Chapter 7
Jaune swore as one of the Death Stalker's claws snapped uncomfortably close to his head. He sidestepped left, then fell on his rear as the same Death Stalker's stinger punched into the ground right in front of him. The snarl of a Beowolf from behind made him slam his back to the floor to dodge the smaller creature leaping for his neck. A volley of gunfire snapped centimetres above his prone form, scything through the wolf's body, but merely bounced off the much larger, and much tougher Death Stalker's shell.
A grenade from Detective Heyman was sent rolling under the scorpion's exoskeleton. When it detonated, it sent a wave of white-hot fragmentation in all directions, with much of the shrapnel bouncing off the ground and piercing the Death Stalker's underbelly. A hiss escaped the beast, morphing into an outright screech as Jaune took the opportunity to sprint around its side and eviscerate one of its legs. At the same time, Ren appeared, vaulting over the flailing claws to unload a pair of magazines into the its many eyes. More grenades, this time from Nora, followed as it tried and failed to shield both its face and legs. One of the explosives caught the pincers emerging from its mouth, sending chunks flying. Rifle rounds from Pyrrha hit the shredded area, three times in quick succession. Her bullets penetrated right through to the brain, leaving the Death Stalker to thud to the ground, lifeless.
The whole floor was slick with blood and the smoke of dissipating Grimm. The smell of bodily fluids and activated Dust permeated the area. Sweat beaded on Jaune's forehead, and his muscles were screaming from exhaustion. His armour was riddled with scratch marks, and his clothes underneath were torn in multiple areas. His breaths were becoming increasingly ragged, and his left ankle was starting to throb.
"Baylee, Conrad. Status?" he shouted into his scroll. Every minute or so, he was checking in with the teams to make sure they were still okay. He didn't get a verbal response from BEIJ's leader. Just a short burst of roaring creatures, which were broken up by a couple of shots from her hand cannon and the whimper of a Beowolf being run through by her sabre.
"Conrad here. It's looking pretty bad. The roads are full of these guys, and we've got some trying to climb the walls."
"Copy. Do what you can," Jaune said.
The superwave had arrived. For every creature they shot, beheaded or otherwise executed, there were more. There was always more. Bit by bit, they were giving ground, trading incremental amounts of territory for time. They were a few metres from the escalators, and Jaune could see and hear the sounds of fighting coming from BEIJ's side at the west entrance. Some had already fallen back to the second floor and were shooting down below into the melee his and Baylee's teams were pratically being forced to wade through. Only a few dared (or were stupid enough) to stay with the students.
"Now might be a good time to book it!" yelled Detective Heyman.
Every second mattered in this defence. The longer they held here, the longer they kept the Grimm away from the wounded on the third floor. When the prospect of air support and reinforcements was so close, yet so far away, they needed to stay until the last possible moment. Jaune was about to yell a disagreement, but he was cut off by a report from his scroll.
"Jaune! I've got a man down! Irisa's down!"
Jaune vaguely remembered Ruby telling him Irisa was a friend of Yang's when the two had attended Signal. She was a quiet girl, more often than not being found studying in the library. He'd seen her wield her naginata-rifle like she was in a dance, graceful and elegant in combat. If there ever was an antithesis to Team RWBY's boisterous bruiser, she was it. Did opposites really attract? Maybe. But that didn't matter right now.
Seeing Team CFVY get knocked out of the fight without firing a single shot of their own had been rough. In their triumphant charge to Avanti, they'd fallen from the sky like an angel that had lost its wings. But they'd survived. Battered and bruised as Coco and her teammates had been, they'd been able to pull them and their Oxhide's crew out to Avanti. But they'd had air support, and a much less crowded area to work with. Right now, being one misstep away from being buried under a mass of snarling beasts, he found the sudden urge to agree with Detective Heyman's advice.
He raised his shield arm to his mouth and screamed, "We're falling back! JNPR! Cover BEIJ while they get Irisa to the second floor!"
They voluntarily collapsed their final positions. The last defendants on their level were sent running up the town centre's stairs and escalators. Jaune and the other students moved back non-linearly, always darting one way or another, always firing and swinging their weapons, always finding one more Grimm to clip or finish off before retreating.
Slowly, agonisingly, they reached the stairs, from the top of which was streaming a constant barrage of fire. Jaune grunted as he used both arms to push back against an Ursa, leaving it free to be almost literally ripped apart by a storm of bullets from the other defendants.
