(Hello, readers! Sorry that I've been away for some time. Job interviews have been proving to be a more stressful ordeal than I'd like, but getting hired is worth it.

All characters involved are property of Roosterteeth and the legacy of Monty Oum, save for some OCs.

Here is chapter two of my RWBY story. I don't want to settle into an alternating formula of "action chapter, story development chapter, rinse and repeat", but some set up is always necessary. We'll be back with Ruby and Co. next chapter, but for now, enjoy!)

The Next Mission

The smell of black coffee grains brought James Ironwood back to life from his stupor.

Yawning, he shifted his unfocused gaze off the mountain of papers that covered the mahogany desk before him. It wasn't getting any smaller since he could barely keep his eyes open from lack of sleep. The coffee was his crutch at this point, and his secretary Marron knew it. She'd taken pity on him, though, and a second later she carried in a steaming mug.

Ironwood could have kissed her. As it was, he merely inhaled the welcome scent of coffee grains and cream.

"Good morning, sir. Your coffee." Her perkiness was a lot to deal with this early in the morning, but at least it meant someone had managed to get some sleep last night. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Not right now." He reached for the coffee. "You're a godsend, Marron."

"I know, sir." She grinned before leaving him alone in the office.

Ironwood waited as the door closed. The coffee wouldn't be enough. He tried not to imagine Marron's disapproving eyes as he grabbed his flask from his coat pocket and added a few splashes of bourbon. It was a guilty pleasure he'd picked up from Qrow. Unfortunately, neither of them had ever figured out what Ozpin put in his coffee. They just knew it was something a lot better than whiskey.

The mix of liquor and caffeine brought him back into partial wakefulness. Reinvigorated, he took a long look at all the papers awaiting his inspection. He'd been working as hard as he could lately, but the workload never eased up.

This is madness. Take a break, James, or you'll work yourself to death.

After another gulp of coffee, Ironwood pushed his chair back and stood up. He gingerly stretched his stiff flesh-and-blood left leg, easing an ache from his joints. Shedding his heavy coat and leaving it on the back of his char, Ironwood took his coffee mug and paced over to the large window that took up half of the east wall of his 30th-floor office in the Atlas military headquarters.

Outside of it lay his city. The place he had sworn to protect from any threat, no matter the cost. Right now, it was half-buried in the heavy snows of early winter, the many high-rises and skyscrapers that dotted the skyline resembling giant columns of ice and frost. Snow had been falling since just before midnight, and the flakes continued to twirl en masse in fluttering paths to the ground.

Lights that shone across the city even at this early hour lit up the blanket of white all over, creating a glittering spectacle that was wondrous to behold. Atlas was a dazzling urban sprawl of far greater magnitude than the capitals of the other three kingdoms, boasting a population of well over ten million residents—by far the largest concentration of humans on the planet.

And with all the fear and suspicion worming its way through the hearts of Atlas' citizens, that concentration was drawing Grimm in large numbers. The defenses of the city had claimed the lives of more Grimm in the last month than they had in the previous two years. Nearly every day saw another report appearing on his desk or scroll about a Grimm incursion being turned back, occasionally at a heavy cost.

The recent invasion of Vale had brought this all about. Images of the mechanized forces of Atlas slaughtering helpless civilians and turning on the troops that depended on them for support had caused an uproar, sending a wave of horror and confusion sweeping through Atlas. Everyone was looking for someone to blame, and many fingers had wound up being pointed at Ironwood, demanding that he explain how such a tragedy could have occurred.

Meetings with the rest of the Council and conferences at venues packed with prominent and influential citizens of Atlas had become Ironwood's waking nightmare since returning to Atlas. He felt overwhelmed in his efforts to convince those that looked to him for leadership and reassurance that things were under control.

The SDC's activities and the divisions they were causing among the lower echelons of Atlas were not helping matters either. The pile of paperwork waiting behind him was largely constituted of missives and prepared speeches related to these daily headaches, with the exception being a small stack of letters that sat in its own corner of the desk.

Consolation letters.

They were by far the worst part of his job, especially since Ironwood always made a great effort to get to know his troops. The practice of knowing one's soldiers by name and background inspired fierce loyalty and good discipline in the ranks, but it also meant a great deal of pain at their loss.

