
She shivered, gripping her hard light copy of Coco's weapons as the emergency crew ushered the civilians and the hostages to waiting vehicles. The mad scramble to get the wounded and children out of the sudden thundersnow was further complicated by the sudden arrival of Grimm.
Of course, there would be more Grimm, Velvet thought. There were always more Grimm. In fact, Velvet knew for a fact that all Huntsmen and Huntresses are going to be very busy these coming days.
Somehow, she wasn't too worried.
The Atlesians were ready. They were more ready than Vale had been during the Wall Breach. Back then, Velvet doubted Vale would have survived if General Ironwood had not brought his fleet.
As she watched the heavens light up with the fury of Atlas, her mind briefly wandered to the child Cardin had shown her on his scroll. She had not seen the little girl at all.
The battle was still ongoing in the Manor. Velvet could her occasional gunshots and explosions. Occasionally, she caught the light of muzzle flash at one of the windows and saw figures running past.
Cardin…she could guess that he was in the manor right now. She had not seen him after he left in a hurry.
How odd, to be thinking of him right now.
Despite everything he had done in the past, Velvet hoped he comes out unscathed.
The Grimm descended from above; radar had not detected them until they were already bearing down on the airships. They had appeared as suddenly as the snowstorm.
The deafening blare of the Airships fleet's war horn could be heard even above mother nature's wrath.
Grimm swarmed the vessels like flies. Point defense miniguns and autocannons burst and ripped apart lesser Grimm with disgusting ease, swatting them from the skies with machine efficiency.
Penny, the only AI remaining in the entirety of Atlas, processed each target individually. While she had no memories, she knows processing power had been exponentially increased. Memories- insignificant data- takes up a lot of space, after all.
Several Alpha Nevermores screeched as it shot out from the thundersnow, wreathed in lightning. They were enormous, their wingspan matching the size of the flying warships of Atlas. To grow to this size meant they must have been ancient, to have killed and survived for decades. Together they must have terrorized entire sectors for years, wiped out entire villages, and slaked their murderous thirst in rivers of blood formed by a mountain of bodies.
One smashed into the AAS Nicolas Schnee, Talons the size of small houses testing Atlas hard light technology to its limit. The AAS Nicolas Schnee was sent careening, defensive shields flickering. The point defense guns, lacking in armor-piercing power, only tore superficial bloody chunks in the Grimm's thick skin. Ground lasers punched upwards, burning through dozens of flying Grimm, peppering the titanic Alpha with red beams of light.
Another war horn blared through the skies, the sheer volume rattling the windows panes kilometers below. The Grimm turned their attention to the new challenger, shrieking their own war cry.
Missiles streaked across in the air. Lesser Grimm swarmed the explosives warheads, annihilating themselves in large plumes of fire to protect the Alphas. The AAS Penny fired another volley of smart flak rockets. Bright tendrils of smoke billowed as hundreds of explosions birthed thousands of white-hot metal shards, annihilating great swaths of creatures in a blink of an eye.
But, for every one that fell, ten more took its place. More flying Grimm swarmed the blaring AAS Penny, leaving a clear shot to an Alpha.
The AAS Ironwood turned, engines flaring into overdrive as its main cannon cycled up.
It fired.
The night turned to day in a brief instant, and the unnatural snowstorm parted briefly with a thunderous clap. Car alarms blared and windows shook in the aftermath. For the first time, the people of Atlas and Mantle heard and witnessed Atlesian firepower first hand.
The largest nevermore simply ceased to exist, blow asunder by one shot of the largest railgun on Remnant.
Sensing the tide turning, the Alphas swooped away, weaving in the air gracefully, its agility far outmatching the most advanced Dust Engines on the face of Remnant. Gigantic feathers ripped through the lesser Grimm and speared into the airship as they retreated.
The hard light shields of AAS Nicholas Schnee flickered and died under the barrage. Steel parted and detonated outwards in explosive decompression. Screaming crew and pilots were sucked out, many torn to bloody ribbons by the swarming Grimm before they hit the ground.
Many more will die. Grimm of all shapes and sizes rushed into the breach. Fierce close-range fighting broke out within the metal halls of the airship.
One Alpha, sensing a kill, swooped in, its terrible shriek heralding the immediate death of a thousand souls on the airship.
It didn't get far.
A small inconspicuous crow that has been fluttering against the stormy winds folded its wings together and dived towards the massive Grimm like a bullet.
It entered the Grimm's hateful red eye, bursting it like a grape.
The nevermore screeched as it recoiled. Something was inside it, tearing it apart, shredding it from within, killing it.
Qrow Branwen burst out of the giant Nevermore's belly, black smoking viscera evaporating off him as he drifted through the skies. His scythe twirled in midair, decapitating and gutting lesser Grimm in a dazzling mid-air ballet.
Landing on the back of another Alpha Nevermore, he plunged his blade into the spine of the creature. Qrow carved into the creature's spine as he ran along, bisecting and killing it as he jumped off, vanishing into the thundersnow once again.
The airships rallied, their captains and crew were unaware of how close catastrophe they were a few heartbeats ago. A blinding bolt of lightning lanced into the wounded aerial titan, sending arcs of electricity dancing through it. Hard light shields flickered back to life. Railguns began their firing sequence. The flying dreadnaughts roared their challenge once again.