"Up the stairs! Two at a time!" he called out to the others. "Baylee and Irisa first! Go! Go! Go!"
His fellow team leader nodded and, with her whimpering teammate draped over her shoulders, began climbing. Jaune tried not to look at how both of Irisa's legs were bloodied and bent the wrong way at the knee.
As he turned back, he heard Baylee shouting, "It's alright, you're gonna be okay! Just focus on my voice, you hear me?"
This wasn't right. They weren't supposed to be taking more casualties. This was meant to be a strongpoint – a place where they could comfortably hold off the Grimm from.
His forlorn musing was interrupted when Baylee called out, "We're set! Send the next two up!"
He let the remaining students from BEIJ go.
"Jaune. Things are getting pretty dicey up here," said Conrad's voice from his scroll. "We've got multiple hostiles on the fourth floor. They're coming through the roof and windows."
"Just keep them away from the wounded!" he yelled back.
"Roger that."
"We're good! Send the next two up!"
"Pyrrha! Ren! Move!"
His teammates nodded, sprinting up the stairs. Jaune and Nora, who'd run out of grenades and was now relegated to using Magnhild in its war hammer form, kept swinging and blocking against what may as well have been a sea of black, white, and red. Jaune roared as he swung Crocea Mors downwards to cut a vertical line down a Beowolf's chest, but culdn't finish it off before an Ursa's paw clipped his left shoulder. Grimacing at the blow, he planted his shield into the offending creature's foot before slicing at its abdomen with his sword. The Ursa howled as its innards rapidly became outwards, then fell backwards as a well-placed round from an upstairs shooter caught it in the mouth.
"Jaune! Nora! We're up! Come on!"
He made a one last sweeping motion with his weapon before about-facing and taking the steps two at a time. While running, he fumbled with his scroll.
"Watch Master. This is JNPR. We're getting hammered by the superwave. Where the fuck are those reinforcements?"
"The 7th Fleet's achieved air superiority over your area JNPR. Gunships are about to commence their runs, and the 15th IBCT is moving as fast as they can. You just need to hold out a little longer. Over."
Jaune wanted to cuss out the operator on the other end. He'd reached the top of the steps and had swivelled around to beat back the creatures that had followed and either dodged or powered through the gunfire that was raining down on them. When he turned, he was almost face to face with a Beowolf who had led the chase. Unable to react with Crocea Mors in time, Jaune made a split-second decision and headbutted the offending Grimm. To him, with the assistance of his aura, it felt like someone had rapped their knuckles on his forehead. To the Beowolf, it was a little more painful, evident by how it let out a strangled howl, losing its footing and tumbling unceremoniously back to the ground floor, its form riddled by bullets the whole way.
Jaune smiled tightly, frustration momentarily vented, and said, "Roger that, Watch Master. JNPR out!" before cutting the connection. His legs were reminding him of the mad sprint he'd just made. There wasn't much fuel left in the tank. This was bad.
"Hey, kid. We get an ETA for those Atlesians?" asked Detective Burns over the comms.
Before Jaune could respond, the sound of crumbling brick and mortar cut through his hearing, as a King Taijitu burrowed its head into the town centre. A hair-raising hiss came out of the white serpent's head. Its forked tongue flicked up and down for a fraction of a second, and then it lunged, fangs bared and intent clear. There was no time for him to react. His mind could barely process the speed at which it struck.
Jaune may have lied his way into Beacon, but Erwin almost hadn't made it through initiation. Having forgotten his locker keycode, he'd shown up to the cliffside without his weapon. Professor Goodwitch had almost sent him packing then and there, but Headmaster Ozpin had permitted him to launch with the others, on the condition that he pass initiation with his own bare hands. He and Baylee had been the last two students to emerge from the Emerald Forest with their relic. Together, they'd been sorted into Team BEIJ. And though his occasional absentmindedness had earnt him no small amount of playful scorn from the other students, underneath they'd all had a healthy respect for his tenacity and willingness to see through a fight.
For a moment, the world slowed to a crawl. Jaune saw Erwin's eyes widen, and his back started twisting to the right in a desperate move to evade the oversized snake. He wasn't fast enough, and there were flashes of blue and white as the fangs beat against his classmate's aura. With all his might, Jaune willed him to withstand the bite. Erwin couldn't let it through. He couldn't.
There was a 'snap', a flair of luminescent shards flying in all directions…and the mouth of the King Taijitu clamped down on Erwin.
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"Watch Master to Strike Team SAGE. What's your status?"