And now he had to try to ease the grief of his dead soldiers' loved ones, although it was a mostly fruitless effort. He knew that much by now; this wasn't the first time Ironwood had needed to write letters to families of the fallen. It never got easier, but the last couple of months had been some of the most trying of his career as new confirmations of deaths came in each day and the KIA list grew.

Over 3,000 soldiers, including more than 800 aboard the fleet of ships he had brought to the Vytal Festival, had lost their lives defending Vale. Atlas' standing army of 150,000 could handle the losses logistically, but the gaps in the ranks still hurt to think about. Many Atlesian citizens of both military and civilian backgrounds were calling for blood, eager for revenge against the White Fang.

Ironwood wanted payback just as badly as they did, but few people saw the larger problem of the other kingdoms' opinions from his perspective. Neither Mistral nor Vacuo had sent any requests for assistance with White Fang activity or Grimm attacks within their borders since Vale had been attacked. Any mobilization of his forces would only cast more suspicion on Ironwood and convince people that trouble was brewing, and thus he had ordered the majority of Atlas' military to remain on standby.

Except for his Special Operatives, of course. They could never remain idle after a crisis on the scale of Vale's invasion. All those brave men and women were still in the field, working harder than ever, and Ironwood needed to stay on top of things if he was to keep their respect. That respect was the only reason he could keep the hard-headed bunch in line.

With a sigh, he turned away from the window and back towards his desk, readying himself for another merciless day of dull paperwork and endless meetings. As he took a step towards the desk, however, something impacted against his window with a loud thump.

Ironwood's sidearm was in his left hand and halfway up before he even fully turned around, and he almost fired a shot through the glass before his sleep-deprived brain caught up. There was only a large black bird on the other side, fluttering around in a heap after flying head-on into the bottom pane. For a moment, Ironwood relaxed and lowered his weapon, wondering why a crow, or any bird for that matter, was still this far north in the winter season.

Then the coffee finished kicking in, and his eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing. He holstered his weapon and strode over to quickly yank the window open, a gust of bitterly cold air rushing into the room along with a flurry of snowflakes as the bird came tumbling into his office, beating its wings frantically and cawing, feathers flying every which way.

Ironwood shut the window quickly and stared at the door of his office, hoping Marron hadn't heard the commotion. After several moments passed without her checking on him, he relaxed somewhat and went over to punch a code into a panel near the door to soundproof the room. He turned to find the crow upright now, hopping along the carpeted floor and flapping its wings to clear the snow off its feathers.

"What are you doing here, you crazy fool?" Ironwood hissed at the crow, keeping his voice down despite his precautions. The black bird hopped to the opposite corner of the office, cawing twice and tilting its head to blink its large eyes at Ironwood. Moments later, an eruption of swirling black energy filled the area where the crow stood.

No matter how many times he saw it, Ironwood would never get used to the sight of Qrow Branwen's transformation. There was no actual sound aside from papers on Ironwood's desk rustling and falling as air was pushed outwards in all directions from the dark mass. Larger and larger it grew, an orb of swirling tendrils of blackness that swelled as feathers fluttered out of the center.

Wisps of dark energy dissipated as they made contact with his desk or the bookcase on the far wall once the sphere reached the height of a man. Within it, the faint outline of the crow that had entered Ironwood's office became distorted, changing rapidly in size and shape as its proportions shifted to those of a human's.

The process only took a couple of seconds, and then all the black energy flew upwards, dissipating rapidly like smoke as it did. In its place knelt a tall man in a gray jacket and black shirt and pants, a long and tattered red cape flowing from his shoulders. On his back, the red handle of the heavy sword-scythe that never left his side was visible. His combed-back hair and grizzled stubble were faintly dusted with gray, but when Qrow stood, he stood tall and unbent, still full of the vigor of his younger days despite the alcohol he smelled of.

The dark circles under his eyes and dirty state of his clothes, however, made it clear that he had traveled far and without much rest.

Qrow stretched his arms for a moment and cracked his back before fixing Ironwood with his red-eyed gaze and smirking. "Crazy fool? Come on, Jimmy, not even a friendly hello?" he quipped in his usual raspy drawl.

