5-3: Blitz

He was no stranger to Ozpin's little helper.

As one of the more experienced security officers of Rhinestone Industries, the Veteran had encountered the huntsman named Qrow Branwen on many occasions. Usually, it was for official business, when he would act as a representative of his company, issuing extermination contracts to the scythe-wielding drunkard. These were the simpler moments, where Qrow put on his public image of 'crude, yet effective', playing the part of the fool with a persistent stench of alcohol.

Other times, however, it was for unofficial business, where Qrow acted on behalf of Beacon's elusive headmaster. Those moments were far more tense, as they contained none of the levity that one would expect from the huntsman. Instead, all traces of his exaggerated persona were often discarded, completely replaced by a sobering warrior that accepted no chance of failure, as he pursed whatever task it was Ozpin that required.

It was little wonder that the Veteran had learned to look out for those times. And he knew, based on the steely tone of the huntsman's voice, that the scythe-wielder was being completely serious with his warning.

A tired sigh was the only sign of weakness that the security officer allowed himself, clenching his eyes closed for a few scant moments as he leaned back. It was little solace that he was currently in the cargo hold, with packed-up security bots as his only companions, and after a few seconds of silence, the Veteran's attention shifted back to his Scroll. The worried expression of a certain Atlesian operative stared back at him, the video display clearly showing her unease as her eyes darted between him and some spot off-screen.

"What's the situation? How bad is it?"

There were many things he could've asked, least of which the identity of this apparent threat. After all, he and his subordinates had spotted the swath of grimm that now dwelt in the overrun White Fang encampment. If those monsters were there because of something's deliberate actions, rather than a tragic accident... Jared's eyes narrowed as he waited for a response.

"How big of an army do you have?"

Rather than Winter, however, it was her companion that answered once more, his voice echoing clearly through the Scroll's speakers. The huntsman's tone was not lost on the Veteran, and he briefly shifted his attention away from the Scroll, settling his sights on the rest of the Cargo bay. There was no shortage of firepower, as this single Bullhead carried enough munitions and supplies to field two security squads.

And that's if he ignored the rest of the crates that seemed to dominate to storage room. While he wasn't certain of the exact number of robots inside each crate, he knew that the massive containers were capable of fitting an unreasonable degree of autonomous dust-fueled death machines, and considering the fact that they had three such containers on this Bullhead alone...

"Our vanguard consists of fifteen bullheads, each transporting about two dozen security personnel, and ten times that number in drones. The remaining five bullheads are escort craft, fitted with enough supplies for sustained close-air support. " The Veteran didn't hesitate to give out this information. Sure, his boss might've protested if she was somehow capable of hearing him, but he was the one in charge of this operation, and he trusted Ozpin's finest well enough to provide him with as much information as possible.

If the Atlesian operative was surprised by his liberal disclosure of sensitive information, she didn't show it. Instead, the Veteran could clearly see Winter's expression change to a more contemplative one, her eyes no longer focusing on her Scroll. That image quickly disappeared however, accompanied by an alarmed 'Hey!' as the digital display flickered into a sudden blur, before being replaced by the sight of Ozpin's most versatile huntsman.

"Pretty sizable group for a security force, wouldn't you say?" Qrow shot him a wry smile, his expression holding for just a few moments before shifting back into a frown. "How close are you guys to the encampment?"

"At our current pace, less than ten minutes." The Veteran didn't even need to check, his mind having been focused on nothing except the mission since he had departed from the cockpit. Still, his description wasn't entirely accurate, as the squadron had been maintaining a minimal speed in an effort to mask their presence. However, if what Qrow said was true and they'd already been detected... "We already have visual of the site, and can make it there in five."

That little tidbit of information seemed to light up the huntsman's expression, his red eyes widening for a split second as he settled his gaze firmly on the Rhinestone Security Veteran.

"Is that so? In that case, here's the deal: The place is filled with grimm and grimm-shaped robots. Don't ask." No doubt, the huntsman saw Jared's expression, as the Veteran did not expect to hear about robots in the vicinity, let alone ones that were shaped like girmm. "The vehicle depot's empty, so I'm guessing the White Fang have long since evacuated. Rather than worry about that, I need you and your boys to unload as much gun as you can onto the area."