…
"Strike Team SAGE. This is Watch Master. Do you copy?"
"This is SAGE!...He's gone!"
"Say again, SAGE?"
"Gareth, cover the left! He's dead! Samir's fucking dead!"
"Ma'am. What's your name?"
"This is Ebony of Strike Team SAGE! We're getting fucked over here!"
"Okay, Ebony. Can you give me a status of your teams and your LZ?"
"The mansion's overrun. There were too many of them! Samir tried to…he was hit. I couldn't get to him! Grimm everywhere!"
"What's the status of your Strike Team?"
"No idea! I've got three guys with me. The rest had to–son of a bitch!–the rest were cut off! You gonna bail us outta here or what, Watch Master?"
"Ebony. We've got a flight of close air support craft inbound on your position. They'll clear the area around the mansion and give us a window to try to evacuate your Strike Team. I just need you to hang in there for two minutes. Do you understand?"
"Too slow! We're dying over here! You need to get here faster!"
"Ebony. I promise you if you can just hold on for a little longer, we'll have you–"
"Shit! Urith's down! Randall, where the fuck are you going? Get your ass back here! Gareth, gimme some cover for the firsties! We gotta–"
James' fist pounded on the holoprojector as the broadcasted transmission between Strike Team SAGE and command was lost. Even as the latter continued trying to re-establish contact with the former, he moved to address the rest of the war conference.
"Councillors–"
Kenchiro turned his head to look at him. As their eyes met, James saw a flare of resignation in the Vice Admiral's expression. But afterwards there was no hesitation, just acceptance and a prayer for forgiveness for what was about to happen.
I'm sorry.
I know. And I'll do it.
"–I request that you give us the final authorisation for the 7th Aerial Fleet to conduct a naval bombardment on the Residential District of Vale."
The Atlas Council had responded quickly to their call for an impromptu meeting. After receiving a quick rundown on the Breach, James' and Kenchiro's government heads had permitted them to fire on Vale, but only with one last acknowledgement from the Vale Council itself.
The skies were clear. With an unbridled fury, the 7th Aerial Fleet had come in and cleansed every flying hostile in sight, leaving their aircraft free to fall upon the Grimm on the ground. But they still didn't have enough troops. Reinforcements from Vale's Air Force, and Army, Marine and Navy Aviation Branches had provided a welcome boost to their fire support, but it still wasn't enough. There were just too many Grimm pouring out of that godforsaken Breach. Vale's 2nd and 3rd Fleets and their ground complements were minutes away from the main city's borders. But even with their numbers, there was no way they'd all be able to land at the majority of their established 'strongpoints'. They'd underestimated just how many Grimm they'd face, and their students were paying the price. Atlas had the means to wipe the superwave off the map. They could cauterise a few select areas and leave their air units to finish off the stragglers. The Grimm would move to fill the gaps, but if their men could make a dash for the bombarded areas, they'd be in a much better position to receive the reinforcements from Vale's divisions and expeditionary brigades. It would be horrific. Innocent people and friendly combatants were almost certainly going to die. Under any other circumstance, it would be a war crime. It may very well still be determined as such. But they would win. They would survive.
Looking at the members of the CSC, Commissioner Laghari, Secretary Hellbraun, and Colonels Yun and Faust, James knew they'd come to the same conclusion, no matter how reluctantly. He looked at Ozpin's live feed. His fellow headmaster's face was blank. Then, he looked at the Vale Council, waiting to see if they'd follow through on what had originally been their own suggestion to fire on the city.
"On behalf of the Vale Council," said Councillor Severax. "The Atlas 7th Aerial Fleet is hereby authorised to fire on the main city's areas that contain a Grimm presence with whichever armaments it deems necessary."
James immediately marked the superwave on the holomap. As a carrier-command ship, the Resolute wasn't equipped to conduct bombardments. They'd have to call on one of the escort ships instead. A Lancer-class Destroyer's LLBs (Light Laser Batteries) on their lowest power setting still placed everything within a thousand metres of the targeted point at severe risk. But it was better than using their Indomitable-class Dreadnought's twin particle lances, which would outright vaporise half a dozen blocks. Kenchiro appeared to think along similar lines.
"Contact the Destroyer: ASA Cataphract. Have it link up with one of our–"
"Let me talk to them."
Ozpin's voice cut through the conference. The Council looked ready to reprimand him for interrupting Kenchiro's orders, but James pre-empted them.
"To who, Ozpin?"
