Chapter 10
Tili Tili Bom
XXXXX
Qrow idly took a sip from his flask as he strolled through Jimmy's flagship. While the contents were indeed alcoholic, it was a fairly moderate beer most of the time. Enough to give him a bit of a buzz, but he'd need to pound back three or four bottles of these to even get even close to drunk. He enjoyed his drink, but he wasn't stupid. Besides, this had a bit of an advantage to it. People who saw the man in ratty clothing with a hip flask stumbling with slurred words, they assumed he was hammered to oblivion and back. It made them cocky, and Qrow liked it that way. The Ice Queen had certainly thought that he was just a drunk idiot, and he had almost gotten her to make a fool of herself in front of her boss.
But then Walker had gotten involved. Walker had, at the very least, been smart enough to guess at what he had been doing. He could tell what Ozpin had seen in the guy, he had been around the block a few times. Walker had a way of carrying the small arsenal on his back that suggested that he had long since become accustomed to it. Qrow had spent enough time in the seedier parts of towns and with undesirables who lived off the map to know the difference between those who were comfortable holding guns and those who weren't. James held his weapons like he had been using them since he was Ruby's age. Heck, maybe he had.
It was a shame that he couldn't follow basic instructions, but hey, it wasn't the first time Qrow had worked with someone like this. He supposed he could forgive a little bit, Walker didn't realize exactly how tenuous their situation was. Ozpin had employed him, but he hadn't let Walker into his inner circle. That came later, it always did, Ozpin needed a few years to see if an ally could be trusted with the secrets of Salem and everything surrounding her. But that only went so far. They weren't on Walker's turf, it was time for him to realize that.
He came to a stop outside the room that had been assigned to James, rapping sharply on it. "It's open!" a voice called from inside. Pushing the door open, Qrow took in the sight before him. James had pulled a table to the center of his small living quarters and was hunched over the machine-gun that he had recovered from the Legion. He was in the final stages of slapping a bipod to the end of it. "There, that oughta do it," he said, giving the bipod a flick. It didn't so much as budge. "Rumford tried to hip-fire this thing, that'll get you diminishing returns if you're not in spitting distance. Even with Aura, using one of these is just the smarter way to go." He craned his neck to look at Qrow. At once, a frown crossed his face. "Yes?"
"Meeting," Qrow said bluntly. "Jimmy wants all hands on deck by the looks of things."
"Ah. Gotcha. One second, I just gotta make sure everything is in order." Placing his machine-gun flat on the table, he leaned over to the far side. "You know, there's a lot of cookbooks where you can make substitutions, but I'm not sure the Patriot's Cookbook is one of them. Oh well, you make do with what you got." Qrow looked over the table in front of James. It was covered with a dozen landmines of the oddest design that Qrow had ever seen. It looked like James had taken metal cases from all over the ship, strapped motion sensors onto them, and stuffed them full of Dust. The man was certainly inventive if nothing else.
Slowly, James picked them up one by one and looked them over, checking every last part before putting them down. "Ok. They look stable," he said, getting to his feet. Leaving the machine-gun on the table but still visibly bringing his other weapons, he turned to face Qrow. "Lead the way."
Qrow nodded, strolling out of James's room, only stopping for a second for him to lock the door before he began to lead them in the direction of Jimmy's briefing room. "The Fang and Legion should've landed by now, but we're not seeing hide nor tail of them," Qrow said, taking another swig from his flask. He could see James glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. Good. Let him think that he was drunker than he was. "Either they changed course, unlikely, or they managed to slip through Atlas defenses somehow. I know, crazy isn't it, Atlas dropping the ball yet again."
"Quick question, is there any chance you can get all of this out of your system before we get there?" James asked sharply. "This is a delicate situation and it's going to require more diplomacy than you're going to be bringing to the table at this point."
Qrow smirked. "What, you don't think I can be diplomatic?"
"Can? Yes. Will? Fuck no," James said sourly. "Qrow, you're a lot of things, and what you are first and foremost is an asshole. Now, I get it. Being an asshole has its place, but you don't have a damn off switch. I've been in diplomatic situations where tensions were running high before. I needed to be clever, I needed to be quick on my feet, I needed to balance saying what they wanted to hear and getting what I came there for. What I did not need to do was throw my filter out the window and say every last little thing that comes into my head the way you do."
He glared at Qrow. "So no. You won't be diplomatic. You'll do what you did last time. Act like a petulant fucking child. It'd be funny if it wasn't for the fact that teenagers we have around seem to have their shit together much more than you do." Qrow idly waved James's insults off. He had heard so much worse from Ironwood, from Ozpin, from his sister, even from Tai on occasion. Walker was going to have to try a lot harder if he wanted to get a reaction out of him. "But then again, for someone who seems to respect Ozpin so much, you seem to deeply enjoy going out of your way to make life more difficult for him."
"Ozpin's an amazing man, but he's a little too tolerant and forgiving for his own good," Qrow said idly. "He needs people like me around him because he'll just smile and take it when a firm kick to the rear is in order." It was true. Ozpin bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Qrow had a theory, one that he had shared with no one, that Ozpin was scared of alienating any potential allies in his mission to keep Salem at bay and all the Artifacts safe. Understandable, but Ozpin really did need to put his foot down and make it clear. He knew better than Ironwood, he knew better than just about everyone on Remnant. Dancing around the issue just made things more complicated and made idiots more likely to screw things up.
"Well, you're not wrong," James said. The implication of what he said was not lost on Qrow. He ignored it. The conversation between the two of them died out at that point. They slowly moved through the ship until they crossed the threshold into a briefing room. It was a basic affair, plain white, metallic chairs surrounding a large conference table. Ruby's team was already there, as was Team JNPR, Jimmy, and the Ice Queen, the latter of whom was making a concentrated effort to not look in his direction. He cracked a wide smile and gave an exaggerated wave in her direction. She didn't respond, but he was fairly certain he could see a vein pulsing in her temple. That would do.