0028
Schnee Manor
Adam stumbled back into the manor, breathing hard.
He could easily escape, Adam realized, he just needed to slip away in the night under the cover of the snow. The heavens have lit up in battle, and the people are scrambling for safety. There would be no better window than now.
But something was stopping him.
Blake, he needed to find Blake.
He was trembling. Yuma had bought him a few precious seconds with his life, but what good will that do? He could hear the heavy boots thundering towards him from the floors above, and he was sure there were dozens of soldiers outside the manor, their white armour making them almost invisible in the snow.
He was going to die anyway, either gunned down or left to rot in a jail cell in the tundras of Solitas. He lost valuable lives on the whim of that bitch, Cinder, and even if he made it back to Menagerie he would be crucified by the Albion brothers.
But so long as he's alive…so long as Blake's alive…then…
Then what?
Adam shook his head and looked around, finding himself in the kitchen. Where had he been just a few moments ago? Was he even going in the right direction? The damn manor was like a maze. He recognized his confusion, his obsessions with finding Blake. Was it shock? Perhaps.
"Blake…." He whispered, "where are you?"
"Nnngggghh," Ren gritted his teeth, as he moaned, "ah…shit!"
"Shit, Lie!" Winter knelt in close, shining the flashlight on Ren's grizzly wounds.
His helmet had saved him from killing blow, deflecting the talons enough to keep his brains in. That was the only reason why he wasn't dead.
He could still die, Winter reminded herself.
"I'm…"Ren gritted out, "I'm fine…I." His words slurring as he drooled out blood and saliva. The strike had ripped through his cheeks and exposed destroyed teeth and bits of the jaw bone. He should be dead just from the shock alone.
"Shut up," Winter snapped, more forcefully than she intended. She tried her radio again, "Mirror 1 to Fisherman, do you copy?"
Static answered her.
"Fuck!" Winter roared.
"Let me…" Ren made to stand up, but his eyes rolled back into his skull, "Shit…Nora…Nora…"
He was starting to slip into delirium. Winter's mind raced, trying to latch onto the correct course of action.
Medevac her subordinate and potentially endanger more people, or leave her teammate to die.
It wasn't an easy decision, to leave behind someone that has fought by her side for half a decade. Especially when he had saved her life a few moments ago.
It wasn't the first time she had to leave someone behind, and despite being constantly disappointed, Winter hoped he would be the last. The mission was sacred, after all. Ren knew the risks, as did everyone on the team.
It took some effort to get Ren to surrender his primary weapon. As Winter jerked it out of his rigid, fighting hands, Ren reached up grasping, as if for help. Winter pushed them aside gently and took out the rest of his magazines from his body armor. She brushed her fingers along his cheek, wiping away his tears of pain and anger.
"Nora…"He groaned once again, his one singular eye almost bulging as it rolled around in his skull, unfocused through pain.
"Hang on, Lie Ren," Winter whispered, unsure if he could hear her in this delirious state, "Help is coming."
That was a lie, but it wasn't the first time she had to utter the same comforting words to another dying man.
"Take his primary," Winter said, passing Ciel Ren's weapons, "we'll come back for him once everyone is secured."
Soon. He has already sown the seeds, now it was just a matter of time. All that is left to do is for the finishing touch.
Those Atlesians might have gotten some people out, but so long as there is catastrophic death, it would be enough to drive Ozpin out into the public eye.
Tyrian Callows slowed his breath as hid from the Hunting Atlesians. He was barely containing his laughter, even as exquisite agony coursed through his wounds like jolts of electricity.
Deformed bits of ammunition, lead coated with copper, jingled softly as they fell on the floor as bone and muscle morphed and healed. Licking his lips, Tyrian felt around his bones. It was already knitting together, reforming. He could feel his muscles and bones shift and pop like wet sand.
His ear was not coming back, that was for sure, though. Even this blessed form had some irritating limitations.
He will make those worms bleed for this transgression.
Shivers rippled through him and he sighed.
Oh, how wonderful how absolutely wonderful.
Tyrian has not felt this level of excitement for years. To teeter and balance on the edges of life and death and emerge triumphantly. It was utterly exhilarating.
A lifetime ago, Tyrian had his little dance against a Mistralian Huntsman, Pickerel. But even Pickerel proved to be a disappointment in the end. He did not have the same look in his eye when they fought…unlike those Atlesians.
Winter Schnee and her little team of killers had the same look as Tyrian does when they kill. They are the rare breed of people that thrive on violence, and will have difficulty going back once they have gotten a taste of blood.
Tyrian knows they had their fair share. He could smell it on them. Death and suffering clung onto them, a miasma undetectable to almost all living beings.
It would be the cherry on top to kill them.
The big one and the thin one, Tyrian has nothing in mind for them yet. The pink-eyed boy, Tyrians hoped he hasn't killed him with that little –though admittedly slightly hardhanded- scratch to the face. After all, Tyrian will want to see his face when he finds out what happened to his other friends.
But, their leader, Winter Schnee…
Oh, she is beautiful. The way she fought, the way she killed. Her eyes…her beautiful hard eyes.