"Not when you just fly into my office without warning. I have a secretary for a reason. If you need to see me, you ask and you wait."

"Really? You want your secretary and everyone else in the city knowing that we met?" Qrow pulled out the engraved, silver-brown flask that never left his side and took a swig of the alcohol within, wiping his mouth afterward. "The work we do is supposed to be discreet, you know. Setting up an appointment sort of ruins that whole idea."

"Oh, it's work you've come to me about? And here I was thinking you were out of alcohol and just flew in here looking to obtain some more."

Qrow just stared at Ironwood for a long moment, an awkward silence settling into the room. Ironwood finally looked down at the blue-carpeted floor, rubbing the neural connector on his forehead and sighing. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Geez. You really should leave the sarcasm to your subordinates. You managed to make that both rude and lame."

"As if you're one to pass judgement on rudeness," Ironwood retorted, but he nevertheless relaxed and moved back to his desk, sitting on the front of it as Qrow leaned back against the office wall and took another drink from his flask. "What's the situation in Vale?"

"Same as it's been since that Dragon thing that broke the CCTS and disappeared into the north. The city's cleaning itself up a piece at a time; Glynda's overseeing all of that. Grimm attacks have slowed down for now. I thought you had people reporting back to you on that?"

"I fear some of those reports are… less than accurate at times. While my people do not blame me for the incident at the Vytal Festival, they believe I blame myself, and they take steps to shield me from the harsher details. I know you don't fear for my well-being like they do, however. Give me your honest opinion."

"You shouldn't have left." The words were sharp and sincere, and so unexpected by Ironwood that he could only stare in surprise as Qrow continued, "Vale's Huntsmen can barely keep on top of guarding isolated towns from the Grimm and escorting convoys. They can't stay coordinated without the CCTS's communications either. The Grimm are roaming freely, hitting places they'd usually avoid, and the Dragon is still out there somewhere. We really can't deal with either problem without your people's help."

"To stay in Vale was to invite war, you know that! People across the world saw Atlesian machines killing innocents before being cut off. The other kingdoms would never stand for a continued occupation!"

"Since when have you ever thought about people's' opinions before acting?"

"Since my actions resulted in thousands of people being killed. Including my own." Ironwood's tone was low and grim, the pain of that terrible day resurfacing as he bowed his head and stared at the stack of consolation letters that still stood on his desk.

Something that might have been pity flashed across Qrow's face. An instant later, though, it was replaced by his usual grimace. "All the same, that Dragon only retreated after it ate its fill of people, and your boys had to light it up big-time just to make it leave. We need that firepower back if we're gonna bring it down for real."

"There have been no further sightings?"

"None, but that doesn't mean it won't strike again. Considering its size, that Grimm has gotta be smart as hell. I have a feeling it's laying low so we'll be focused on Vale's other problems. We can't be caught off-guard when it gets hungry again."

"I'll see what I can do. If Atlas is secure enough, I could possibly send the Stormhawk to intervene. I just… I can't make promises with the kingdoms' attitudes the way they are."

"Whatever. Do what you can. Anyway, you mind if I call in a favor?"

"Pardon me?"

"You owe me one and I'm calling it in. And hey, considering how I saved your hide in Vale—after you brought an army of hacked robots into our city, mind you—I should probably ask for a few more…"

Ironwood just glared at Qrow, so he grinned and gave it a rest. "Fine, fine. I came here to borrow some of your people as backup. I'm ditching the solo act for now."

"Backup? Why come here, then? I'd assume you'd ask other Huntsmen from Vale to help you."

"Nah. Everyone back home has enough trouble keeping the kingdom from falling apart any further. Looking for whoever Oz is now was priority, but protecting Vale from any more disasters is a close second, especially with our numbers stretched so thin. I figured your Specialists could be just as helpful, so I came to Atlas instead."

"I see. Concerning Ozpin, have you had any luck?"

"Nothing. No contact, no leads. At this point, we aren't gonna find him until he wants us to, so I figured it's time to try something else."

"Such as?"