Everyone was seated except Jimmy. James slid into one of the few seats while Qrow slouched against the wall. Jimmy looked around, no doubt checking that everyone was there before he cleared his throat. "First of all, I do believe an apology is in order." He looked at James. "Mr. Walker? We took your advice and I do believe a catastrophe has been averted. Our central database had been compromised, and we only just discovered it. We were wrong to doubt you, your intuition was invaluable. I apologize for dismissing your concerns."
James looked a little flustered. "Look, it was a long shot, you were right to be skeptical. Frankly, it's the type of situation where I would've been happy to be wrong."
"Well, sadly you weren't. Which means that whoever infiltrated the CCT had both the knowledge and the equipment to hack into the most secure databases of the Atlas military," Ironwood said. "And the program appeared to be designed to utterly assume control of our automated assets. I say appear because it deleted itself the moment it was discovered. A clever design, we have no means of tracing it now. I have intelligence looking into that, but for the moment we've done all we can do. As of now, our focus is on the Legion and White Fang."
He grimaced. "We received no notification of them landing on Atlas shores. While them holding their position in open waters is a possibility, it's unlikely due to aquatic Grimm activity. The negative emotions from being trapped on a small vessel for an extended time would attract them if they aren't trained to control their emotions, which I doubt. Meaning we can only assume they have slipped past our defenses, possibly by taking a longer trip up the coast to more sparsely populated areas. Either that or they managed to find a way to slip through our thicker lines of defense."
"It's doubtful that they managed to do that," Winter remarked. Neither the White Fang or the Legion has the capabilities to fool our defenses."
"Wouldn't be so sure, not after you just learned someone managed to hack into your systems," Qrow said dryly. The vein in Winter's head pulsed.
"That would've required technology beyond their capabilities. The White Fang is too low level and while the Legion only has access to Earth technology." Earth, right, apparently that's the name of the place Walker was from. A weird name, but then again their planet was called Remnant. Apparently, people were just terrible at naming planets. "Earth's technology is advanced in many ways, surpassing ours in some, but its computing technology is relatively primitive. Nearly a century behind ours." James looked a bit embarrassed at this point and shifted the arm that had the weird gauntlet-terminal on it. "Even then, the Legion's understanding of technology is general is limited, as they eschew it. No. They took a longer trip around. This means that they risked Grimm infested territory."
"Question," Weiss said, raising her hand. "Grimm infestations around the Atlas borders are particularly harsh where the military has not established safe zones. Is there any chance that the Grimm might finish both groups off before we can get anywhere near them?" There was a hopeful tone to her voice. Qrow suppressed the urge to sigh in irritation. The girl was worried about her homeland being invaded, he wasn't going to hold that against her. Walker wasn't 100% wrong when he had accused him of being an asshole, but he wasn't that much of one.
"The White Fang will be leading them, and the White Fang has been active long enough to know how to avoid attracting Grimm," Blake said. "They're a global organization, and they operate across all four Kingdoms. It won't be that easy." Qrow glanced at the young girl out of the corner of his eye. Blake Belladonna. Now she was an interesting one. Daughter of the founder of the original White Fang, a supporter of the more radicalized version of it, a defector working to stop it. He wondered if Ruby and Yang knew. Ozpin had been let in on the secret, and Qrow himself had picked it up through piecing together scraps of information here and there. Ozpin had made him swear to stay silent on the matter, Blake had confided in Ozpin secretly after all.
Of all the people in the room, there was a strong argument to make that Blake was the most well informed on the White Fang. No doubt she had partaken in a trip from one continent to another, no doubt in a dinky little boat that might avoid aquatic Grimm by sheer virtue of being too insignificant. Qrow's mind drifted to what she might have been smuggling between borders if she had partaken in these missions. Weapons, explosives, maybe skilled operatives on wetwork assignments. Probably best not to judge her too much for that. There wasn't much point in being a hypocrite.
"Our thoughts exactly, which means we're back to square one, locating them," Ironwood said. "Qrow is a tracker without peer." My oh my, had he just heard a compliment from Jimmy? An honest sounding one at that. His grin grew. If Jimmy noticed it, he kept it hidden. "But even he can't pick up a trail that's gone this cold." Qrow's smile faded. Sadly, he was right. Being able to turn into a crow had perks that most couldn't imagine, but crows weren't omnipotent. "We feel confident, however, that they have actions planned in Mantle or the Mantle area. If they were planning on targeting anywhere else, they approached Atlas from the wrong angle or would have to pass through inner layers of defense. Considering they're even thicker than our outer layers, and the White Fang has never managed to properly operate within the inner territories effectively, I doubt the Legion would be able to help them penetrate those defenses."
"So. Uh. What are we doing?" Jaune asked. Qrow's attention turned onto the leader of Team JNPR. He really didn't know what that kid was doing at Beacon, let alone on this mission. The other seven students he could understand. Pyrrha was a prodigy that even he would struggle to beat, the redhead and the quiet one were talented amateurs, and Ruby's team had seen enough fights that they couldn't be classified as green anymore. He wouldn't say they were seasoned just yet, but they had enough raw talent and training that they wouldn't be liabilities. Even the Ice Queen's little sister. But the blonde kid? Yang had been more of a fighter than him when she was twelve. Walker hadn't had his Aura active for a month yet, and even he could take this kid. Everything Qrow had heard and seen about him suggested that he was just getting his feet wet, lacked training, and was generally clueless. Training wasn't worth nearly as much as field experience, but it was still something, and this kid barely had any. What was he doing here?
