Aura of Steel

by RYNO IV

Huntsmen and Huntresses. They have defended our borders and destroyed the darkness for generations. However, it is not always the tales of heroes that play the biggest parts. Constance Carlisle, pilot of an M7A6-H Light Battle Tank, has never seen herself as someone to be in the spotlight... but after coming across Beacon Academy, she might not have a choice.

16. Chapter Fifteen: Out of the Frying Pan

So, it wasn't another three months! I know I should space it out a little, but I've left you guys hanging for way too long, so fuck it.

Thanks for the good reception, guys. It means a lot.

Also, I'd like your opinion. Due to circumstances that will not be made apparent at this time, Connie will begin to use another vehicle at some point. This isn't limited to Falcone's M11T1, an M16 Multiple Gun Motor Carriage (RWBY-verse name pending), and the cutest tank in the world, the Panzer II Luchs. However, I have yet to have decided on a final vehicle that Connie settles on for the rest of the story.

Now, I'm not asking you to go and look for an Assault Battlemech which, while cool, would not fit in with the story. I want it to be an upgrade from Connie's M7, but not so much that she's overpowered and certainly not as big as an Atlesian Paladin. Preferably less than half its height. The baseline that I'm looking for is something along the lines of a Landmate off Appleseed, or, if you play Overwatch, Dva's Meka unit. I'm looking for a more unique control scheme in a small package, you know? These are obviously my default if no other (better) ideas come up, but I'd love to hear your guys' opinions and thoughts on it. And reviews. Reviews are good too.

Peace out.

-RYNO

PS: Don't come to me asking about the new season. I haven't gotten a chance to watch it yet, so don't spoil it, please.

---

Connie was in shock, hands frozen from where they hovered above her keyboard. This was absolutely, indescribably insane. From the numbers she was looking at, there was literally thousands of Grimm converging on the mine. Thankfully the majority of that was at least a day away; however, the closest bulk of the monsters still numbered in the hundreds, a mere half hour away if Grendel's systems were correct. She knew Grimm Theory – the nearest groups of Grimm would be attracted to the fear and panic, and the Grimm nearest to those groups would be spurned on by their bloodlust. Larger and larger waves would descend on them like a plague, and this was just from a sabotaged generator.

At this, Connie swatted her controls out of the way and launched herself out of the tank, panicked as she looked around the haze-filled mine.

"Commander! Commander!" she called. Noticing a shape in the smoke, she sprinted towards it only to find that it was a miner rushing by with a box filled with papers. She grabbed him by the elbow and demanded, "Arc! Where's Arc?!"

The miner wrenched his arm away. "Don't touch me, Faunus!" he shouted, about to rush off once more. He was stopped when Connie drew her M54 and shot the ground by his foot, making him yelp and jump back in fear.

"Where's the blond!?" she snarled.

The man's anger at her had instantly turned to terror, quavering as he nodded in a direction behind Connie's left shoulder. "H-He's helping pull out our records! In the archives room!"

She didn't spare him a second glance as she turned and sprinted through the smoke, heading towards the shadowed building. The right side of it was engulfed in flames, but through some miracle or fire suppression system the building had, it was making slow progress. The entrance was still standing, and though the fire was uncomfortably hot even through her suit, it hadn't progressed to the point that the building was a total loss. Yet, anyway.

Still, none of this dawned on Connie. She was focused on finding her commander as she neared the building, and just as she reached the entrance, a soot-stained head of blond sprinted through and collided with her. Papers flew everywhere, the box in his hands exploding as the two of them fell back through the entrance. Jaune didn't even have time to think about the slim girl on his chest before she hurriedly leapt off him and shouted desperately, "Commander, we have a situation!"

All Jaune could do was groan, having the wind knocked out of him in the collision. Connie was ready to haul him to his feet and beat the severity of the situation into his inexperienced skull when Ren came stumbling through the smoggy hall, only to stop at the sight of the two.

"Constance?" he said questioningly, coughing from the smoke.

Relief swept through Connie – at least he would be able to understand. "It's an Emergence!" she shouted, her voice strained and frantic through her helmet's filters.

At this Ren froze, his thoughts shattered in an instant. His normally passive demeanor had morphed into that of horror, with widened eyes and a grey pallor to his skin. Swallowing thickly, Ren immediately dropped the box in his arms and gripped Connie by the arm – any protest or struggle she had was killed when he bored his gaze into hers, despite the impassive red lenses of her helmet.

"Are you sure?" he demanded, unintentionally shaking her arm.

Instead of answering, Connie pulled her scroll from the pack strapped to her belt, activating the tablet. While Ren didn't know why she pulled it out in the first place, any trace of confusion was gone when she showed him a map of the area surrounding the mine, going so far as to show the edge of the Beacon Plateau nearly twenty miles away. The sea of red dots, however, gave him pause.

"This is directly from my machine's sensors," she said.

Even as they looked at the screen, Ren could see the dots slowly converging on the mine. The sight brought him out of the daze he was in. "This isn't right," he said, frowning. "The amount of people here shouldn't be attracting that many Grimm."

A cough drew their attention down, and Jaune groaned as he slowly staggered to his feet. "Mind telling me the license plate of the bus that hit me?" he groaned, rubbing his aching head from being used as a cushion.

Jaune blearily looked to Ren, only to see him silently pointing at Connie. Somehow, though she was doing nothing, the red-eyed stare of her helmet was enough to send a trill of terror through Jaune. Blanching at his own mistake, Jaune waved his arms defensively and stammered, "N-not to say that you're a bus! You're just heavy!"

Ren's head fell into his palm.

"…Please don't kill me," Jaune squeaked, eyes squeezed shut as he awaited his fate.

Connie rolled her eyes. Again, her commander demonstrated his infinite capacity for ineptitude and she'd only known him for all of six hours. Stifling a sigh, she shoved the scroll into his hands and said quickly, "There is a Grimm Emergence converging on the mine, Commander."

Like Ren, Jaune paled and looked like he'd just sucked on a lemon. He swallowed and held the scroll with trembling hands, before he said, "U-um… is this right?"

Ren nodded while Connie stared, wondering just how Jaune would react.

His heart had plunged straight to his stomach. What felt like a massive hand had begun squeezing his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Was this what being a team leader was about? Simply trying to keep from panicking? If it was he was failing, hard. Just how was he supposed to deal with this?

At this, Jaune paused. Was it even about him? What about the miners? What about his team?

Shaking his head, Jaune stammered, "I-I don't know what to do. But… but we have to go backup Nora and Pyrrha. They're by themselves out there and they won't be able to hold out for long."

As the two strode out the door, striding with a sense of purpose, Connie couldn't help but stare at her temporary blond Commander. Again, she was flummoxed. But… maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing. If nothing else, she would give him another chance to prove himself. He'd shown her the instincts for a leader, as weak as he was. She owed him that much at least.

"Commander," she said, getting Jaune's attention. She held out her hand, red-eyed visors staring him in the eye as she asked, "Your scroll, please."

-O-O-O-

Ferosteel was one of the most recent modern marvels that Carlisle Industries had released, alongside the SDC as a major contributor. By adding a special mix of Dust and tungsten to molten metal, one could delay the metal from hardening indefinitely, or at least until the tar-like fluid was no longer heated. It went on smooth and dried quickly, giving a machine that was one step away from the junkyard a new lease on life or repairing a break that would render a part otherwise useless. It was much like PRC, though it cured very differently than the super armor.

However, it did have its drawbacks. The mend, while sturdy, would never be as strong as the metal around it. It was meant to be a patch job until the part could be replaced, not a permanent solution. It was like slapping a bandage on an infection – it merely hid the underlying problem.

Deep within Grendel's core, her reactor had taken well to Felix's repair work. On top of the instant steel he'd welded a collar around the port where the break had begun, adding an additional layer of metal to prevent a catastrophic failure. Under normal operation – patrols, light fighting – this would be more than enough to last until the tank was retired. But despite all these precautions the reactor wasn't nearly as strong as it once was, and between the heavy use and slamming into the ground, one thing was clear.

Slowly but surely, the crack was widening.

-O-O-O-

Pyrrha ducked under a lunging Beowolf and hacked at its belly as it flew over, leaving it to its fate as she extended her spear, spun, and stabbed Milo underhand through the lower jaw of a Boarbatusk as it charged her. The skirmish had been quick – three more Beowolves and a pair of young Boarbatusk had sprinted out of the forest, blinded by their bloodlust. They had been cut down almost too quickly between her and Nora, working side by side with a familiarity that surprised her. Whenever Pyrrha would attack, Nora was there to watch her blindside, and Pyrrha would be there to keep the excitable girl from going too crazy with her grenades. All in all, they worked well together.