Of all the things Qrow had said, that surprised the Veteran the most. Sure, the huntsman could be showy at times, but Jared had neither heard nor witnessed a single serious mission where Ozpin's hunter was anything but covert. Then again, maybe he was just providing a distraction, an-

"Damnit! That stupid flaming bear's caught up already!" A sudden shout drew the Veteran from his thoughts, as the huntsman in question turned his head away from the scroll, shooting off an annoyed glare to something beyond Jared's sight. However, the distraction only lasted for an instant, as Qrow turned his gaze back towards the Veteran. "Oh yeah, I thing I forgot to mention. The maniac who made the grimmbots is also playing with grimm, and I don't think your kids are skilled enough to deal with them."

"Playing with grimm."

Rather than question it, the Veteran simply acknowledged it. He was no stranger to the concept, and the mention of a flaming bear was all he needed to understand Qrow's little statement. Part of him was surprised to hear it mentioned with such severity, however; while most companies seemed to conduct grimm experimentation at least once in their career, few had made any meaningful progress, and he only knew of two companies had really succeeded in some way.

Those were horror stories in and of themselves.

But if Qrow was really suggesting that their opponent had succeeded in a similar manner... Then they had a problem. And if the huntsman really believed that his subordinates weren't fully prepared for the engagement, then he'd have to come up with an alternative solution—Good thing the bullheads were carrying tons of 'solutions' each. Hopefully, dust munitions and countless combat droids would be enough to make up for the disparity.

"Yep." A voice drew the Veteran's attention once more, setting his sight back to the Scroll. However, that soon proved to be unnecessary, as the video display flickered away from the huntsman. The brass blur of the background was quickly replaced by darkness, as Qrow returned the Scroll back to Winter. "Now, if you don't mind, Ice Queen and I have an bear to spay."

And just like that, the call had abruptly ended.

Were this a normal situation, the Veteran might've been off-put by the gesture. However, he knew that things were anything but normal, and that time was of the essence. With one quick motion, the Veteran pocketed his scroll, the device barely slipping into his pocket by the time he exited the cargo bay. He ignored the curious glances of the security team under his direct command, making a mental note to explain the situation to them later.

For now, he had to make his way to the cockpit, and relay new orders to the squadron.

"... What was that?"

Her voice was the first to break the silence that had fallen over the group.

Iris frowned, her gaze shifting away from their spot in the... arena. Was that the right name for it? Certainly, they had fought there earlier, but by the time the four faunus had decided to return to the room, not a trace of their earlier battle remained.

Even now, Iris could recall how odd it was to return from their scouting expedition back to the room. They had found nothing in their search, which would've been disheartened had they not noticed the drastic change that the room had undergone in their absence. There were no scorch marks decorating the floors or walls, nor was debris littered across the metallic tiles. The corpses of the natural grimm had long since faded away, while the bodies of the mechanical grimm was nowhere in sight.

Even the air itself had somehow been cleaned, no longer carrying the scent of spent dust or acrid grimmsmoke... That revelation was the most disturbing Iris. Sure, her sense of smell might not have been the best, but they were certainly not the worst, either. The ferret-faunus had prided herself in all aspects of her detection ability, as they were easily her strongest skill set, and her olfactory capability was no exception. But the moment they had entered the arena room, neither she nor anyone else could smell any trace of that previous battle.

What remained was the exact opposite of a battle, and while it was technically a pleasant sensation, the aroma that had permeated the room on their first arrival was still met with skepticism. Even though they had decided to accept their fate, the sight of the mysterious meal was still unnerving, as they all knew that the meal could've only had a single source: their jailer.

Yet, survival had ultimately decided that they were to consume the food, in spite of knowing not whether the food was safe, nor what the mummy's overarching motivations were.

That had been twenty minutes ago. Now, they had finally eaten, and were in the midst of checking each other's health when the sound of a bloodcurdling roar echoed from the beyond their prison. It was a noise that was both familiar and alien, and the group fell into a hushed silence after the cry reverberated through the room.

Though the ferret-faunus was the one who asked the question, she herself could recognize the cry; all of them could, for the Sentry, the two Lieutenants and their Captain had spent most of their lives out in the wildlands, constantly beset by grimm. Even if they didn't know what the origin was, their instincts and experience were more than enough for them to place a face to the terribly cry.

And in spite of that, Iris still had to ask, for the bestial cry that had filled the air was one that sounded far more ominous than any she had ever heard before.

"That sounded like a... Deathstalker. But different somehow." The Sentry was the first to answer, her eyes trying to peer through the cell's walls, as the deer-faunus fixed her gaze beyond the room. "Unless it's another kind of arachnid grimm or something..."

"Wait, what?!" Lyra's words immediately drew a response from the group, as the voice of her fellow Lieutenant echoed through the room. Sienna's eyes were wide with alarm as she stood in rigid attention, shooting a single glare at the Sentry. "Why would you even say that? The last thing we need is more grimm!"

"Why do you care? You're the one who enjoys charging headfirst into things."

"Yeah, when I actually have my weapon on me! What do you want me to do? Fight them off with a fork?"

"I don't see how it's any different from..."

Iris tuned out the rest of their argument, her thoughts returning to their current predicament. Her friend was correct about one thing: they needed their weapons back. However, they had been disarmed shortly after their little bout with the horde of grimm, stolen by strange armatures that had descended from the ceiling. They were definitely mechanical by nature, which meant that they had to follow some sort of system.

But try as she might, the Lieutenant was no closer to understanding this building's infrastructure now than when she was an hour ago. The only obvious observation she could make was that the ceiling was fitted with countless rails, embedded into the various ceiling tiles, winding throughout the entire building as those rails disappeared into mysterious crawlspaces.

Was there some way to get into those crawlspaces? If the entire building was dependent on the rail network, then surely it would connect to other parts of the facility. Maybe they'd be able to find out where their weapons were currently being stored, too. And if they were really lucky, perhaps they'd find an exit, allowing them to escape with minimal danger.

Unfortunately, she knew that that was just wishful thinking. She didn't need to be reminded of what lay beyond the facility walls, as their home had long since turned into a sanctuary for countless grimm. The lieutenant let out another sigh, her gaze shifting from the ceiling to the walls, thoughts flitting from the building's strange rail system to its equally curious gear system.

At least, she would've contemplated them, if it weren't for the fact that a single terrible noise drummed through the building, pulling everyone from their thoughts. No longer was Sienna and Lyra arguing; no longer was Captain Owen... Sleeping? C'mon! And no longer was she contemplating the feasibility of using gear to-

Another sound. Was this related to whatever made the noise from earlier? That mysterious maybe-deathstalker, maybe-new-arachnid-grimm? No, that's not right... These sounds were less organic, and far more familiar. But what did it remind her of? What sort of sound is loud and sudden, that ultimately causes the very foundations of buildings to shake?

"Those sound like explosions."

His words were less of a guess, and more of a statement. The three faunus turned to their captain, curiosity and concern evident on their face as they waited for him to continue. Slowly, almost deliberately, the man pulled himself out of his chair, his eyes closed as he rose up to his feet. Iris could feel his aura stir, charging the air as it reached outwards. She was never quite sure what her Captain's semblance actually was, since he used it most commonly for his speeches.

But there were instances where it seemed to do much more than that, like at this very moment, the captain's semblance flaring out as he remained silent.

Rather than try to make sense of it, however, Iris shifted her focus to more pressing concerns: explosions meant dust. Which, in turn, meant that someone somewhere was doing something related to dust. The fact that they were currently dwelling in a ruined fortress was not lost to the ferret-faunus, and trepidation began filling Iris's thoughts as she came to a startling realization.

"That means someone or something has dust. Lots of it..." Her first guess was the mummy himself, but something told her that that wasn't the right answer. He did have dust, no doubt about it, but he seemed far less accident prone, as she had not heard of any explosions prior to this first- no, second one. So what else would have a huge stockpile of dust, just laying around in the wildlands? Only drifters, White Fang, corporations paid attention to the... wildlands.

There was a split second pause.

"Where's the nearest mining town?!" Iris's voice was panicked as she threw the question out to her peers. At first, she was met with confused glances from her colleagues, but realization steadily began to flashed on their faces, each picking up on the ferret-faunus's line of thought. Of course, wishful thinking suggested that it was the White Fang coming to rescue them, but the Lieutenant knew that such a chance was incredible slim.

After all, they had fought so that the rest of their brothers and sisters could leave in peace. Why would they suddenly return, especially with the introduction of new reforms for the organization? Nobility and honour were important tenants, but even more crucial was survival of her family, which was why Iris knew that no help would be coming for some time.

This only left one possibility. She had to figure out what the nearest corporate group was.

The first to answer her was not any of her friends, but one of the nearby walls. Without warning, the metallic wall shattered entirely, exploding into a ruinous conflagration as shrapnel and debris scattered over the room. Grimm echoed out moments later, the terrible howl of Beowolves mixing with the twisted snarls of Creeps, and the tremorous roars of Ursai.

Each of the faunus braced themselves, diving to the table that had been left in the room, drawing forth their utensils as they reinforced the metallic tools with their aura. Such a breach would surely attract the grimm that dwelt in this facility, which meant that they all had to arm themselves. And while steak knives weren't as versatile as actual, usable weapons, the White Fang members did not have the luxury.

Perhaps they'll be able to find one of Lyra's other 'supply caches', if they make it out of this alive.

Minutes passed. More explosions sounded off in the distance, accompanied by the deafening roars of more grimm. Yet, the breach that had appeared in their room remain undisturbed, with neither grimm nor machine crawling out from the massive hole.

Iris furrowed her brow, slowly shifting her attention away from combat to observation. Grimm should've attacked by now, right? So why was nothing happening? The ferret-faunus threw a confused look to the rest of her team, but neither her captain nor Lyra could offer any sort of explanation.

Her fellow lieutenant, on the other hand, seemed to be completely focused on the massive hole-in-the-wall. Something was definitely drawing her attention, so Iris followed the grizzly-faunus's gaze.

And then, she too froze.

"Hey Sienna..."

"Yeah, Iris?"

"... Is it just me, or is that an invasion force?"

"How dare they!?"

To say that Nox was livid would not be an understatement. The Xelor glared up at the sky, peeking at the source of his anger through the lens of his Noxines. He could feel himself seethe with anger—literally seethe, as the Wakfu within him began to churn, as though it were igniting the red powder fuel that it had bonded with. But, rather than focus on the oppressive burn that was slowly filling him, Nox kept his attention fixed squarely on the metallic crafts in the sky.

"To think that the locals are this meddlesome!" Meddlesome was certainly a word to describe them, but Nox had a few other choice words to add to the list as well. Unfortunately, he no longer had the luxury, unable to do anything but watch through the eyes of his scouts as the crafts began their attack.

Through the eyes of his machines, linked through methods he still did not fully comprehend, Nox could see the entire event unfold.

He counted twenty metal crafts, each hovering through the air above the northern forests as they turned towards his structure. They were a fair distance away, but the machines didn't seem to care, as each vehicle held their position. At first, he was unsure what the crafts were planning, as the vehicles seemed to move with purpose. At the same time, they were constructs of unknown technology and design, leaving the Xelor no way to properly discern what they were—

Those were his exact thoughts before one of the crafts acted.

Without warning, a streak of fiery white echoed from one of the planes, the cylinders below its wings flashing with a brilliant light. He immediately recognized it as powder fuel, and it only took Nox a moment more to identify the purpose of the crafts. His goals instantly shifted from curiosity to conflict.

Nox invoked his Dial.

An ominous chime echoed through his structure, only to stop suddenly as he felt the fracture against his Wakfu. His manifestation was... incomplete, but not absent. The Xelor focused his will, igniting some of the powder crystal inside his Dial, feeling more of the unnatural burn surge into him.

He was in control. This was his domain.

With but a thought, Nox burned Wakfu and powder-fuel, gathering raw energy into him before channeling it into the walls of his complex. His process was... improvised at best. inefficiencies were clear to the Xelor as he reinforced the wall. Even from his Noxines, he could see energy seep out form the surface patch he had imbued, the metal wreathed the blue glow of Wakfu, as wisps of red leaked out from the metallic surface.

However, regardless of its problems, it would have to be enough. He had no other choice, not when the attack had already been made.

Nox saw the searing bolt descend from the sky, diving directly towards the walls of his abode. From the views of his scout, the Xelor could see trails of powder-fuel leaking from the metallic mass, humming with energy as it drew closer to his complex.

And then, it stopped.

Something shattered, a splitting noise echoing out from the impact site, kicking up dust and debris as he felt the bolt strike against the wall. Already, the Wakfu was seeping away, drawn back into his building as the glowing light of creation gathered back around his Dial, but Nox paid no heed to that fact. Instead, he let out a frustrated growl, anger welling inside him as his attention fell back to the group of metallic craft.

For the rest no longer chose to be silent. At that instant, more of those blazing lights appeared. Dozens more. Each rained downwards, tearing apart the air, leaving behind ivory embers before exploding squarely against the walls of his abode.

Metal bent. Mortar shattered. Destruction rained.