Qrow's expression darkened as he muttered, "Since recovering Ozpin isn't an option, I'm gonna follow up on our final lead from Mistral and track down our biggest problem. I'll find the new Fall Maiden and cut her apart, piece by piece, until she finally decides to talk about what she's done and plans on doing. Then I'll take her back here and we'll rip that power right back out of her. I doubt I can pull it off alone, though. That's where your Specialists come in."

Ironwood leaned back, inhaling as he processed the other man's words. He hadn't heard the grizzled Huntsman speak with such violent intent in a while; Qrow was clearly more agitated than he was letting on, and desperate as well. He would never have come to Atlas for help otherwise.

"Do you recall that Cinder Fall—if that even is her name—defeated Ozpin in single combat? I know how skilled you are, but defeating her is outside of your abilities. The power of the Maidens is beyond any of us, even Glynda."

"Like I said, I don't plan on fighting alone. If I have some of your best people with me, I can take her alive and bring her back here to get the power switched to someone we can trust."

"I'm sure you understand that the idea of sending my Specialists to hunt down such a powerful enemy is not an enticing one."

"Maybe for you. I think I know who might enjoy that sort of thing."

"Oh, do you?" Ironwood tried to keep the sarcasm out of his tone, but it was difficult. "And just who might you be thinking of?"

"Schnee and the Khayn twins."

"...No. I'm sorry, but even if we told them the truth about the Maidens, which I'd rather we didn't, they're unavailable anyways."

"Look, I know Ice Queen and I don't mix well but I don't care, they're—"

"Unavailable, I said." Ironwood stood and grabbed a report off his desk, leaning forward and holding it out. Qrow moved away from the wall and took the paper from him, a frown growing on his face as he read its contents. "I ordered them to Mistral soon after Beacon fell, and that's the latest intel that Winter has sent back."

"This is..." Qrow looked up from the report, alarm now evident in his expression. "Has it really gotten that bad over there?"

"If not worse. We've clearly underestimated the White Fang's influence; this buildup may be even greater than what the reports indicate, and it's only been a month. We have reason to believe they'll continue at this pace for a while longer before they make their move. I've been taking steps to prepare for the worst, which brings us back to the reason for your visit."

"'Scuse me?"

"You came here to ask for Winter, Kobal, and Bluté as backup for your hunt. I can't give you them or any of my other Special Operatives right now, seeing as they're all reporting to Winter in Mistral, deployed on other assignments, or staying here to safeguard our kingdom. What I can do is request that Winter provide you with any assistance possible once you've arrived at the city. My Specialists are aware that there's a new threat and that the enemies that infiltrated Beacon are part of it. Spin your story off of that."

"I doubt she'll be all that eager to help me out if it's not a direct order."

"Her orders are to prevent a catastrophe like the one in Vale from occurring again. I won't make her choose between protecting Mistral and hunting down the Fall Maiden unless those two objectives happen to coincide. However, if a certain Specialist whose opinion we both value and is privy to the Maidens' existence happened to be also be in Mistral right now..."

Qrow's brow furrowed as he placed the report from Winter back down on the desk. "Ochran? Really? You sent him away?"

"Winter asked for her closest comrades to accompany her to Anima. That includes him. If you're there as well, I have no doubt he'll convince Winter to let him operate independently from the others when possible. The two of you could pursue the Fall Maiden then."

"Eh. Maybe that'll work, but I'll still need someone to back me up in a fight. I don't wanna roast the guy, but Ochran really can't do jack against the likes of a Maiden. Or most of the other enemies I'm likely to run into for that matter."

"I have every confidence that Lionheart could help you in that regard if you inform him of your task."

"I guess… and another thing, are you really fine with just leaving the relic of Atlas with one less person to keep it safe? Especially Ochran? What if the enemy sneaks in just like when they walked into Beacon under your nose?"

"If I relied on Ochran to track down every single traitor and spy in this kingdom, we'd already be overrun. Atlas can handle itself without him, and he'll do more good under Winter's command than mine anyway."

"That's pretty confident coming from the guy whose army of war machines got hijacked. You telling me something like that definitely won't happen here too?"

