7-1: Daybreak

"We're screwed."

It wasn't unusual to hear those words coming out of Qrow Branwen's lips. Usually, it referred to less-than-ideal circumstances involving bureaucratic misdirection, or some sort of trivial mistake he'd inadvertently made. Other times, it involved a schedule conflict, where the man deliberately scheduled a conflict, only to have the entire event backfire on him when people in authority found out. There were even times where he'd use it just to be deliberately... crass. But the times when he'd use those words in their proper context were few and far in-between.

Which was why Winter's eyes widened when she realized that Qrow had spoken them with absolutely no irony.

She just couldn't understand why. The situation, while apparently dire at first glance, was far better than it had been hours ago. What had started off as a pitched battle with the grimm quickly escalated into a veritable siege... Except that they were the ones besieging the grimm. And four hours in, the fiery monstrosity was still active, fighting with the same ferocity it had shown since the very beginning.

But it was the only one fighting with such fervent intensity.

Desperate human combatants had long since retreated, evacuated to any number of firebases that had been set up near the conflict. And the inhuman combatants, the thousands of machines that the corporations had given to the expeditionary army, showed no stress or worry as they marched to face the grimm. Mismatched models from countless companies charged into the courtyard once more, firing streaks of fire and lightning and whatever else the companies had decided to weaponize, all in an attempt to stem the constant flow of grimm.

An attempt that had succeeded, and had gained yet more ground for the corporate alliance. It was a slow outcome, but an inevitable one, for their forces had all but secured their little war with the grimm. And it was not this battle that had won the war, but the countless miniature battles that had taken place around it.

As more of the expeditionary army arrived to provide support, the great battle had expanded outside the ruins, into the surrounding forests. Red Dust was used to torch the nearby woods of natural cover, swiftly bringing those smaller skirmishes to an end as Gunships provided aerial support to the ground troops. Those fields, temporarily free of conflict, were used by numerous combat engineers to set up a defensive perimeter.

Those minor skirmishes, and the fortifications that had been set up afterwards, had taken two full hours to resolve. And in that time, hundreds of people and tens of thousands of artificial warriors had been used to keep the massive Ursa distracted.

While the cost of the conflict likely numbered in the billions at this point, it was well worth the cost, as the tide of grimm were unable to join the larger battle within the ruins, forced to trickle in at a single exposed spot, deliberately kept for the beasts to enter. And the mindless ones chose to enter, while the smarter ones retreated. Whether they had decided to bide their time, or give up the battle entirely was inconsequential, as the brief respite allowed the expeditionary army to reinforce with a vengeance.

And though she didn't smile, Winter's heart still lifted as she saw the latest reinforcement wave enter the fray, depositing a payload of experimental war machines. Multiple, experimental war machines. SDC and Rhinestone were fielding weapons, sure, but the situation had escalated to the point where even smaller companies like Atrium or Vorland Mechanics had unveiled their hidden weapons. Massive constructs stepped, rolled, or glided onto the battlefield, each eager to end the battle.

So how could Qrow think that they were at a disadvantage? Her professionalism prevented her from showing any negative emotions as she threw a questioning glance to the brute of a man.

"Really? I thought you were supposed to be good at intelligence."

She ignored the quip, rolling her eyes at the huntsman's pointless outburst. Still, she kept an eye on the field, trying to find exactly what it was that Qrow was worried about. At least, she would've done so, if the damnable grimm hadn't chosen to let loose another baleful roar.

The back of the beast began flaring with a crimson light as it arched its back yet again, tendrils of fire snaking up from the molten slag that had blanketed the battlefield as it merged into its crystalline hide. Within moments, the blaze fused with its back, molding into solid crystal before countless spikes formed on the newly forged lattice. And just as quickly as the light arrived, the gunships above blared their sirens, sending the signal to the troops below to take cover as another gout of fire spiraled outwards into the night sky.

No... The dawn sky now. She could scarcely believe that they had been fighting for so long. The grimm's ability to draw power from the shattered machines and melted dust was the only reason their battle turned to one of attrition. However, in a battle of attrition, the side with the greatest preparation would be the victor... and it grimm were not known for their logistics.

As if to accentuate that fact, the rumbling sound of distant explosions belched forward, signaling the roar of countless artillery batteries, untouchable by the grimm before them. The dawn lit up with fire once more, this time sent by their own forces, dwarfing the violent display that their target had shown.

Their position was, while costly, was all but assured.