"Woo hoo! YEAH!"

Except for that.

Resisting the urge to slap her forehead, Pyrrha watched in dumb stupefaction as Nora clung to the back of a Boarbatusk with a manic grin, hand in the air and laughing as the beast did its best to throw her off. She was treating one of humanity's deadliest foes like it was a bull ride. With a sigh, Pyrrha slid her shield onto her back and pulled a discreet lever under the head of Milo's spearhead, keeping her right hand out of the as her weapon shifted into its rifle form. She barely bothered to aim before she brought Milo to her shoulder and fired, drilling the boar through the eye and killing it instantly. Nora let out an indignant squawk as the beast toppled beneath her and threw her through the air, landing with an 'ooph!' on her backside at Pyrrha's feet.

"Aw!" Nora cried miserably, crawling on her hands and knees to the fallen Boarbatusk. "No! You broke him! Not Sir Porker! He will never know peace now! He was only a month away from retirement! It was his birthday!"

Shaking clenched fists at the sky, Nora shouted against the injustice in the world while Pyrrha stared on, mouth agape and eyes wide. Behind her, Jaune huffed his way over the edge of the mine, followed shortly by Ren. Ren was barely winded as he took one look at the scene before him and released a heavy sigh, closing his eyes in frustration.

"Hah… hah… hah…" Jaune panted, hands on his knees. "So… what happened?"

Ren cringed when Nora let out a shrill, "Nooooo!"

"I think," he said, "Sir Porker was just slain."

There they were – at the feet of a thirty foot tall tower of death, a smoking pit at their backs, surrounded by a forest teeming with death and hostility – and Nora was bawling her eyes out over a dead Boarbatusk. Somehow, that wasn't surprising. Ren massaged his forehead, and in a voice that barely carried over Nora's wailing said, "Nora… calm down."

"Okay, Ren!" Nora said, shooting to her feet and completely fine. Bright and chipper once more, Nora skipped to her childhood friend with absolutely none of the grief she'd just displayed.

"Hey Ren! Guess what I just did! I rode a piggy!" she cried, clinging to his arm and not seeming to mind that Ren hadn't been able to answer her.

Jaune, mostly recovered, nudged Ren's elbow with a look of confusion. "What was that?" he mouthed.

Ren shook his head. "Just go with it."

With a shake of her head, Pyrrha put the unbelievable scene out of her mind – if she hadn't just seen it she wouldn't have believed it herself – and looked to Jaune. "Jaune, what are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were going to help with the evacuation?"

At that, Jaune stiffened. "W-well, about that, it's a little complicated…"

"Constance heard the explosions. She ran a scan of the surrounding area and told us that there's an Emergence heading this way," Ren said blandly. He didn't see the need to make the situation they found themselves in more complicated than it was with beating around the bush – thanks in part to his bluntness, Pyrrha's eyes were nearly bulging from their sockets as she stared at the two, hoping against hope that she'd gone deaf and hadn't heard them clearly.

"An Emergence?" she croaked in disbelief.

Ren nodded, his expression grim.

Jaune gave out a loud 'whew!' and straightened, having recovered from his climb up a near vertical wall. Still, he was about ready to wet himself. He'd heard stories of the last Grimm Emergence from his father, passed down from his father's father from back during the Great War. It was during the Siege of Haven, the city occupied by the Southern Army in an attempt to waylay the Northern from getting their hands on the regenerative Dust mines. The Southerners' Maus battle tanks had been destroyed, which were the only things that had been holding back the opposing forces from invading the defensive walls. They were well on their way to a defeat when howls that chilled the blood echoed from the surrounding forests and canyons and made the enemy hesitate, giving the Southerners just enough time to close the inner gates to the city. A wave of rippling black laid waste to the Northerners, and scouts later reported that Grimm numbering in the millions had utterly decimated the enemy forces. It had been the one event that turned the tide of the war, as the Northerners simply couldn't recover from the devastating losses in time to do more than defend and fall back.

Gulping, Jaune chuckled nervously and asked, "Um, it wouldn't be too late to run and live, right?"

"Jaune!" Pyrrha scolded.

"I thought not."

He paused in thought, and pulled a thumbstick from his pocket. "Oh yeah! Connie gave me this, she said it would help. We have to plug it into one of our team scrolls, though. And she said she'll catch up later, something about damage control."

Before any of them could stop him, Jaune thoughtlessly pulled out his scroll and plugged the memory stick in. Almost immediately the high-tech PDA let out an ear-splitting warble, making them wince and hold their hands to their ears – and in Jaune's case, drop the offending device – before they realized that all their scrolls were making the Dust-awful noise. Just as they were about to throw the renegade scrolls away from them, all four of them let out a happy jingle. Jaune frowned, passing a worried look to Pyrrha and Ren, only to receive blank, accusing stares.

'You did this, you fix it,' they seemed to say.

Jaune huffed before he slowly reached for his abandoned scroll, nervously licking his lips as sweat trailed down his face. His trembling hand inched closer and closer to the waiting device…

"BOOM!"Nora shouted, an inch from Jaune's ear. He yelped and tripped, flopping to the ground. As the girl snorted and laughed, he flushed a red as brilliant as Pyrrha's hair as he shouted indignantly, "Damn it, Nora! That's the second time today!"

Chuckling, Pyrrha shook her head as she grabbed Jaune's scroll off the ground and slid it open.

"Pyrrha, no!" Jaune shouted.

It gave a loud, sharp bleep, showing a blank screen with lines of code shooting along before it opened to a screen that was clearly not that of a school-issued scroll.

"I see you used the data package. Good. This will make things easier."

-O-O-O-

Connie dragged her fingers through her hair in frustration, having abandoned her helmet in her tank and leaving her ears free to lay back in agitation. She stood in the – mostly – intact foreman's office of the mine, though files had been ripped open and papers strewn about the room. Truthfully, they merely hid the filth. The place probably hadn't been cleaned in months, with a healthy layer of grimy dust on the windows helping to hide away the chaos outside. That wasn't even taking into account the faint crunching sound coming from the carpet as she walked… or the fact that she swore to Dust itself that the lump of dirt in the corner moved. Still, what took the cake was the fresh smear of blood in the middle of the room, which Connie avoided at all costs.

Ugh. She'd lived in a co-ed barracks with troops that smelled halfway between a bog and a manure farm, and this disgusted her. Surely Foreman Michaels' sense of smell must have abandoned him years ago, as he was perfectly at ease as he lounged at his desk, leaning back in his chair with a careless ease.

"And why should I tell you anything of our operations here?" he demanded belligerently. Still, now that the foreman was alone, he just seemed tired. Gone was his animosity… well, not quite, but his hostility was replaced with grudging acceptance. At least he wasn't holding his hammer any longer.

Connie stuffed down her growing ire, and said in a carefully level voice, "Foreman, your mine is about to come under attack by an Emergence. You need to tell me what you've dug and where so that I know where not to blow up and collapse any tunnels.

After a long moment, the foreman sighed and leaned forward on his desk, rubbing his head in defeat… and in doing so, looked very much like a sleepy bear. "Look," he grumbled, "the SDC owns this mine, I just run topside operations. Keep the generators going –"

Connie snorted, which he pointedly ignored.

"- maintain the equipment, keep the conveyor system running at all times… they're pretty fucking anal when it comes to their Dust. I've got no fucking clue about what goes on in there, I just keep the goods flowing. The most mining me and my boys have done is when we found this offshoot at the surface, and it's nearly tapped dry."

He gave a tired chuckle, and reached into a drawer to pull out a bottle of a deep amber liquor. "I don't get paid enough for this shit… Dust, I've never even seen their damn workers! All that goes in are armored cargo containers, and armored cargo containers are all that come out."

Connie let out a slow breath, trying to calm herself before she realized what he said. Just as the foreman was about to pour himself a healthy shot of bourbon, she slammed her palm on the desk and made the bottle jump, sending the man scrambling to catch it.

"You mean there are still people in there?" she snarled.

The foreman glared back at her, taking a moment to knock back the shot. "How the fuck should I know?!" he growled, his boozy breath making Connie wheeze. "I'm just the fucking accountant!" In a fit of rage, the foreman turned to the wall of cabinets behind him and ripped open yet another drawer, pulling out a lockbox the size and shape of a briefcase and carelessly tossed it at Connie. Her eyes went wide with shock as she scrambled to catch it, only for it to slam into her chest and nearly knock her over from the weight of it.