"R&D recovered and decoded that virus and initiated a whole slew of upgrades and safeguards for the Knights and Paladins. The enemy will not be so fortunate as to have our weapons under their control again. With our machines, our divisions, and the Specialists who will remain here, Atlas is safe and so is our relic. The threat is in Mistral, not here, so that's where our focus needs to be."

"…hmph. Well, if you say so." Qrow brought his flask up for another swig, only to frown and upend the container, shaking it in disappointment as a few small drops trickled out. "Dammit."

Without a word, Ironwood reached down and grabbed the bottle of bourbon from beneath his desk, refilling his own flask before handing it over to Qrow, who grinned and took the bottle so he could do the same.

"Thanks. I wasn't looking forward to making the trip to Anima while running on empty."

"You're leaving today?"

"Yeah. The plan was to ask for help and then head out and have you send my backup to meet me in Mistral. I have another team I need to link up with first."

"Another team? I thought you said none of the other Huntsmen of Vale could join you?"

"Well, yeah, they aren't Huntsmen. Not full-fledged ones at least."

"Clarify."

"Look, I sort of tipped off my younger niece and her friends about where the enemy's next move will be. Ruby and two others left at the same time I did. I took this detour while they're making the crossing to Anima, and I need to be back when they land. Someone's gotta keep an eye on them until they reach Mistral."

The questioning expression on Ironwood's face turned to incredulous disbelief as Qrow continued, "If I had done nothing they'd have gone eventually anyway. At least this way it's on my terms. I'm counting on them to help draw out the enemy, but, you know… I need to be there if they can't handle whatever fights are coming their way."

"You're really not joking, are you?"

"I know it's a little risky— "

"You're using your own niece as bait! Ignoring her immeasurable value as the only silver-eyed warrior we know of, it's still madness to send a 15-year old girl into that mess! And the others… even if they were good enough to survive Beacon's fall, they're still getting in over their heads!" Ironwood's head sank into his hands; he felt utterly exhausted now. "Even for you, that was poorly thought out. Those children could very well be going to their deaths. Why…?"

Qrow held up a hand to silence Ironwood and looked down for a moment, letting out a long breath. "I have to find the Fall Maiden, no matter what, and this is the only thing that I know will work. Doesn't matter how the enemy responds, though; these kids are tough, they're pissed, and they're ready to fight. Trust me, they won't get hurt. Especially not when I'm backing them up."

"And what if the Fall Maiden comes after young Ruby with backup of her own?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Salem won't send her most important tool after a few kids."

"Have you already forgotten what Ozpin told us about her and the silver-eyed warriors? Salem fears them, and she won't allow someone she fears to live for long." Ironwood looked Qrow right in the eyes, daring the Hunstman to look away again. "You've made a huge gamble here. I hope you can handle the consequences."

"There won't be consequences." Qrow's grip tightened on his flask. "Anyone Salem sends after Ruby won't live long enough to regret it. I want to bring the Fall Maiden out of hiding, but if I gotta wipe out the rest of the bastards that Salem uses for her dirty work first… well, that's fine by me."

"If you're able," Ironwood muttered. It earned him a glower from Qrow that went unheeded; instead he asked, "Is there anything else you needed? A ship to bring you to Anima perhaps?"

"Nah, I'll fly myself out. Like I said, no one needs to know I was here." Qrow started walking towards the window, placing his flask back on his hip as he did.

"One last thing," Ironwood stated, causing the Huntsman to stop and turn. "Which of Ozpin's former students are accompanying your niece?"

"Uh… Valkyrie and Li, I think their names are."

"I see. So, the Nikos girl…"

"Still pretty messed up. She's not going anywhere soon."

"…we did wrong by her, Qrow."

"Yeah. We did."

"When you see her again, give her my regards… and my apologies for what she went through because of us."

Qrow locked eyes with him for a long moment before nodding with a small smile, turning back to the window, and pushing it open again. He vaulted over the windowsill, disappearing over the edge and leaving Ironwood alone with the stack of letters to the families of his dead men and the faint sound of wings beating the air. And, unfortunately, a mess of black feathers and fallen papers scattered across the carpet.

Ironwood sighed and knelt to start cleaning up before anyone entered his office and saw the mess.

I really hope you know what you're doing, Qrow…