"At the moment, we're attempting to track down their movements to prepare for them," Ironwood said. As he spoke, he pressed a button on the table. A holographic map of the western half of Atlas appeared above it, displaying more military checkpoints than Qrow could count. "We're raising our security levels to as high as we reasonably can without causing a panic." Qrow took a moment to tune out Ironwood and check the reactions of everyone else.
The Ice Queen's eyes were darting to and fro on the map, no doubt checking the gauntlet of military positions for weaknesses. Yang, Ruby, and Nora all had their eyes on the screen, but the glaze that was slowly starting to build up over their eyes, Ren, Jaune, Pyrrha, and Walker seemed to have given up on that and were focusing on Ironwood, while Weiss was following the map with a look of gradually growing horror on her face. Blake had a deeply concerned look as her golden eyes flitted up and down the map. Qrow had a feeling this wasn't the first time she had checked a map of Atlas checkpoints for weaknesses.
"But there's always a chance of a small group or lone operative sneaking through," Ironwood said. "And after a good deal of thought, I've decided that this is a time where we must be proactive, we can't afford to wait for them to come to us. If we can't find them, we'll have to go to someone who will know where they are." He paused for a minute, wearing the same expression you had when you had something very unpleasant stuck in your throat. "I...will be arranging an effort to reach out to the Atlas branch of the White Fang in an attempt to learn where the infiltrators are."
"Sorry, what?" Qrow said dryly. "Atlas is the birthplace of the White Fang, specifically the violent variant, and your plan is for the Atlas military to reach out and ask them to sell their own out? I've spent a lot of time on and beyond the fringe Jimmy, and that's not how things work. Packs don't sell their own out." He was fairly certain he could feel Winter's eyes boring into him, but at the moment he didn't care. Ironwood always had a bit of a bad case of having his head in the clouds, but this was pushing it. There was no way that he was this blind. You didn't need to grow up in a bandit clan to figure this out.
"White Fang activity has been taking a strange turn ever since the attacks in Vale," Ironwood replied, his voice calm but stern. "It's a large organization spread out all over Remnant, its various branches operate semi-independently. Each one has its own unique style and manner of operating. But in the past few days, they've all gone rather quiet. We've seen no signs of vast movement as if they're mobilizing. If anything, we suspect they've gone into hiding. As if they're afraid.
"So what you're saying is that you think the ones who attacked Vale are radicals," Qrow said. "Ok. Not a baseless concept. But you're still missing the bigger picture here. Even if the Atlas branch of the White Fang isn't comfortable supporting the radicals, there's a big jump between them sitting around and not helping and selling their old pals out. It's a nasty little one-two punch, they don't like you and they'd be afraid that the rest of the White Fang might turn on them, assuming you don't stab them in the back the second you're done with them." Ironwood opened his mouth but Qrow beat him to the punch. "I know that you wouldn't do that, but they don't. They don't trust anyone who isn't a Faunus, but they trust the Atlas military the least of all. And I hate to point out the nasty subject no one wants to talk about, we're bringing in the thing the White Fang hates most of all. The Schnee family."
That got everyone in the room looking at him. Walker looked more confused than anything else, Qrow had a good feeling that he wasn't up to date on the controversies of the SDC, Winter looked wearily resigned, while the students looked shocked at him. "Jaques Schnee is infamous for Faunus abuse with his company, and your plan involves bringing both his daughters to the table. That's a good way for things to suffer a premature death if I've ever heard of one." He paused, taking in everyone looking at him. Someone had to say it.
"If I may," Ironwood said, his voice a guarded neutral, "I am not blind to the controversies of the SDC. If anything, it is for exactly that reason that I want Winter and Weiss both involved. We are extending a peace offering to them. If we approach the situation just right, it will be seen as an act of sincerity, a display of how dedicated we are."
"There's a benefit to being a disowned Schnee as well," Winter remarked dryly. "We may end up having a few shared opinions."
"And that's all well and good, if it works," Qrow retorted. It really could be frustrating to have to repeat the obvious over and over again. But apparently, most people just didn't get it. "But this is all assuming it doesn't blow up in your face in the first five seconds. Bonding over how much you hate your daddy isn't going to help much if they start shooting the second they see you. It-"
"Any chance I can interject?" Walker said. Qrow turned his attention onto him, feeling a twinge of irritation.
"What?" he asked.
"General, I think your plan is a good baseline, but it could use a bit of tweaking," Walker said, looking more at Ironwood than at Qrow. "But you said that you wanted to have a peace offering. What did you plan on bringing to the table to make the White Fang more cooperative?"
Ironwood straightened his back out. "I have a fair few proposals for them. A general amnesty for all crimes committed as members of the White Fang, a personal promise for me to utilize my political pressure in order to achieve some of their long term political goals, witness protection for those who fear for their lives. Of course, the negotiations would have an opening for them to make demands of their own, which I would happily accept if they were reasonable."
Walker nodded. "None of those are bad ideas, but you're gonna want something that'll get you at the table in the first place. Generally speaking, if you want a group who doesn't like you to do you a favor, I find the best way to go about it is to do them a favor first," James said. "Ideally without them having to ask. It goes down better that way, convinces them that you're opening up talks in good faith."
"And what would you recommend this favor be?" Qrow asked, his tone more neutral than it normally was. This wasn't a bad idea if Walker could back it up.
James got to his feet. "Figuring that out is half the struggle, the other half is getting it done. I've got some experience in this field. Gangs, warrior tribes, crime families, isolationist technophiles, you wouldn't believe the number of people whose good side I've had to get on. Sometimes the tensions were bad enough that people were two seconds away from shooting each other. Give me 24 hours and directions to the parts of Mantle where there are more Faunus than humans. I'll put my ear to the ground and see if I can come up with something."