"You want your answers, crack that fucking thing open!" he shouted. "A company man from the SDC comes with every shipment and puts their shipping invoices in there – names, dates, you want it, it'll be in there."

Connie was aghast. "Foreman, this is confidential information! You're just giving it to me?"

Foreman Michaels sighed, tiredly rubbing his forehead as he sank into his chair once more. "Look kid, I've got no love for the SDC. I was one of their biggest competitors, United Mining. I don't know how they did it but they fucking sabotaged my operation a few years back. Killed half my crew in a cave-in and pinned me for gross negligence. I found out and they gave me this shit job to keep my mouth shut."

He leaned forward, staring her in the eye before pointing a thick, callused finger at the bloodstain behind her. "I caught one of them in here before the reactor blew, he was going through my files. I put him through my pickaxe."

Connie grimaced.

"Point is," he continued, "whatever those animals were here for it wasn't just to blow up a generator. They were after something and my guess it's whatever is in that lockbox. From all they put into this little mess it can't be anything good for the SDC, and that's alright in my book."

With a frown, Connie asked, "If you wanted to screw the SDC, why not just let the White Fang take it?"

The Foreman took a vicious pull straight from the bottle. "I ain't never doin' the SDC any favors, you can take my word for it. But if any sumbitch thinks he can waltz in and fuck us over, he's got another think comin.'"

So, he wanted her to find out the Schnee Dust Company's dirty laundry? This just screamed bad news… but, with a sigh and a mental note to get rid of the thing as soon as possible, Connie nodded. "Very well. In that case, I must return to my squad," she said dismissively, her tone flat.

With that she turned to get out of that percolating cesspool of an office, only to stop when the foreman called out, "Hey, what's an Armor pilot doing in a school like Beacon?"

Connie paused just as her hand touched the doorknob, the box clutched to her chest. With a wry chuckle to herself, she stepped through and replied, "When I find out I'll tell you."

As the office door shut behind her, she gazed out at the mine. The three bodies had been left to rest in the middle of the mine, though the miners made it a point to steer clear of the deceased. The fact that she could clearly see them was only due to the smoke clearing, thanks to someone filling the irradiated generator shed with a thick, gloopy foam that would eat the radiation and quell any fires – she could see the gunk pouring out the door across the way, steaming slightly. The people were moving with a rushed urgency, the twenty or so miners getting the damage under control working simply to keep the fear from consuming them. They mostly stayed near the foreman's office and the office building next to it, abandoning one half of the pit while they worked. As for the fire, the twenty feet between the two buildings would hopefully keep the both of them from being consumed in flame, though even now it was impossible to get back into the offices with the fire growing too intense to venture back inside. The boxes full of papers and supplies they had been able to save were being gathered in a pile before the steel bulkheads to the mine, so that when the evac came they could pile everything in and get out as soon as possible.

Speaking of which…

Connie jogged to Grendel, who waited beside the toppled excavator at the abandoned side of the mine. She clambered into the cockpit, pausing to toss the unwanted file box down to the floorboards before she slipped her helmet back. She tapped her throat, activating the throat mic before adjusting a dial at her right elbow and tuned in to a specific frequency.

Just as she was about to start broadcasting, Grendel's system gave a loud, harsh bleep. "Attention – four unregistered UOS systems detected. Expunge?" Grendel said in her flat monotone.

Connie grinned and swiveled her keyboard into place.

'Negative. Register and allow access.'

"Registering… complete. Access granted. Connection established."

Connie grinned as she watched a readout of Grendel's systems, positively filled with glee as her machine's processing capacity bumped up just a little more, in addition to the expanded radar range. She typed, punching in commands to connect them to the new network. Once she was connected, she only had to wait a few moments before one of the jailbroken scrolls was activated.

"I see you used the data package. Good. This will make things easier," she said with a grin.

"Wh-what? Who is this?" Pyrrha's voice asked.

"That data package pushed the latest version of the UOS onto your scrolls," Connie continued, ignoring Pyrrha. "You'll be able to say in contact with me at all times, and I'll be able to provide logistical support more effectively."

"Wait, Connie?"

Rolling her eyes, Connie bit back the urge to shout, 'of course it's me!' Instead, she let out a huff and said, "Yes, this is Connie. Now, we have to hurry, the first wave is going to be here in less than half an hour and –"

"Did this thing wipe out our scrolls?!" Jaune wailed

A scream of despair crackled over the connection, making Connie wince and have the urge to rip off her helmet.

"N-no, my homework! It was done! WHHHHYYY!?"

"It's the same with mine, whatever she did wiped out our data," Ren said.

"I thought that was impossible with the school scrolls," Pyrrha replied.

"Ooh, this is really cool! Thanks, Connie!"

"Nora… what she did wiped out your homework. That you spent four hours last night doing."

"What?!"

The entire time, Connie's brow began twitching in irritation, both at being ignored and the sheer lack of urgency that the group had. Finally, she had enough.

"Quiet!" she snapped, shutting up the lot of them. "The backups at Beacon are updated every three hours. You can get your data back. In the meantime, there's an Emergence coming down on us."

Pyrrha sighed. "Agreed. We can discuss your lack of methods of communication after we live through this, and how you managed to completely wipe out our scrolls or why you even carry something like that in the first place," she said accusingly.

By now, Jaune had recovered from his sobbing. "Yeah, yeah we have to hurry. Um… is it possible to show us where the Grimm are coming from?"

Connie didn't bother responding, instead pushing the data from her own radar to their scrolls.

"Oh, cool! Wait… no, that's bad," Jaune squeaked. "That's very bad…"

There was a long moment of silence as Jaune thought. "Still, they're only coming from the north. If my team and I can keep the north under control, can you handle the stragglers and make sure we don't… you know… die horribly?"

Again, her Commander surprised her with his level of thinking. Not many realized that tanks were strictly artillery pieces, not meant to be duking it out face to face with monsters.

"Affirmative, Commander. What about reinforcements?"

"Uh… what reinforcements?"

Connie's gut ran cold. "Yes Commander… reinforcements. Backup. Our way out of here."

What Jaune said next filled her with equal parts disgust and righteous fury.

"Oh yeah, that's a great idea! Um… Pyrrha, do you… uh… know anyone we can call?"

Before Pyrrha could answer, Connie said in a low, dangerous tone, "Jaune Arc… were you never trained on how to contact the Vale Army?"

"…No?"

"The VDF?"

"Uh-uh."

Connie's eye twitched. "Pyrrha?"

"No, I wasn't. My studies in Sanctum focused on combat and general knowledge of Grimm."

For a long moment, Connie did nothing but sit there motionless. However, internally, she was floored. Disgusted, she abruptly cut off the connection to her squad and slammed a palm down on the radio controls, broadcasting the frequency that she'd set up before. "Grendel to VDF Base," she spat. "Expected mob at SRD-04. ETA is twenty minutes, threat level three."

There was a crackle of static.

"…VDF Base reading. Requesting ident and daily confirmation," a bored sounding voice said.

Foot tapping impatiently, she looked at a paper taped to the side of her cockpit and gritted out, "Ident is G-LBT-one-one-seven-nine, confirmation is 'Beauty and the Beast.'"

"Acknowledged. Transferring you to Operator 443."

The words made Connie want to bite her own tongue. You'd think that an imminent Emergence would get people moving… god, bureaucracy really had no place in a fighting force. Still, at the very least she would be connected to an Operator. They were likened to a more intelligent android – a highly-advanced computer housed in a humanoid frame, able to simulate human reactions, and more importantly, cut out the human middleman between Connie and the big red button made to kill her targets dead.

"Operator 443 standing by, please state your name, ident, and request."

The voice was so human that it was uncanny, but the lack of inflections and sheer directness was obvious. Still, the gynoid was more pleasant to hear than many of the people back in Ironwood. "Pilot Constance Carlisle, ident G-LBT-one-one-seven-nine. Callsign Grendel. Fire mission and extraction is requested at coordinates three-one point zero-two-four-eight, by one-two-seven point zero-zero-five-one."

A constant, rapid-fire clicking came through Connie's headset, far faster than what a human could type at.

"Request acknowledged and granted. Two rapid transport Bullheads are being prepped, eta is thirty minutes. Fire support will be provided with two GAH-42BS units. Fire mission will commence once you are in the air. I repeat, eta thirty minutes."

Connie frowned. Of course they'd have to survive at least ten minutes… but what about the miners?