Just like little Red's.
Her screams will be as delicious.
Tyrian was already imagining the sweet, sweet tang of terror spiced blood on his tongue. The thought made him salivate.
Something rang near him. Loud, sonorous, and completely out of place. Tyrian had to stop himself from blasting the house phone to pieces.
Tyrian tilted his head, wondering if he should answer it.
In the end, he didn't need to. It answered itself.
"Tyrian." A tinny voice crackled over the small speakers on the device, "I know you can hear me."
Indeed he could, and he could recognize the voice anywhere. The deep, cultured accent so common among the faux aristocrats of Atlas. Despite missing one ear, his enhanced faunus physiology picked up the voice as clear as if the other man was standing right next to him.
His grin widened. What luck, for him to be calling now. "Ah. Hello, Watts. Have you been enjoying the show?"
Russel sent the rest of the men to find the remaining hostages. Without proper communication, they do not have a proper headcount yet. The radio was still down, although he could hear flickers of life every now and then.
They still had a lot of ground to cover before they approach the gym.
Russel was not a team player, at least not with other teams. Plus, he was not about to leave Cardin alone to deal with some fuckhead with a grenade.
But, how?
Think outside the box, he reminded himself, creativity is a weapon on the field.
The terrorist had his back against the room, so there were only a few ways to catch the bastard by surprise.
Above, below, or behind.
He didn't have the semblance Cardin had, to amply his strength enough to shatter through walls and floors without a breaching charge. An actual breaching charge would potentially injure or kill the children in the room. He also couldn't risk activating his fear semblance, because the fearful and the desperate do very stupid things.
So his only option was to approach from behind, to somehow catch the White Fang in the back, and prevent the grenade from going off inside a room full of children.
Just another day in the office.
He tried his radio, to give a signal to Cardin, or to reach Winter.
The damn thing was still playing many unamusing games.
"Winter," he growled, "where the fuck are you?"
He suddenly sensed a presence behind him Russel turned, snapping his shotgun up.
May winced as the bright light from his firearm shone into her eyes. She raised a hand up, "Hey hey! It's me!"
Russel growled, "Fuck, May. I could have shot you."
"I was about to call to you," May said, "but I couldn't be sure if there were still other White Fang."
Russel nodded. May could have indeed snuck upon him with her semblance.
Russel blinked, a smile creeping onto his face.
What a stroke of luck.
He had followed the blood trails into this room.
The man picked his way gingerly through the wrecked library. He had tried not to wretch, he really did. But the overwhelming smell of death and had him wretch his empty stomach on the floors of the manor.
He almost turned back, he really did. But, something in his gut told him to press forward.
There had been one hell of a fight here. Bullet holes, blade marks, blood splatters. There would be no salvaging half the room.
Someone was in here with him. He strained his eyes in the darkness.
A human form, crawling across the floor to the exit, growled and hissed as it moved, repeating a single word through drooling lips. "Nora…."
Clover knelt down next to Ren, grimacing at the younger man's wounds. But, he was alive, and that in itself was lucky.
"Tough bastard." Clover mused, ripping off Ren's individual medkit. Maybe he has some painkillers lying around.
"Arthur, my good friend," Tyrian twirled the cord of the phone around his fingers, "odd of you to be calling me now."
"I wouldn't have to resort to this measure if you picked up your scroll," Watts said, sounding more resigned than annoyed, "but it doesn't matter now. There has been a complication.."
Ah yes. His scroll. Tyrian had forgotten about it during such exciting times. "Ah? Something that has stumped the greatest mind of Atlas?"
"I am unable to completely shut down the Atlesian defenses. Ironwood overhauled the military to rely less on computers and networks, it seems" Watts ignored Tyrian's comment, "It annoys me to admit that that buffoon of a general still haunts me even in death."
Tyrian clicked his tongue. The Grimm would strike fear into the city, but they would not cause as much chaos and damage as he would have liked. But, that wasn't as important, "Pity. What of the cameras? Don't tell me you didn't catch my wonderful performance at all."
"I've had the entire surveillance system of Mantle and Atlas under my thumb before you entered," Watts barked a short laugh, "how else do you think your faces weren't scanned and recognized the moment you stepped into Mantle."
"Good, good," Tyrian nodded, "just making sure the cameras are rolling for the finale."
"I do not believe that She will be too happy about your course of action, Tyrian. Getting this amount of children involved seems unnecessary." Watts said, "I do not know if she will kill you if you go through with this just to slake your bloodthirst. "
"Oh my friend," Tyrian sighed dramatically, "you should know by now it's not what it seems. This will ensure Ozpin's influence in Atlas is weakened."
"I don't care," Watts said flatly, "and quite frankly, it befuddles me every time She listens to your mad ramblings."
"There are always methods in madness, Arthur. You should know this by now," Tyrian smiled, "oh, and one more little favour if you would."
"I suppose nothing can top hijacking the entire surveillance system of the most advanced Kingdom on Remnant," Watts sighed, "Fine. What more do you want."
"With your little cameras...tell me. Is Adam Taurus still alive?"
"What do you want, man?" May could hear Cardin's voice from the room, above the whimpering and sobbing of children.
