Pyrrhic
When the first settlers from Mistral sailed to Vacuo, the locals could not see the gigantic ships on the coast. It was a sight that was too alien, too incomprehensible, for their minds to process.
When Schnee Manor burned in the heart of Atlas, the locals witnessed it burn with fires unknown to man. Pitch black flames that simultaneously vomited out and sucked in blood-red light, staining the skies with sickening crimson.
They refused to see the birth of a leviathan class Grimm right at their doorsteps. What they thought was a constant stream of billowing smoke, was actually the pitch black body of an endless eel-like creature, screeching its hatred for humanity as slithered its way up into the heavens.
Computer targeting systems poured fire into the newborn Grimm, at least initially, before the sheer length of the creature left the systems unable to compute. The AAS Penny had to perform an emergency landing right outside the gates of Mantle after the leviathan Grimm tore out her engines in a single passing blow.
It left Atlas almost immediately after its birth.
This behavior left veteran huntsmen and huntresses alike confused. Some said it knew of its own vulnerability when it entered the world in the middle of the most heavily armed and most technologically advanced Kingdom on Remnant. Some others pointed out that it was a young Grimm despite its size, thus it lacked the judgmental capacity of elder Grimm. Some even theorized that it had left because it was answering the summons by something else, or someone. It was the topic of heated debate for months on the CCT networks, before fading into obscurity.
When coastal settlements started going dark in Mistral years later, the survivors will utter in hushed whispers the names of ancient gods and monsters long consigned to mythos and legend. Anantashesha, Jörmungandr, Ouroboros. They all described the same thing: An endless serpent that devoured all, lurking in the depths of the ocean.
Schnee Manor burned for many days after. The unknown fires cast long ominous shadows in the day and lit up the night. There was little to no heat, but firefighters could not approach the inferno. Those that ventured near were driven back by bouts of overwhelming nausea, terror, and sorrow.
An entire week of mourning followed, and the kingdom of Atlas saw further incursions of Grimm. But, the numbers were a footnote compared to what they had been battling.
The political backlash must be severe, that much Winter Schnee knew.
She didn't care.
Her mood was black, and she became withdrawn. Winter and her uninjured Legionnaires attended the mass funerals on the second day in their black dress uniforms and red berets but spoke to no one. She didn't respond to the nosy journalists that swarmed her every chance she got. She didn't respond to the poisonous words hurled at her by weeping mothers. She didn't even talk to her own Legionnaires or her own brother.
Instead, she had shut herself in one of the many Schnee properties in Atlas.
7 Days later
1000
SDC Apartments, Atlas
On the seventh day, Qrow Branwen has had enough. In an unmarked room of a Schnee-owned apartment, Qrow knocked on the door.
Whitley Schnee greeted him.
"Whitley," Qrow forced a smile.
"Hello Qrow," Whitley gave a similar smile.
"How is she?"
Whitley shook his head.
Ilia looked up from the table, thumbing through elementary textbooks with Miya at her side. Somehow, she had been saddled with the responsibility of looking after Miya while the Legionnaires were on duty. She waved at Qrow, "She hasn't come out."
"I have to see her," Qrow said simply.
"You tried last time," Whitley reminded him.
"I'll try again, dammit." Qrow huffed, "Has she been eating at least?"
"We bring her meals, but she barely eats them," Ilia sighed. She paused, before pointing to several empty alcohol bottles, "she gets a lot of those, though."
Qrow's expression darkened. He nodded, "I'm going in, even if I have to kick down the damn door."
Whitley sighed, "Can't you go through the window or something?"
"Don't think Winter will appreciate that," Ilia said distractedly, looking intensely at the textbook Miya had given him.
"Ms Amitola?" Miya pulled at Ilia's shirt, "They don't want us to solve the question that way."
"What do you mean, not that way? Math is math!" Ilia blew an exasperated breath. Miya giggled at the display.
"The syllabus changes every now and then," Whitley said soothingly, "let me have a look at it."
"Thanks, guys," Qrow muttered, knowing he wasn't going to get any help at all.
The door, turns out, was unlocked. The curtains were drawn and the windows closed.
There was a heavy smell of alcohol and cigarettes.
Qrow pushed his way in, stepping gingerly over hastily discarded clothes and items thrown in anger.
"Ice Queen?" Qrow called out.
"Who's there? Who the fuck is there?"
The gruffness in Winter's voice startled Qrow. Winter ghosted out of the darkness. Her hair was messy and unkempt, her eyes were bloodshot above her dark eye bags.
A large revolver –Due process- was aimed squarely at Qrow's head.
"Dammit Winter, it's me!" Qrow snapped, dodging out of Winter's line of fire.
Winter glowered at him, before tossing the firearm onto her bed. She was only wearing a stained undershirt and PT shorts, and Qrow caught an ugly pink scar across her throat. Every time Winter went on a mission, she returns with new scars. It was still a sight Qrow wasn't used to seeing.
"You woke me," she grunted, her voice like gravel. It seems that she hasn't completely recovered from the poison yet.