"Operator, additional evac is inbound. What's its eta?"

More typing.

"SDC Bullshark A-nine-zero-zero-two-F is inbound from the Forever Fall Mines, eta twenty-five minutes."

Damn. So they'd be protecting friendlies… that made a complicated situation even worse. And that wasn't even counting in the mine itself. "Be advised, fire mission is a commercial facility with civilians."

"Affirmative, will send additional evac for civilians."

Connie sighed in frustration, her blood still boiling as she struggled not to snap at the Operator – getting angry would just confuse it's systems and make things more difficult. "Negative, company is disallowing extraction. Fire mission is danger close. Confirm?"

"Confirmed. Your request is granted and inbound. Fire mission is danger close. Are there any additional requests?"

"Negative."

"Acknowledged. Good luck, Pilot Carlisle."

With that, the radio crackled as the line went dead. Connie grumbled under her breath, wondering just how she had gotten herself into this situation.

Oh right. Because she'd listened to Ozpin. Her luck must really hate her.

Finally, she opened the signal back up to Team JNPR. "Listen up," she snapped, before they had a chance to protest. "There are two attack Bullheads inbound. They are our extraction and will be here in half an hour. The Grimm will arrive in twenty minutes, and though the miners have their own transport coming we'll have to protect them for at least five."

"But what about the patrol?" Pyrrha asked.

"As far as I'm concerned, you've all got A's and extra credit to last you the year. But we have to be ready before the Grimm get here and buy the miners some time. Commander, what are your orders?"

Jaune, who had been lost in thought, paused before saying, "Uh, my team should set up in the north. Are there any places for you to get higher and have a better vantage point?"

She'd already looked over the map of the area to find a spot herself – of course, she'd refrained from saying anything, hoping that Jaune would use his brain and think it through. Now that he had, her approval of him bumped up slightly as she said, "Yes. There's a large hill to the east of the mine, it should give a good vantage point to shoot down from."

"Okay… go there?"

"Affirmative!"

Connie adjusted a bank of switches at her right elbow as she strapped herself in and connected the air tube to her helmet, starting Grendel and getting the tank off the ground in little more than ten seconds. She pivoted her tank even as the cockpit shut, aiming right at the wall of the mine. This was something that Jaune noticed as well, who was looking down at her from the edge of the pit.

"Hey Connie, how are you gonna get back up here? Don't you need, you know, some sort of cargo helicopter to lift you out of there, or something?"

"Ordinarily, yes," Connie said snippily. "That would be true if Grendel had tracks. She doesn't."

Whatever Jaune may have said next was drowned out as she cranked up Grendel's turbines to the max, their obnoxious screeching filling the mine as the tank slid closer and closer to the wall. Just before she hit, Grendel let out a deafening whoosh of air as her forward thrusters suddenly thrust the nose into the air, letting the tank begin to push itself up the wall of the mine. Gouts of flame burst from her ports as the tank angled higher and higher until she was parallel to the wall and pointed nearly vertically in the air, only held in place by her screaming stern thrusters, now belching out five foot long trails of blue hellfire.

"Um… guys…? We should probably get back…" Jaune muttered.

Unperturbed by the rattling and shaking in the cockpit, Connie began to hum as she eased Grendel forward… or rather, up, letting the stern thrusters do their work of holding her tank's weight and propel the entire machine up the thirty foot tall wall of the mine. The screeching intensified, louder than a banshee and even making a few windows crack, much to a cursing foreman's consternation, and progress was slow but steady. It was when Grendel was halfway up the cliff when Connie realized that she was starting to slide.

She scowled – without her forward thrusters, it would be too difficult to try to get the tank under control and more than likely would just send Grendel plummeting back to the bottom.

So she didn't. Grendel began to tilt to the right, slowing her progress up the wall. Connie put more power to Grendel's starboard thrusters to compensate for her bad heading before it got too out of hand. However, with more thrusters brought to bear Grendel began climbing even faster, too fast to bring back under control. She could only watch on in cold horror as the lip of the mine rapidly approached.

"Oh shi –"

Connie held on tight as Grendel rocketed over the lip of the mine and flew through the air before she crashed back down on her belly, making the ground shudder before her thrusters lifted her once more. Teeth rattling from the impact, Connie blearily shook her head before looking to Team JNPR standing not even twenty feet away, staring in disbelief.

"Hey, you okay in there?" Jaune called out, voice doubled from coming through his scroll and being picked up by Grendel's aural sensors.

Shaking her head once more, Connie turned her tank towards the hill without answering, driven by an unrelenting urge to get moving. She did exactly that, the acceleration slamming her back in her seat as Grendel left behind a cloud of dust and contrails of blue fire, quickly reaching its top safe speed of ninety miles per hour.

"C-Connie! Connie! Stop, are you okay?!" Jaune yelled behind her, taking a few steps before he realized that Grendel was moving far too fast for him to catch up with.

"I'm not okay, Arc. Not one bit," Connie snarled, only paying half attention to what she was saying as she manipulated the controls to keep from spinning out. "None of you have a clue on modern Grimm warfare. All of your previous teachers really screwed up when it came to your education. I don't care if we're in a time of peace, every Huntsman and Huntress needs to know how to call for backup."

"Connie, where is this coming from?" Pyrrha asked.

Connie snorted, twitching her hand to the left to avoid a rock. "You're the Invincible Woman, Pyrrha Nikos. I've heard about you. Top of your class in Sanctum. So tell me, how do you explain away the fact that you don't know the channel to use to contact the local armed forces?"

"W-well, I don't know how that's –"

"No, you don't know how that's relevant because no one taught you how important it is." Connie found herself seething, and she took a breath to calm herself. "Listen up you four. This is why we do practice runs, to iron out the rough edges. I'm going to be having a real long talk with Ozpin when we get back, but in the meantime you need to keep your heads down. I might not be a Huntress but I am a soldier, and believe me when I say that we've gone from the fire to the shit."

-O-O-O-

Back in the Beacon Plateau, alarms sounded as the VDF facility scrambled to ready itself. A level three Emergence was nothing to joke about – every Grimm in a hundred mile radius would flock to the epicenter of the disaster, and it was important to strike at the heart of it before the situation got even more out of hand. Granted, this was only level three – with the scale going all the way to ten, a three was merely a threat to all nearby towns. A five would be a severe danger to a city. Seven, an entire continent. A ten was, thankfully, a purely hypothetical incident, a global extinction event the likes of which humanity had never seen. For a disturbing comparison, the Siege of Haven had been projected to only have been a level four.

Still, despite the relatively reduced danger, it was still an Emergence. The aircraft hangers creaked open, camouflaged to look like the rocky walls of the plateau, and a pair of high-speed Bullheads rocketed out on screaming jets of flame. They were much like the assault Bullheads with jagged armor, though their rocket pods had been replaced for one-off jet engines, disposable boosters capable of propelling the VTOL nearly double its rated speed.

The pair disappeared into the clouds within moments. Behind them, however, additional hatches opened along the rock wall. Within these hatches were small chambers cut off from the rest of the base, completely isolated and directed from the main control room. They didn't need to be large anyway.

Not for the nine, twenty-inch cannons now being aimed by satellite at SRD-04. They were carried through their hatches by rails and, mounted on rotating platforms, turned and angled their barrels to the sky, the mine well within their forty-five mile range to provide support in the way of two and a half thousand pound explosive shells, guided by satellite and thermal imaging, not unlike the disabled defense towers that surrounded the mine.

In truth, they were modernized versions of the cannons mounted on the Twin Queens, the VANV Eternity and Temperance. The shells were the exact same as over eighty years before… however, while the original cannons were hand loaded and could put out around two rounds per minute, these modernized versions were hooked up to an autoloader, making the cannons able to spit out almost twelve rounds per minute.

There was a reason why no Grimm had ever been able to pass the Beacon Plateau, also known as the Dragon's Teeth.

-O-O-O-

In the confusion of the sabotage, all the miners had time for was to drag the bodies of the White Fang where they'd be out of the way. They didn't bother to check if they were still alive. Not one of the workers had any love for Faunus, and all three were beaten and bludgeoned to death. Still, perhaps impossibly, the only one who still drew breath was the one who had been caught in the foreman's office and subsequently gored with a pickaxe.

However, he was not long for this world. His breath rattled in his chest and it took every fiber of his being to keep his eyes open. He knew he was dying. However, he had some small amount of satisfaction. He'd seen the soldier Faunus carrying the prize he himself had been after and drop it into her tank.