"I want to get out of this place," someone shouted back, "I want a guarantee or I'll blow thi- HEY!"
"Boy!" Cardin's voice boomed, "Do not move! Stay down!"
"If any one of you brats move, you will all die!"
May's breath hitched as she peeked into the room, rendered almost invisible by her semblance.
"Oh shit," she whispered, and those words earned her a swift pinch on her arm.
She glared at Russel, who simply put his fingers on his lips.
Clearly, he did not know her cloaking field also muffled sound. Or perhaps he did but didn't want to risk it.
May's lips were suddenly very dry. How the hell are they going to get out of this?
Russel knelt in front of her, studying the scene. The man was almost too calm for this situation as if he was analysing a piece of art. Eventually, he nodded and gestured for them to retreat.
"Alright May," Russel chewed on his lips, "In case I fuck up, this is what I want you to do…."
When Cardin saw movement behind the window Adam Taurus had jumped out, he resisted the urge to smile.
Russel you crazy bastard, he whooped inwardly.
"Alright man," Cardin said, "I can get in touch with Winter. Maybe we can work something out."
"No!" the terrorist snapped, "Don't you fucking lie to me. The Schnee is the entire reason you are here in the first place, am I wrong?"
"The council, then. Councilmember Glynda Goodwitch! Used to teach me at Beacon, how about her?" Cardin asked.
Russel clambered up from the window silently. Their eyes met. Cardin hoped to the Brothers the terrorist won't feel Russel's presence behind him.
"…or Robyn! Robyn Hill!" Cardin said, "Would you prefer her? Mantle's voice herself!"
He watched the man swallow, "Get them on the line."
"Okay, man," Cardin risked a glance at Miya, and took in a deep breath, "Let me ask you this. When this is all over, what company would you like branded on your face? "
Yuma's jaw dropped.
The sheer audacity of the comment took Yuma a few milliseconds to fully process. At that moment, something else happened.
May dropped her invisibility field behind Cardin, revealing herself with a crossbow in hand. She yelled out as loud as she could "Drop the kid!"
The appearance of a new threat snapped Yuma's attention away, overwhelming his mind's processing for several more precious milliseconds.
Precious milliseconds that Russel needed.
With a howl, Russel lunged onto Yuma's back. His dagger struck true, plunging itself into Yuma's grenade hand. Ice dust released in a concentrated liquid stream, worming into flesh and bone and flash freezing them in place.
They tumbled down together. With a screech, Russel ripped Miya out of Yuma's grasp. Yuma lashed out, and clobbering his frozen hand across Russel's head. Russel fell on the floor, shielding Miya with his body. Yuma tried to open his hands.
Cardin's shot drilled a neat hole right under Yuma's nose and above his lip. The singular bullet smashed through Yuma's teeth and gums, tumbling and deforming as it tore its way through. Finally, after blooming into a small lead and copper flower, it blew out the top of Yuma's spine, severing the body's connection to the brain.
May rushed forwards and kicked the reeling form of the terrorist out the window.
Yuma fell, his limp form cracking unnaturally as he landed headfirst on the pavement below.
Several heartbeats later, the grenade exploded, sending a plume of smoke upwards. Red hot pieces of shrapnel whizzed harmlessly into the air.
Russel hauled Miya to her feet. Miya was expressionless, her mind overwhelmed with trauma. Her little body was still shaking. Russel fussed over Miya, satisfied she wasn't injured at all. He cracked a grin.
"She's alright!" Russel laughed, "She's alright!"
Cardin swooped in, picking the little faunus up and holding her tight in his embrace. Miya snapped out of her stupor and started screaming. She thrashed and yelled, squirming and kicking her feet. Cardin took off his balaclava revealing his face.
"Hey! Hey!", Cardin whispered, "You're alright! You're alright."
Miya's eyes widened as she took in Cardin's face, as if she couldn't believe her eyes.
Finally, Miya sobbed and wailed. "Papa! Papa!"
"Found you."
Adam sighed, feeling his hands tense around the handle of Wilt and Blush. "Here to finish the job? I chose the hard way out of this one, didn't I?"
"Don't be so dramatic," Tyrian chuckled.
Adam winced at those words. Blake had said the exact same thing.
Blake…
"Where is Blake?" Adam turned around to face Tyrian. The man was sitting on the kitchen table, kicking his legs as if he had no care in the world.
"Blake? Oh, your little toy," Tyrian grinned, "I had a little fun myself, not going to lie. But I think I might have broken her."
Adam scowled. He knew what Tyrian meant, but as long as there isn't a body then…
"You see," Tyrian unlatched something from his belt. He presented it to Adam like a child showing off a piece of art, "I might have played a little bit too rough."
Blake's head stared back at Adam, slack-mouthed and eyes closed. Adam froze. The world around him seemed to stop.
"B-blake?"
Tyrian shook his head and chuckled, tossing the head of Blake Belladonna in both his hands like a ball, "I'm sure we can put her back together again. It can be done, like last time. Don't you worry about it. You should have seen it when I- oops!"
Blake's head clattered on the floor and rolled to Adam's feet. It came to a rest when it hit his boot, coming to a rest facing up.