That singular fact was what caused Winter to question her partner. Yet, she had not been able to get a proper response from him, as Qrow had long since turned his attention away from the battlefield to contact another mysterious individual in his Scroll's network.

Not that she could fault him for that, since he was acting as a message proxy for Ironwood and Ozpin. Still, she was given no such orders by her superior, which left her with no immediate tasks but to ensure Qrow was undisturbed. Which, in turn, meant that she had nothing better to do but survey the battlefield to find out whatever obtuse event Qrow had been refer-

Winter's eyes widened, then narrowed as she finally noticed something. Had she not been looking, she certainly would've missed it. In fact, it was something that she had undoubtedly missed countless times until now, and she mentally berated herself for letting the incident slip her mind.

But it made no sense. How did she miss the light of aura around that spot, flaring up to shield it from the descending fire? What could possibly... Of course.

"The monument..." Her voice was quiet as she stared at the ruined wastes. Like all other structures, the metallic shelter that had housed the monument had long since faded away. However, she had merely assumed that it was still untouched, as the mechanical guardians of the artificial spire had chosen to defend it, letting neither grimm nor robot approach. That had been the case for the past three hours... What had changed now?

"'Bout time you noticed." Qrow closed his Scroll, giving the display one final glance before he pocketed the device into his coat. Now free of obstructions, his hand retrieved a familiar flask, bringing it up to his lips as he approached the Atlesian Operative. "The last of those things fell a little more than half an hour ago. Figured you didn't notice, since you kept watching those damned birds fly in."

'Watching' was one way to describe it. The firebases fenced off all grimm but the aerial threats, and Winter had been the one to assist in clearing the airspace. Still, that was no excuse for missing something so important. She had just assumed that the machines kept the place secure, as they had done an hour ago. Just how did she not notice those machines expire? Or are they still active? She didn't feel anything from that location... but that didn't mean much, since she hadn't felt anything from the monument or the machines since their battle started in earnest.

With no answers, the Huntress had no choice but to throw her associate a worried glance. "What exactly happened? How is it still... active? How many more-"

"Sorry to say, but you're not special, Princess." Qrow's voice interrupted the woman as he gave her a stare. "I dunno how it happened, maybe it was a retreat order gone bad or maybe it was a crashed gunship that got lucky, but someone who knew how to use their aura stumbled on that that place. And just like it did you, the monument thing did something weird to their aura. That shield's been up since then."

She had to confirm. The Operative quickly replaced her field optics with her infiltration tools, drawing the sensitive equipment from her pouch as she tried to focus on the distant construct. "How did you..."

"Find that out?" The Huntsman almost scoffed at her question, rolling his eyes as he gestured to the bullhead behind them. "Not that hard. We're friends with the commander, remember? He mentioned it while you were playing air control. And as you can see, the big wigs are now using it as a staging ground."

Winter frowned as the huntsman spoke those words.

It was more than that. The mercenaries that the corporations had employed were far above the usual private security that had been used for the conflict. And rather than attempt to fight, they were fortifying the area around the monument, building very permanent defense as they settled themselves in. There was little doubt what they intended to do.

Suddenly, the battle around them was lost to the huntress. She cared for neither the waning cries of the massive grimm, nor the growing light of dawn that slowly began washing over the battlefield.

"So yeah." There was no mirth in Qrow's voice as he took another drink from his flash, letting out a single heavy sigh as he stared at the battlefield beyond. "That's why we're screwed."

Winter couldn't help but agree.

"Hey... Captain?"

His friend's voice was timid, far quieter than the usual brash attitude that he had come to expect from the... Lieutenant. Was it even right to refer to her like that anymore? She of all people had made it abundantly clear of how she felt about the Fang. Not that he could blame her or anything. After what had happened, he didn't blame any of them for being so... scattered. Looking up from his spot in the bullhead, he sent a single glance to the grizzly-faunus. "I thought you weren't going to call me that anymore?"

"Really? Really?" His words had earned him a deadpan stare. Still, any sort of expression was better than the silence she had carried prior, so it was good enough for the Captain. Pulling himself up from his spot on the Bullhead, the man turned to face his Lieutenant proper, pushing aside his own self doubts as he did so. "Sure thing, Sienna. So what's up?"

"What exactly are we supposed to do now?"

And those doubts came crashing back. Of course she'd ask about it. He had been wondering the exact same thing ever since they came across that little revelation. Sure, he hadn't actually been thinking about it at the time, due to the giant flaming grimm, but ever since they evacuated from the old Fort, the question had been on his mind. Honestly, he wasn't sure what to do.

