4-X: Backlash

The Veteran frowned.

His orders were absolute, and as much as he disliked them, it was out of his hands now. Part of him complained about the fact that he had no control over things, despite his position. Sure, he was technically the commander for this little expeditionary force, but it was becoming more and more apparent that it was an empty title, as his superiors continued giving orders after orders, paying no attention to their actual situation.

With that said, the Veteran didn't blame them this time. Not completely, at least.

His bosses' decisions were influenced by politics and external factors far more than they were by someone of his position, and considering the unexpected influence of a certain Faunus group, it was hardly a surprise that Rhinestone Industries had decided to push this little operation forward. Even now, Jared himself couldn't believe what the White Fang had done; once upon a time, they were a faunus group pushing equality... But now? Now, they were committing public executions while making open declarations of conflict.

It didn't matter whether the announcement was made by a single cell or not, as it the damage had already been done. It had only been a few hours since that execution display, and already other White Fang cells had begun their own broadcasts, airing words of protests or support for their brethren. Some called the display unnecessary, while others seemed adamant that it was a result of the Kingdoms' inaction towards faunus oppression.

In return, private interest groups within the Kingdoms began making their own announcements. Some groups were formal, such as the Corporations that employed majority faunus workers, releasing multiple press statements where they formally stated that they'd defend their assets should the need arise. Other groups took a more active approach, as many businesses stated to the world that they'd no longer serve faunus, both on the CCT network and on public news interviews.

And the final group? Well, Jared wasn't naive enough to think that the White Fang were the only extremist group, especially when it came to racial tensions. After this operation, he'd have to train his subordinates to deal with angry faunus and humans just as aptly as they'd have to deal with grimm. With that thought in his mind, the security Veteran turned his attention back to his current situation, letting out a sigh as he settled his sights on the interior of the Bullhead.

"Everything okay, sir?"

"Shut up, sparky. The grown-ups are thinking right now."

The Veteran's voice was almost light, a far cry from the mood that was currently domination his thoughts. After all, despite all his musings of politics and future events, there was a very real chance he wouldn't survive to see them pass... A very real chance that none of them would. Jared's gaze settled back to the recruits that were accompanying him on the transport Bullhead, each sitting or standing at attention, a far cry from the bleary-eyed brats that had been on the last flight they had taken.

Some were discussing the mission amongst themselves, while others were gathered by a bulkhead, reading over the local region map once more. Even that blue-haired brat seemed to take things more seriously, as the kid had decided to spend his time double-checking his equipment instead of wasting it on his Scroll.

The news was pretty eye-opening for everyone, it seemed.

"Sir?"

An unexpected voice brought Jared out of his thoughts, as the Veteran turned his attention to the person who had addressed him. He was a bit surprised to see that red-headed woman from before, staring back at him with determined eyes. Not that he could pin a name to that face, though; Honestly, he should really learn their proper names one of these days... Perhaps he'll put in the effort, assuming they survived this little assault.

"What is it, tinderbox?"

Or he'll come up with nicknames for the entire group. One or the other.

"T-tinderbox, sir?" The redhead seemed a bit off-put by the new moniker, but the Veteran himself didn't really care. Instead, he settled his gaze on the woman, a brow raised as he noticed her attired. Like the rest of the security forces, she was suited up in the signature jumpsuit and armour. Unlike most of the recruits, however, she had decided to carry a heavy weapon, the heavy frame of a minigun strapped over her shoulder.

Perhaps tinderbox fit more than he thought. Jared's eyes shifted from the woman down to her weapon, a bemused expression plastered on his face.

"Yep. Fits your little toy, don't cha thing? Now, what did you need me for?"

"Oh... Well, I just wanted to ask... Are we really going through with this?" There was doubt in the woman's voice, her eyes quickly shifting to the back of the Bullhead where their mechanized support laid dormant. The redhead's gaze fell onto the many robots, spotting the corporate logos of SDC, Rhinestone, PD Systems and who knows what else... Rival companies that hated eachother's guts, yet chose to work together in this operation. "Is it really that bad?"