Mercifully, her eyes were still shut, like she was sleeping.
As Adam looked down, stupefied, he tried to say something but realized he didn't know what to say. He remembered seeing her desecrated remains for the first time before she was brought back. Now, ironically, she had died for the second time in the same manner.
"My bad," Tyrian shrugged, "I can't really feel my fingers. They're still numb, you see."
Adam fell to his knees, his trembling hands reaching out to touch Blake's face.
Like before all those years ago, he couldn't bring himself to touch her corpse, "I…"
"This is your punishment, boy. Punishment for failing in your duties," Tyrian said simply, "but we are living creatures of flesh and blood. We are fallible."
"I can fix her, Adam," Tyrian was suddenly in front of him, crouching, "My Mistress is a merciful being. We can forget about your transgression, and you will learn from your failure this day."
Tyrian placed a hand gently on Adam's head, running his fingers through the man's hair, "Everything will go back to normal, and you will continue to serve Her will. What say you, Adam Taurus?"
The White Fang wasn't listening. He was still staring at the decapitated head. It looked so…so normal.
He was familiar with decapitations. The skin drains of all colour, leaving behind the deathly pallor that all corpses have.
Blake looked…she looked exactly the same as she looked these past years. Deathly pale, blue lips. Like a corpse.
Realization struck Adam like a hammer.
Blake, when she was alive, looked nothing like this. When she was alive, Blake had eyes that shone like the moon off the water. She had skin the colour of the warm sands of Menagerie. When she smiles and blushes, her cheeks turn as pink as peaches.
Every time he looked upon her beautiful face, his willpower wilts like a dying flower.
What he had brought back, was nothing but a shell. Adam truly saw that now as he stared upon Blake's corpse once again. He had just been too blind to see.
Adam suddenly felt the urge to vomit. It was like waking up, and realizing the nightmare had been real.
Those pleading eyes he had seen in the corner of his eyes were real, not a trick of his conscious mind.
He had tortured her soul for years, because he was not willing to go.
Hot tears ran down his face.
Adam looked up, and saw the visage of a monster. This ugly twisted demon was an affront of every living thing on Remnant.
It was like gazing into a mirror.
Adam screamed. He launched himself towards Tyrian, sense and reason thrown out the window as he hacked and slashed at Tyrian with abandon.
Tyrian cackled, dodging and weaving past the anger fuelled blows like liquid. Something in Adam told him that this was what Tyrian wanted: an excuse to spill blood. An excuse to kill him.
Spinning fast, Adam leveled his gun, but Tyrian was already upon him.
Blush and Wilt roared, going off right next to Tyrian's head as they collided with each other in a tangle of limbs. As Adam struggled against Tyrian's unnatural Grimm strength, he reversed his katana. Adam stabbed downwards.
Tyrian wrenched Adam over in a cartwheel flip. He slammed on the kitchen table, scattering utensils everywhere. His sword skittered across the tiled floor into the darkness. Laughing, Tyrian dragged Adam across the counter, battering aside plates, utensils and pots before rearing up to strike down.
Tyrian's stinger hung above him like a guillotine. It fell. Adam rolled.
There was a sonorous ring as Tyrian's tail lodged itself through the metal table. Adam scrambled back, looking around desperately for his katana. Bare hands won't kill this monster. His eyes settled on several kitchen knives scattered across the tiled floor.
Picking one up, he hurled it towards Tyrian's struggling form. Tyrian raised his arms as the knife embedded itself into his forearm. The man's mouth split in a rictus grin, still drooling black blood. A sharp tongue slithered across Tyrian's thin lips, and his eyes seemed to flash red.
The sight set Adam off. The man was a monster. Adam had convinced himself his entire life that the real monsters do not look the part, but sometimes things are that simple.
Adam cannoned into Tyrian, kitchen knife in hand. Tyrian jinxed back, but not fast enough. The blade plunged into Tyrian's shoulder, gouging a black ravine down the man's pale arm. Adam pulled back and stabbed, again and again, going back and forth without much thought of finesse.
Blade parted flesh and bone, all the way down to the hilt.
The tip of the knife came to a stop a millimeter from Tyrian's leering eye. Tyrian grinned back, despite the knife spearing his hand. Adam tried to pull back, but realized he couldn't.
Adam looked down.
"Gotcha," Tyrian sniggered, his stinger twisting inside Adam's stomach.
With a flick, Adam was tossed aside. The White Fang revolutionary sailed silently through the air and crashed into a bleeding pile.
Tyrian licked the tip of his stinger, savoring the iron tang of freshly spilled blood, spiced with adrenaline.
It was almost perfect.
He could hear Adam's ragged breaths, his teeth gritting into each other from pain. He could smell the fear stink of the revolutionary as his lifeblood drained from him.
Tyrian crawled over to Adam, like a vulture circling a dying man.
"Tyrian," Adam gasped.
"Hush now, child," Tyrian pressed a finger against his own lips, "do not tarnish your own death begging for mercy."
"You…" whatever he wanted to say, Tyrian cut him off by placing his boots upon Adam's throat.
"Die here, at the feet of your betters," Tyrian cooed, "as you were always destined to."