In his final moments, he prayed. He prayed that the girl would find what they themselves had known for years, but hadn't the evidence needed to bring the SDC to its knees. Hopefully, what the girl held in her hands would be enough.

Still, he smiled as he passed, knowing that at least a friendly face held the future of the Faunus in her hands.

-O-O-O-

The hill in question was just that – a squat knoll with a summit barely fifty feet above the ground. Still, it was mostly devoid of trees, with only a few brambles to block Connie's line of sight as Grendel approached the top of the hillock at high speed. An unfortunate briar hedge was flattened and burned as the tank ducked into a slide, bearing her starboard thrusters as Connie coaxed the machine into a bootleg turn that pivoted Grendel a full one hundred and eighty degrees back the way she came, now facing the mine a mere two seconds after she reached the top of the hill.

Connie flicked a switch that extended Grendel's landing legs, as she cut the power to her thrusters. With the extra power being diverted to sensors, she reached for her throat microphone and said, "Commander, I've reached the hill. Awaiting orders."

Instead of an answer, a rush of static and a loud bang ripped through the connection, blasting Connie's ear drums into oblivion. As she yelped and clutched her head in agony she could hear Ren faintly yell, "Nora! You didn't hear a Nightmare Maw! Stop shooting the trees!"

"But I did hear one, Renny! They crawl in your ears and make you think bad thoughts!"

Another thunk-BOOOM! of Nora's grenade launcher made Connie want to reach through her own headset and swat the girl's head.

"Nora, they turn invisible! And they're only native to Mistral!"

"…yeah," Jaune voice said, just as disbelieving as Connie was. "This is Jaune, leave a message after the beep…"

"Beep."

Connie's gut twisted, both in irritation and panic as she said tersely, "Commander, what are your orders?"

If she had to be perfectly honest, she had absolutely no idea what to do now. She'd prepared as best she could, but beyond that, was there even anything else she could do?

"Okay, okay, uh… is there any way for you to detect the Grimm early?"

Connie glanced at her sensor readouts. "Affirmative. There's nothing on my long-range scanners yet."

"Mind if you keep an eye on that? Also, if you can, try to keep them from overwhelming us…" Jaune trailed off, and gave a tense, panicked chuckle. "Oh Dust, there's an Emergence coming!"

Though she desperately, desperately wanted to panic just like Jaune was doing, Connie forced the tremble from her voice as she chided, "Commander, calm yourself. In a real combat situation, behavior like this will diminish the morale of your troops and make it much more likely for the mission to fail."

"But this is a real combat situation! We're gonna die!"

"And that is exactly what my job is, to prevent your death."

-O-O-O-

Jaune stared at his scroll, mouth hanging open slightly. Her job was to prevent his death? What did she mean by that? At his silence, Connie continued relentlessly, "Jaune Arc, this is what it means to be a Commander. You send your troops into the fray and hope as many as possible make it back, with the knowledge that your decision may prevent them from doing so. Your decisions carry the weight of their lives. That is your responsibility as a team leader, and possibly a commander of even more people."

There was a grunt as the Faunus girl shifted in her seat. "And my responsibility is to make sure you keep breathing and making those decisions. I will trade my life for you or any of your team if the situation calls for it."

Jaune recalled Blake's words from two weeks ago. "'Hostile environment?' That's a kind term for a place that turns Faunus into suicidal meatshields."

Was this what she meant?

"Movement!" he heard Connie's voice call out. "You called it; closest contact is five minutes from your position, directly north. You're right in the way of the mine, sir."

Panic gripped Jaune's heart, making it hard to breathe. A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his rising terror, and Jaune looked to see Pyrrha giving him an encouraging smile. "It's just an Emergence, Jaune," she said, with confidence that she didn't feel. "We'll get through this."

A flash of trying to wield his sword flashed through Jaune's mind. It was a week before he'd 'left' for Beacon, having yet again swiped his great-grandfather's sword off the mantelpiece while his parents were out and they'd thought he was studying. Well, technically he was studying he'd reasoned with himself. Knowing that his mother would never let him take part in any sort of dangerous activity – she'd barely allowed him to use the kitchen knives to even cook with, after all – Jaune had thought that, if he could impress them with his skill, they'd allow him aboard the Beacon airship. Surely his father, a well-known Huntsman himself, would be able to convince his overbearing mother to attend, right?

So he'd thought he would get some last minute practice in. He was even swinging the thing without getting immediately winded! And then he'd lost his grip, sending Crocea Mors flying at the garage, through the wall, and into the side of his father's priceless Colt GT500, having never had a dent or scratch ever since Grandad had gotten it straight off the factory line.

Needless to say, Jaune had left that very afternoon… albeit after leaving a short, scrawled note explaining where he was going. His mother would move heaven and earth for any one of her children, especially if one had gone missing without warning… and most likely with, as well.

He neglected to mention the car.

Jaune chuckled nervously, the memory playing at the forefront of his mind. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

God, he was such a loser.

His sudden melancholy was sensed by Nora, and she leapt on his back with her legs wrapped around his waist and arms in an iron chokehold around his neck. As he gasped and spluttered for air, scrambling to stay upright, Nora let out a wild cackle and shouted, "And so the queen mounts her valiant steed! We ride for honor! For glory! For- whoa!"

Jaune lost his battle with gravity – and Nora's surprising weight – and toppled to the ground, landing face-first in a mole hill while Nora sat on his back with a wide, unashamed grin on her face.

"My back…" Jaune groaned.

Ren chuckled, shaking his head as his Storm Flowers shot from the concealed holsters in his sleeves. "I think you may have broken him, Nora."

Nora laughed at this and hauled Jaune to his feet, ignoring his spluttering and spitting of dirt as she patted him on the back. "Jauney's fine, look!"

Of course, a pat from Nora was like a backhand from an Ursa. Jaune was instantly bowled over and off his feet, landing once more in the mole hill. With his back arched and knees bent, he was balanced perfectly on his face. Nora stared at her unfortunate leader for a long moment before she spread her arms and cheered, "Ta da!"

Jaune's legs flopped to the ground. "Ouch…" he groaned.

"Is this how your team always acts in a combat situation?" Connie asked, her voice muffled from the scroll where it lay face down on the ground. She'd watched silently through Grendel's cameras, and from a professional standpoint, she wasn't impressed. But, if she had to be honest… they looked like they enjoyed having their fun. Even if it was at their leader's expense. Unfortunately, her distraction was only broken by Pyrrha, and she cursed herself for not keeping a closer eye on her sensors.

"Get ready!" Pyrrha shouted, drawing Miló and Akoúo. She'd been watching with a slight smirk, happy that her team was already beginning to show the camaraderie between all of them, but a rustle not unlike the one she'd heard before she and Nora were attacked had come from the trees directly ahead of them. And to the left. And the right. Feeling out with her Aura, her eyes narrowed as she realized that the creatures of darkness had them mostly surrounded, backs to the pit. Of course, that worked in their favor – the Grimm were always attracted to the strongest sources of Aura first, the need to eliminate the strongest threats too great for them to simply begin massacring helpless civilians.

Her shout immediately sent Ren and Nora into action, rushing to stand with the warrior with their weapons at the ready.

"Jauney, c'mon! The fun's about to start!" Nora hollered over her shoulder, spinning Magnhild with a deftness that only she could have with the massive weapon.

"Fun. Right," Jaune muttered, staggering to his feet as he drew Crocea Mors. Huffing, he took his place next to Pyrrha, spitting one last glob of dirt before he said, "Right, we have to hold them off for at least five minutes until those SDC Bullheads get here, then we can run until ours come pick us up. Nora, hang back and keep them from swarming. Use as many grenades as you want."

"Thank you, Jauney!" Nora cheered, already envisioning her weapon filling the air with its thunderous cacophony.

"Jaune, do you realize what you've done?" Ren asked, eyebrow raised.

Jaune nodded. "Yep, we need Nora at her worst. And I need you to be point man. You need to thin them out before they get to me and Pyrrha. And be conservative with your Aura strikes, I don't know if those Bullheads will be on time."

Ren nodded.

With one last breath to calm himself, he looked to Pyrrha, who was looking at him appraisingly. "Okay, you and me are going to be up front. Go all out."

At this, Pyrrha deftly shifted Miló into its sword form, standing with her shield out and blade ready to gut the nearest Grimm. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she said with a smile.

-O-O-O-

Honor. Fame. Glory. Incalculable amounts of sponsorship offers. Those were just a few of the things that were offered to Pyrrha during her rise to a celebrity. In truth, she hated it. She hated the attention, the soul-sucking media, and that when being famous also meant you had to forgo normal, healthy relationships.

