AN: Sorry for the wait. Writer's block is a bitch. Kind of couldn't work out where to take this chapter, but needed to get something out, so it's a bit filler. Quite technical, which I hope you'll enjoy. Don't worry, more cutesy DesxBlake moments soon! If that's your thing.

Today's ambience: London Liverpool Street to Norwich | FULL JOURNEY | Greater Anglia 745 Stadler FLIRT (via Ipswich)

Also: Greater Anglia Class 321 Ride: London Liverpool Street to Norwich (Fast) - 27/02/20

Chapter 3

Under Construction

Desmond was ecstatic. The first half-term at Beacon was just ending, and everything was beginning to come together. Construction and demolition works had started across the city, his scientists were hard at work building a power source that could theoretically run a city, and to top it all off he'd got authorisation for the Airport link as well as what he was now affectionately naming the 'Belladonna Chord' connecting the Airport and Beacon lines. He'd also got permission from old man Ozpin to build a 280-metre train station with an option to add another 120 metres in the future, right alongside Beacon. It would firmly cut off the old route to the old Bullhead and Airship terminals, allowing the Bullhead pads to be repositioned elsewhere for emergency use and the Airship pads to be demolished. The station's main exit would lead right onto the same courtyard the old Airship terminals opened onto, allowing for the same stunning first impression of the school as always.

His scar itched. He clenched his fists and his good mood soured suddenly, but he sighed and let it go. The past was the past, and nothing could change that. Just as nothing could replace the missing 40 minutes of his life. All he could do now was move forward. He groaned as he remembered what he was moving forwards into today. That fucking video essay the Council had demanded. He enjoyed producing video essays on various topics in his spare time - hell, he had two YouScroll channels named Not Just Bullheads and Desmond Something where that was all he did - but being employed to do it oddly killed his motivation. He supposed it was that hobby-versus-job thing Ozpin had been going on about when Glynda accused him of making teams for the names not dynamics during the last staff meeting. Do something for a hobby and it was fun and entertaining and you enjoyed doing it. Do it as a job - even if this was technically a one-time thing and he was going to be filming footage for a new NJB video at the same time - and there was a very real risk of it becoming boring and demotivating.

He pulled out his Lapscroll, logged into his MyCCT and Valean Gateway accounts and checked his personal and work emails. Nothing new in personal, and just a reminder he needed to be in Vale in an hour on his work. That email had just come in, and Bullheads left on the hour every hour, taking about 45 minutes by the time takeoff, landing, preflight, engine startup and shutdown, and the occasional holding pattern over the Vale terminal were taken into account. That left him roughly 15 minutes to freshen up and straighten out his tie.

...

What? Ozpin had a point, okay? Suits were cool and stylish and - if tailored correctly - stupidly comfortable. Also, they could make even a raging Wendigo look good. So what if they were generally associated with stuffy businessmen, NIMBYs, and ridiculous planning permission officers? He could wear one whenever he liked, damnit, and no one was going to stop him. And that meant he generally wore one whenever he wasn't wearing bedclothes. And sometimes when he was, too. The blazers were very warm, and he often threw one on on cold mornings. Not that there were very many of them in mid-autumn.

He curtailed his own rant with a huff as he stepped out into the corridor and locked his door, slipping the keys into his overcoat pocket and making his way to the docks. He'd timed it to the second, and he was the last passenger on the Bullhead before ramp closure at precisely 12:00. At 12:05 the engines started spooling and at 12:10 they were in the air. Inefficient. My trains would be three-quarters to the city centre by now moving at 200km/h. And they'd do it far more smoothly. As if to underline his last thought, the Bullhead hit a patch of turbulence and pitched violently, before seeming to drop like a rock for what felt like hundreds of metres but was more than likely less than 20 feet. Humming to himself, he ran through the afternoon's itinerary. He hadn't heard from Blake yet today - odd, seeing as she had been going to accompany him on this little escapade - but he supposed it mattered little.