The first bullet shattered Tyrian's cheekbone. The second ripped into his throat.
Tyrian turned at the barrage, rolling down out of sight as Winter and Ciel advanced. He popped out a second later, his return fire sending the Auraless Winter diving for cover.
Ciel didn't move, her Aura still at full. She slowed down her breathing, even Tyrian shifted his barrage. Ciel breathed out. Time slowed down, and she fired two shots right before a bullet caught the forehead.
As she was knocked to the floor, Tyrian's wrist cannons exploded in sparks. Springs, loose ammo, and bits of metal shot out in all directions. Tyrian howled in rage as his arms and face were peppered with hot metal debris. In a blink of an eye, he cannoned forwards toward Ciel, smashing aside any and all that got in his way.
Ciel heard the monster coming for her as much as she felt the murderous anger.
Plates smashed, pots clattered, tables screeched.
Rolling to her feet and ignoring her sniper rifle pressing painfully into her back, Ciel swung up her firearm to let loose a full automatic barrage.
Tyrian's tore into her like a frenzied beowolf, hacking and tearing into her Aura.
A year ago, Ciel would have known what to do. A year ago, Ciel would have been able to fight off her attacker. But the entire year off the field had dulled her edge, and in that moment, her mind went blank.
She screamed as tried to fend off Tyrian's relentless assault, throwing her metal arms in front of her in an attempt to deflect the deadly blows. Tyrian hooked his tail low and tripped Ciel back onto the floor.
Tyrian reared up, his tail arcing up and falling down like a bolt of lightning. Ciel punched out and watched in dismay as her left hand warped and buckled as it was skewered to the ground.
Tyrian suddenly screamed. Black blood spurted out as his back was split open.
Winter drew back, twirling gracefully, gaining momentum. The sword sang, whipping in wide arcs as Winter transitioned into a two-handed grip.
It was the most basic downward strike, drilled into Winter from the first day she picked up a blade. Only this time, it will split open Tyrian's skull.
Tyrian jinxed back, but Ciel suddenly grabbed Tyrian in place at the last second, her metal arms whirring with effort.
The edge of the blade sinks into Tyrian, straight through his collarbone, carving at an angle, parting bones and flesh. Then, it stops. Such was the toughness granted to Tyrian in his blessed form.
With her blade stuck, Winter backed off, ripping out her revolver. Tyrian swung, his tail ripping out of Ciel's mangled hand in a wide desperate swing.
A scratch appeared on Winter's throat
Winter gasped, the pain almost overwhelming her senses. She felt her world spin as her strength sapped away in a blink of an eye.
Tyrian howled in triumph as he charged Winter. Winter drew out her bayonet, even as her world spun and twisted. Her blade found Tyrian's stomach, even as she fell onto her knees.
Ciel struggled to unsling her rifle with one hand. She swung the rifle around, uncaring of her aim. At this range, it was all about timing.
Her pupils dilated. Time slowed down to a crawl.
Tyrian's tail arched up, preparing to deliver its killing strike straight through Winter's heart.
He struck-
-and Ciel fired.
The bullet whizzed past Tyrian's face as he pulled back at the last millisecond. Ciel's heart stopped. In instinct, she had aimed for the head, the smallest target on the human body.
Tyrian whirled around, tilting his head. His sharpened teeth seemed to gleam in the dark.
"Well, if you insist," he hissed, his low voice barely audible, "I'll start with you first."
"Shit." Ciel cursed, but then she saw something move behind him.
A faint red glow.
Adam, the White Fang leader that led this operation was behind Tyrian. His face was a mask of rage as he swung his glowing katana.
Tyrian screamed. Black hissing blood sprayed in an arc through the air. The stinger sailed through the air, landing, and wriggling as if it had a life of its own before it curled into itself and stopped.
"You bitch!" Tyrian roared, whirling around, his wrist blades flashing.
Adam was forced back, his injuries too painful and severe for him to put up an effective guard. Tyrian whittled into Adam, slicing dozens of deep painful cuts into the swordsman's body in a flurry of blades.
Adam collapsed onto his knees, his strength finally having failed. His head rolled up, his unfocused eyes meeting with Tyrian's.
"Blake," Adam gurgled as he choked on his own blood. He swung his katana.
It was wide, clumsy, and more out of desperation than anything else.
Tyrian caught the blade, and shattered it in two with a single strike.
"This is how the great Adam Taurus dies," Tyrian sneered, "on his knees, like the slave he always was."
Something shimmered in the darkness.
Tyrian was yanked back from Adam, a fine metal wire, almost invisible to the human eye, looped around his neck. He choked and gagged as he was dragged back. Tyrian struggled, digging his own talons into his throat to dislodge the wire.
But he realized his arms were bound too.
"Hello there," Clover greeted as if he was taking a stroll in the park. He fought against Tyrian's struggles with his fishing rod, "fancy meeting you all here."
Clover had someone's arm looped his shoulders for support.
A barrage of bullets ripped into Tyrian's tangled form. Tyrian screamed in anger. He tried to raise his arms, but the fishing line tightened.
His face was ripped and demolished as a constant stream of bullets hammered into it. Tyrian howled, his cries audible even above the din of gunfire. Impossibly, he was still struggling when the gunfire stopped.