Without waiting for a reply, she turned her back and planted herself onto her bed. The blankets were messily strewn across the bed, and there were drink stains in some places. Cigarette butts littered the floor, and she kicked empty glass bottles aside to make space.
"I'm sorry," Qrow said, making his way over to Winter. He tried to put his hands around her, but something made him hesitate. "Hey,"
"What?"
Qrow was about to ask if she was alright, but decided not to. She definitely wasn't.
"You're not okay, Winter." Qrow said instead, "You're drinking like I used to."
Winter huffed. "I have got a meeting with the council in a few hours." She said, like that explained everything.
"You're not ready, then."
"I am ready."
"Winter," Qrow sighed, daring to take a seat next to her. She reeked of alcohol, "You are not ready. You look like shit, Winter."
Winter ignored him. She was staring intensely at her scroll. Combat footage from the manor replayed over and over again in multiple tabs across the small screen.
"Please get me another, Qrow."
"Another what?" Qrow blinked. Despite being in this state, she was still saying please.
"Drink. Another drink." She clarified softly, "I need another. It's near the door."
"Ease up there, Ice Queen. You said you need to meet with the council."
"That is precisely why I need another drink," Winter spat, "I refuse to spend a minute of my time with those –" She devolved into a series of harsh coughs.
"Winter, please." Qrow picked up a pitcher and poured her a drink. He had to smell it to make sure it isn't alcohol, "Your throat is still healing."
Winter swiped the glass from Qrow, and downed the contents. A second later, she shot a venomous glance at Qrow at the realization it wasn't alcohol.
"Winter," Qrow gingerly sat down beside her, wincing at how loud the mattress creaked, "I know how it feels. But locking yourself up and drinking yourself to death is not going to solve anything."
"Shut up, Qrow," Winter snapped, "you should have taken your own advice years ago."
Somehow, out of everything she had said, those words made Qrow's ire rise. He was about to retort, but he caught himself.
Tears were streaking down Winter's face.
He glanced at the scroll, and realized –past her shaking hands- she was watching the final moments of Operation Skillful Huntsman. Figures writhed on the ground, vomiting and coughing up blood on the gym floor, before the video feed cut into static.
"Those soldiers," Winter rasped, "those children. Fuck, how could I have known?"
Qrow gently pried the scroll away from her shaking fingers, "You couldn't have known. Hell, even I didn't know the full power of magic."
"I should have suspected," Winter continued, "hell, I should have assumed."
"You couldn't have guessed,"
"No," Winter shook her head vehemently, "under normal circumstances, it would have explosives. Simple, crude, but it deters security forces and puts the advantage on the hostage-takers. The simple absence of explosives should have told me everything."
"Winter…"
Winter stood up, throwing aside her scroll and shattering it on the wall, "No! You don't understand! If I had accepted Ozpin's offer, then I might have had a better idea of what we were dealing with. If I had only listened to you, then those people…those children…"
She struggled to continue. Winter wiped her tears and looked away as if in shame.
"Hey, hey," Qrow stood up. He took hold of Winter's hand and pulled her into an embrace.
She didn't resist.
"We'll get the bastards, alright?"
Winter pushed Qrow gently away, "Will we, Qrow? How long has Ozpin been fighting this?"
Qrow hesitated, "Too long, and at a terrible cost," He finally said, "I cannot promise you victory, but all I can promise you is a chance to strike back."
Winter laughed. Qrow winced at the sound. He could taste the bitterness in her voice. "I said the same words to my men. Look at how many there are left. I almost had to bury another one."
"Yet, they stuck with you, didn't they?"
Winter was silent. Eventually, she nodded. "Yes, those dumb bastards."
Qrow lifted Winter's face by the chin. He stared into her beautiful cold eyes. They were red, and still brimming with tears.
He smiled, "I'm a dumb bastard too, then."
Finally, she gave a small smile, "Yes. Yes, you are."
1030
High security holding cell, Undisclosed location.
He had not been executed, but he suspected it would be several years down the line before he would eventually meet his end.
Surprisingly, Adam Taurus found that he didn't care.
Chained to a hospital bed with tubes and needles sticking out of him, as well as an Aura dampener shackled around his throat, he was a pitiful sight. He almost didn't recognize himself in the bathroom mirror, when a thin, messy-haired man with eyebags so dark they looked like bruises, stared back. The side effects of Tyrian's poison, they said. He didn't care.
As the hours ticked by, he had thought he would feel the usual bouts of rage. He had even expected sorrow. Yet he felt nothing. Nothing but the empty hollowness chewing at his soul. Perhaps he had consigned himself to defeat.
Pathetic.
Adam wishes for some nights he could just close his eyes and rot away into nonexistence. Perhaps it's the absence of Blake's presence by his side, perhaps-
No. He shook his head. It never was Blake. Blake died years back. The husk died a week ago.
The heavy door clanked open, the weight of the manual and electronic locks juddering the bed as it clicked open.
A dark-skinned woman with cybernetic arms strode in, accompanied by a lean wiry man with a terrible mohawk. Armed with black rifles and wearing black uniforms in stark contrast of the usual Atlesian aesthetic, Adam knew who these people were.
"Did Schnee finally decide to end my life?" Adam croaked. He was surprised at the sound of his own voice, and how dry his throat was.
At least it would be quick. Two quick shots center mass, or one to the head. Adam didn't care. He could barely move as is.
The pair didn't answer. Instead, the woman forced a smile. It didn't suit her. Her brilliant blue eyes were too cold, almost like a Schnee's.
"My name is Ciel Soliel," the woman spoke, "and as much as I think it is appropriate to end you here and now, your fate is not in my hands."
Adam cleared his throat experimentally a few times, but it still felt like sandpaper. "Then, what are you here for?"
"Information and your cooperation," Ciel said simply, "you help us, and we help you."
Adam snorted, "I've seen Atlas help. You have killed a lot of my people."
"...and you, ours," Ciel smiled bitterly, "but I believe things could be different. Perhaps leniency when it comes to your trial, or perhaps-"
"Leniency," Adam barked a harsh laugh, "you'll want revenge. Your kind always do"
Ciel nodded, "We are all slaves to our own thirst for revenge. But as much as I want to, I cannot."
Adam snorted.
"Believe me when I say that, Mr. Taurus. I was there at Beacon. You killed a lot of my friends that day," Ciel said. She nodded to the lean man, "Him too. He was a student there."
"Enough, Ciel," the man growled, "where are we going with this?"
"Where ever I like, Russel," Ciel snapped, her voice suddenly venomous and her eyes suddenly ablaze.
Russel frowned at her outburst but stayed quiet. Adam grinned. He would recognize mental and emotional scars anywhere.
Ciel took a deep breath as the fires in her eyes quelled. "We were all driven by hate, Taurus. The White Fang struck against Atlas, and Atlas strikes back at the White Fang. A constant back and forth since the Belladonnas were overthrown. It continues even when the Albions are driven out of Kuo Kuana, and it continues even they retook it from Khan."
Adam winced at the mention of the Belladonnas, "I've been at your throats for a long time, Atlesian."
"You have," Ciel nodded, "unless we put a stop to this madness. Forgive, and work together. Enough blood has been spilt."
That made Adam laugh. "Of course it's easy for you to say that, Atlesian. You weren't born in the mines. You weren't branded in the face. Your mother didn't get murdered by an Atlesian Knight. While you sit atop your ivory tower, sneering down at the peasants in Mantle, we were toiling away in the dark, bleeding and suffocating for your precious Dust."
Adam sat up now, ignoring the pain lancing through his body. His blood was up, and it took all his willpower not to strike at the bitch in front of him, "You never had to face down the guns of Atlesian droids when all you had was a placard in your hands. You never had to scream and beg for them not to scar your face forever, because you dared to speak out. So tell me, human. How do you want me to put a stop to it? How do you expect me to forgive? How?"
Ciel looked at him calmly. Somehow those cold eyes seemed to enrage him further.
"You stuck up piece of-"
Adam struck Ciel across the cheek. She didn't make any attempt to dodge or block the blow. Instead, she held up a hand to push the barrel of Russel's rifle down.
"Tap the brakes, Russel."
"Ciel," He hissed, "he hit you."
"I know," She said, "I understand."
"You understand?" Adam spat, "What could you possibly, understand?"
Ciel swallowed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and reached her hand to her shirt. She untucked her uniform methodically and unbuttoned the lower buttons, revealing her chiseled stomach…and ugly buckled scar tissue. It was an old brand, similar to Adam's own. Marked upon her at a young age, judging by the scars and deformation. But it was unmistakable: A company logo, one that Adam didn't recognize.
"I do understand, Taurus," Ciel said, tucking her shirt back in, "They cut off my tail too. All of that, because I had dared to scream when they wanted to-"
She swallowed, shook her head, and stopped herself from saying more. Russel awkwardly squeezed the woman on the shoulder. She scoffed at the action but didn't break away from the contact.
Adam stayed silent. Ciel's eyes were shimmering, if only for a brief second of weakness.
"We started off in a similar place, I guess," Ciel said, "but we took very different paths."
"Why, then?" He asked, his voice but a whisper, "After all the humans did to you."
Ciel laughed bitterly, "In truth, I do not know when the shift happened. Perhaps it was when a young sergeant named Ironwood sacrificed an arm to save me from the Grimm. Perhaps it was when a human family hid me, clothed me, and fed me when I escaped. I knew Atlas was changing. Slowly, but it was changing. I had dared to hope."
"They only changed because we forced their hand," Adam sneered.
"The Atlas that hurt us is almost gone, Taurus," Ciel said calmly, "Atlas has changed. It's been changing since the activation of the first CCT. With access to information, came education. I strongly believe that change must come from within. That's why I joined, but that's not why I stayed."
She grimaced, "Beacon fell. Faunus, human, we all bled with each other. The students of Beacon, and the Atlas military, faunus and humans fighting side by side."
Her eyes flickered to Adam's, "Fighting side by side, against the Grimm. Against the White Fang."
Adam grimaced.
"When the CCT in Vale cut, the last thing the world saw were images of faunus slaughtering students while Atlas droids ran rampant," Ciel fixed him with an unblinking stare, "just like that, we have erased years of progress. Just like that, more of our kind suffered."
Adam looked away. He knew that, of course. In fact, he knew his actions last week had a similar effect. He had been against the attack on Beacon to begin with, but Cinder had threatened him. He had been against coming to Atlas as well, but Cinder…
Cinder Fall.
A sneer curled onto his lips.
"Let's say I cooperate with you," Adam leaned back down, wincing as he did so, "I want certain guarantees, certain favours."
"You need to give us something first, Mr. Taurus," Ciel said, "I'm sure you're already familiar with the process."
Adam snorted, remembering the long pointless negotiations in the Schnee Manor.
"It's always us compromising, isn't it? It's always us giving up something first. Those in positions of power never compromise, just like where you are now."
Ciel held up a hand, "I cannot guarantee you anything of yet. But, I have brought something, as a show of faith."
Adam scoffed, "Well, this better be good."
Ciel produced an envelope. She hesitated opening it. She looked around at Russel, "Hey, Rus. Help me? I don't want it to rip."
Russel nodded and took the envelope. He opened it, and slip out a single piece of paper. He glanced at Adam, and passed it back to Ciel.
Ciel handed it to Adam, who took it gingerly as if it was a poisonous snake.
He turned the paper around. His eyes widened. It was a photograph.
"T-this…"
"I understand, Mr. Taurus," Ciel said, "honestly, only those that have lived through the harsh conditions of the mines, will understand."
Adam stared at the image, as if unable to believe what he was seeing.
"I have dug through the archives, with some help from Whitley Schnee. He had a project going to help those that were forced to work in the SDC mines," Ciel explained, shifting awkwardly in her seat, "It's not the most flattering photograph, but it was the only photograph of your mother I could find."
"I-" Adam swallowed, "I was afraid that I'd forget what she looked like. It's been years since I…"
He closed his eyes and held the little photograph close to his heart. Finally, he looked up, "Thank you, Ciel. Truly."
"You're welcome," Ciel said softly.
Russel coughed uncomfortably, earning him a small punch from Ciel. Russel winced when the punch came out too hard.
Adam set the photograph on his lap, and cleared his throat. He looked down again and ran his thumb over the image of Eve Taurus – a faunus woman with soft blue eyes and flaming red hair.
Finally, he nodded, "What do you want to know?"
1030
Memorial Military Hospital, Atlas.
"There is no saving his face," The nurse said, offering a sympathetic look, "we can look into options after he has fully recovered. However, we are happy to say that there were no other complications. He is now ready for optical cybernetics."
Harriet Bree nodded. She looked down at Lie Ren. The man was asleep. His face was wrapped in antiseptic wadding and bound in bandages. An Aura machine beeped and hissed steadily as it slowly triggered the soul's natural healing capabilities.
Without another word, the nurse moved on.
The hospital was busy. The survivors of the Special Police and the military filled each available hospital bed as well as Huntsmen and Huntresses. It was a lot less busy than it had been a week ago.
Last Harriet had heard, retired doctors and even medical students had to be brought in to cover the sudden massive influx. Thank the Brothers that there was no shortage of medical supplies.
However, cybernetics and prosthetic supplies were a different story.
Harriet gingerly flexed her new arm. For now, due to shortages, she only had her right arm replaced. The monster of a Grimm that had nearly killed her had not only taken her arms, but killed Vine too. It never gets easy, knowing someone you worked with was never coming back.
While the Ace Ops were not part of Winter's Legion, she had been an instructor for the first and only batch of Legionnaires. Their numbers had dwindled fast, burning out like a bright flare in the darkness. Those that survived the longest, Harriet made the extra effort to really get to know them.
"Captain Bree?"
Harriet turned. She flashed a small smile, "Hey there, Cardin. Drop the rank, will you?"
Cardin, dressed in the Legion's black, had his sleeves rolled up. A little faunus girl was holding his hands as they walked in.
"Harriet, this is Miya. Say hello, Miya," Cardin encouraged.
"Hello, Miss Harriet," Miya said as she bowed.
"Hello there, Miya," Harriet beamed back. She made to ruffle the child's hair, but realized she lacked an arm to do so. "Your kid?"
Harriet saw Cardin hesitate slightly, before nodding, "Yeah. My daughter."
"Didn't know you had one," Harriet said. Cardin simply shrugged and didn't elaborate. There was something more to it, but Harriet let it slide. It wasn't important.
"Good to see you up," Cardin said, changing the subject. He took a seat with Miya. He looked at Harriet, "Should you be up?"
Harriet gave a harsh laugh, "I heard Ciel was back in the game after only a day of surgery. It's been over a week for me. I'm getting restless. I wanted to run, but the arm is throwing me off balance."
Granted, Ciel's procedure had been medically precise, whereas Harriet's amputation was traumatic and almost killed her.
Cardin simply shrugged, "Surprised to see you here, that's all."
"Just going around checking up on the people I know," Harriet sighed, "Shit, Cardin. They fucked us up, bad."
Cardin sucked air through his teeth and nodded down to Miya. He shook his head pleadingly.
"Oh! Sorry,"
"Fucked?" Miya blurted out. The adults winced.
Miya looked up at Cardin questioningly, mouthing the unfamiliar word. Cardin flashed a weak smile before sending a glare at Harriet, "I'll explain later, Miya."
Harriet gave the man an apologetic look.
"But yes. They did," Cardin nodded, "That's the way it is, isn't it? One bad day is all it takes," Cardin stared at Ren.
One bad day. Harriet sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. Just how many more bad days would it be, before she's the one getting buried in a closed casket.
Before, when Tortuga died, she had wanted blood. The Grimm she had purged during the following weeks had earned her several commendations, a few from General Ironwood himself. But now, surprisingly, she just feels numb.
No anger, no thirst for revenge, just…numb weariness.
"I'm getting too old for this," Harriet sighed.
"I get you," Cardin said.
Harriet snorted, "How many years younger are you again?"
"Five? Six? I don't know. Stopped counting my age when it became too much for my fingers," Cardin shrugged. He was staring at Miya while she toyed with her scroll, "I have other things to consider now. I don't know if I can keep doing this job."
Harriet looked at Cardin, properly this time. She saw how he was looking at Miya, and how much he had aged since selection.
"I see," Harriet let a genuine smile cross her face, "You found a reason to live."
Cardin didn't answer. He tilted his head back and forth.
"Before we started selection, do you know what Winter said to us? All three hundred potential recruits from the corners of Remnant?" Cardin began.
Harriet shook her head. She was there for the training process, but not every step of the way.
"You are following me into hell. This path only ever ends one way. If you have any doubts, turn back now." Cardin chuckled, "I thought she was being dramatic."
Harriet shared a laugh too, although she wasn't sure why.
"From what I know, Winter's Legionnaires, at least the ones that made it past selection, all had a reason to die," Cardin said, "that's why we made it. Winter harnessed our bitterness, our anger, much like she did with her own, and turned it into the most lethal weapon Atlas has ever wielded. Russel, Ren, Ciel, we all wanted revenge, to a point where it blotted out all reason."
His eyes softened, "But after what happened last week, I'm not so sure anymore. Made me realize the same things worth dying for are also the things worth living for."
Harriet folded her one arm as she leaned back in her chair.
"Your kid," Harriet stated simply, "she was there, wasn't she? In the manor."
Cardin nodded solemnly. "For the first time in a very long time, I didn't accept the possibility of death."
He ruffled the child's hair. Miya's ears flattened as she turned to give him a little pout. The tone of her scroll indicated she had just lost whatever mini-game she was playing.
"Yeah," Cardin said absentmindedly, "I want to live, Harriet. But, the road that lies ahead for my brothers? No way in hell I'm letting them walk it without me."
1400
Council meeting room, Atlas Central Tower.
"Let's be frank about this, Schnee," said Camilla almost with a smile, "you are finished."
"I see," Winter said stiffly.
"Be serious about this, Schnee," Camilla sighed. She idly gestured the air, indicating Atlas as a whole, "this is entirely your fault. We trusted you to get those children out, and we have nothing to show for it but more coffins to bury."
"If I recall correctly," Glynda said, "Legionnaire Russel Thrush had projected a minimum of forty percent civilian casualties. That is around eighty people."
"The final hostage casualty count for Schnee Manor was thirty-two exactly," Robyn said, "a tragedy, no doubt. However, it is a far cry from the projected eighty dead hostages."
"But the military casualties-" Camilla began.
"The military was sent in on my order," Glynda said, "their deaths are on my shoulders. Not Legionnaire Captain Schnee's."
"Then are we to assume you are to take responsibility and step down from your council seat?" Sleet arched an eyebrow, "It will not satiate the people one bit, but it's a start."
"With the combined military casualties of the rescue operation, the total death toll is sixty-six," Robyn interjected, "avoidable casualties, maybe. But, no one could even say what blew up Schnee manor, much less predict such an event."
"Sounds like we are avoiding responsibility-" Sleet began, but Glynda cut him off.
Gylnda's face twisted into a snarl, "we all hold responsibility, Sleet. For even allowing the White Fang to step foot into Atlas."
"Enough," Robyn snapped, "we are not here to discuss this."
Winter did not listen to the rest of the argument. Her mind filtered out the angry retorts hurled back and forth.
This bickering. It disgusted her. No one wanted to take responsibility, and they were all looking for a scapegoat. Who better than Winter herself?
Twice. This was twice now that she will be forced to shoulder responsibility for a terror attack on Atlas soil. But, this time, she would gladly rip off her chevrons and rank pins if asked. Damn it all to the void, and may the Brother of Darkness take them. Prison won't even be able to hold her if it came down to it.
"Ms. Schnee?" Sleet raised his voice slightly to get her attention.
"Yes?" she croaked.
Sleet's eyes softened, if only for a fraction, "Oh dear. I apologize. I realize your throat must not have recovered fully."
That, and the heavy drinking and smoking she put herself through, Winter thought, "It is healing. Could you please repeat your last statement?"
"I said, I disagree with my colleague, here," Sleet gestured to Camilla who was still casting poisonous looks at her, "Ms. Hill and Goodwitch are right. It was a commendable effort, and a near success, given the limited time frame we had."
Camilla scoffed at the statement.
"However, despite your best efforts, it is still a disaster," Sleet continued, "I am sorry, Ms. Schnee."
"You will lose your command, naturally," Camilla said, "and without you, we may have to disband the Legion."
Winter bit her lips. There is was. The chance to finally get rid of her, and those snakes took it. She briefly fantasized about unleashing an Ursa right in the middle of the room, and watching in satisfaction as it rips out their throats. It would be so easy.
"Dear colleagues," Glynda cleared her throat, "if I may."
Sleet and Camilla turned their attention to her.
"I think this decision is hasty. Ms. Schnee should be allowed to continue her work."
Sleet cast a look at Camilla.
"Sleet, Camilla. I understand the need for Captain Schnee here to shoulder some responsibility," Glynda grimaced as she said those words, "but while the public might demand someone to blame, those are demands made out of anger and hurt. We need results, but we cannot strike directly at Menagerie."
"Then how do we proceed?" Camilla frowned, "Do we just keep letting Winter and her little group carry on with their operations in Menagerie in hopes of bringing those responsible to justice?"
"In a way, yes" Glynda nodded, "The White Fang had help both internally and externally. Our systems were hacked and modified from the outside. Our border security was compromised from the inside. The attackers were using…weapons and technology never seen before."
Robyn stiffened at the mention of border security. Winter almost snorted, but she did owe Robyn a favor.
"Might I suggest we officially give the team more authority in such matters," Glynda explained, "to target not just the White Fang, but potential collaborators and associates, including those inside of Atlas, and those in other Kingdoms."
"I do not like this, and some boundaries must be set," Robyn sniffed, "but I agree on principle. That being said, we may need a new batch of Legionnaires-"
"No. Remnant will not tolerate such a group," Camilla cut in, raising her voice, "I've said it before and I'll say it again. If the knowledge that Atlas has trained a group of killers, we would be no better than the White Fang in the eyes of the other kingdoms."
"I support the idea, but at the same time, I cannot agree to it," Sleet said, shaking his head sadly, "the backlash from the other Kingdoms would be too great. Especially given the nature of the operations you are proposing. If the team is compromised in any way on foreign soil, the other kingdoms would have a reason to strike at us in turn."
Winter almost rolled her eyes at this exchange. They wanted results, yet were repulsed by the methods of attainment. She hated politics, but that was also why she was standing in front like a condemned woman instead of sitting at the council table.
"Officially, the Legion does not exist," Glynda said, "and as far as the world is concerned, Schnee Manor was stormed by a special military police unit. We do not need to acknowledge the existence of the legionnaires to give Winter any official support and to allow her to operate under Atlas authority."
"What are you proposing?" Camilla narrowed her eyes, "How are we supposed to achieve that?"
"Winter was also once a Specialist Military Huntress under Ironwood. Ciel Soliel was a Military Huntress in training. Cardin Winchester, Russel Thrush, and Lie Ren were all Huntsmen studying in Beacon before it fell." Glynda pointed out, "I suggest we issue them official Huntsmen licenses and reinstate Winter Schnee's status as a Huntress, official recognized by Atlas Academy."
Robyn nodded, her eyes widening, "Kingdoms might not allow our military to move into their borders, but they will allow Huntsmen to move freely. We can even provide official support in those cases in the form of other Military Huntsmen."
Camilla opened her mouth to say something, but Sleet gave her a glance. She relented, and just shook her head.
"Very well," Sleet smiled coldly. He looked at Winter, "looks like we were wrong, Ms. Schnee. Your career isn't over. Atlas still needs your services, it would seem."
1700
Undisclosed location
"I apologize for the meeting, Winter," Ozpin said, setting down a cup of tea for the young woman sitting across her, "I had requested Glynda push the council in a certain direction, so please do not begrudge anything she said during the meeting."
Winter arched an eyebrow and briefly wondered what else Ozpin had Glynda push for. In the end, she sighed, "I cannot disagree with what the council said. I am partly responsible for this mess."
Ozpin gave Winter a sympathetic look, "Do not blame yourself for what happened, Ms. Schnee. You have done exceptionally well, and have even taken out one of Salem's agents. That faunus, Tyrian Callows, was one of the most dangerous individuals to ever walk the face of modern Remnant."
Winter shuddered at the memory of Tyrian Callows.
"I didn't take him out fast enough," Winter said bitterly, "I had a little talk with Qrow, but I still cannot..."
"Ms. Schnee," Ozpin said quietly. His voice was low but it cut through the air like a knife, "Do not blame yourself. Might I need to remind you that Salem and her agents have bested even me in the middle of my own fortress? All you need to do is look across the ocean at the smoking remnants of Beacon Academy to understand the power Salem holds. Believe me, when I say, you have done exceptionally well."
Winter nodded. The Operation in itself was a victory, even despite the casualties. This victory tasted of ash, and somehow was harder to swallow than losses she had experienced.
"You know,", Winter took a sip to soothe her throat. She grimaced at the soreness, "I was prepared for history to repeat itself. I would have accepted my forced resignation because now I understand. You were right, sir. I was a fool to reject your call to arms."
"Everyone has the right to choose," Ozpin said, "you made the choice based on the information you had. Now you understand the threat Salem poses. I hope your men understand too."
Winter closed her eyes, "It's a more fundamental thing than anything else, sir. I was a fool for forgetting why I joined the military in the first place."
"I had assumed it was Jacques that played a part in that choice."
Winter winced at the mention of her dead father's name, "It served a significant part, but that isn't the only reason. I also joined to protect. I wanted to protect Weiss and Whitley from the monsters lurking out there in the dark. That was why I chose the path of a Huntsmen, initially."
"When I lost...almost everyone that night," Winter sighed as she thought back, "I had poisoned myself with thoughts of vengeance, and manifested it so much so, that the only ones that joined me were men and women of that ilk."
Ozpin remained silent sipped his tea. He suspected that Winter had not even told Qrow about this.
"I'm rambling now, I apologize," Winter huffed as she shook her head, "Yes, now I understand the threat we are facing, sir. At least, better than I did not so long ago."
"Then, I ask you now, directly face to face instead of letting Qrow to pose the question to you," Ozpin sat up straighter. He leaned in on his cane, "Will you lend me the strength of you and your men? Will you take up arms against this ancient evil by my side?"
Winter met Ozpin's gaze intensely. Something flickered in her eyes. Hesitation, "If I may be so bold, I have conditions, sir."
"Name it."
"My men will remain under my command and no one else's. Not you, not Glynda. Me. That is my first condition," Winter said, her tone broached no argument, and Ozpin could feel the steel behind that statement.
"Of course," Ozpin nodded, "I would have it no other way. I can see that they will go through hell and back for you if you ordered them to."
"They will," she flashed a small proud smile, "but if any one of them wants to leave, then I want them to go without any strings attached."
"Ms. Schnee," Ozpin said, frowning, "I want to make it clear. We are not bound under any contract be it physical, metaphorical, or magical. Qrow is not bound to serve me despite the powers I've granted him. Glynda too. Even James Ironwood. Of course, they are free to leave if they choose to do so."
Winter nodded, "That's good, then. You must understand. They are my family, despite not being bound by blood."
Ozpin smiled, "Of course I understand, Ms. Schnee. Of course, I do."
"Good," Winter nodded, taking another sip of her tea. This time, she could actually taste it.
"How much time will you and your men need? I suspect preparations are in order."
Winter grinned. There was something feral about that smile. It made Ozpin pause, "We have already started."
2000
Pietro's Pharmacy, Mantle
"There, it should be calibrated properly." The man was chair bound, although his mobility has not been hampered at all. The special chair shifted on its legs and crawled itself back.
"Thanks, Dr. Poledina," Ren said, fixing his stare at the old doctor.
Lie Ren opened and closed his mouth experimentally, feeling oddly numb across his face. Steel teeth clicked against each other. An ugly, bulky cybernetic eye whirred as it autofocused. It seemed to glow red in the dim Mantle pharmacy.
It was an odd sensation, to have half your vision colored differently to the rest of the world. Ren closed his flesh eye experimentally, and immediately the world was washed in a monochrome red tint.
"Not a problem," Dr. Pietro Poledina smiled, his eyes twinkling with pride at his work, "You will have to get used to the weight on your head. Take things slowly, and you won't strain your neck too hard."
"Definitely," Ren nodded in agreement. He was already naturally tilting his head to one side, "there won't be any problem with water, right?"
"So long as you aren't going down into the depths to hunt for Grimm,"
"…and the features I asked for? Thermal? Night vision? How do I switch to it?" Ren asked, feeling for buttons on the edge of his eye.
"Blink twice rapidly as you would normally," The doctor instructed.
Ren did so and winced at the sudden brightness stabbing into his skull. He quickly clicked away from night vision mode, and nodded, "Perfect. Thank you, again."
"Anything for Huntsmen like yourself," Pietro beamed, "now, if there is nothing else."
"Feels odd, to be a Huntsman again," Ren commented as he stood up, slowly shifting the weight on his head.
"Just in time too, with all the Grimm that was running around last week," Pietro's smile fell a fraction. Ren saw old man's eyes flit over to the ugly flesh wound that had ripped open his face.
"This injury is fresh. From last week, to be precise." Ren said, "a dark week for Atlas, for sure."
"And Mantle," Pietro added, "Those poor children were mostly from Mantle. As for the Grimm incursion, well, I'm sure you were in the thick of it."
"Indeed. Tell me, Doctor," Ren said, smoothing out his jacket, "did you know this was going to happen?"
Pietro froze. He looked back at Ren, his eyes wide. "What do you mean?"
"For any competent group, there will always be an exit strategy. Only half the surviving Black Claws participated in the Schnee Manor Siege. The other half simply vanished in thin air," Ren elaborated, walking towards the door.
He locked it.
"I- I have no idea what you are talking about," Pietro stuttered, "please. Just leave. You do not need to pay, just-"
"I do not begrudge you for your actions, doctor," Ren said, walking back. He had a gun in his hand, "after all, you saw Penny as your daughter. To have her memories wiped every day and to have her confined into the war machines of Atlas. It is quite a fate, albeit one that I do not think Penny understands. "
Ren chambered a round. The sound of a racking slide was so loud it made the old man wince. Ren reached out a hand and shut off the lights in the room.
"But regardless of motivation, I am here because of your actions thereafter. So, callsign Dime, I suggest you cooperate with us."
Pietro yelped. The sound came from right beside his ear.
"I, I don't know what-" Pietro stuttered. His chair crawled back, but something blocked his path. He looked around, and his blood froze. He saw the silhouette of another man was standing behind, a wry grin plastered across his face. The chair suddenly powered down.
"Callsign, Dime. How imaginative," Russel sniggered as he tossed bits of loose wire onto the floor.
Pietro sputtered wordlessly.
Lie Ren drew up the chair he was sitting on and placed it in front of the terrified doctor. His eyes were definitely glowing red now, "You will tell us everything, Pietro. You will cooperate to your fullest, then you will answer for your actions."
"I-" Pietro swallowed, "I didn't know! I didn't mean for-" He almost screamed when Russel placed his wiry hands around the man's shoulders.
"Relax, old man," Russel cooed.
Lie Ren leaned in close. He didn't need his semblance to know the man was terrified out of his mind. He waved for Russel to turn up his semblance more.
Lie Ren grinned, flashing his steel teeth in a wicked smile, "You will tell me everything, Pietro. What you say next could be the difference between a break-in gone wrong, or a jail cell in the middle of the Solitas tundras. Choose your next words, very carefully."
The door to the unmarked van shut with a click. Pietro didn't make a sound, but that was to be expected. Men like him fought back by treachery instead, the men knew. That, and the fact that the doctor had fainted.
Russel put on an old green flat cap he had commandeered off Pietro and smiled contently. Ren snorted at the sight.
"What?" Russel grinned, "I liked his hat."
"I'll buy you a new one instead, man," Ren shook his head in amusement. Russel looked ridiculous in his tight casual clothing, accented by the out-of-place flat cap sitting on his head. Vacuo fashion was something he never understood.
Ren looked straight ahead down the dark alleyway and nodded. "Clear."
May Marigold dropped her cloaking semblance and stepped forwards into the light, "You got what you need?"
"For now," Ren nodded.
"How do you know if he's telling the truth?"
"The old-fashioned way," Ren shrugged.
May nodded and hopped into the van. She took one look at the men, opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. "Stay safe, alright?"
"Danger's my middle name," Russel quipped, earning him an eye roll from May before she closed the car door.
As the van vanished in front of their eyes, Ren and Russel saw the gravel shift and crackle as she drove off.
"That confirms it, then," Russel sighed, flicking out a cigarette. Ren mirrored his movements, and they both lit up, "They had contacts in Mistral. We should have known. Damned Spiders."
"The Spiders," Ren nodded, "Operation Tyrant Spear. We picked up Miya back then, didn't we?"
"Yea, how can I forget?" Russel spat on the ground, "Pity we only killed that one Fang runaway they were hiding. Should have smoked them all when we had the chance."
"It wasn't the mission," Ren snorted as he took a deep drag and exhaled.
They fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments, before Ren whispered, "Mistral, huh."
"High likelihood we're going to poke around there if all the signs point to it," Russel said, taking a puff. He caught Ren's solemn expression, despite the man's new cybernetics, "Aren't you originally from there? Sup'? Don't want to go home?"
"No," Ren admitted, "way too many bad memories. Way too fucking many."
"Well, brother," Russel walking out of the alley, Ren followed absentmindedly, "drinks are on me after dinner, then. Come on, I'm starving."
2200
SDC Apartments, Atlas
Winter studied the report Ciel submitted, a frown creasing upon her forehead.
Several names had been highlighted, but one in particular caught her interest.
Winter dragged up file after file from the CCT databank on her scroll, and cross-referenced the information she had. It was a hunch, but she had learned to listen to her gut.
Finally, she found what she was looking for. At the same time, she brought up security footage from the Fall of Beacon.
"No," she whispered, "this can't be right."
But, the resemblance was too uncanny.
"Win?" Qrow gave her a squeeze on her shoulder, "Please, remember to eat."
Winter looked up and nodded. Taking off her reading glasses, she tried to shake the thought from her mind.
It didn't work.
She cast one more look at the photos attached to the dossier on the flickering screen, before allowing herself to be led away.
It was a military photo group photo, taken in the middle of boot camp. Winter knew this particular photo. After all, she stood in the middle of it, ramrod straight. Standing next to Winter, was a girl the same age. Her black hair and amber eyes were a direct contrast to Winter's own, yet somehow they both carried themselves in a similar manner.
The scroll blinked up a name and status, before automatically shutting off.
Cinder Fall.
Status: Presumed killed in action