"You've proven yourself capable, very well," Ironwood said. "I will have a subordinate prepare directions for you. Though I'd rather this excursion of yours be auxiliary to mine, not replacing it. Specialist Schnee will be taking Team RWBY and Team JNPR for the talks, as well as Qrow." At this, Ironwood swiveled and focused on Qrow with laser precision. "Who, to be utterly clear, will be in a subordinate position to Specialist Schnee and will act as scouting and position himself for long-range support. The talking will be left to her."
Qrow allowed himself a sly grin. Really. It was a little too easy to get Ironwood and Winter all wound up. "I'm all for Winter taking charge, but I really think it would be in everyone's best interest until you wait for me to butter them up first," James said. "Trust me, I've done this a dozen times before. I go in as a third party, get them to like me, make it so that they owe me a couple of favors. Then I say 'hey, I know you don't like those pricks over the hill, but they want to talk to you and I promise they're not going to start shit.' If you're a nobody, or openly affiliated with the people they hate, they toss you out on your ass. If you're lucky. But if you build bridges first, it makes things go down so much easier."
"Agreed, but time is of the essence Mr. Walker," Ironwood said. "You wanted 24 hours? You can have that, but I can't afford to wait any longer. The White Fang radicals are on the move, and the trail gets colder with every passing hour. While you are searching for a favor to do for them, Winter, Qrow, the students, and I will be attempting to arrange such a meeting."
"While I'm out there I can probably try and find-" James began, but Qrow interrupted him.
"Yeah, you're gonna want to leave finding their base of operations to me," he said smarmily. James shot him a look of annoyance, but he could already tell by the look on Ironwood's face that Walker was in for a disappointment. Right then and there, Ironwood had a face Qrow loved to see. The "I'm about to agree with Qrow and I just died a little inside" face.
"Mr. Walker, I don't mean to disrespect you, but Qrow will be far more adept than you at location local White Fang leaders within a day. It would be for the best if it was left to his expertise," Ironwood said sourly.
James's jaw looked rather rigid as he nodded. He pushed himself to his feet. "Well, seeing as I'm on a strict schedule, I better get going now. Is there anything else I should know?" Ironwood shook his head. "Ok, I'll be in contact. Pardon me, need to change before I head out. Just be sure to leave those directions by the door." With that, James gave a brief wave before he left the room.
"Considering the planned envoy has been delayed by 24 hours, we will continue this briefing tomorrow," Ironwood said. "You are all free to go. We will meet again 6 hours before James's deadline to make preparations to head out. Qrow? I want a word. Miss Nikos? I need a moment of your time too." Out of the corner of his eye, Qrow saw Winter looking at Ironwood in confusion. Qrow, on the other hand, knew exactly what was coming.
The others filed out, Ruby and Yang stopping for a second to give him a fistbump each, something he happily returned. Eventually, the room was empty except for him, Jimmy, and Pyrrha.
"Walker. I don't like him," Qrow said bluntly
"Why, because he has the audacity to not agree with you?" Ironwood said coldly.
"No, because he thinks he knows better when he doesn't," Qrow said. "He's been around the block where he's from, but doesn't know a thing about Remnant beyond the bare basics, and he goes running off whenever he feels like it. The Maidens, Salem, the Relics, he doesn't know anything about any of them, and he's got surface-level information about the White Fang and Raven and he thinks he can make judgment calls about what the best course of action is. He's been here how long? Two weeks? The man didn't even understand the concept of a scroll when he got here. But he feels comfortable enough to get uppity when we've all been doing this longer than he has? Yeah, it's a bit more complicated than him not agreeing with me." He threw his hands up. "Still, maybe he'll be able to not screw things up this time. Maybe he won't idly chuck orders out of the window this time."
"Following instructions is suddenly something you care about?" Ironwood asked. "You yourself seem rather selective about when you decide which orders you listen to. Ozpin is your only consistency on that front."
"Um," Pyrrha said, awkwardly interjecting herself into the conversation. "Should I go?" Her hands were nervously clasped in front of her and she looked as if she didn't quite know what she was doing there. It felt wrong, Ozpin choosing her to inherit what was left of the Fall Maiden's power. It wasn't fair to her. It wasn't fair to Amber. But they were out of options.
"No," Ironwood said apologetically. "Please, forgive us. The four of us just need to have a little talk." Ironwood approached the exit, lifting a panel to reveal a keypad. He typed in a quick code and there was an audible click as the door clocked. He then entered another code, his hand dancing across the keypad with regular familiarity. There was a clink and the sound of shifting metal from the other side of the room.
"Ah. James. Qrow. It's good to see you again." Qrow grinned. A hidden blast door had opened at the far side of the room, wide enough for two people to move through at once. Normally it had been Jimmy's private panic room in case of an attack. At the moment, it was currently being used as a hidden compartment for smuggling goods. The goods they were smuggling being Ozpin and the life support pod containing Amber. Qrow looked at it sadly. She would've been a great Maiden.
Ozpin strolled out of the panic room, his cane in one hand and a noticeably empty coffee mug in the other, and sat down. He looked a bit ruffled, typical for someone who had spent a few days cooped up in a small room. But his resolve hadn't faltered. "We're in Atlas then? We're moving forward with cornering the Legion?"
"Yeah, the hobo with a gun fetish you picked up is on it," Qrow said. "The Ice Queen will stand to take over if he doesn't come back in one piece and she's due to do the talking at the main meeting. Honestly, things would go down more smoothly if you were heading it. You've brought entire nations together before." Pyrrha's eyes widened. Qrow supposed it would take time for her to adjust. She had been hit with everything there was to know at once. Originally, Ozpin had wanted to take things slow with her, but the Legion creating a two-front conflict had escalated things. "And I assume the second this talk is over I'll be heading out to flap around looking for the less crazy White Fang."