"The students."
He didn't have to specify which students he was talking about. Strike Team SAGE may have been overrun, but their position was near the edge of the superwave, which had cut right through them. At this point, their bombardment would have to target Strike Team JNPR's position. It had formerly been designated as Strike Team CFVY, but after the entire second-year team had been incapacitated, command had been transferred to one of the first-years. Their position showed the highest concentration of Grimm, and was therefore the ideal place to target. They wouldn't hit the team's exact location, to attempt to preserve both their lives and the landing zone, but they were going to fire close enough. The fallout from their guns was still going to be destructive. James could only hope it wouldn't also be lethal.
He understood Ozpin's desire to contact JNPR. But every moment they spent talking was another moment they let the superwave run through the city.
"You have one minute," he said. "After that, we will commence the bombardment."
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They were on the stairs leading to the third floor. They had three students from BEIJ, and two from CYAN down. They were bloodied, broken, bruised, maybe even dead. Ren was out cold. He'd been dragged away with a gash on his chest and a swelling bump on the back of his head.
Seven students and a handful of civilian peacekeepers against what felt like the entire world. They were dead. They just didn't know it yet.
Slashing at an Ursa's back to distract it long enough for Nora's hammer to crush its skull, Jaune looked around him.
Streaks and pools of blood peppered the floors, walls, and ceiling. Display cabinets and shopfront glass had been shattered to leave little, glinting, sharp fields. There were so many bodies, he couldn't distinguish between the living and the dead. Dust and debris was everywhere. More cracks and holes appeared by the minute, as Grimm continuously found or forced new entry points to crawl in from. Expended shell casings and magazines littered the tiles. Exposed and severed wiring made the lights flicker and cut out. A burst pipeline gushed water in a small river that washed a tiny portion of the viscera and spent ammunition away. Sparks and flames burnt hazy shapes in his vision, lasting anywhere from half a second to a full minute.
In this little dance of death, it felt like he'd fallen into a rhythm.
There was no rest. No mercy. No respite. Hack. Slash. Parry. Lunge. Block. Dodge. Lean. Feint. Wince. Grunt. Flinch. Yell. Thrust. Swipe. Twist. Roll.
Dismember. Maim. Mutilate. Murder. Kill. Kill. Then kill some more.
Jaune.
Through the blanket of bloodlust that had fallen on him, he thought he heard something. A name. His name. Who was calling for him? Was anyone calling for him? Had he gone crazy, losing himself in the frenzy of battle?
Jaune?
There it was again. He'd heard that voice before. Podium. Hallway. Classroom. Campus. Staff. Teacher. No. Not just any teacher.
"Jaune. Can you hear me?"
Ozpin…Headmaster Ozpin. What was he doing here, talking to Jaune? No. He wasn't here. Voice. Scroll. Talk. Now.
"Pro…Professor," he said, weakly raising his shield arm to stop a Death Stalker's stinger from splitting him in half. He dropped to his knees but kept fighting. He couldn't stop. There were more Grimm to kill. Always more. Always.
"The Atlas 7th Aerial Fleet has been cleared to bombard the city. They are about to commence a strike on your position."
What?
"I…I don't understand, Professor," he said. Why would Atlas fire on the city? There were people here. Living, breathing, fighting people. They would kill them. They would kill his team. They would kill him. Why would they be sent out here, just to be killed by their allies' ships? What the fuck was happening?
"There are too many Grimm in the area, Jaune. Our reinforcements can't get to you quick enough. There's no other way. I…I'm sorry."
In the admittedly short time he'd known the headmaster, Jaune had never heard Ozpin hesitate with his words. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. It was all wrong. Nothing was going right. This wasn't fair. There wasn't…he couldn't…
"No," he begged, ducking under a Beowolf's claws to saw off its hind legs, then plant his sword into its howling maw. "Call them off, sir. We can still hold. Please!"
"Jaune…" Ozpin's voice was gentle. It reminded Jaune of his mother, whispering hushed assurances after one of his younger sisters had scraped her knees, walking him through how to make pancakes and scrambled eggs on the stove, or enveloping him in a hug after he'd given her a card for Mother's Day. And even as he jumped back from an Ursa's swipe that instead cracked a nearby pillar, he felt his eyes grow moist. He wanted out. He wanted to get away from this nightmare of a battle. He wanted to see his family again. He wanted to go home. "…right now, we have a company of men moving to relieve your Strike Team. They will be within seeing distance of Avanti in three minutes. Can you honestly tell me you can hold the town centre until they arrive?"
There was a cry of pain, and Jaune twisted his neck to see Nora slumping to her knees after being flung into a wall. Almost immediately, Pyrrha and Detective Heyman moved to stand in front of her, frantically trying to carve a path for someone else to drag her to safety.
"Jaune?"
He was prompted back to his scroll.
Can you hold?
They had to.
Can you hold?
They didn't have a choice.
Can. You. Hold?
…
No.
"No," he whispered.
The bombardment might kill them. The Grimm would kill them. In the end, there was no question.
"No," he said again, loud enough to make sure Ozpin could hear him. "Send the bombardment…Please…I don't want to die."
"I understand, Jaune," said Ozpin, and Jaune believed him. "I won't judge you for that, and neither will anyone else here."
His words hurt. They'd been the exact same words he'd said to BEIJ and CYAN – all pumped up and ready to be the big damn heroes they'd fantasised about being. It couldn't have been more than an hour ago, but it felt like a lifetime.
"Seek shelter, if possible."
And with that, the connection was terminated before he could say anything back. Jaune screamed to the others, "Ship bombardment incoming! Everyone! Take cover!"
"What?" said Detective Burns. "Fuck me! Joel! Get those civvies on the ground, now!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it!" called out Detective Heyman. "Cover your heads, people! We've got–"
Jaune didn't listen to the rest. He wouldn't fall down and cower. Not yet. No matter how set the higher ups had been on firing on the city, he'd still accepted their decision. He'd see this through to the end, even if it meant the end of him. In the gory whirlwind of melee, he spotted Pyrrha. His teammate's red hair was scorched and flowing freely out of its ponytail. Her bracelet and greaves were dented and scratched. Her weapons and skin were covered in grime and drying blood. Jaune imagined he didn't look much better than her. When their eyes met, it was only for a split second, but it was enough.
She was just as in the thick of battle as he was. She knew they were all dead. She knew there was only one way to make it through to see tomorrow. And she hated it too.
Jaune kept fighting.
He kept fighting even though his arms shrieked in protest and his legs felt like they were dragging anvils. When a Boarbatusk ripped his sword out of his hand, he fought with his shield, pummelling that same Boarbatusk twice in quick succession and leaving it twitching with blood and black mist flowing out of its head.
He kept fighting when he heard the whine of laser battery fire.
He kept fighting when the world flickered white and crimson.
He kept fighting when the sounds of explosions and screams tore at his ears and heart.
The air became unbearably hot before rushing outwards. The concussive force hit. What little intact glass that was left shattered. Objects and beings were sent flying. He hit something. Many things. His aura fragmented, then vanished. He lost control of his senses. But he still felt pain. There was pain. So much pain.
Then utter darkness.
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Codex Entry: The Bombardment of Vale
The following is the transcript of a transmission between Liason Airship-880 (Callsign Oracle 5-1) and ASA Cataphract's Fire-Control.
Oracle 5-1: Cataphract, Cataphract. This is Oracle 5-1. Fire mission. Over.
ASA Cataphract: Oracle 5-1. This is Cataphract. Fire mission. Out.
5-1: Grid Papa Foxtrot 528 127. Over.
C: Grid Papa Foxtrot 528 127. Out.
5-1: One thousand plus Grimm. Multiple heavy hitters in the open. Danger close. At my command. Over.
C: One thousand plus Grimm. Multiple heavy hitters in the open. Danger close. At my command. Out.
5-1: Three Mk52s, PL1, three rounds. Over.
C: Three Mk52s, PL1, three rounds. Out.
…
C: Oracle 5-1. Cataphract is ready to fire. Out.
5-1: Fire.
C: Shot. Over.
5-1: Shot. Out.
…
5-1: Splash. Over.
C: Splash. Out.
…
5-1: Cataphract. Repeat. Over.
C: Oracle 5-1. Say again your last. Over.
5-1: Copy, Cataphract. Repeat, repeat.
C: Are you…Roger that.
…
C: Shot. Over.
5-1: Shot. Out.
…
5-1: Splash. Over.
C: Splash. Out.
…
5-1: Cataphract, this is Oracle 5-1. End of mission. Estimate nine hundred plus Grimm casualties. Over.
C: Oracle 5-1, this is Cataphract. End of mission. Estimate nine hundred plus Grimm casualties…May the gods have mercy on us. Out.
5-1: Solid copy, Cataphract. Oracle 5-1 Out.