In truth, it all started as a hobby. She'd always been less than stellar in her studies, and with her parents rich and demanding nothing but the best from her she'd quickly grown frustrated with her C- average and general lack of ability. She needed some way to get the anger out of her. Combat training, while unorthodox, worked beautifully, and while Master Zangan was quite miffed at replacing training dummies so quickly, he was proud of her ability to use both a shield and a spear, weapons notorious for needing good coordination to use effectively, not to mention that a spear was meant to be a two-handed weapon. They'd shared many evenings together, sitting in his worn-down dojo drinking tea. As her strength grew, so did her confidence. As her confidence grew, so did her grades and people's perception of her. The real turning point was two years into her training, when she'd singlehandedly stopped a mugger from assaulting a young woman.

The media, already driven into a frenzy by the increasing White Fang attacks and the disappearance of a town to the east of Vale, descended on her like vultures. They'd called her, a ten year old girl, a hero. Someone that everyone should aspire to be. The questions and demands and endless questions nearly drove her mad, but the sudden media spotlight was good for her parent's ailing company, so she was forced to grit her teeth and bear it. And with her growing prestige, so did her parent's opinion of what they thought was proper for her. Zangan was forced away, replaced with stuffy, unrelenting instructors. Her beloved spear and shield were replaced with Miló and Akoúo, and while she loved them as well, they were still forced upon her. Yet another thing that set her apart from what her parents called 'commoners.' Those evenings in the worn dojo were replaced with blood and pained hisses in the shower as she cleaned herself from another grueling day. Her grades, which had been recovering, were forced on the wayside as combat became her life. In truth, the short month she'd spent at Beacon was the most education she'd received in years.

The fame and status was fun for a time, as were the rewards… but she always regretted not staying to who she was and for losing her old master. All to please her parents, who now reveled in a fat, wealthy clothing chain.

She was snapped out of her thoughts, with a pack of five Beowolves sprinting out of the forest. Pyrrha waited until they were nearly on her and then ducked under the flying lunge of one Beowolf, slashed the side of a second as it passed by, and finally slammed her shield against the skull of a third as it charged her, shattering both its mask of bone and skull into gravel little more than gravel. She spun on her heel and stabbed through the neck of the wailing second, severing its spine before extending her weapon into a javelin and hurling it through the back of the head of the first, destroying all three in the time it took to blink. Seeing Jaune's look of awe, Pyrrha suppressed a blush before she ripped her weapon free of the Beowolf corpse at her feet and dropped to a knee, triggering her weapon's rifle form, and was aiming down the sights and drilling high-caliber rounds into the skulls of the approaching horde.

-O-O-O-

He was always quiet. Growing up in a temple did that to someone. One learned to speak only when it was important, and contemplate when it wasn't. Ren, of the Lie clan, embraced the quiet solitude of his youth, learning the old ways of Mistral and its traditions and history. By the time that parents decided to leave for Vale and spread their teachings there, he was already more mature than many of the adults at the temple, let alone Vale itself.

Case in point: on his first day of second grade he was bullied for his 'abnormal' behavior. Well, they attempted to. Nora Valkyrie put a stop to that.

His gratitude towards her evaporated as soon as she had spoken, and he realized that she was the most immature person he had met in his entire life. She was brash, loud, violent, and foolish. Nora had moments of intelligence, but they were few and far between. At first he'd hated her, but shoved those feelings down with reminders of his teachings. He tolerated her for the sake of his parents, if nothing else. But then, over time, that hate died with the girl's sheer honesty. She was outspoken, lively, and with that came with the fact that the girl hid nothing. Her sincerity, after he realized what it was, was refreshing compared to the lying game that adults loved to play. Before he realized it, he had grown to like Nora Valkyrie. She was a force to be reckoned with, and not just from her bone-crushing Magnhild.

Somehow, along the way, he'd decided that he'd follow her. People always assumed it was he that led Nora around, keeping her out of trouble. No, it was the other way around – while he certainly tried to keep Nora under control, it was she that made the decisions. It was her decision to become a Huntress. It was her decision to create one of the most devastating weapons ever catalogued.

It truth, he was simply her self-appointed guardian.

Ren danced among the thickening lines of Grimm. It began with the five. And then there were twenty, then fifty. Before he even realized it, there were nearly a hundred Grimm sprinting at them and yeowling for blood. Of course, that didn't matter if they didn't know he was there. He flowed among the beasts like water, every movement precise and without flair – he used a combination of Mistralan martial arts and Atlesian CQC, melding the flowing movements of the former with the powerful, crushing strikes of the latter. His attacks flowed into movement and movement back into attacks, much like the pounding of the ocean on a shore. Or the lethal, coiled strikes of a viper.

As the mob grew thicker, Ren sprinted ahead to meet the beasts. He dodged to the side and dug his left-hand Storm into the eye of a young Ursa as it thundered by, killing it, before he sprang off the ground and flipped with a leg extended. As his heel struck the back of a Beowolf he let off a burst of Aura, turning the spine-shattering axe kick into a devastating force that vaporized its skull and liquefied the beast's innards, flattening it into its own crater. Ren carried his moment into a spin, letting himself fall into the path of a charging Boarbatusk, only for the oversized boar to be sent flying into another of its brethren. Finally letting himself hit the ground, Ren dropped into a roll and kicked off the face of a snarling Beowolf, firing StormFlower, harassing the horde with a steady, calm mind that made him nearly invisible to them.

-O-O-O-

Nora Valkyrie was well aware of the things that were said behind her back. What most people didn't realize was that she was smarter than she seemed, that the only reason she could act the way she did was because of her ability to learn quickly. It was in Pre-K that this was discovered, having learned both the alphabet and how to count far sooner than the other children. It also set her apart from them, leaving her lonely and without friends. While adults would find her bubbly personality cute, to the other children it just made them hate her all the more, and children could be so much crueler than people realized. She went without friends for much of her early life.

And then in second grade, she met Ren. The new boy from Mistral was quiet, almost painfully so. She saved him from bullies, and instead of slinking away to wallow in being alone, she threw herself at him. She'd held nothing back, no worry or joke left unspoken. When it was time to choose her future path, she had instantly chosen to become a Huntress for that was the way her parents had gone. Even when no one from her classes joined her, it was Ren that followed soon after. When she'd constructed Magnhild, it was Ren that didn't criticize the simplicity of the weapon, instead commending her for it. He didn't scold her for her lack of Aura control, instead training with her to make it as good as it could possibly be. In Ren she'd found a lifelong companion, one that would stick with her through thick and thin.

Of course, one would have to look hard to find the hyperactive, distractible young woman called Nora Valkyrie at the moment, as she was laughing long and hard as she fired grenade after grenade at the Grimm horde. Chunks and fountains of black gore spewed wherever her grenades landed, keeping the mix of Beowolves, Ursa, and Boarbatusk funneled toward Jauney and Pyrrha. Flashes of blue projectiles helped as well, thinning out the numbers before they even reached the pair. Nora seriously had to ask Connie where to get one of those tanks.

A growl to her undefended right tore her from her thoughts; a single Beowolf managed to sneak through the maelstrom of her grenades, teammates, and Connie. While most Huntresses-in-training would panic and try to shift their weapon back into whatever melee form it had, Nora knew that it would take approximately one point fifty-six seconds for Magnhild to assume it's hammer form, time she didn't have with the Beowolf already pouncing at her. This was something she knew by instinct and her body moved automatically into a spin, bringing her grenade launcher around to strike the beast in the muzzle just as it reached her, bowling it over. Now Nora shifted her weapon, letting the beast yeowl and clutch its shattered face before she swung Magnhild in a mighty, underhanded swing, punting the Beowolf high into the air, only to impale itself on a Major Ursa's shoulder spines on the way back down.

-O-O-O-

Stories of the Arc family were known throughout the world, tales of valor and courage dedicated to the ancient clan dating all the way to the mass migration from Mistral centuries before. So to say that Jaune Arc, only son to the Arc name, had pressure on his shoulders was an understatement. Each of the seven other Arc siblings had accomplished much in their own right – Rouge Arc, the eldest, was a well-decorated Vale Army Lieutenant and part-time Huntress, having diverted an Emergence outside Vacuo with just an airship and a platoon of troops; Evelyn, second eldest, was quickly becoming one of Remnant's premier lyricists and songwriters, though she couldn't hold a tune to save her life. While Diana and Leila weren't exactly famous, the adopted twins were well known in Patch for being world-class pranksters, and where one was the other would never be far behind; they'd be graduating combat school, soon. Viola Arc was the family's problem child, having taken to dark clothing and even darker make-up by the time she was twelve. Then again, she'd picked up her combat training with single-minded intensity and used it with cold-hearted vengeance on any who tried to hurt her family, despite her taciturn demeanor that would suggest that she wanted nothing to do with the Arc family.