Lie Ren snarled in frustration as he holstered his empty pistol. With rigid hands, he fumbled for a fresh magazine.. Clover hummed patiently as he supported Ren's weight around his neck as he was fighting the struggling Tyrian and his attempts to break free.
Ren snarled wordlessly, slamming a new magazine into Stormflower. He lifted the pistol back up and thumbed the slide release. A new round slammed forward into the chamber, ready to fire.
Tyrian roared and spun. Clover let go of his weapon to avoid being reeling in. Tyrian whipped around and charged.
Ren unleased a torrent of lead. Clover winced at the barrage of noise. Stream of spent shells clinked and clattered on the floor. Tyrian dodged and weaved through the barrage, battering aside as many shots as he could. Clover crouched, ready to intercept the howling madman.
Ciel fired.
Tyrian's left arm vaporized in a shower of black mist, sending the man spinning onto the floor.
As Tyrian scrambled up, slipping and sliding on his blood. Ciel fired again and blew out a fist sized chunk from Tyrian's hip, almost taking his leg off.
Enhanced or no, the skeletal structure was what keeps a person standing up.
Tyrian collapsed, writhing on the ground, his howls silenced into gasps of agony.
Ren tried to growl, but blood and shattered teeth had filled his mouth. All he could do was manage a gurgle, much like the sound Tyrian was making.
Tyrian did nothing but convulse.
Ren frowned. He realized Tyrian was not convulsing, but sniggering. The sniggering turned to full-blown laughter.
"You think you have won?" Tyrian cackled, "You think you have saved them all? They will all die screaming as your friends did! That boy, Jaune. Those girls, Ruby, and No-"
Ren didn't let the man finish, emptied his magazine into Tyrian's face. Pushing himself off Clover, Ren dropped his magazine, slammed in a new one, and repeated the process.
Then again.
And again, until the barrel of his pistol glowed red. Until the plastic grips of his pistol started to melt. Until his leather gloves started smoking with the heat.
He kept putting bullets into Tyrian's skull until he was out of ammunition. Black blood splattered across Ren's ruined face, and soaked his uniform. Shell casing covered the floor. Ren dropped Stormflower onto the floor, leaned onto Clover for support. Clover looked away, unsure what to make of Ren's behavior.
To Ren, there was no satisfaction. There was no joy, no anger, not even relief.
Nothing, but cold apathy.
0050
Nicolas Schnee Road
The all-clear was given.
Every single enemy combatant was accounted for.
Cardin held Miya in his arms, shielding her from the elements as he hurried out into the snowstorm. The winds had died down, but the skies still flashed with lightning. The war in the heavens continued, as titanic machines ignored the ants scurrying beneath them.
Medical teams were rushing in and out, carrying wounded and dead on their stretchers.
Russel, May, and the remnants of Red and Blue team were still pulling security, just in case, as the military searched through the entire manor for hostages and survivors. Cardin would have joined them if only Miya would let go of him.
Adam Taurus was brought out on a stretcher, his hands cuffed together. He had a blank look in his eyes, and his head rolled about. An oxygen mask was strapped across his face, obscuring the SDC brand across his face.
Cardin resisted the urge to put a bullet through the man, but he suspected the terrorist didn't have long.
Then, he heard Russel gasp, "Shit!"
"Out of the way!" A voice barked.
Cardin looked back, and balked.
Ren and Winter were being carried out. Winter was still convulsing, her eyes were wide and bloodshot as she frothed at the mouth. Ren looked like a corpse, his face a bloody mess. Cardin would have thought him dead if their eyes didn't meet.
Ciel limped along behind, supported by Clover.
"Sir," Cardin began.
"Go join them, both of you." Clover said.
"But sir, the manor-" Russel began.
"The military will take it from here," Clover cut him off, "you have all done enough. The hard part is over. Well done."
0055
Undisclosed location
It had been the longest hour of Gylnda's life.
Then again, these past few days had been filled with long hours of suspense and anxiety. The powerlessness she felt coupled with the inability to act was a combination so crippling she had taught about it repeatedly during her days at Beacon.
She had found Ozpin, locked away in the exact location Winter said he was, watching the live feed of the Manor on a flickering television.
Glynda had felt a little more at ease. It was like his very presence exuded calm, similar to Lie Ren's semblance. It still was odd, at first. She still hasn't gotten used to the fact that Ozpin was an old man wearing a young boy's face, but it wasn't his first time.
They had only exchanged cursory greetings, before watching the feed in heavy silence. Despite the years apart, Glynda had nothing to say to him. There was no need.
"It's over. I think Ms Schnee and her men are quite successful."
Those words came out of nowhere, and Glynda looked up. She blinked several times, unsure if she heard correctly. The news hasn't gotten to her yet, but Ozpin always had the uncanny ability to just know certain things as they happen.
"Well, that's wonderful." She breathed out, a smile creeping onto her face. The weight on her shoulders lifted significantly. Then, her smile fell. She had to ask, "What do you mean, quite?"
Ozpin didn't reply.
Glynda couldn't see what his eyes could see. In fact, he was sure no one in Atlas could see it.