"That was the plan, yes," Ironwood said. "The plan also involves you not being in the room when the talks happen. You'll be outside whatever building it takes place in. Keeping an eye on the matter and ready to bail Winter, Walker, and the students out should things go amiss." Ironwood locked eyes with Qrow. "You are peerless in your tracking and Huntsman skills Qrow. You are also peerless in your lack of tact and diplomatic tendencies. This is a simple allocation of talents."
"Well half of what you said was actually worth the brain cells that died recording it," Qrow said dryly. "I'm not saying I would suck at talking. I just find it funny that you think the Ice Queen is any better, considering that she's got less of a stick up her rear and more an entire tree."
A flash of outrage flashed across Ironwood's face, really it was too easy to get him mad, but it vanished. "I trust her to be firm, professional, and to represent me without fault," Ironwood said. "And that is all that need be said. The matter is closed."
Qrow already had three snide remarks planned when Ozpin interrupted. "Qrow. We're not in Vale anymore. We're in Atlas. A country where General Ironwood has two council seats as headmaster in general. His decision is final here. And we have far more important topics to discuss." Qrow relented. For now.
"First of all," Ozpin said, giving Pyrrha a sympathetic glance. "Ms. Nikos? Are you all right?" Phyrra gave a stiff nod. "Have you thought about our last conversation? Your decision? I already told you, it's-"
"With all due respect, Professor Ozpin," Phyrra blurted out, her voice choked. "I don't want to talk about it right now. I-I need time to think." Qrow looked away. He wasn't unsympathetic to what the kid was going through. He had been in the same position once, except his powers hadn't belonged to another. "Just, please. Not now. I want to think more about what I can do to help." She inhaled deeply. "So. You said you think the White Fang was serving Salem?"
"Yes, emphasis on was," Ozpin said. "Qrow was tracking a small group that he would bet his life was working for her. They were the ones who bullied the White Fang into line. Considering the stakes, we have to consider Salem is moving to retaliate, along with her unknown forces. Considering the goal the Legion is no doubt pursuing with the White Fang."
Ironwood look at Ozpin in confusion. "What do you mean, Ozpin. The attacks by the Legion and the White Fang have nothing to do with Salem."
"James, haven't you realized it yet?" Ozpin asked sternly. "That the Legion views women as inferior and being unworthy of combat positions, but has one in their ranks as a prominent front-line member? That they've abandoned their position in Vale and headed straight for Atlas as soon as they couldn't kill the man they hated? That they've gained the support of those who once sided with the woman who attacked Amber? That they know everything the White Fang knows and maybe more? The same secrets their old master would've whispered to them? That this whole time they've yet to truly expose themselves to risk, letting the White Fang bear the brunt of the casualties?"
Ozpin gave a deep, weary sigh. "James. They're here for the Winter Maiden. Maybe even the Relic of Creation. And Salem will not stand either falling into someone else's hands. She'll be sending everyone she has in full force." He adjusted his glasses. "Very soon, Atlas is going to become a battleground."
XXXXX
Mantle was a run-down shit hole. There was no getting around it. Every time James turned a corner he saw something that made him suspect that the people who lived here only did so because they couldn't afford to move anywhere else. Uptown had been on par with the city of Vale. The streets had been pristine, the people well dressed, and active businesses had been happily catering to them all. James couldn't help but notice that many of the businesses and people living there had a rather upper class look to them. And when he had moved out of those areas, the quality of the city drove off a cliff.
The thing that truly stood out to him about this city was that it wouldn't have looked out of place on Earth. Half of the structures were crumbling or had partially collapsed, complete with condemned signs, the streets were cracked and marked with potholes, and the people were shabbily dressed and looked miserable. Nearly every corner seemed to have a factory or a mining facility that had been abandoned for years, rust coating all of them and garbage idly blowing through them. A month ago, this place wouldn't have looked too out of the ordinary to him, at least the infrastructure wasn't as bad as Freeside. But he had seen Vale and uptown Mantle. That had given him enough context to know that this city was well below the standards set by Remnant.
He flicked through his scroll as he walked down a cracked sidewalk, taking care not to bump into anyone. He was still struggling with the thing, he couldn't help but notice that the fifteen-year-old Ruby was twice as fast with it as him, but he was starting to figure out the functions. The search function was proving to be ungodly useful, it was like having a treasure trove of information in his hand, which was what he needed. According to this, Mantle had once been the capital of Atlas, to the point where the kingdom had originally shared a name for it. But when the capital changed to the city of Atlas, much of the industry had gone with it. And it turned out much more Faunus lived in Mantle than Atlas.
Slipping his scroll away, James continued to walk. He had changed out of his armor and into some pre-War business clothing that he had "liberated" from Benny's closet. Nothing too fancy, a typical business suit set up, colored white with a tie and a matching fedora. He would've been the spitting image of a respectable Pre-War businessman. Albeit one who very badly needed to take his suit to the dry-cleaners. Still, in Mantle, a stained suit fit right in, and right now he didn't want the attention his normal outfit would've drawn.
To further ensure that he was flying under the radar, he had left most of his weapons behind. He had only brought A Light Shining in Darkness, which was strapped in its usual hidden spot on his back. It felt a little nerve-wracking, to be deprived of so much firepower in a world where superpowered teenagers had proven they were capable of literally cutting him in half. But he was out here to build bridges. If he couldn't go a few hours out here without needing a few hundred rounds, he had failed in his mission.
Clenching his teeth in displeasure, this city was far colder than what he was used to, he glanced upward. ED-E was trailing behind him, maintaining cover using rooftops. He was supposed to be incognito, an eyebot hovering over his shoulder would make him stick out, but he was hardly going to leave his backup behind. ED-E saw him turn his head and made a noticeable nod in response, assuring James that everything was going according to plan so far. Smiling, James turned his attention back to the road.
He had been told that while Faunus lived all over Mantle, they were most dense in the south-eastern portion of the city. He had spent the last hour working his way in that direction, and slowly but surely he could notice the population ratio tilting in that direction. The farther he went, the more animal parts he saw. Men and women with an extra set of ears, a set of horns, some even having a set of gills or more dramatically noticeable parts, such as razor-sharp teeth or different colored skin. That was the first thing James noticed. The second was that the deeper into Mantle he went, the tenser it became.
Most of the Faunus he saw were rushing to their destinations, barely stopping to make eye contact with anyone. The few that did catch his eye promptly gasped in terror before crossing the street to get away from him. One woman practically dragged her children away from James, looking back at him like she expected him to break into a run after her. James didn't have much to base this on, but he had a theory that things hadn't been this bad a month ago.
The source of the tension, or at least one of the sources, wasn't exactly hard to spot. Every block had at least one building tagged with graffiti that spouted some sort of anti-Faunus rhetoric. It ranged from crude "no more fucking animals" to more pretentious "time to cleanse the barbarians." There was one more that he kept seeing repeat itself, however. A severed white wolf's head, blood gushing from its stump, had been spray-painted on at least half a dozen different buildings. Every time James saw it, the same phrase accompanied it. "The Hunters have found their quarry." James made a noise of disgust.
Feeling fairly safe that he was in Faunus territory now, he rounded a corner and found himself facing a bar. It was as good a place to start as any. Walking underneath the sign, "Little Master M's Bar" he pushed open the front door. It was a fairly big bar, but one that had seen better days. The furniture was worn and chipped, there were a couple of noticeable holes in the wall, and the lighting was just barely enough for him to see. Only a few people were inside clutching at drinks, not surprising considering it was only 2 PM. Casually, he strolled up to the bar.
The bartender, a woman with a thick set of whiskers under her nose, looked at him, fear dawning on her face. "Look, I don't want any trouble," she started, holding up her hands defensively. All of the patrons turned their heads in his direction. Most were fearful or apprehensive, though two in the corner caught James's eye. A man and a woman, both with dark skin and the man with black tail curled around his legs, glared at him. If the woman had a Faunus trait, he couldn't see it. He could see her reaching for something on her back, though.
"And I'm not looking to cause any, I just want to wet my whistle," James said, reaching the bar and taking a seat. "Whiskey. Double, please. It's been a long day." He might as well have one drink. He had exhausted the bottle he had gotten from Junior's bar. "I just got laid off," he lied. "Gonna have to break the bad news when I get home. Just wanna pretend that I didn't get fired until the end of the workday." Things would go better if they didn't see him as a human when they weren't, but just another schmuck down on his luck.
The bartender still looked uncertain, so James slipped his hand into his pocket and placed a hundred Lien note on the counter. "I don't think I'll be stopping with just the one," he said, giving a weary grin. "Surprise me with the brand." The bartender gingerly picked up the note, glancing twice at James as she did. Stowing the money out of sight, she bent down before standing back up with a double shot glass and a dusty bottle. "Cheers," James said as a drink was poured for him. No one was looking at him anymore, except for the duo in the corner. The rest had gone back to their drinks, while those two still had suspicion in their eyes. It was an improvement from naked hostility, but still.
Inwardly, James grinned. The entire day he had been keeping an eye out for someone who looked like they were a part of the White Fang. They were the first prime suspects he had found. Sitting in the corner of a primarily Faunus bar, glaring at a human for walking in, one of them ready to attack if he posed a threat? If they weren't members of the White Fang, at the very least they were likely to know a good deal about them. Still, this was something he would have to do carefully. Everything would be for naught if he pissed them off.
So he relaxed, sipped his drink, and enjoyed the atmosphere as best he could. He had certainly done his best to unwind at shittier bars, at least this one had heating. Slowly, time ticked by. James paced himself to only take the tiniest of sips from his drink, to the point where it took him the better part of an hour to finish it. As this happened, a steady stream of customers filtered in and out, but the bar was never at more than one-third capacity. He glanced at the bartender. "Slow day?"
She shrugged, eyeing him warily. "Things don't really pick up till the workday ends. You're early." He nodded before tapping the bar. Without a word, the bartender filled up his second glass. The bottle wasn't even back on the counter when the door slammed open and rowdy yelling filtered in. James had been around for long enough to know when a crowd like this entered a bar, they would always end up being a bunch of assholes.
Silently, he glanced over his shoulders. A crowd of seven or so was making its way through the front door. They were wearing all black uniforms that were vaguely military, but it all had a rather ramshackle look to it. It looked disorganized and bloated as if they were more concerned with aesthetics than practicality. Vests, fatigues pouches, ballistic goggles, balaclavas, gas masks (with no filters) helmets, knives strapped to their arms, one of them looking like a Karambit, and all sorts of other attachments were being sported by these group with no rhyme or reason to it. And all of them had visible guns in holsters. Nearly all of them had a mixture of pistols and rifles, some with two pistols, but one of them had eschewed a longarm in favor of a single pistol. That one caught James's eye the most. His uniform looked far more coordinated, he held himself with far more dignity than his whooping companions, and he had a set of dog tags dangling from his neck. That one was ex-military, without a doubt. The rest were mere amateurs playing soldier.
The group, mainly men with two women amongst them, piled onto a table and began loudly talking amongst themselves. They were all young, only the ex-military one looked like he was older than thirty. Judging by the way he sat at the head of the table and the respectful looks the others gave him, he was their leader. James turned back to the bar, weighing his options when he saw the bartender frozen with fear. "You ok?" he asked.
"Hey, whose dick do I have to suck to get service in this shithole!?" one of the newcomers shouted. James stifled a groan. They were those types. Under normal circumstances, he probably would've said something by now, but he had to play his cards carefully. He reached for his drink when he heard the screeching of a chair and heavy footfalls. "I know you're one of the ones with only two ears, but I think you need to listen a little more closely. We want some service, shitty as it may be."
The footfalls stopped directly to James's right. He glanced up. A kid that couldn't be older than twenty was standing right next to him, a cocky smile on his lips. Despite his uniform mimicking that of a soldier, he had left his arms bare, giving James a clear view of the tattoos on his bicep. A decapitated and bleeding wolf's head, along with several tattoos of skulls. That, combined with the fact that the arm in question was none too subtly resting on the grip to the kid's sidearm, painted a very ugly picture. James did a quick assessment of the situation. For whatever reason, this kid didn't have a longarm, only that sidearm.
"You eyeing my piece, old man?" The kid was looking directly at him now, his cocky smile growing even larger.
James thought. "Well, take a good look at it. And remember what they say about people who lay with dogs." He lifted his hand off of the weapon, showing it off to James. "Hang out with the animals all you want, just don't act surprised when people mistake you for one."
A kernel of anger started to fester in James as he glanced down at the weapon. Then he did a double-check. It was the most absurd thing he had seen in a long time, a goliath of a revolver that looked as if it would be bigger than his entire head. James stared at the weapon in disbelief. Something that size looked like it had been designed for a Super Mutant or someone in power armor. If this idiot tried to shoot it, he would dislocate his arm. If he was lucky and didn't break it clean in half. "Yeah, awesome custom job I got done. Remember this and stop by a human bar next time, grandpa." He turned back to the bartender. "Now then, I think we deserve drinks on the house for the shitty reception. That's fair, isn't it?" His hand reached back down for his revolver.
James beat him to it. Maybe the White Fang would appreciate him putting his foot down here, maybe they would view it as disrespectful and patronizing. He would figure that out later. His hand closed around the grip and he tore it out of its holster. The boy's eyes widened as his insufferable smirk transformed into a snarl of anger. "You son of a-" he began, winding up for a punch. It was all he got out before James drove his free fist into his stomach. The boy doubled over in pain, clutching at his stomach, his mouth open in a dry gasp. Dropping the revolver on the counter, James surged forward, grabbed the kid by the hair, and slammed his head into the counter. He crumpled to the floor, screeching and holding his head in pain.
But he had gone and kicked the hornet's nest Spinning on the spot, he dove for his holdout pistol and ripped it free. Bringing it to bear, he aimed at the table where the rest of the wannabe soldiers were sitting. Sure enough, they had all been rising to draw their weapons. Fortunately, most of them were not well-practiced, and James had managed to beat them to the punch even with their head start. Most of them had gone for their rifles instead of their pistols, and that had cost them precious seconds. It was only complicated by how they clearly lacked experience drawing and aiming quickly, many of them were fumbling as they attempted to rip their longarms out of their holsters. Even the ones who had been idly walking around with their rifles resting on their shoulders, around half of them, fumbled as they attempted to ready up. Their leader, however, had not been so slow, and a pistol of his own was leveled around the same time James's was.
The leader's eyes narrowed as he firmly gripped his pistol in a two-handed grip. He and James were the only ones holding their weapons properly, his lackeys were showing weak arm work and legwork all around. The two had gone for their pistols were a particular eyesore. One was holding his lone pistol in a single hand, while the other had one in each hand. And James very much doubted that they had Aura.
James's finger hovered tensely over A Light Shining in Darkness's trigger. He had only been in combat twice with Aura, he was still getting a grip on how much damage it could take. These odds weren't impossible, but he couldn't afford to get cocky. If it came to a shootout, he had to end things fast. He didn't have his armor and there were too many civilians in the area.
It never came to that, however. The pair in the corner sprang to their feet, the woman producing a pair of knives with Dust cylinders, while the man drew and aimed an SMG at the pseudo soldiers. A few pseudo soldiers turned to face them instead, and they betrayed their lack of expertise. Even from his distance, he could see many of them were aiming their weapons in a way where they were more likely to hit each other than their targets. "Get. Out," the woman hissed. "And tell the rest of your kind that Hunters aren't welcome here. If your little gang makes one more foray like this, there will be retaliation." As she spoke, a forked tongue slid out of the woman's mouth for a split second, flicking aggressively. "I've seen the handiwork of what you people did. Don't test us. You're on thin ice with us as it is."
"We can take them, easily," the man said. They aren't Huntsmen, just a bunch of punks with guns. You've seen what they've done, let's return the favor." A few jeers came from the Hunters in response to this, many of them looking as if they were spoiling for a fight.
"Everyone, hold your fire." The leader of the Hunters moved to the front of the throng, giving a small smile as he did. "We aren't Huntsmen or Huntresses, no. But be careful. We're only part of a greater whole. We go missing, others come looking to see what happened. They might even send the Blue Bull. You think you're up to handling him? I don't think that you are." Both of the Faunus tensed up as he spoke. This Blue Bull person had a reputation it seemed. "So. I suggest you stand down unless you want me to make a call."
"If Mr. Bull is anything like the kindergarten class you're chaperoning today, it'll be a miracle if he doesn't die tripping down a staircase before he even gets here," James said. He nudged the boy by his feet with his foot, rolling him over. "Besides, I think a message has been made quite clear that you should fuck off, post-haste." An idea was forming in his head. A perfect way to make a good first impression with the White Fang and deal with these idiots. Frankly, they came off like a pack of murderers just waiting for an excuse to shoot someone.
The leader's eyes swiveled back onto him. A good five seconds passed, the leader sizing him up before he spoke in a surprisingly calm voice. "I understand my friend there was quite rude to you, it's understandable you're frustrated with him." James wasn't quite sure how the man mixed up frustrated with fundamentally outraged against, but then again he looked like the type to kiss his own ass. "But let me get you some advice right now. You're siding with the wrong people. We're looking out for people like you, keeping you safe from animals that can't control their baser instincts."
"Does the word projection mean anything to you people?" James said dryly. Here it came, the same speech that the abusive assholes always had.
The leader pressed on, ignoring James's comment. "The White Fang's made it clear that they want a war with humans. We didn't start this fight, and we're not going to just lie down and watch while innocent people are slaughtered. They're gonna come for all of us one day. Hopefully, before that day you'll have come to your senses. There will be a place in the Hunters for you that day, and I hope you consider that. You'll only get knives in your back standing where you are now. You'll always be a human to them, an outsider. Not one of them, therefore the first to go."
"You done pontificating?" James said, feeling a little numb to the man's declarations. It was hardly the first time he had heard such rhetoric, and it all felt tired and hollow to him. While he was keeping his weapon trained on the leader, he saw the boy start to get to his feet. The fact that he was about to try and tackle James might've been a surprise if he didn't look James up and down before snarling loudly. As it stood, he made it a foot before he received a solid kick to the chest, sending him sprawling back to the ground. "Because you really should get dipshit out of here before he does something to get himself killed."
The boy glared at James, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "I bet you suck cock."
James shrugged. "Not really. Not a fan of the taste. There are other things you can do with cocks besides sucking them you know. You should know, you've been trying to slap everyone in the face with yours since you walked in here."
The boy opened his mouth, outrage twisting his face, but the leader cut him off. "Dorian? Shut up. You were an idiot just now. You're ate-up. Separated from the unit, left your weapon exposed, and then you went and lost it. I told you a thousand times that if we want to make an impression, we need to present a unified front. You compromised that front." His eyes narrowed as the anger left Dorian. The boy started to cower. "We're going to have a long talk when we get back." The leader holstered his weapon. "Back to base everyone. This one was a wash."
None of the younger Hunters seemed to very much agree with this plan of actions, but a quick glare from the leader was enough to cow them. They holstered their weapons, a few of them jeering at the two Faunus with drawn weapons, before slowly funneling out of the bar. James never took his eyes off of them, concerned that he could be on the receiving end of a hail of bullets if he turned his back. Thankfully, it never came to that. There was the sound of starting engines, and he saw several cars speed off outside. Sighing, he slid his pistol back into his holster.
"Any chance we could talk to you in private?" The cat Faunus and what James assumed was a snake Faunus had approached him, the man still keeping his SMG trained on the entrance. The woman had been the one to speak and was currently giving him an appraising look. Now that he was closer, he could see that the woman was even older than he was. At the very minimum, she was in her sixties.
He paused. Her tone was hard to read, and he wasn't sure if he was about to be thanked or threatened. Well, either way, he was going to have to take a risk. This was what he had come out here for. "Sure." The older woman nodded and gestured back to their corner table, very much isolated from the rest of the bar. The few patrons that weren't silently shaking at their tables notably averted their eyes as James followed the two Faunus back to where they had been sitting.
"First things first, introductions are in order," the woman said briskly. She pointed to herself. "Kanton Peetal." She pointed to her companion. "Baghanda Kaalee. And you are?"
"James Walker," James said. For half a moment he had considered lying and saying that his last name was Boone or Ganon. But he had been in Remnant for such a short time that there wasn't much point in a false name. "I don't mean to jump the gun, but I get the feeling you two are a bit cross with me. If so, I'm from out of town, from off the continent actually, so I apologize if I crossed some form of line."
Kanton frowned. "That's saying a bit much. We're grateful for what you did, but we're in a delicate situation right now. You're not from here? You've not heard of the Hunters then?"
"I take it they're not Huntsman or Huntresses," James replied. Though he had a feeling the close name was an intentional move.
"No. Local gang. Mantle has more gangs than you and I have wrinkles, Human and Faunus both," Kanton replied. "A year ago the Hunters were just another one, a bunch of stupid kids with no future prospects starting things. It was prostrating mostly, nothing serious. But ever since the White Fang attacks in Vale, things have been escalating." Kanton took a look around the room, gestured to Baghanda, who was still watching the door and turned back to James. As she continued, her voice was a barely audible whisper. "A bunch of Atlas military types found them, six or seven. Took them all under their wings. We haven't heard anything solid but at least two of them received dishonorable discharges. And they've been teaching the Hunters military tactics and discipline."
"Military tactics?" James asked, feeling incredulous. "Those jokers? If these soldiers are teaching, they're doing a terrible job. That kid at the bar was the type to stick his revolver down the front of his pants and accidentally shoot his dick off."
Despite clearly attempting to stay somber and serious, a small chuckle slipped out of Kanton. "True. I admit that is true. But that was just their latest batch of recruits. They've adopted quite a few military traditions, one of them being basic training. The ex-military ones round up a group of idiots who want to join and take them on the rounds through Mantle, looking for a scrap. Soft targets, something to get them a feel for what they'll be doing. After a few days of that, they head back to their headquarters for training."
"The attack on Vale wasn't that long ago, there's no way they've managed to get a couple dozen kids up to combat readiness with that little time," James said, mentally putting the pieces together. He had seen what only partial training created, a rather ineffective soldier. The NCR had shipped boys and girls like that into the Mojave by the hundreds.
"No, you're right," Kanton said, her lips narrowing in a frown. "But they older batches aren't common garden thugs anymore. Crack soldiers are still a step up, and in large enough numbers they're a threat. But that's nothing compared to their ace in the hole." Her entire face tightened, her tongue slithering out to flicker again. "That Blue Bull. Most of the ex-soldiers were rank and file. He was a specialist." James's stomach sank. Specialists were Huntsman and Huntresses in the Atlas military. The seven soldiers weren't anything he hadn't faced before, but a super-powered special forces operative? That was a whole other level.
"And they hold the Bull over you?" James asked, still trying to process the thought.
"With smiles on their faces," