- To Serve With Honor -
The atmosphere of the unisex visitors' locker room in the aftermath of Initiation was a lot more subdued than Ilia was expecting. On reflection, this was probably due to the fact that everyone was there - those who passed and those who failed alike.
"Those of you who have completed Initiation successfully are to relocate your weapons and personal effects to your designated student lockers and report immediately to the Auditorium for a debriefing, which will include formal team assignments," Deputy Headmistress Goodwitch called over the din. "Those who did not complete the exercise are to gather your belongings from you locker and from the hallway outside, and depart immediately for the airship docks for a return flight to Vale. Do not delay in carrying out these instructions, please."
As she finished speaking, silence fell over the locker room - silence that was broken only by a small collection of deliberate footfalls. Ilia turned from her locker, and was overcome by an immediate sense of dread - which was quickly overshadowed by a simmering anger.
Eleven Faunus Initiates stood in combat attire ranging in quality from well-appointed to utterly ragged. All had bags in-hand or slung over their shoulders, and all wore stony expressions as they halted in unison several steps from Goodwitch.
The young man at the head of the crowd - tall and muscular, with dark brown hair topped with feline ears, and a Claymore slung across his back - stood silently for a long moment as he simply met the Deputy Headmistress's impassive gaze.
Then, he tossed his head back, and very deliberately - and audibly - spat at her feet.
To her credit, the only indication of Goodwitch's surprise was a slight widening of her eyes - easily missed by anyone not looking straight at them at that very moment - as she otherwise failed to react.
Offering a final scowl of utter disdain, the young man stepped back and then made directly for the door followed closely by his fellows. His head was held high, but his green eyes smoldered with silent, deadly rage.
Ilia met his gaze as he passed, and passed on a minute nod of acknowledgement. His anger faltered just long enough for him to return the gesture before he passed the edge of the row of lockers.
Down the row from her, Ilia heard a short, feminine noise of dismissal - she turned, and was equally unsurprised and angered to find that it had come from her new partner.
"Something to say?" she called softly, so as to avoid drawing attention from the rest of the room.
Down the aisle, Weiss Schnee flinched faintly, a brief downturn of her lips and brows coming off as almost shamefaced before they were swiftly schooled back into neutrality. "Nothing," the heiress called back.
The soft clacking noise of high heels signaled Goodwitch's departure, followed shortly after by another opening and closing of the farthest locker room door. A few seconds after it closed, an obnoxious, masculine bark of laughter sounded from the opposite corner of the room.
"Hope the janitors'll be able to get the stench from that zoo out of here sooner than later!"
Ilia's eyes squeezed shut, and it took every ounce of her willpower to keep her skin from turning bright red. As it was, she was certain that every centimeter of exposed skin was looking flushed to any observers, and she briefly ducked her head further into her locker.
'There's no way that this is right.'
As Jaune heard Winter utter these words in disbelief - and his own eyes beheld the results on his screen from the first batch - he immediately realized what had transpired. Swiftly locating the appropriate operators' names on his screen, he picked out the highest-ranking one - an Army officer - and took a moment to school his anger to a point where he could speak evenly. He then keyed the appropriate comm channel.
"Captain Heinkel," he said softly into his headset, "Please come see me in the back."
Instead of responding verbally, he saw the man rise from his seat down below calmly and deliberately. When he turned and looked up at the Overseers' stations, Jaune saw the cool, collected, and faint haughty disdain on the officer's face, and barely forced down a guttural growl.
The man knew damned well what he had done, and he was proud of it.
"I need to have a conversation with the Captain and a few of the other operators before we can proceed," Jaune said to other occupants of the booth, realizing fully that his voice cracked somewhere in the process and that both of them had recognized it. "Please contact Sergeant Roth and ask him to find five more volunteers for the next batch - and please also ask for Second Lieutenant Lavigne, and see if he is willing to take my place for the next round."
Winter recognized immediately what was about to take place. To her credit in his eyes, she at least hesitated before trying to stop him.
"Jack," she said slowly.
"I'm the one who conceived of this exercise, Winter," Jaune replied staunchly through gritted teeth. "Per the Atlesian Code of Military Justice, I am obligated to present the man with my intended list of charges prior to lodging them with the chain of command. I would rather not do so in front of his men, considering that at least two of them are co-conspirators in this case."
The Captain's approach is the only thing that stopped Winter from physically impeding him from what was about to take place. "If you'll follow me out into the hall, Captain," Jaune called over his fellow Specialist's shoulder.
The other man - older than Jaune by a decade and a half, give or take - nodded firmly, and made for the door without another word, with Jaune following closely on his heels.
As soon as the door had slid shut and sealed with a faint hiss of air, Jaune was on him.
The older man let out a short gasp as he was spun around and thrown bodily into the wall opposite the doorway. The Specialist's gloved hands balled up around the Captain's lapels, and Jaune's superior strength held the man aloft just enough that the tips of his boots barely brushed the floor.
"You have single-handedly compromised the integrity of a foreign, allied Huntsman Academy's entire Initiation procedure, Captain," Jaune spat venomously, his nose almost brushing Heinkel's. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Ozpin and Vale can thank me later," Captain Heinkel grit back doggedly.
Jaune shifted his grip to effortlessly hold the man aloft with one hand; his free hand reared back, and an instant later, the Captain's head whipped to one side with a sharp crack under the force of the Specialist's fist meeting his jaw.
"You and your conspirators singled out, hunted down, and prejudicially eliminated ELEVEN aspiring Hunters solely on the basis of their RACE!" he roared, followed immediately by slamming his forehead into Heinkel's face.
"HOW DO YOU PLEAD, CAPTAIN!?"
The battered, middle-aged man gasped for breath for a moment as he fought back the pain; and then, he offered a short, bloody grin through his loosened teeth and bleeding gums.
"You don't have the authority, you Mantlese dog."
The cold, clinical, and ruthless voice in Jaune's brain was all that stopped him from putting the Captain's smug face through the steel-plated wall. 'Bleeding stops, bruising fades, both are deniable; a broken nose and broken jaw are more difficult to refute.'
"My station confers an equivalent rank to your own, Captain," Jaune bit out slowly. "I also have concrete evidence and testimony from my colleague and several Beacon faculty; not to mention that I'm certain that your conspirators will be more than happy to roll on you when presented with plea deals."
"I have committed no crime, nor do I have anything to be ashamed of," Heinkel spat back, crimson-tainted phlegm flying from his lips along with his vehement words. "Vale itself is at war with these animals. I have done nothing but eliminate multiple security breaches from Beacon's roster."
Jaune could not be held accountable for the last shake of his hands that cracked the man's head sharply against the wall.
"You have driven eleven aspiring defenders of mankind into the arms of the enemy," Jaune hissed, enunciating each word carefully as he drew closer and closer in so that the man could properly analyze the mind-bending anger and loathing that burned in his eyes.
"All the more reason to monitor their movements from the moment they set foot out of the grounds," the Captain retorted staunchly.
"This isn't Atlas, you arsch mit ohren," Jaune let loose with a bit of Mantlese profanity that he'd had fermenting on the back of his tongue for awhile, "Vale has public safety infrastructure, but they're not a fucking police state. They can't track the every movement of individual citizens by their damned biometric signature - and even if they could, Taurus and his people already have ways around that from doing it in Atlas, right under our noses!"
The Specialist finally took a step back and shoved the Captain away, making a show wiping his leather uniform gloves on the sides of his fatigues disdainfully as he did so. Heinkel sneered, but otherwise settled for catching his breath and eventually straightening his lapels and collar.
Jaune's visage was stony as he delivered his final verdict. "The damage is already done, and mark my words, I will personally see to it that your sorry carcass - yours and your conspirators' - are consigned to guard detail or hard labor at remote mining camps in Solitas for the rest of your miserable careers."
"Even the lowliest Private under my command has more value to Atlas than you and your pack of mongrel Legionnaires, Specialist be damned," Heinkel covered up a pained cough with a derisive laugh, and spat a wad of blood and saliva at Jaune's feet. "Assaulting an Atlesian officer - I'll have you strung up for this, you fucking ungrateful mercenary scum."
"And yet, which of us has a direct line to the General's personal comms?" Jaune retorted flatly. Heinkel's scowl faltered for an instant. "You've made the final mistake of your career, Heinkel. By the time that you return to your quarters, your life in the Atlas Military will already be over - this, I swear."
The Captain contemplated this for a long moment, but turned and stormed off just as the door slid open behind Jaune. He heard the click of Winter's heeled boots, and turned to meet her accusing gaze with a cold and determined gaze.
"I hope that you've not just done something that you'll come to regret," she said, her voice devoid of accusation.
"I have more than enough regrets already, Winter," Jaune replied firmly, "My only ones in this case are that this outcome is a product of my own design, and that three of the culprits are men whom I may have once called brothers. Were you able to reach the garrison and the Lieutenant?"
"Yes. Lavigne is on his way - and I believe that he is somehow already aware of the situation. Any insights on how that might be?"
"Unfortunately, it's not a difficult conclusion to reach when considering all of the circumstances in play," Jaune sighed, reaching up and massaging his brow between his thumb and index finger. "I had an inkling as soon as I presented the proposal to the staff, but I was optimistic and lacking alternatives." He closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment in silent prayer. "Our only hope now is to bank on the integrity of those young few whose careers have just been prematurely and unjustly ended by my choices."
He heard Winter take a step forward, and felt her hands fall onto his shoulders. "The burden of this choice falls on us all, as well as those who chose to take advantage of the situation to indulge their own short-sighted prejudices," she stated softly. "Likewise, the burden of the consequence rests with all of us. There may still be time to salvage this."
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his own instinctively rose around her waist. "I appreciate your optimism," he muttered into her forehead as he pulled her close. "And I really wish that I shared it…"
- To Serve With Honor -
Pax desperately fought down the urge to fidget as he sat on a bench outside of the airship transit station that had replaced the Commercial Transit Port as the main hub of air traffic between Vale and Beacon. Around him, commuters shuffled absently, but also hurriedly - it was apparent that the last attack was still on the public's mind, as even civilians moved with unusual haste to get out of the open plaza beyond the enclosed transit building.
Their haste - and Pax's nerves - were further compounded by the presence of over a dozen armed-and-armored Valean and Atlesian soldiers, all of whom were distinctly more alert than their late colleagues.
'This is a bad fucking idea," he repeated internally for the ninth time. His disappearance from his mother's apartment after the police investigation at the factory had undoubtedly placed him on the VPD's radar, and possibly their Most Wanted list - and yet here he was, sitting on a bench in the middle of the plaza, with little more than some hair dye and a pageboy cap to disguise his identity.
Despite his ever-present anxiety, though, he understood the importance of his mission, and was likewise encouraged by the fact that Commander Taurus had been the one to assign it to him.
Well, not just to him - seven of his more nondescript comrades from the Vale Chapter were scattered around the area, hiding in plainclothes and perched on benches or against buildings, covering up their posts with seemingly-idle chatter.
Still, the urgency in the Commander's voice had been apparent as he'd dispatched them directly from the garrison to this location. Their objective was deceptively simple:
Recruit the Faunus that had just been eliminated from Beacon's Initiation by Atlesian interference.
Really, Pax wondered, how short-sighted could the soldiers of one Kingdom be? Making a concerted effort to interfere in another Kingdom's Huntsman Academy's induction exam for the sole purpose of excluding Faunus candidates? The morons may as well have been handing Huntsmen over to the White Fang.
The dull roar of a large airship's thrusters cut through his ponderings, and he buried his nose further into the mass-market paperback novel in his hands as he spoke into the microphone tucked beneath his shirt collar. "Eyes up; the marks have arrived."
A minute later, a crowd of passengers began to disembark and pass through the transit building, and the soldiers' eyes were split between the terminal and the streets beyond.
"Remember, keep it casual," Pax stated into his comm. "One-One, depart in twenty seconds and make for Cedar. One-Two, you'll follow in two mikes and head for Oak, turning south onto Seventh. One-Three, One-Four, you both know your instructions."
He couldn't fathom why he'd been selected to lead the mission. He'd attended maybe half a dozen missions with the chapter, the latest having been the disastrous attempt on Specialist Amsel's life. Still, the Lieutenant had reasoned, Pax had the most experience with the surrounding area, as well as the most training - and the most innocuous face for recruitment.
Of the eleven dropouts arriving, three had already been stricken from the running either for known extremist tendencies that would already place targets on their backs, or for close ties to law enforcement or the military.
If Vale or Atlas chose to put tabs on any of the dropouts and ended up picking these up three, they'd be shooting themselves in the foot by persecuting comparatively innocent Faunus, which could even serve to drive them to the Fang without a risky direct encounter like this.
The others would each be approached by a single current member. There hadn't been much time for the Chapter's analysts to put together profiles on the aspiring Hunters, but they'd gotten enough information to select inoffensive or passionate members to approach them based on their backgrounds and personalities.
As the Faunus dropouts emerged from the terminal in a tight cluster, Pax realized that he'd been matched with the young man who was leading the group. He only had a moment to ponder whether or not that was intentional before their marks began to scatter, a few pausing and exchanging short words with his target.
The young leader of the band - fit, good-looking, and apparently charming and charismatic, if the shy smiles of the girls he was talking to were any indication - had distant relations to a Captain in the Mistral Chapter, ties that the boy probably wasn't even aware of. The Captain on the other hand - the boy's great uncle - was painfully aware, and had actually fought to hide the ties until he had been confronted directly by one of Sienna Khan's inner circle.
That latter bit was probably something that Pax shouldn't have been aware of, but the Sergeant Major had been quite forthcoming with information like that during a later "informal" briefing on the mission.
Pax watched as One-One turned and left the plaza, notably not sparing a glance towards their targets; internally, he nodded his approval at this discipline. The Corporal would bump into her mark on Cedar Street, just outside of a small café, and invite the young man for coffee as an apology for the inconvenience.
Two minutes later, One-Two followed; he would take a more direct approach, playing the part of a gregarious young man who thought that he was flagging down a long-lost friend to "catch up on old times."
The others would take similar tacks, catching their marks' attentions with "honey traps" and chance encounters, or by presenting a pitiable front and plying the would-be Hunters' sympathies to reel them into conversations, and potentially even into nearby or future meetings with other members of the Chapter where they could be properly recruited.
Pax, on the other hand, had been tasked with going straight for the jugular, so to speak. His mark was too attentive and too street-wise to fall for a con; likewise, even a cursory search of any public news network on the CCT would have Pax's ID photo, which the networks were currently using in lieu of a mug shot for his wanted poster.
As such, his only viable approach would be a direct confrontation, where he'd have to put all of his cards out on the table and let the younger man come to his own decision.
After several more minutes of waiting for the dropouts and their incognito Fang recruiters to filter out of the plaza, Pax and his mark were left as the last ones standing - figuratively of course, as the plaza was still jam-packed with commuters coming and going from the terminal as flights came and went across the Kingdom.
The young man across the plaza exhaled heavily when the last would-be student disappeared from view, and the calm and pleasant veneer fell away. His hands clasped into white-knuckled fists, his eyes squeezed shut, and his lips curled tightly into a barely-contained snarl.
Pax noticed that he wasn't the only one to be observing this poorly-repressed rage - a trio of soldiers on one side of the plaza had taken notice a short time ago, only their attentions were considerably more suspicious and gun-shy, as if the young man whom they were all observing was holding a ticking time bomb. As one of them broke away and started cautiously towards Pax's mark, the incognito Fang trooper took his opening.
Jumping to his feet behind the cover of a passing cluster of pedestrians, Pax moved swiftly towards the younger Faunus, reaching him well before the Valean soldier and giving the latter pause.
"Ross?" Pax called out softly, causing the dropout's eyes to shoot open and stare at him in surprise. "Hey man, I know you're not doing alright, but I think you need to make yourself scarce."
The younger man, Ross, continued staring at Pax in shock and growing suspicion for a long moment, until his eyes finally broke away and took in his surroundings, locking instantly on the approaching soldier. The soldier, clad in the olive-drab BDUs of the VDF, along with a field cap and a load-bearing vest with a linear rifle slung at his side, froze up like a deer in headlights and hesitated for just a moment too long.
Pax reached out and placed a hand gently on Ross's shoulder, giving the younger man a light tug away from the soldier.
In a fateful split-second decision, Ross allowed himself to be pulled along at a purposefully gait towards the edge of the plaza, where they quickly rounded a corner and sped up slightly in case they were being followed.
"Who are you, and how the hell do you know my name?!" Ross demanded in a low hiss as they hurried along.
"Call me Pax, and I know your name because I was sent to find you," Pax replied bluntly.
The next he knew, Ross had twisted around, seized him by the shoulders, and thrown him bodily into the nearest alleyway. Still stunned, Pax was unable to resist as the younger, better-trained man bore down on him and pinned him to the ground, holding his shoulders against the concrete and taking the wind from his lungs with a knee in his diaphragm.
"You're with the White Fang!" Ross accused in a soft shout.
"Yes!" Pax wheezed back.
Ross had apparently been about to accuse him of lying, only to come up short as he processed Pax's response. "Why the hell would you just come out and tell me that?" he demanded flatly. Pax felt an immediate rush of air and relief as the pressure in his gut lessened significantly.
"Because I'm just a trooper, I'm not trained for this cloak-and-dagger shit, and that's why they sent me," Pax hoarsely replied between coughs. "We're trying to recruit you, not trick you into doing shady shit and giving you reason to hate us when you figure it out."
Ross blinked numbly, and could only respond with an eloquent, "Oh."
"Can you get off of me, please?" Pax rumbled, "I'm not armed, and I kind of want to figure out if my spleen just ruptured."
Ross practically jumped off of Pax, only for his eyes to narrow as Pax climbed casually to his feet and brushed himself off. "Wait a minute, you have Aura!"
"That doesn't mean it only tickles when one of my kidneys becomes acquainted with my stomach," Pax shot back. "Not to mention that I've only had my Aura for a little over a year, and I'm barely trained to use it beyond walking off a bit of damage. The Chapter didn't have many combat instructors that were worth a damn until a short time ago."
"Shut up, and give me a good reason why I shouldn't turn you over to those soldiers right here and now," Ross snapped, swiftly drawing the claymore from his back and holding it with both hands, the tip of the blade pointed at Pax's throat.
"Do you want me to shut up, or do you want me to give you a good reason?" Pax asked wryly.
"That's not sounding like it fits either of your options, smart-ass," the younger man growled, though his frustration was made more amusing than intimidating by the dusting of red across his face.
"I already told you, I was sent here to make you an offer, since Atlas just nixed your chances of getting into Beacon this year," the trooper stated seriously.
"I have no interest in becoming a terrorist and hurting innocent people just to feel better about my crap lot in life."
"No?" Pax quipped cheerily, forcibly repressing his indignation, "Then how about signing on as a soldier to protect the Faunus of Vale as the rest of us fight for their liberation, and for the future equality and prosperity of all the Faunus of Remnant? Becoming a part of the movement that will go down in history as the cause that rid a Kingdom of the rot and infestation that had been stymying the progress of all mankind for centuries?"
The sword pointed at his throat wavered, and Pax saw, through the astonishment and confusion on Ross's features, a glimmer. The faintest twinkle of intrigue that once shown brightly in sixteen-year-old Carmello Paxton's eyes as he sat on a stoop in the slums of Vale, sharing a soda with a casually-dressed, but still gargantuan Lieutenant Boris Sayanov, and swapping fond and slightly morose stories of his father, recently confirmed dead at the fallen settlement of Kirkwall.
"'One man's terrorist is another's freedom fighter,' isn't that the saying?" Ross's dry comment shook Pax from his reverie.
"The difference, Ross, is that our aim is to be everybody's freedom fighters." Slowly and deliberately, with the sword still pointed by less insistently, Pax climbed to his feet and leaned casually against the opposite wall of the alley. His hands were held constantly aloft at his waist, palms facing outwards in acknowledgement of their respective positions in the current scenario.
"Think about it. Before Adam Taurus showed up, the Vale Chapter was little better than a bloated street gang, and we damned well knew it," Pax said candidly, and he meant it.
Even when the Lieutenant had come along from Mantle a year ago, there was little he could do beyond pushing out the undisciplined and less moral members of the group, which had cut their numbers more than in half. They'd barely had the numbers for community outreach and glorified neighborhood watch, let alone for the "operations" that Lieutenant Sayanov said the Mantle and Atlas Chapters carried out daily.
But when Taurus arrived, everything changed. Not only had he brought numbers with him, he brought strategies, tactics, and more than anything else, purpose. He spoke with determination and vigor, he worked tirelessly for days on end implementing internal policies and procedures, bringing organization to chaos and enforcing it all with the formalization of a rank structure that was shored up by experienced officers and senior enlisted personnel.
'Our most determined and effective adversaries are, and have always been, the Atlas Foreign Legion,' Taurus had said early on, 'And our most effective method of combating our enemy thus far has been to emulate him.'
The results showed early on. Shortly following the disastrous robbery attempt, a dozen operations had been carried out over the course of three weeks, bringing in truckloads of Dust, weapons, and other supplies - the latter of which were swiftly and efficiently distributed to the struggling masses of Faunus in Vale's poorer districts. Popular support for their cause swelled, recruits poured in, and their numbers swelled, allowing for even further expansion in the scope and scale of their operations.
"Barely a month after his arrival, and we're already a proper paramilitary fighting force that's chasing off the police from our mere presence, and giving back to our people in equal measure," Pax carried on. "Just a few weeks ago, I was a factory worker moonlighting as a thug with a mask and a gun - now, I can kill Grimm and fight a soldier to a standstill, and I've personally delivered nearly a full ton of food and basic necessities to my community."
Ross's sword had dropped by now, to Pax's relief and reassurance, and the young Huntsman-hopeful wore an expression of curiosity and faint awe.
"I understand that our reputation and our methods are questionable. But the only way that we can move past simple violence is by expanding the average skill set of our members, and you and your friends are the best way that we can do that quickly."
Pax slowly and deliberately for his pocket, and while Ross's eyes narrowed slightly, he made no move to stop him.
"You could do a lot of good for our people and our cause, Ross." Pax pulled his Scroll from his pocket, the screen activating and allowing him to press an icon on his home screen that put a waiting call through. "All I'm asking is that you hear us out." He held the device out to Ross and waited.
A long moment passed, and Pax started to fear that the younger man would walk. But eventually, Ross reached out and accepted the Scroll, and put it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Ross," Pax heard Adam Taurus's voice reply through the Scroll's speakers. He watched Ross's eyes widen in shock and awe. "Thank you for accepting this call. I'm sure that Pax has already gotten your attention, but would you be willing to spare a few minutes to hear my offer?"
"O-of course, sir," Ross stuttered quickly, and Pax had to turn his head to hide a faint, wry smirk.
Three minutes and twenty seconds later, according to the Scroll, Ross handed the device back to Pax, who in turn ended the call.
"So," Pax stated casually, "Interested?"
Ross's eyes shut in response, and he exhaled deeply. Half a minute later, he finally responded.
"Okay. I'll go with you."
"Sweet." Pax then sighed and offered a sympathetic smile. "Before we go, though, I'm gonna go off-script a bit." Ross's eyes snapped open and stared at him. "I get it, y'know. There've been things that we've done recently that don't exactly line up with the 'noble liberators of the Faunus' shtick that the higher-ups are shooting for, and I recognize that. To be perfectly honest, I got suckered into one of those little capers myself, and I'm still not thrilled about it.
"I just want you to know, though," he continued, "I know you're Valean by birth, and I get the feeling that you're pretty attached to this place. I know the feeling, and I also know better than most how much it hurts when something you do ends up doing harm to the people that you call countrymen."
At Ross's renewed stare of suspicion, Pax raised his hands placatingly. "The powers-that-be have made some calls recently that have done more harm than good to decent folk who would rather be left out of this whole clusterfuck, and I know it. But I just want you to know - and hopefully, be reassured by the knowledge that - Valeans do still make up the majority of the Vale Chapter. We're looking out for our people, and we're prepared to take Adam and his ilk from abroad to task for their actions that do undue harm to our own."
Pax exchanged a meaningful look with Ross. "Having you and yours standing with us would make the "taking them to task" part a lot easier in the future, if you know what I mean."
Ross stared at him long and hard, and he held his gaze steadfastly the whole time. Finally, Ross's mouth thinned into a grim line, and he nodded shortly.
"Alright," the younger man acquiesced, a little more relaxed and resolute than before. "I appreciate that. We'd better get a move on - wouldn't want to keep the Commander waiting."
"That's the spirit," Pax grinned and wrapped an arm around Ross's shoulder. "Welcome to the White Fang. Can't say you're gonna enjoy every second, but hey - whether or not we live to see it, Remnant will remember us." He turned his head and met, as expected, uncertain eyes. "For what, I can't say for certain right now. But it'll be one hell of a ride, eh?"
- To Serve With Honor -
"I'm certain that I have no need to elaborate on the complex situation that we are now placed in, Mister Arc," Ozpin said flatly. The Headmaster was hunched over his desk, elbows resting on its polished surface as he massaged his brow with both hands.
"We were looking for warm bodies to man the controls, and I can hardly be blamed for believing that there was no need to vet Atlesian military personnel for their personal views on short notice," Jaune snapped back as he paced the width of the office, prying at his hair intermittently as he did so.
He had already sent a short, formal message directly to General Ironwood that summarized the situation and his recommendations for Captain Heinkel and the other perpetrators, but he currently had yet to actually speak with the General to properly elaborate on the entire sordid affair.
He already had the weight on his mind of the reports from the Transit Terminal in Vale that confirmed his worst fears: Nearly every single one of the failed Faunus initiates had been approached in some fashion shortly after arriving in the Kingdom-proper, and none of those tagged by surveillance had resurfaced since.
"I'll have that bastard walking up and down the M-S-R in Asteria every day for the rest of his career, sweeping for mines with a lead pipe," he muttered darkly.
"Dial it back, please," Ozpin groaned tiredly. Jaune threw his hands up in surrender, and then proceeded to cross his arms and glare into space.
"We can still salvage this," Glynda insisted from her space on the wall, staring resolutely at her tablet as she rapidly tapped out message after message. "Even after we finish Initiation, we can still call a formal investigation and notify the rejected candidates that there was tampering in the process."
"You mean publicly declaring that the Atlas Military meddled in Beacon Academy's admissions process for the purpose of excluding Faunus candidates?" Doctor Grey shot back from the opposite wall dryly. "Even if we did manage to dress that up with generic language, someone would still read between the lines and dig far enough to blow this whole shitshow wide open. Fuck, I'll be shocked if the White Fang doesn't use victim testimonials to publish their own bloody exposé. We're literally handing them loaded magazines at this point."
"ENOUGH!" Ozpin shouted, suddenly on his feet and slamming his palms down on his desk.
"The two of you-" he gestured sharply towards Jaune and Grey in turn, "-Are at this moment, members of the staff of Beacon Academy. That means that your priority is to the students - and prospective students - of this institution first and foremost, and to your respective vendettas against the White Fang after."
This finally earned silence and startled looks from the office's other three occupants, and the Headmaster sighed heavily and slumped back into his chair.
"I am calling James," he said after a long moment of silence. "The Captain and his co-conspirators will have to be removed from the Kingdom post-haste - this will be non-negotiable. I will leave ensuring their punishments in his hands as a matter of Atlas's internal affairs.
"We will thereafter reach out to each of the afflicted candidates individually to inform them with full disclosure of the circumstances of their elimination, and offer them each the opportunity for a future retrial for admission at a later date." He sent a stern glare at each of the potential objectors in turn. "We are educators. If we cannot candidly admit to our own mistakes and missteps, then how can we ever claim to objectively guide our successor generations into a more prosperous and productive future?"
This brought Jaune pause, and a short sideways glance saw Grey - and even Glynda - staring anywhere but at Ozpin, contemplative and shamefaced.
"... You're correct, Headmaster," Jaune finally grunted in acquiescence. "What will you have us do in the meantime?"
"Glynda, see to the conclusion of the second round of trials. I expect a full after-action review of the process by Atlas and Legion personnel and Beacon faculty alike." The Headmaster turned to Grey. "Head down to the simulation space and ensure that there are no adverse effects from the hardware on any of the candidates. I don't care if it's only nausea or light vertigo, I want full physicals and detailed documentation in case we are required to utilize this method in the future."
The Deputy Headmistress and the Doctor each nodded their compliance and headed for the elevator. Jaune held his post, and thus met the full force of Ozpin's stony glare as he heard the doors slide shut far behind him.
"You will be right here beside me as I contact James and try to extract a proper explanation and recompense for this fiasco."
Jaune closed his eyes briefly and expelled his fears through a short exhale from his nose.
"Of course, sir."
- To Serve With Honor -
For once, Ironwood was grateful to Jaune Arc.
In this case, it was solely because the young Specialist's text message offered some insight into just how unpleasant the impending call with Ozpin was going to be.
"Oz," the General greeted neutrally as the call connected. His suspicions were confirmed by the uncharacteristically stony expression on his fellow Headmaster's face. He noted with some surprise the unusually contrite form of Arc standing in the background.
"James," Ozpin returned coolly. "As I'm sure your subordinates have already made you aware, one of your officers has quite grievously compromised the integrity of this year's Initiation process. I want to know what you plan to do with this man and his conspirators."
Ah, and there was the rub. James hid a grimace behind a displeased frown, which Ozpin returned in full.
"I believe that a proper investigation is in order before we go throwing around accusations of sabotage, old friend,"
The call's audio and Arc's simultaneously pained cringe offered some indication as to just how much damage Ozpin's hands had done to his precious desk upon hearing that.
"The Captain has already confessed to his crimes, James," Ozpin growled.
"You interrogated an officer of my military without due process or consulting me," James responded flatly.
"I was the one who received the Captain's confession, General," Arc interjected from behind Ozpin. "Beacon's faculty already had strong suspicions and circumstantial evidence of internal tampering with the process from the simulation logs. As I was nominally in charge of the whole affair, it was my duty to approach Captain Heinkel to question him and to levy the charges against him. He was quick - and strangely proud - to admit to his involvement, and I saw no reason to withhold this information from my fellow proctors in light of the friction that the situation was already causing within the ranks of staff and the student body."
James's eyes narrowed as the back of his mind immediately echoed with an internal cry of 'Bullshit!' He stamped down on his urge to voice this doubt purely for the sake of maintaining his position of poised skepticism.
Arc was in a tough position on this one, he had to admit. The young man had been effectively assigned to Beacon as a staff member, which came with an inherent obligation to the institution that was only barely edged out by his existing oaths of service. Whether or not the boy had any involvement in the tampering - James highly doubted that he did, given his past expressions of Faunus sympathies - he was still compelled by his temporary command of the Initiation exercise to clear himself of wrongdoing, and to put forth some visible effort to smoke out a culprit.
The fact that the Captain had been not only blatant in his unsanctioned efforts, but also unrepentant under interrogation, effectively took any chance of discretion out of Arc's hands.
Still, the General pondered darkly, one couldn't help but wonder just how reluctant Arc really was to smoke out an Atlesian saboteur, if it came with the final benefit of ingratiating himself with Beacon and Ozpin. Or how reluctant a Legionnaire would be to rat out a regular Army Officer…
James rested his elbows on his desk, clapping his gloved hands together in front of his face as if in prayer and setting his fingertips against his forehead. He exhaled long and heavy from his nose, and opened his eyes to meet Ozpin's expectant stare.
"Captain Heinkel and his conspirators will be recalled to Atlas to face court-martials," he declared gravely. "There will be an internal investigation into this affair. But," he cut off any potential indignant outbursts from Ozpin, "Considering the weight of the evidence that you claim to possess, I have no doubt that the investigators will scrounge up more than enough ammunition to warrant swift and severe sentences all around."
"A ranking officer bears the brunt of the responsibility for the actions of his men," Ozpin stated. "I expect Heinkel to shoulder this burden accordingly in his sentencing."
"Of course," James acquiesced, before reluctantly adding, "Did you have something in mind?"
To the General's surprise and dismay, Ozpin visibly turned to look over his shoulder to Arc, who in turn met James's gaze staunchly.
"Ten years of hard labor at Camp Four-Oh-Five in the north seems fitting," the young man passed his sentence with icy conviction. "Assuming it still stands, of course," he added knowingly.
A sharp chill and a twinge of something that may have been second-hand dread shot up James's spine.
Camp 405 was one of the most remote penal installations on Solitas, and bore a well-earned reputation for both the staff's cruelty, and for the sheer danger of the environment. The mines that the camp serviced spidered through a Grimm-infested mountain range, while the camp itself sat on the very edge of a grand expanse of tundra that extended for hundreds of desolate kilometers to the east and west, and for forty kilometers directly north to endless rocky cliffs and the icy waters of Remnant's North Sea.
In short, it was a guaranteed and crueler stand-in for the death penalty. Arc knew this well - and the fact that he would propose it here spoke volumes about the young man's hidden ruthless streak.
Judging by the stony impassivity on Ozpin's face, the Headmaster was either aware of this and accepting of it, or simply could not be bothered by the plight of a man who would so callously violate the sanctity of his precious school and its traditions.
"Your proposal will be taken into consideration," James finally acknowledged.
"Excellent," Ozpin nodded shortly. "Now then, let us move on to the matter of a public acknowledgement of the incident."
Proverbial red flags sprang up and multiplied in the General's mind's eye.
"That isn't a good idea in our present state of affairs, Oz," James said. "We'll need to hold off until after this White Fang situation is resolved, and we'll also have to allot some time for public sentiment to simmer down-"
"It wasn't a suggestion, James," Ozpin interjected sternly. "I am telling you that Beacon plans to make a public acknowledgement of the incident; in this case, I am simply asking who you would like to appoint to represent Atlas for the press brief."
"I am not appointing anyone, Ozpin," James shot back incredulously, "The Atlas Military will not be making any public acknowledgement of culpability in this incident; I refuse to hand the White Fang ammunition against our position in Vale."
"A position which was garnered by my endorsement and collaboration, James," Ozpin snapped impatiently. "You can appoint a representative, or you can be excluded from the press release and left to field the public and political ire on your own accord. Be warned that, should you refuse to have a representative present, I will most likely not be able to limit or stave off demands from the Council to curtail your military's presence in the Kingdom of Vale."
James gaped at his fellow Headmaster's image. "You can't be serious, Oz!" he said with a short, humorless laugh of disbelief. "I had nothing to do with this situation! This was an individual who leveraged a position which your people placed him in to act on his own misguided beliefs!"
Instead of responding, Ozpin tapped a series of commands into his console; a few moments later, a message pinged on James's display. He selected it and opened the attachment, and rapidly paled.
"I've little reason to believe that you were not responsible for placing him there, old friend," the Headmaster said lowly.
The damning evidence was there, in ones and zeroes. Security logs of numerous attempted forced-entries into Beacon's databases and digital infrastructure, along with the back-traced connections that ended in Heinkel's own electronic footprint and signature.
A signature that ended in the title of "Foreign Intelligence Officer, Atlas Military Special Task Force."
That an undercover officer of his personal intelligence arm would be so short-sighted as to compromise an already-delicate position for such pathetic gains was alarming, and warranted an immediate review of the STF's roster in Vale to weed out any other would-be independent actors.
In short - the situation now called for a scapegoat, to the General's great distaste.
Heinkel would need to go down and be made an example of, both to mollify Beacon, and to send a clear message within the ranks of the STF: That there was a fine line between initiative and arrogance; and that incompetence would not be tolerated, and would be swiftly and severely punished.
"Specialist Amsel," James finally called, the young man stiffening and straightening to attention. "I'll be sending formal orders soon; but in the meantime, inform Specialist Schnee that she will be representing the Atlas Military in Beacon's upcoming press release. She will receive a briefing package once a date has been decided for the announcement."
"Understood, sir," Arc nodded. The Specialist then looked briefly between the General and the Headmaster. "Am I dismissed?" the boy asked, clearly uncertain on whom he was supposed to defer to.
"Dismissed, Specialist," James nodded his affirmation.
"Thank you for your time, Mister Amsel," Ozpin agreed. "Please locate Miss Schnee, and return later after Initiation has concluded."
"Understood." Arc's image executed a hasty right-face, and stepped out of frame.
James sat silently as he waited for Ozpin's cue that the young man had left the office. He half-hoped that the Headmaster's severe expression would diminish at that point; unfortunately, it only seemed to deepen.
"This was a step too far, James."
The General was half-tempted to ask 'Which part?' but restrained himself to a simple, "Perhaps."
"I'm not just talking about the agent. I'm talking about the civil war that you've not only perpetuated, but escalated since you took command. A war which you promised to end in exchange for the support of my Huntsmen in the Succession Crisis."
Ah, so they were changing tack. "I will end the war," James responded with a frown of his own, "We've just taken our next steps to do so."
"You mean flattening half of Prometheus in an effort to stamp out one insurgent cell and killing hundreds, if not thousands, of "illegal" refugees in the process? Deploying an entire combined arms division of soldiers and Legionnaires to flush out the remains and eliminate every living thing within twenty square kilometers in order to set up an exclusion zone for your "Redevelopment Authority"?"
James stayed silent. Discreetly, he keyed a separate display on the side of his console and instructed his STF watchmen to locate Qrow Branwen.
"Your media clampdown can only do so much for so long, James," Ozpin continued. "That clock has been ticking for the last fifty years. The Zealots escaping Solitas and taking refuge in Vale has erased any chance you might've had at spin control. When the White Fang decides to go public, they will blow your entire war wide open, old friend."
"Why are you doing this again?" James sighed in irritation. "Restating things that I'm already aware of?"
"To inform you that the clock is no longer ticking; the timer has expired. It's time to cut your losses, make peace with or pacify your enemies, and refocus your energies against the enemies of all mankind."
"The standing armies of Atlas are the greatest Grimm deterrents that mankind has seen since the Age of Strife, Oz!" the General gestured insistently, his hands tightening into white-knuckle fists in frustration.
"And in the process of their creation and development, you've made lasting impacts on the culture of your Kingdom which regularly generate negativity not seen since the Great War and the Faunus Rights Revolution," Ozpin replied dryly.
"We have been making continual progress towards mitigating the issue," James gritted out.
"You mean Merlot and the Richtofen Installation?"
James actually started in shock. "How-?"
"You're hardly so discreet as you'd like to believe, old friend," Ozpin replied tiredly with a roll of his eyes. "Did you really believe that I wouldn't keep tabs on the man after the evidence emerged of his involvement with Mountain Glenn? After rumors surfaced that he had survived and fled north? Do I need to start asking about what dealings you've had with Arthur Watts lately?"
"That is none of your business, Oz!" James finally snapped, slamming his palms on his desk and pushing himself to his feet to glare at Ozpin. "The matters that you are broaching are nothing but hearsay and slander; and even if they had any basis, such arrangements would be internal affairs of the Kingdom of Atlas - not Vale or Beacon."
"You would be wise to tread carefully, General," the Headmaster replied sternly. "I have tolerated, and even reluctantly covered up your nationalistic crusade with the understanding that you were capable of resolving the situation thoroughly and efficiently. I have done this by helping you to cultivate close ties between Atlas and the nations of Remnant, up to and including reducing Vale's own armed forces, and encouraging Vale to rely on Atlas to shore up its missing capabilities with your services and technologies."
Ozpin took a meaningful pause, before adding, "It would be most unfortunate to have to sever these connections and begin rebuilding Vale's armies in light of the discovery of the war crimes being perpetrated by the Atlas Military to this day against your Kingdom's own citizens."
James stopped short, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. "Is that a threat, Headmaster?"
"No, General," Ozpin shook his head shortly. "My threat is thus: You have one year to set your house in order. Should you fail to do so, I will cut ties with your regime entirely, and then I will see to it that you are replaced with someone who can clean up your mess."
The General seethed in the subsequent silence, as he waited for Ozpin to terminate the connection; only for the Headmaster to sit calmly, and then lean in slowly and glare.
"And should you see fit to interfere further with my institution in any way in order to change my tune - or for any other reason, for that matter - then I am not above taking a much more personal and immediate approach to turning this threat into your reality."
Ozpin drew back from the camera, punctuating his final words with a tired and resolute stare - millennia of wars and conquests, distilled into a single ageless mind, ready to be brought to bear against James and his Kingdom on the slightest provocation.
Only after this threat and its weight were delivered, did the Headmaster finally end the call.
James sat up and moved his chair away from his desk slightly, only to slump back into it as the full force of the immortal's promise settled on his conscience.
For an instant, he could see the outcome: His pristine Kingdom in flames, his structures and institutions brought low as countless traitors and vermin crawled up from the city below, infesting his shining bastion of humanity and tossing him and his conspirators to the depths below to be swarmed and devoured by the Wrath of the Other, which cultural and geographical distance alone had barely held at bay for so long.
And then it was gone. He was back in his cavernous office, ensconced in the fortress of his duty and ambition.
James Ironwood would not lay his head to an easy rest for some time thereafter.
But, sleep was for the weak; and should the Gods' chosen avatar of Man's Time on Remnant one day arrive at the gates of Atlas with a vendetta, Ozpin would find neither a weak man, nor an easy siege ahead of him.
Beset by enemies and turncoats on all sides, James Ironwood steeled his resolve, and set about making preparations for expanding the war to a new front.
End Chapter 15
Author's Note: Been sitting on this one for a week; but work has been hellish, and the cherry on top yesterday was a fourteen-hour overtime shift compounded by a nasty sinus cold.
Irony, thy name is Heinkel: Weeds out the Faunus candidates, but misses the only actual White Fang spy of the bunch.
Next chapter marks the start of the semester; we'll also check in on Blake, and start the search for the Fang's missing Zealot, Snipe (forgot about him, didn't you?).
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter - stay safe, and I'll see for the next installment.
-Knightmare Frame Razgriz