On one hand, the Captain shed no tears for the people who had been killed. They weren't just some strangers who had been unlucky enough to be captured for a demonstration; the group that the White Fang had chosen to use were an entire division of Atlesian management. A small one, to be fair, but one that had wrung the remnants of Menagerie bone-dry with their methods.

Methods that he had been forced to grow up with. So no, he did not feel any remorse for their passing.

But on the other hand... Even the Captain felt that they were too zealous with their execution. Too bloodthirsty. To claim a life was one thing, but to broadcast it publicly for everyone to see? It was certainly a message, but a message that had lasted for far longer than it needed to. Friends, families, associates of the captured parties all bore witness to the event, and in the end, the White Fang came off as resolute as much as it did... unhinged.

Still, this was something He prepared for, right? Another eventuality in the terrible conflict between faunus and humans? Their old ways were doing nothing to improve the faunus. Their hands had been forced. And ever since they pushed for change within the organization, pushed for greater strides to reclaim their rights, there was no other path they could walk.

That thought alone caused the man to clench his fist in frustration. "I don't know... I doubt our 'friends' here will just let us go back to the White Fang."

"Do you even want to go back?"

The question came, not from his associates, but from the man who had captured them. As well as the man who commanded these corporate mercenaries. Owen's eyes narrowed as he turned to the human, trying to keep himself composed as he rose to his feet. "Does it matter what I say? I appreciate the fact that you didn't lock us in chains like the rest of your kind, but I'm not ignorant of our position. We're prisoners, plain and simple."

A tired sigh was all the man offered in return, as the security officer brought a hand up to his forehead, making a show of nursing a headache before turning back to face the White Fang Captain. "Is that what you really think?"

Of course that's what he thought. How else could he interpret it? Here they were, trapped and waiting for some unknown fate, yet the man had the audacity to ask something as stupid as that? The tiger-faunus was about to lash out at the human before he had noticed something odd: the question had somehow been genuine. The man before him had spoken plainly, a look of surprise scrawled on his face, with his eyes focused completely on the faunus.

Why?

"Am I wrong? The moment we boarded this airship, you confiscated our weapons and contacted your superiors. You and your huntsmen held us at gunpoint until we agreed to get locked in this room!" The White Fang Captain eventually chose to rebuke the statement, his voice raising as he kept his focus on the man. As genuine as his frustration was, Owen wasn't lashing out without reason, and waited for the corporate officer's reaction. "And even now, you've got your damned robots trained on all of us. How are we anything but prisoners?"

"... You've got to be kidding me." Whatever reaction he had expected, it certainly wasn't what he got. The moment Owen had asked his question, the man brought his hands up to his face, releasing an annoyed groan into his palm as he muttered something about 'drunks' and 'idiots'. His clarification came moments later, as the officer settled his gaze back on the Captain. "Of course Qrow messed this up. He was supposed to tell you that we're willing to offer you a deal."

This was the first he had heard of that. "What kind of deal?"

"A simple one, really. You agree to answer a few questions for us, and we'll let you go. Or drop you off wherever."

Oh. The Captain's expression fell flat. He was no stranger to this position either, and there was absolutely no way he'd submit to such a blatant interr-

"No, before you ask, it's not a damned interrogation. Seriously, that drunken idiot had one job." The officer reached into his coat, rifling through his pocket for a few moments before pulling out a Scroll. A scroll bearing the image of a very familiar figure. "We just want to know everything about this guy. My superiors are very interested in him, and any insight you can provide would be appreciated."

"...and if we decline?" This was the important part. The Captain turned his attention away from the officer to the security droids in the room, deliberately shooting a glance to the armed machines.

"Then that's that. Your status will change from 'persons of interest' to terrorist fugitives." To accentuate the point, the human flicked his scroll, switching the image from the mysterious mummy to a digital article. Specifically, an article about White Fang's latest demonstration. "And that's when we'll have to 'lock you in chains'."

Owen gritted his teeth. He wasn't even sure why he had bothered to ask, since he was fully aware of the situation they were in. And he also knew that the Kingdoms dealt with 'terrorist fugitives' far more harshly than they did with 'misguided protestors'. What exactly was he supposed to do?

"Look... I know you're in a bad position. Heck, it probably sounds like we're forcing your hand." The Captain was too disciplined to roll his eyes at that statement, and merely threw a glance at the human. "But I guarantee this is the best deal you're going to get. You know as well as I do that the region's completely covered in private security, acting on behalf of companies that your organization's been antagonizing for months. Do you think they'll give you the same offer? All we want to know about is the man in bandages."