And then there was Jaune. He'd been coddled and babied most of his life, both by his elder sisters and his mother. It was both endearing and pathetic, at least for himself. He loved them all to death, but he could see the writing on the wall when he'd left – unless he made a change himself, nothing ever would. Plus he wanted to look cool for little Millie.

His six year old little sister was one of the bright spots of his life. She was loud, stubborn, attention-hungry, playful, and quite possibly a WMD from her determination to find out people's secrets. With her smarts, she had more than enough of a chance to do anything she wanted, and Jaune wanted to be able to say that he had the courage to follow his dream without feeling like a complete liar.

He was certainly wishing that he was back home as he watched Pyrrha dance among the Grimm like a vengeful, pagan war goddess, slaughtering the beasts without the slightest bit of effort, the piles of corpses at her feet marking a line that simply couldn't be crossed. The sight of her fighting so effortlessly put more courage into Jaune's heart than he realized, and he wanted to do the same. Mollified that he had one of the strongest woman he'd ever known by his side, Jaune gritted his teeth and charged into battle, sprinting by Pyrrha and not hearing her panicked warnings. His stance was sloppy – his shield was too low, feet not wide enough, and he was brandishing Crocea Mors like it was a barbarian's club. Letting out a yell, Jaune reeled back his arm to swing at a charging Beowolf, only to take a full-speed Boarbatusk roll to his blindside. Jaune could scarcely let out a yelp before he was sent flying, and rolled to a stop at the base of a pile of dead Beowolves.

Panting and feeling the dull, ice-cold numbness that came from Aura depletion, Jaune looked to the scroll strapped to his wrist and watched the incoming lines of Grimm thickening considerably.

He glanced at the time. Fifteen minutes in, five to go.

Jaune wearily looked at his team – Nora was doing well for herself, lobbing swarms of grenades about twenty feet back and to the right of him, and while she didn't have a pile of bodies she had a scattered mess of parts strewn about the battlefield. He could hardly see Ren, though he could certainly see the sprays of blood from his knives and bullets as the martial artist flowed through the Grimm. Through the ringing in his ears, he could see Pyrrha yelling as she sprinted towards him.

What she didn't see was the massive Boarbatusk that ripped out of the forest behind her, spinning like a massive wheel of death, its elongated spines churning the earth and any Grimm that failed to get out of the way in time. It steered itself right towards Pyrrha.

Time seemed to stop.

Jaune opened his mouth to warn her.

It was too late. The Grand Boarbatusk barreled right into the Amazon, and with a pained yell she was sent flying through the air before she slammed into a defense tower close to Jaune. He could only watch in horror as she fell to the ground with a boneless thud.

He stared at her, hoping against hope that she would leap to her feet and charge into battle once more. However, his prayers went unanswered.

She didn't get up.

-O-O-O-

It was the first time in a long time that Connie was using her tank in its original purpose – long-range artillery bombardment to soften the enemy. She'd been sent on scouting runs, participated in ambushes, shrugged off damage to shield her allies. Yet sitting on top of the hill, Grendel's thrusters inactive and pounding shot after shot into the ranks of Grimm as they approached Team JNPR, was somehow cathartic. The hill gave her a clear view of the entire mine as she lined up the barrel to an Ursa, leading ahead of it slightly before she pulled the trigger, making the tank rock softly on its suspension.

The munitions she was firing were essentially globs of highly-reactive Dust, shaped by magnetism to hold together long enough to reach the target. As it was a perfect sphere as it flew through the air, the shots were unable to punch into the target like a normal shell. A Dust cannon delivered its damage through sheer, explosive force, a concussive blast that simply blew off what it couldn't penetrate. The Ursa was no exception – the shot was led perfectly and impacted against the side of its mask, exploding in a brilliant blue plume of fire that vaporized its head and part of its shoulders, and sent the corpse flopping to the ground.

Connie put the kill out of her mind and focused on her next target, a massive Elder Beowolf that had bounded out of the forest. It's mighty howl of defiance was lost on her – with the Grimm stationary and howling at the sky, the shot was ridiculously easy as she centered in on the beast's chest.

KOOOM!

Even as Connie fired, the Beowolf seemed to sense the incoming danger and ducked, letting an Ursa behind it take the hit. It continued to duck and dodge as it weaved among the throngs of Grimm around it, letting them take the hits as Connie fired again and again. Her frustration grew each time the beast managed to stay just ahead of her shots, somehow avoiding right at the last moment. It was almost like it could anticipate her shots, like it knew where she was.

Connie froze.

The Elder seemed to sense her sudden panic and looked right where her tank sat among the brambles and grinned, right before it turned tail and disappeared into the forest once more.

It certainly did know where she was.

An alarm blared as a pair of blips appeared on Grendel's radar, not even twenty feet away. "Proximity alert!"

"Shit!" Connie shouted. Before she could react, a pair of Beowolves leapt at her tank from either side. With the CIWS offline and the thrusters stone cold, Connie could do nothing but curse as the beasts leapt on top of Grendel and slashed at her metal hide, one mangling the thinner armor on top of the turret, while the second let out a toothy grin as it approached the cockpit hatch with its claws ready to tear it off.

Scowling, Connie pounded a button at her elbow. "Get off my tank," she growled.

It seemed that Grendel was just as displeased as her pilot was. The fat dome slid up from the turret, giving an angry bleep before it rounded on the Beowolf closing in on the cockpit. Unlike the last time Grendel was in the Emerald Forest, carefully spitting out a pair of shells at each target, there was no precision or careful aiming this time. The targeting AI deemed the situation necessary for extreme prejudice and before either Grimm could react, the dome spat out six eight-gauge shells at the target over half a second. Each shell carried fourteen pellets, heavy enough to break through the carapace of a young Deathstalker. At such close range, the thinly armored hide of a Beowolf never stood a chance.

The Beowolf's torso disintegrated, bisecting the beast in a spray of ichor with nary a howl of pain. As the lifeless halves fell, the AI calculated how to dispatch the second. With the Beowolf standing on the turret, the gimbaling barrels wouldn't be able to pan up far enough the take it out in one shot. So, it just had to bring the Beowolf down to its level. The CIWS blasted off the right foot, making the Grimm fall to its knee before it shot that off and most of its thigh as well. Missing an entire right leg, the Beowolf fell on its side amid howls of pain before it took a pair of shells in the chest, blowing the corpse off the tank entirely.

Connie let out a huff. Serves me right for tunnel visioning, she grumbled to herself. The camera feed from the turret gave her a clear view of the mangling the Beowolf had done to Grendel – though it wasn't nearly as bad as before, there were still gouges in the metal that made Connie wince.

Still, the fact that Beowolf had been able to do this was disturbing. They were getting smart. Too smart. That the beast had been able to draw her attention as its pack snuck up on her attributed to that. It was true that older Grimm were smart enough to coordinate the attacks of their pack, but what had just happened was on the level of human intelligence. That simply didn't happen.

She shook herself. Now wasn't the time to be lost in thought. Her expression was grim under her helmet as she increased the throttle, thumbing the roll wheel at the top of her left control stick. She barely even noticed the second pair of Beowolves that lunged through the brush – with a dismissive wave of her hand, she flicked a switch to start a fuel dump, incinerating the Grimm where they stood. Inelegant, but not even napalm was that effective.

"Jaune, no! Stop, they'll target you! JAUNE!"

At Pyrrha's panicked scream coming over the radio, Connie's gaze frantically skimmed over her viewscreen. They'd thinned the numbers with their assault, but the Grimm just kept coming. Still, it was enough to spot the team making a stand at the northern end of the mine, and she zoomed in to see what was going on.

Jaune had been struck, lying feebly on the ground. Pyrrha spotted her partner and rushed to help, turning her back on the Grimm.

Connie's heart flew to her throat as she helplessly watched a Grand Boarbatusk slam into the girl and send her flying right into the side of a defense tower, where she lay unmoving.