If he looked hard enough, he could make out screaming faces form and loom in the snowstorm behind.
Ozpin knows what is coming next. He could stop it, but nothing short of this will convince Winter Schnee to join his war.
Instead, he shut off the television, "Glynda. I think it's about time we talked about resuming efforts in our war against Salem."
0059
Nicolas Schnee Road
Russel sat down in the back of an ambulance. The thundersnow had died down gradually although the winds still wouldn't allow him to light a cigarette.
He ignored the battle going on above his head. It wasn't his problem anymore. Let the Hunters and Huntresses do their jobs. He and his friends had bled enough for the night.
He sighed. Cardin was off dealing with Miya, and he was barred from seeing Ren and Winter. His hands were still shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and his teeth chattered as the potent chemicals inside him wore off.
Ciel hopped on next to him, her left arm completely removed, leaving nothing but a stump capped in a metal socket.
Russel frowned, "You alright there, Ciel?"
Ciel nodded, "Minor injuries. Cybernetics took the burn of it."
"Glad you got out alright, then," Russel smiled, although he didn't feel particularly relieved. Something was eating in the back of his mind.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
"That was too close," Russel said.
"Ren and Winter aren't out of the woods yet," Ciel reminded him gently, "but I trust in their resilience."
Russel nodded, letting a small smile crease his features. Ciel returned it.
A sound played from his scroll, and it vibrated.
Odd, Russel frowned.
The same thing happened with Ciel, her scroll started suddenly chiming.
Russel fished his scroll out, huffing in disappointment.
His eyes widened. It was a live feed.
A live feed of the military rescue team entering the gym.
Jumping to his feet, he scrambled for a radio.
"All units in the manor! Abort! Abort! Get the hell out of there!" The military moved into the gym, fanning out weapons at the ready.
0100
Schnee Manor
Sergeant Kobalt strode through into the objective, his mind still racing from the events that transpired.
It was evident that the White Fang had put up a hell of a fight, and for once. Kobalt realized just how woefully unprepared Atlas is as a Kingdom for such scenarios. He only wished these lessons didn't come at the cost of so many lives…so many friends.
As they moved into the gym, Kobalt felt a chill, cutting deep into his spine like the tundras up north. The remaining hostages, just over half of the remaining children, lay unmoving on the floor.
Kobalt counted around thirty to forty of them. It was as if they were sleeping, but some of their eyes are open. Some of them stood up, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated, like they were drugged.
Kobalt knelt down, his hands shaking as he reached for a little boy's neck. He hesitated, fear suddenly gripping his gut. What if he's dead? What if they were all dead?
Then, he saw the subtle rise and fall of the boy's chest, and Kobalt almost laughed in relief. He had been so strung up she had not noticed the smaller details immediately.
Gingerly, he picked up the child.
The men and women of the military team had already formed a line, unceremoniously dragging and passing out the children out like the team Winter had led had done.
He didn't like it. Despite the heavy casualties suffered by the assault team, the rescue was a success owing largely to the fact that the White Fang had not started killing the hostages at the first sign of trouble. Sure, Winter Schnee and her team had bled for this victory, but he wasn't blind to the fact it could have been much, much worse.
Perhaps it was because they had missed out on all the action, but he could tell the teams were on edge too.
Perhaps the feelings of helplessness still lingered, the feeling of utter powerlessness as you are forced to watch and listen to a war going on right in front of you.
Perhaps it was the terrible loss of life that Atlas suffered in this terrible week, and people -like Kobalt himself- have lost previous friends and family. Perhaps it was also the chilling knowledge that this could happen again at any time.
Or, perhaps it was the crazed scrawling on the wall.
Initially, Kobalt paid no attention to it, but it seemed alive somehow. The more he saw it from the edges of his vision, the less he wanted to look up.
It almost seemed like they were glowing.
Kobalt's lips were suddenly moist. He licked them, and tasted copper.
"Mister," the little boy in his arms stirred. He looked up to Kobalt with the most beautiful pair of hazel-colored eyes he had ever seen. The boy reached a hand up weakly, "your nose…."
A single droplet of blood splattered onto the boy's white shirt. Kobalt realized blood was weeping from his nose.
The drawing on the wall pulsed red, like a heart of an abomination. Black liquids oozed from the ceiling, from the walls, burning and scorching. It looked like the very essence of darkness, of Grimm.
"Ab-t! A-" A voice crackled over the radio, "-et out-"
The static increased tenfold, and all of a sudden it sounded like the screams of a thousand tormented souls.
"Get them out of here!" Kobal screamed. His mouth was full of blood. He fell to his knees, retching blood onto the floor of the gym.
"Oh, Brother of Light…" Kobalt gurgled, his eyes widening in horror. Black Grimm-like maggots wriggled and twisted in the blood.
"Mister?" The boy asked, mystified. His eyes were wide now, full of fear. Blood was also dribbling down his nose.
Kobalt hugged the child tight, "It's alright, kid. It's going to be alright."
Time stopped dead. Over the skies of Atlas, the thundersnow suddenly ceased.
In a bright flare of blood-red light, like blood blossoming from a flesh wound ripped through the fabric of reality, Schnee Manor exploded.