"Can't you tell?" A wry smile formed on the Veteran's face as he followed his subordinate's line of sight. She was worried, and Jared certainly didn't blame her, since a corporate partnership of this scale was almost unheard of. Yet, the White Fang had scared everyone, first with the murmurs of their mysterious weapon, then with their fervor in displaying public executions. It was hardly surprising to see that old enemies, both political and business, had decided to work together to face the new threat.

Yeah... Old enemies working together. Right.

If all it took was a common threat to band people together, then they wouldn't be in this mess, would they? Hell, if that was the case, then neither the Great War nor the Faunus Rights Revolution would've occurred in the first place, since the grimm hated everything. Yet, people's greatest enemies continued to be people... And no amount of circumstantial threat would change that.

And as the Veteran's sight fell to the robotic weapons of war, each emblazoned with a different logo, he answered his naive subordinate.

"It doesn't matter how bad it is. It's only going to get worse."

"I don't fault you for your line of thought, James, but are you certain you won't regret this course of action?"

The headmaster's voice broke through the air, the green-suited man's eyes fixed firmly on the holodisplay as he frowned at the image. Well, it wasn't quite a frown, as most of his expression was hidden behind his signature mug, brought up once again to cope with the growing headache that was his associate. And despite the aged man's protests, it seemed that his friend remained convinced of his plan.

"I assure you Ozpin... I've thought this through."

The somber voice of a certain Atlesian colonel filled the room, echoing through Ozpin's empty office with conviction as the two headmasters conversed. But, in spite of Ironwood's words, the Beacon headmaster could still hear the undertone of doubt in his colleague's voice, speaking volumes of the true magnitude of his plans.

"You know as well as I do that the technology simply isn't there yet, James. Why must you insist on pushing through with the project in spite of this?"

"Were circumstances different, I would gladly bide my time." Ironwood's voice was softer now, his eyes closing for a few short seconds as he took a breath. "... But we simply do not have that luxury anymore. The people are restless, and words alone won't be enough to quell their fears. Already, grimm activity has begun increasing on the Kingdom outskirts, and that's to say nothing about the White Fang themselves. You've seen what they're capable of: first, with the introduction of their new weapon, then with the... abduction of SDC's primary spokesperson."

"You know as well as I do that that phenomenon was no weapon, James... It represents something far worse."

"It doesn't matter what you call it, Ozpin. The people don't care if it's a meteor or weapon or something else entirely; the fact is, the White Fang have it, and people are scared." Ironwood's voice steadily grew louder, each sentence driving in the growing troubles that were slowly springing forth from this entire incident. "We can't afford to stay quiet any longer... Not Atlas, not Vale, and not you."

There was brief spell of silence, the empty air broken only by Ozpin as he set down his mug, slowly contemplating his friend's words. Ironwood wasn't wrong in his assessment, as the situation had grown far more precarious than the Beacon headmaster had expected. Yet, the slightest mistake on their part would only amplify their troubles, especially if the White Fang had changed their stance so drastically.

That was the weirdest part, really. What had caused the White Fang to shift so suddenly? He wasn't ignorant of the increasingly violent demonstrations and riots, of course, but those actions had still been confined to property damage. Now, however, the faunus rights group have increased the scope of their efforts, choosing to involve lives in their protests.

But why? Was it due to a sudden change in leadership?

No, that can't be all. The Beacon head had a growing suspicion that the sudden shift in stance could be attributed to the blue light that had descended nearly a week ago. That left the man with more concerns about Qrow's mission, and Ozpin's gaze quietly shifted from the holodisplay to his Scroll, only to give a slight frown as the device remained silent.

This little action did not go unnoticed by his conversation companion as Ironwood cleared his throat, drawing back the headmaster's attention.

"Ozpin?"

"... You are not quite correct in your statement, James. We cannot afford to stay idle. However, it is in our best interests right now to stay quiet, especially when things are so unstable." Once more, the Beacon headmaster settled his gaze on the Atlesian colonel, this time with a focused expression as he stared at his friend. Despite Ironwood's plans, Ozpin had to convince the Atlesian colonel to remain passive, especially when it came to his latest research project. That was something they could not afford to rush.

"Again, I must ask you to reconsider your position... The council have already sanctioned Rhinestone's little crusade, the results of which will undoubtedly be on the news. Any further militarization, especially with your robotics, will simply bring unnecessary tensions to the public."