First stop, the in-progress Vale Central terminus. Platforms had yet to be laid, but about 20 buildings in the heart of Vale had been either modified or completely knocked down to make space for the station and its throat, and construction on the station building itself - a sleek, modern glass and wood building designed to withstand a Grimm incursion or Dust bomb, and capable of acting as an evacuation and resupply point - was well underway. He hoped he'd be able to talk to some of Vale's civilians and get their opinions - both positive and negative - on the new developments.

Second stop, a short walk down the right-of-way at the station throat and beyond, walking through a construction site with a camera as he narrated what was going on. He'd be able to point out one of the empty spaces where soon one of the substations that would take Vale's 240V AC mains electricity supply and step it up to 25kV AC for the overhead wires. He'd be able to talk to some of the construction workers - all employed in-house, by a government funded corporation in his name - and get the down-low on how the project was progressing. He was rather looking forward to that bit.

Third stop, Valean Railways' now-completed depot, stabling and traincare facility, manufacturing facility and test track at Christchurch Lane close to the walls. They were constructing the trains to use on the line there, and he hoped to be able to take a close look at one that was at least semi-completed. He'd also be able to talk to some of the engineers that made the whole system tick, and hopefully his viewers would gain some insight as to the sheer amount of effort being spent on making the new lines work. Everything from the new Class 100 and 100/1 - four and eight-car units respectively - being constructed for use in passenger service, to the Mark 1 carriages and non-motor driving carriages being constructed for use for everything from diplomatic trains - he had two on order from the Vale Council - to the high-speed airport to Beacon express trains he was expecting to see heavy use transporting the students of foreign nations for the Vytal festival, to the 160km/h capable High Speed Freight Chassis' and the payload carriers for them, and finally 250km/h capable Class 1s and 160km/h capable regeared for freight Class 2s to haul them. All in all, Vale was currently building more every month than it had in the previous three decades.

The Bullhead hit another spot of turbulence, and Desmond's thoughts took off for a moment. Bullheads are naturally very susceptible to turbulence because of their design. They punch through the air rather than cutting through it surgically, and their short, stubby wings, flat sides and VTOL design means they have a lot of lateral drag and not much passive stability. If they hit windshear or a steep pressure gradient, they get thrown right around. Fixed-wing aircraft never really took off because of the risk of Grimm attacks - and also because Atlas saw them as a threat to the emerging Atlesian technology of Bullheads and promptly made some cutthroat decisions - but I wonder if the time is not ripe to try again? We have newer, lighter materials like plasteel, carbon fibre and many many alloys, and engines have never been so powerful. I wonder if it would be possible to fly faster than the Grimm - or, failing that, higher. It deserves further study. Later, though. Trains before planes. Let's not try and sprint when we should be walking.

So wrapped up in thought was Desmond that he didn't notice they were coming in for a landing. Not until the Bullhead touched down with a jolting crash, anyway. Someone needs to learn land and crash don't share a meaning. He wandered off the aircraft, and made his way quickly to the exit. The port was one of those buildings in the path of the Belladonna Chord, and so was scheduled for destruction once the Vale-Beacon line was complete and operational. It would almost be sad to see it go, but he was sure the residents would be glad about the sudden lack of loud, tinny-sounding Dust turbojet engines constantly running. He was sure that the rhythmic, timetabled sounds of trains would prove to be a welcome alternative. Like he'd said, almost sad. Sighing, he turned and began the short walk to the terminus. He got a few weird looks from drivers for walking, but just sneered at them. Car-brains...

The Vale Central Terminus building was barely more than a frame of hardened plastisteel and titanium alloy partially clad to the third floor, yet it already struck an imposing silhouette against the empty space amongst the skyscrapers where buildings such as the SDC's Vale regional HQ and the HMVG Bank had once stood. He could tell that once it was complete - which would be soon at least externally, for work was proceeding at breakneck pace - it would simultaneously blend in and stand out. It was a tapering spire, starting from a wide base that rapidly narrowed into a square tower with concave sides. In the tower would reside the offices and HQ of Valean Railways, as his organisation was now named, alongside a hotel towards the top for people who wished to stay the night at the station before continuing an onwards journey, or who just didn't want the hassle of booking a hotel of their own.

At the bottom, where the station concourse was, a long, geometric roof that clashed beautifully with the smooth lines of the spire-like skyscraper above it. It was 85 floors tall, before the building tapered too much to contain any more floors practically. This height wasn't accidental, and was to serve a purpose other than simply vanity. Instead, the glass would continue up past the roof before breaking up and ending between twenty and forty metres higher in a geometric pattern as if it had been shattered. The end result of this was that it would look like the base of an elegant wineglass that had been snapped at its thinnest point. Housed in 'the Break' as it was becoming known would be transmitters, receivers, Scroll exchange equipment and a signal mast, and most importantly, and top secretly, all the equipment necessary to make the Shatter - the name of the building - into a backup CCT tower if Vale's main one in Beacon went offline unexpectedly. In the meantime, it would disguise itself as a normal CCT relay tower. Not even Ozpin or Ironwood knew about this. Even though it would have more equipment, it would not be as fast as Vale's main tower, and it would definitely cause a bottleneck, but it would be a damn sight better than nothing. On top of that, it was also Vale's first attempt at making their own CCT technology without Atlas' help, so would be receiving constant upgrades as the tech improved.

Desmond hadn't been staring. No, definitely not, seeing as he'd designed the building. He definitely hadn't been stunned by its true scale, and anyone who said otherwise was lying. He definitely hadn't lost five minutes just following the graceful curve outlined by soon-to-be-buried structural alloy spars with his eyes until it reached the point where it looked snapped, as if a massive hand had shattered a giant wineglass at the stem. No, he had definitely just come, got out his camera equipment, set up his microphone, and got to work. Definitely. Just to spite the Council, he made sure that his main camera - which would capture footage for his NJB channel - was the one getting the impressive shot of the spire rising high above the other buildings, while the small camera the Council had provided him for the video essay was mainly capturing the concourse and himself. He was at least professional enough to keep his main camera out of the background of the shot.

He pressed the trigger on his remote, starting his small camera rolling, and then opened with a smile. 'Hello and welcome to Valean Railway's third construction diary. I'm your host, Desmond Quicksilver, and today's plan is to take an in-depth look at the ongoing construction, as well as the new trains being built for us over in the Agricultural Quarter. If we're lucky, we may even get to ride on a train in testing. But that's all for later. To start, I'm here at the site of construction of the Central Terminus, and we're going to be having a chat with some of the wonderful men and women who are hard at work building a brighter future for Vale. Let's begin!'

He reached out and took the small Council-provided camera by the stand, before taking his main camera in his other hand and making his way towards the construction site. He was stopped, of course, but once he'd donned a hard hat and high-vis vest he was permitted to proceed. The first person he spoke to was the site supervisor, having been directed towards her by two very helpful construction workers.

'Hi,' he started, speaking pleasantly. 'As we can see, your construction team is well underway on the construction of the station. Do you have any estimates as to when the station will be complete, or at least functional? Same question about the HQ and hotel above, along with all its associated radio transmitters.'

'We-ell, we reckon we can get the basic station functionin' - you know, all the critical stuff done, wirin' and escapes and sprinklers n' stuff, in abou' two month at this rate. Then it should be finished enough for most areas to be passenger ready, 'n the work left we'll be able to do behind screens. We're goin' at a breakneck pace, but we've no shortage of fundin' to hire more lads and equipmen' so we're able to work 24 hours 7 days, which I 'ave to say is a massive help. If anythin', we're a little ahead of schedule at the momen'. We're jus' waitin' for our glass and concrete, an' then you'll really see this thing fly up. Mos' of the hard and time-consumin' work - layin' the foundations, buildin' from what we 'ad, makin' it flat and ready for trains - we've already done. We jus' needa finish the platforms area enough that we can confiden'ly say the platform roofs won't fall in if it storms, then we'll be ready for the tracklayers to move in. I 'ave to say, workin' for the Council direc'ly - under you, o'course - is a damn sight better for all of us and the lads than working under Schnee Construction, 'n we're glad you decided to go in-house wi' this.'

'Thanks, that's very interesting information. I'm glad to see work is proceeding apace, and the station should be ready for trains in two months. As for the stuff up above?'

'Tha's all on schedule too, I'm pleased to say. Transmitters are already arrivin', ready to be installed up there once the roof's in, so we shoul' hopefully see them in within the week. Functioning in three. As for gettin' the skyscraper ready to go, the HQ bit shoul' be ready in a few weeks. People'll be able to start work then, provided they don' mind workin' in a construction site - although seein' how soundproofed the offices are, I'm not sure that'll matter. The hotel will take a few more month, especially 'cos we're getting specialists in to deal wit' furniture and fixtures for there.'

'Thanks,' smiled Desmond, 'you've been massively helpful. Do you think we'll be ready in time for the Vytal Festival next spring?'

'I reckon the station 'ere will be just about fully complete and shiny by next spring, yeah. Same with the hotel and stuff. That's provided the weather doesn' get too nasty. We've been lucky so far, here's 'opin' it stays that way. As for Beacon, I'm no' site supervisor there so I couldn' say too much, but I understan' even though work there hasn' begun yet the station is a lot smaller so should be done in a couple of months from when it star's.'

The bridge-building and demolitions teams had been much the same. Vague guesses they would be ready by the time the terminus could start taking trains, and the bridge guys had pointed out that thankfully the bridge itself was made of prefabricated parts offsite so would take a matter of weeks to fully assemble, now the foundations were done. The Belladonna Chord was not yet begun, but even then the teams had been confident they would have it done with "plenty of time to spare" until the Tournament. As one had put it: "It's not exactly a complex job. It requires a few major demolitions, and new foundations, and that's it. That'll take about a month, and then the building will take probably about the same. We reckon we can have it done with months until Vytal."

It eased his mind, but not entirely. If they had no trains to run on the tracks they had, it would all be for naught. That was why he was stuck in cross-city traffic on Highway 13 East, headed out towards Christchurch Lane to see how construction on the new trains was progressing. It was kind of ironic, really. The architect of a new plan to fix much of Vale's traffic, stuck in traffic. Much of the traffic was people on their commute, or people headed to the airport in rental cars, both of which he'd be able to ease massively. He hoped people would elect to use the new rail link, rather than driving, anyway. He'd heard of the theory of induced demand, even believed in it, but now he was placing his freedom on it. That could bite him.

Then the taxi driver turned in his seat. 'We're here, mate.'

'Oh, shit, thanks.' answered Desmond, snapping out of it. 'Could swear we were just on 13 East, stuck in traffic.'

The driver shrugged. 'We were, but you nodded off mate. You look a bit shattered, honestly.'

'Yeah, last thing of the day and then I get to go home. Can't wait, honestly.'

The driver chuckled. 'You'n me both, mate.'

'Anyway, how much do I owe you?'

'Twelve, but we'll call it a tenner even. You're trying to fix this city and I respect that. Too many people complain but do nothing.'

'Nah, here's 15 and keep the 3. Have a good one.'

'You too!'

As Desmond stood from the taxi and closed the door behind him, a train horn shattered the relative silence of the quiet suburban area he found himself in. He turned back to the massive building, massively out of place surrounded by empty field and then single family detached homes on each side, and grinned as he saw the sleek, shiny form of a brand new Class 100/1 just leaving the construction facility. The words TEST TRAIN printed along the side of each carriage, where the logo would eventually go. The trains looked absolutely stunning, painted in a livery of black and white with gold trim, and you could just tell from looking at it that it would be fast.

'Oh yeah,' he grinned, raising his camera and snapping a photo. 'This was worth waiting for.'

AN: Aaaaand they'll have to be worth waiting for! Yep, sorry folks, it ends here for this one. A shorter chapter than normal, but I needed to get something out and my writer's block hasn't fully vanished yet. You can thank my girlfriend for motivating me to write this this evening. I hope you all enjoyed it. The Shatter takes some inspiration from the Shard and the Eiffel Tower, in London and Paris respectively.

Had to sneak an NJB and Adam Something reference in there somewhere :) I hope you all enjoyed. Leave your thoughts in the reviews as always, and thank you all for your support. Sorry if there are more misspellings than usual in this one, my glasses are getting re-lensed so I'm without them, and it's late enough in the day that my focus is starting to fail. I'm at 200% zoom and still struggling to write, let alone proofread, so I haven't really bothered. I've already got enough of a headache. I'll be able to go and pick them up tomorrow, and I'll glance it over and fix any glaring errors then. I literally can't read what's on screen at the moment.

Responses to Reviews:

Emeraldfireblade: I'm glad you like the idea! Yes, I am trying to some degree to present the city in and of itself as a living organism, a character in its own right. It has its problems, its NIMBYs, its pointless skyscrapers, sprawling suburbia, and infuriating bureaucrats, but it also has its parks, its people, its character, and its sense of belonging. Not to mention conflict. Torchwick, White Fang, improperly disciplined Huntresses-in-training, you name it. I think it has the makings of an excellent character, and I will do my best to do it justice.

Engineer1869: Of course! I can't promise I'll keep doing this if the story gets too big - I tend to rewrite a lot and ramble a little in my responses, so even now it's likely going to take me 10 or 15 minutes to get through them all - but until that point I'll try my best. Even if that happens, I'll probably randomly select 1 or 2 to respond to each time. As for the collar, hahaha indeed. I think it's safe to say Ozpin is furious with General Ironwood at the moment. Words will be had. I wonder what repercussions that will have on the story as a whole?

Indeed, the planning has had Desmond pulling chunks of hair out - wrote a scene for that last chapter then cut it because it felt too much like filler - but he's ridden through it now. Yeah, bog blasting is not possible unfortunately so some poor Faunus have had to be relocated and their homes condemned. Difficult decisions must be made. I will admit the idea for power generation was a bit of an impulse decision, but it made sense to me at the time and made even more so during proofreading so it stayed. Indeed, Desmond will have to use very scaled-down versions of reactors or else risk overpowering the grid and frying his own trains. I can't tell you any more right now, but big plans ;).

DrTheo: Thank you my friend, I'm glad you enjoyed the story! And yeah, I see a lot of fics that lean into the arguably "cool" aspects of RWBY, so I decided to go a different direction and see where it took me.

Nightflash (Guest): Thank you! I wish you all the best dealing with America's ailing rail network, and I agree; trains are awesome.

selfishgecko: Thank you, and I'm glad I managed to write a good chapter last time round. Hopefully this one lives up to it too.

ThatSpaceMann2: I hope so, but I'm also worried about writing something to please that many people haha. We'll see how it goes!

herbiecide: Absolutelyyy. Desmond is exactly that kind of person. As a person he's in over his head and barely staying afloat under the workload. As a transit nerd and Not Just Bullheads, he's in heaven. You hit the nail right on the head, and the NJB reference in this chapter was definitely in part because of your review. I hope you enjoyed!

As of the publication of this chapter, this story has:

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Even if I didn't mention you by name during this (also very long) postscript/AN, thank you all! Your support motivates me to keep working.

Parts of this chapter, and this work going forward, take inspiration and cues from "Nyaaaaa!" by Mallobaude, and from the Coeurverse (Double or triple trait Faunus, and Kitsune the sadistic doctor, so far.)

If you are interested in being a beta for this story, please do reach out.