"Children," she growled to herself, before she sighed in resignation. Of course the most experienced warrior would be the first to fall from an utterly rookie mistake. Still, if a Hunter died under her watch not only would it reflect badly on her, but it would also reflect badly on the school itself for finding an incompetent pilot. Plus there was that small bit of her that would feel like utter garbage for letting her die.

Connie steeled herself and rammed the throttle open. Dust-fire spewed from Grendel's stern jets as the tank rocketed forward, incinerating even more of the bramble as it flew down the hill and only caught itself once it reached the bottom, scraping the belly along the ground. It pulled free with a spray of sod and sped toward the river of Grimm that were beginning to overwhelm Team JNPR, with Jaune shaking Pyrrha to try to wake her up as Nora pelting the incoming beasts. A group of twenty Grimm was approaching fast, a mix of Beowolves and Boarbatusks, with the slower Ursai lumbering behind them.

The Grand Boarbatusk and Elder Beowolf had yet to make another appearance. Despite that, most of the Grimm were waiting among the trees, only sending a few groups at a time, though their numbers were steadily getting larger. Again this was unusual, as the creatures would normally be throwing themselves into battle with absolutely no concern to their own wellbeing. It had to be the presence of the older Grimm – this was a display of raw tactical ability, however rudimentary it may have been. Waiting until the main forces arrived was a simple but effective strategy to whittle down an opponent. And it showed, as Nora had finally lost her smile as she fought to keep the Grimm back. It was only her and her devastating grenades that were keeping them at bay, yet if she closed in to put her monstrous strength to work, Grimm would be able to get around her and into the mine. As it was, she was relying solely on Ren to delay them as he weaved among their ranks.

Despite their efforts, with most of their strength gone Team JNPR would quickly fall.

"Children," Connie growled again.

In the hundred feet between Team JNPR and the mob of incoming Grimm, Connie threw Grendel into a full slide that made the tank scream as it thundered into a scrambling Beowolf, tilted nearly ninety degrees, stunning both the students and the monsters for a brief, critical moment.

It wasn't wasted.

Connie fired even before Grendel had leveled out, nearly sending the tank out of control from the recoil. Gritting her rattling teeth, she watched as the shot blew out a deep crater just ahead of the pack that the Grimm had no time to avoid or jump over. With many of the Beowolves and Boarbatusk yeowling as they plummeted into the pit, Connie checked her stern camera to see Nora, Jaune, and Ren staring at her tank in stupefaction.

Pyrrha still hadn't moved in the chaos. In fact, none of them were moving.

She could yell at them. She could even threaten them with a poor grade. However, during her time at Ironwood she'd found that one of the most effective ways to get her moving was the sound of highly volatile Dust exploding. Hopefully it would work for Team JNPR, and she would be lying if she said there wasn't a gleeful, manic grin on her face as she aimed Grendel's crosshairs at a large Beowolf that was about to climb out of the pit.

It disappeared in a bright blue explosion, vaporized before it even knew what happened, and the shockwave flattened any Grimm unfortunate enough to still be trapped in the pit. The blast was loud enough that the Grimm still hanging back in the forest hesitated, something that Connie was grateful for as Grendel eased to a stop before the frozen Hunters. She reached for a control on the dashboard and turned on the loudspeakers.

"I can give you thirty seconds," she said with false confidence, quickly typing and flicking toggles along the dash. "Get Pyrrha back on her feet or all of us are Grimm bait." Truthfully she was terrified, but thinking about how to squeeze every last drop of power from Grendel helped distract her. Sure, rerouting power from non-critical systems wasn't as effective as pushing the reactor to near-meltdown, but it got the job done.

Behind the tank, Nora and Ren shared a quick look and a nod. "Go help Connie, I can wake Pyrrha up," Ren said, giving Nora a look that gave her no room to argue. She still wanted to though, which was plainly obvious for Ren. Though, somehow, he knew it wasn't concern for Pyrrha. Fully aware of his growing inability to say no to Nora's face, he sighed and relented.

"Fine, you can go help Connie…"

As Nora let out an excited whoop and sprinted to the defense tower, Ren couldn't help but wonder if he'd given the monster that was his best friend too much power over him…

As this was happening, Jaune was frantically checking to see if his partner was alright. Though admittedly he had no idea what he was doing – he'd already checked her pulse and found that either he was partnered with a zombie or that he'd missed something in health-ed, and made sure that her pupils weren't dilated. He was kinda sure that meant she didn't have a concussion… or maybe she did? And other than some minor bruising in her left side and shoulders from being rammed by a Boarbatusk –and consequently ramming into a defense tower – she seemed mostly fine. Still, if she was fine, why was she just laying there?!

He needed Pyrrha to tell him what he was doing wrong. Of course, that was somewhat difficult with the girl in question unconscious. Even Jaune knew that they didn't stand a chance without her, his own pathetic skills notwithstanding.

With that in mind, he couldn't help but give a shrill scream as Nora flew inches over his head, Magnhild in hand and cackling as she flipped and brought her weapon down on Pyrrha's stomach.

Were it not for the Amazon's superb Aura control, even unconscious, her spine and pelvis would have surely shattered – the blow carried enough force to drive Pyrrha's body a full two inches into the ground. It wasn't surprising that it woke her. Pyrrha was ripped from unconsciousness with dry heaves and a pained shriek, feeling like she'd been hit with a freight train, but she was awake. Still, if Nora thought she would be grateful, the hammer-wielding maniac was sorely mistaken.

"Nora!" Pyrrha bellowed, hunched on all fours as her stomach did its best to vacate her body.

"She's awake!" Nora sang, twirling Magnhild like it was a baton and completely perturbed by Pyrrha's retching. "None can resist my 'Knock Block Wake-up Clock!'"

If her singing wasn't indicative of the girl's utter glee of brutalizing her teammate awake, then the impossibly wide grin was.

-O-O-O-

With every pulse of the vector jets and every shot fired, the reactor thrummed with power. It was a beating, artificial heart, thudding in time to the pilot's commands. The fourteen separate arterioles of the reactor contained enough power to run a small house for years, endlessly shunting compressed Dust through the millimeter-wide tubes. It was more than enough power for a single tank, giving it the capability to run for weeks without resupply.

What was never accounted for, however, was for the reactor's internal brain to be forcibly modified. While it was a simple computer, it was still a computer – therefore, it was subject to overclocking. Though someone skilled could squeeze more and more performance out of a computer through overclocking, the process almost made it inevitable that the machine would make more and more mistakes as heat build-up pushed it closer to frying itself to death

The same could be said of the reactor. Its dampening field had been externally weakened to instability eleven times before, forcing the reactor to perform harder than it had ever been intended to and generating heat that could kill someone within seconds. Still, it had been stable. As long as it wasn't released too often too soon, it would have been fine.

That changed when the tank was force-fed a solid gem of Dust, shredding the reactor's already taxed pulverizing unit that prevented solid matter from entering the reactor itself. The explosion of metal and Dust fragments had rattled the superheated reactor.

Of course, when metal was superheated it was also weakened. That tremor caused a split to form in the reactor wall.

It was the same split that was repaired with ferrosteel and reinforced with a metal collar. While the patch repair did its job, it could do nothing if one of the split reached the arterioles inside it, nor could it prevent them from bursting once that happened.

---

CODEX: Passive Resistance Coating (PRC) vs Active Resistance Coating (ARC)

In the last decade, engineers have been researching ways to strengthen armor against Grimm attacks. It is common knowledge that the only surefire way to defend against the Grimm is to have Aura, but as not everyone does, a way for steel to do this has been sought for hundreds of years. It is a known fact that Grimm are able to penetrate steel with their claws, which have been found to be infused with diamond particulate.

With modern technologies however, such a way was found. By weaving Dust into the composition of metal during the smelting process, scientists have been able to nearly double steel's natural resistance. On its own, the difference between PRC and steel are negligible. However, vibrations cause the Dust particles to give off a natural resonance, much like how Aura can manifest itself in the physical world. While not nearly as effective as Aura, PRC gives off a tangible barrier with equivalent strength to how much Dust was originally smelted into the metal, which itself acts much like a tuning fork.

It has also been discovered that this resonance can be manipulated through electricity. When that same metal is electrified and set to a certain frequency, a single piece of millimeter thick sheet metal is able to exponentially larger amounts of force. However, this resonance is difficult to maintain, and will become unstable from conflicting vibrations. While dependent on the amount of Dust smelted into the armor, it will take at least one hour for the resonance to stabilize to a usable state.

Generally, this resonance settles in the thirty to forty megahertz range. However, this can be increased to ten gigahertz to increase the strength of the barrier, while at the same time decreasing stability.