Ironwood slumped back into his seat, letting out a tired sigh as the argument returned full circle. He had enough professionalism not to groan at the statement, but the Atlesian colonel couldn't afford to back down. Unless... Ozpin had a plan.

"What do you plan to do?"

"Just as you have with Winter, I've sent Qrow to investigate the situation." That little tidbit of information earned Ozpin a grunt from his colleague, but the white-haired man ignored it as he continued. "If they are able to resolve the issue, then neither of us need to bring ourselves down to the same level as the council. After all, both they and the corporations they have aligned themselves with have done enough damage as it is, and their entire campaign only serves as fuel for the White Fang."

Ironwood remained unconvinced, as he narrowed his eyes on the headmaster once more. "And if they can't?"

"Then I shall have to make use of my... 'contacts' in Vale. They would be closest to the situation, and are able to oversee it in its entirety as it develops." Contacts were a polite way of referring to the criminal element, of course. While James may not be able to utilize such methods due to his position, Ozpin had no compunctions in that regards. Still, the headmaster knew that that alone wouldn't be enough to placate his colleague. A simple stare told him that much.

So, Ozpin's continued his words, a grave finality to his tone as his gaze shifted away from the holodisplay, shifting over to the window as he glanced at the horizon.

"And after that, I'll recall Amber."

He couldn't believe.

Of course, Vermont wasn't ignorant of the White Fang's plans, as he had known about their eventual militarization for almost a month prior. Still, there was a drastic difference between taking up arms to defend themselves, and kidnapping Schnee officials for the sake of public executions.

Vermont's gaze shifted as that thought entered his mind once more, turning away from the recruits as he took his seat in the mess hall. Thankfully, they had been on a training exercise when the... 'announcement' had been made to the rest of the world, which saved the Jackal-faunus the trouble of explaining his position on the matter. So, rather than concern himself with those thoughts, the Lieutenant settled on his meal, intent on burying his doubts in the delicious sensation of poorly-cooked stewed.

Yum.

"Was it really necessary, though? They didn't have to do that!"

"What are you talking about? Humans wouldn't understand anything else. Just ask the Captain!"

Vermont flinched. Right, he was a Captain now... The man turned his attention away from his stew, his gaze shifting to a group of recruits who were being quite vocal in the corner. Part of him noticed their age, ranging from ten to fifteen years, but the rest of him focused on the fact that the youths were clearly divided into three distinct groups, two of which were quite vocal about their positions.

The two loud groups were led by brash teenagers, closer to being young adults than children. Rather than pay attention to their features, the Captain focused on their mannerisms, watching both of the young males butt heads with one another. Unfortunately, it seemed that their verbal argument was going to shift into a more physical one, and the last thing this camp needed was unresolved tension between brothers. So, rather than let them carry on their argument, the Jackal-faunus made his way over to the table.

"What's going on here?" Vermont's tone shifted to his professional one, equal parts cold and overbearing as he stared down at the two. His form was not much larger than the teenagers, but the sheer presence of the Lieutenant-turned-Captain was backed by years of experience, and he met their gaze with an unflinching glare.

"C-captain! Sorry! We were just... having a disagreement about the announcement we missed earlier."

"I heard. And so did the rest of the mess hall." The Jackal-faunus threw a glare behind him, drawing the youths' attention to the rest of the room, where White Fang soldiers and supporters alike suppressed a chuckle at the random outburst. His glare bore into the two teens for a moment longer, before finally relaxing his shoulders as he changed his tone. "Just drop it. There's no reason in arguing about it, since it's already passed. Instead, you should all focus on your discipline; The last thing we need is to fight amongst ourselves."

The two teens gave an affirmative grunt, each returning back to their respective groups. Vermont was quite certain that this would not be the last time such an argument occurred, but that would be something for him to deal with later. For now, he'd much rather the recruits focus on simply getting some food and relaxation, rather than jump at each other's throats for things outside of their control.

He was about to turn around and leave when one more voice spoke out, soft and withdrawn as one of the younger faunus called out to him.

"Excuse me, Captain..."

The owner of the voice was someone from the third group, the one that had tried to distance themselves from the debate. Vermont shifted his gaze down to the new voice, only to find a... twelve- or thirteen-year-old faunus? Either way, her voice was a mixture between quiet and resolute as she stared up at him, amber eyes meeting his own green ones with an inquisitive gaze.

"Yes?" The Jackal-faunus raised an eyebrow, stopping mid-stride as he settled his gaze on the girl.

"If you don't mind... What's your position on the announcement?"

Honestly, he was surprised that he wasn't asked that sooner. Neither his colleagues nor his superiors had bothered to ask about his opinion, so Vermont merely assumed that it didn't matter one way or another... And in a way, it didn't matter. What's done is done, and regardless of how anyone feels about the matter, they all had to deal with the consequences.

Of course, the Faunus felt no love lost for the actual victim of the display. He had been some Schnee official who had made his fortune off the back of the Faunus. And he didn't mean that in the figurative way either, as that man had been an overseer in the mining camp he had been a part of, nearly half a decade ago. If he were a petty person, he would've admitted to feeling no guilt at his demise.

But Vermont was not a petty person, and simply discarded the notion. Instead, he turned his attention back to the recruits, each of them now staring up at the Captain, waiting for his response.

"My position? My position is that, no matter what happened, it's going to get more dangerous from here on out. So rather than debate whether it's right or wrong, my only concern is to make sure you're all capable of living long enough to see the results of what happened today."

Yeah, it was a non-answer, and he could tell that the little girl wasn't quite pleased about his response, but at least she hid it well. Either way, Vermont shrugged it off, and after giving the group one final nod, made his way back to his seat.

What would his Captain have said? The Jackal-faunus knew that his old superior may have been a bit more vocal on his viewpoints, but he still didn't know what viewpoints that man would've taken. The late Captain Owen was never one to shy away from conflict should the need arise, but at the same time... would he approve of such blatant displays?

No. There was no point in thinking about it. Vermont couldn't know what his old friend's position would ultimately be, so he decided to shift his thoughts to more relevant topics instead. After all, if this next batch of recruits were so headstrong about things, then he'd have to improve their training to match.

Looks like he'd have to start their aura training a bit early. He never was the best at it, but Vermont was quite certain that he'd do better than the camp's current drill instructor.

"So, I heard Sadida's pretty pissed about a certain Xelor."

Once again, the sarcastic voice of the God of Shadows filled the celestial air, Sram's skull fixed in a permanent grin as he sat himself down on a nearby bench. He threw a glance to the other gods in attendance, letting out a bemused hum as he spotted the two near-permanent residents of this celestial room. The god let out a chuckle, his hollow voice filling the air as he settled his gaze on a certain Goddess. "Guess I was wrong about him taking baby steps, huh Sacrier? Pretty sure that kidnapping and building up a robot army's the opposite of behaving, you know?"

The lady of compassion remained quiet, seated on one of the pews as she stared at the Wakfu mirror, trying to ignore her peer. Granted, the sight shown by the mirror didn't do much to settle her thoughts, as the goddess tried to push the doubt out of her mind. Yet, how could she, when the mirror itself seemed adamant in proving her wrong. Sure, she held out some hope when they saw Nox prepare food for his... captives... but the fact remained that they were his captives, and that he had still unleashed his mechanical hordes on them.

And that was the least of his actions.

Sacrier couldn't deny that Nox chosen to further his incursion in that new world, building up machine after machine as the Xelor created more metallic constructs. Each of the creations seemed to exceed anything he had cobbled together back in the World of Twelve, rivaling all but the Stasis golem he had used to attack the Sadida's Tree of Life. And, with these new creations, he had begun harvesting the ruins of the local settlement, turning them into more resources for his... devices.

The Goddess of Sacrifice frowned, willing her eyes to focus on the Xelor as she tried to understand his motivations. Unfortunately, all she could see was an inhuman conviction, focused purely on adding to his growing supply of weapons of war. Did... Did he truly intend to fight the world or something? But why? Why was he so adamant on causing so much strife, when he was given a second chance?

Those questions stuck with the Lady of Compassion, left unsaid in her mind as she solemnly settled her gaze on the Wakfu mirror. In time, another local had appeared in Nox's domain, and it seemed like the Xelor had intended to capture her, like the ones that came before. Sacrier clenched her eyes shut, letting out a heavy breath as she lowered her head back down, to her knees.

Sram was not privy to any of Sacrier's doubts, and all he saw was a pouting Goddess of Sacrifice, curled up in her usual form. Of course, he could guess the exact source of her worries, since he wasn't an idiot, so the God of Shadows decided to cheer up his fellow god. After all, they have to stick together.

"C'mon Sacrier, don't be so down. Nox's addiction to being a menace is a multi-stage process, after all. Look, he's even kidnapping the local petting zoo, and we know that pets are good for recovery. He even gave them fancy new collars and..." Sram's voice steadily began to trail off as his vision finally settled on the Wakfu mirror proper. There was a slight pause as the God turned his attention to Sacrier, then to Xelor. Of course, neither of them were in the mood to speak at the best of times, so the God of Shadow shifted his attention to the last remaining deity.

"Say, Ecaflip... Is it just me, or is the Wakfu there red?" Sram tilted his head to the Wakfu mirror, a look of confusion somehow appearing on his face despite it being a literal skull, which caused no small amount of mirth from the feline God of Chance.

"Yep." The god in question offered only one word, smirking at his fellow deity as Ecaflip turned his attention back to the mirror.

"... Okay then. If no one cares, then I won't either." And just like that, the phenomenon was accepted, with Sram settling his gaze to the mirror as well. Rather than question the odd aesthetic change, the living skull had more entertaining things to do, leaning back as he the window. "So, it looks like Nox is sending his personal army to attack that one girl. Did we ever figure out why he's doing that? Because I doubt he needs an army to 'repent', as Sacrier enjoys calling- Oh, hey! Take a look at this, Xelor. Looks like he's going to do that time thing he's so fond of."

Sram hummed as he watched Nox build up his Wakfu. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure how the Xelor did it, considering he... actually wasn't a Xelor. Sure, he had all the silly metal bits, as well as the bandages and trappings of being a Xelor, but the God of Shadows knew full well that that was a result of the human's efforts, not the god's. Unfortunately, neither he nor any of the other gods saw how Nox had started his path since, you know, Ogrest had been raging around that time.

Ah, Ogrest. Such a pitiful creature.

Sram was honestly surprised that Sadida could get angry about Nox in the first place, since he was pretty much the reason why Ogrest's Chaos had occurred two centuries ago... And for no good reason, either. Sure, Nox had that generic dead family thing, but Sadida? He played a part in Ogrest's Chaos simply by giving life to one of his dolls, then getting bored of her; Then, Ogrest came along and fell in love with her or something? He wasn't too sure, since he skipped most of that meeting and got the point-form notes from Feca later.

But really, Nox nearly killing off his followers could be seen as a form of karmic retribution moreso than anything else. And if Sram knew anything about Wakfu... it was that it liked karma as much as the next inexplicable phenomenon. And Sram could only wonder how much karma you'd get by accidentally closing a chapter on the World of Twelve's history.

Speaking of history, where was Xelor? Doesn't he care that his follower-not-follower's about to do some of those weird time shenanigans again? Sram threw a look back at the Keeper of Time, only to find that the air around him was... stilted somehow. Xelor stood as he always did, but there was something about the Wakfu around him that seemed off. The God of Shadows shifted his gaze from the Keeper of Time back to Ecaflip, his eye sockets narrowing.

"Hey, Ecaflip, did I miss something?"

"...Yep."

There was no smirk this time, as Ecaflip turned his gaze from Sram to the Wakfu mirror, pausing only for a moment before shifting back to Xelor. The God of Fortune wasn't too sure how to explain it, but something significant had just occurred. The moment Nox tried to freeze time... The moment his opponent did that magic thing... The moment Nox's Dial cracked.

Ecaflip's eyes were locked on the God of Time, narrowing as he tried to discern exactly what had happened. Unfortunately, there was no answer, as neither observation nor instinct could tell the Cat God anything meaningful. The air around the Keeper of Time was as still as always, while the Wakfu that fluttered around him maintained its usual flow. Even Xelor himself seemed unchanged, his gaze continuously fixed on the distant horizon.

None of this told Ecaflip anything. But, despite the normalcy of it all, the Cat God still knew that he had witnessed one important thing.

The moment Nox's Dial cracked, Xelor flinched. The problem with that?

Xelor doesn't flinch.