"What makes your boss any different? I can see your badge from here; you're no better than the mercenaries outside."

His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to the human's attire. The Rhinestone Security Officer wore his company colours plainly, making no attempt to hide the decorated rock, which only drew more questions to the faunus's mind. "And why do you want to know so much about the man, anyways?"

There was a brief moment of silence as the man glanced around the room. Once again, the faunus was reminded of the fact that, besides machinery and their little White Fang group, no one else was within earshot. And he began suspecting that that little arrangement was deliberate.

"My boss," The human stared at Owen, his voice calm as he pocketed his Scroll, "is not some corporate harpy or obscure fistful of Lien. My boss is the current Headmaster of Beacon Academy."

That caught the Captain off-guard. As well as his subordinates, as the rest of the White Fang prisoners turned their eyes to face the human. How could they not? Beacon was a very prestigious institution. A very independent institution, one that rose above even the Kingdoms in influence. Not only that, but they were one of the few public groups who never denounced the White Fang, using the grimm as an excuse not to get involved.

Just what did Beacon want with them?

"Which is also why I asked you that question." The human rose up from his spot by the wall, making his way to the center of the room as he turned to address everyone present. His eyes slowly shifted between all the White Fang, calmly regarding them for a few short moments before shifting his eyes back to the Captain.

"Are you all certain that going back to the White Fang is what you want?"

Nox frowned.

Or rather, his mask flashed a simple look of irritation, whirring in response to his internal musings as he made his way along the coast. To be fair, he had a great deal of things to be irritated about; the loss of his forces, the destabilization of his Dial, the complete usurpation of his base by the damnable locals... But that wasn't what had concerned him the most. Really, given enough time and resources, all those were eventually replaceable.

What wasn't replaceable was peace and quiet.

And for the fifth time in the past two minutes, the locals had shattered that peace and quiet with their damnable drumming and weaponry. How was he supposed to enjoy his newfound freedom, his newly established goal and vendetta, if some simpleton on an overly complicated cannon emplacement chose to wake up the stupid forest?

Sure, he had been pleasantly surprised the first time he had heard it, as it allowed him to direct a Noxine to the source. And he had been intrigued to find that that particular source was some temporary regional outpost of some kind. In fact, he would even go so far as to say he was thankful, since the outpost contained a useful map of the region, plastered on some wooden board for the denizens of the outpost to see.

But that was ten minutes ago. Now, he was moving north along the coast, straying between the treeline and the open fields, with nothing but a constant headache to act as his company. The worst part about it was that he didn't even have some incompetent Grambo to yell at! Nor did he really have an adequate substitute.

He had seen no actual humans along his journey, and the few shadow beasts that he had stumbled upon mostly ignored him. Sure, some were more feral than others, displaying an impressive lack of self preservation; there had been one incident involving an oversized snake of some description. Two minutes and one water-bound snake later, Nox had concluded that his immediate area had lacked any individual that had the mental capacity to serve as a semi-intelligent conversational partner.

Honestly, Nox never imagined that, of all the things he'd miss from the World of Twelve, it'd be Grambos. That thought alone caused the Xelor to groan with irritation.

At the very least, he had a clear direction of where he needed to go. His remaining Noxines, while few in number, were still more than enough to map out the surrounding area. Coupled with the map provided by the local outpost/noisemaker, the Xelor was not only sure of his current location, but the location of all nearby points of interest.

It seemed that he was coming up across one such point now. The morons at the outpost were content to use coloured pins to mark their map, rather than something sensible like words or text, and he had been approaching a point marked by a green pin. So logically, it was in his best interest to visit that point, in order to identify what that colour meant. If it was a settlement, he'd have a source of information to dissect at his leisure. If it was a resource point, perhaps it'd provide him an answer as to where this Powder Fuel comes from.

And if it was some sort of threat? Then, at the very least, he'd know what the locals considered a threat.

A few moments passed, and his Noxine finally flew into view of the area. Fortunately, it seemed that his worrying had been for nothing, as the Xelor's mood brightening the moment he spotted the location. In fact, Nox couldn't help but smile beneath his mask, chuckling to himself as he gazed at the world through his clockwork scout.

Wasn't that convenient? It seems that a green pin was reserved for identifying towns. And it had been so long since he had seen a town like that... A coastal town, walled and nestled up against the cliffside.

What an intriguing start to his day.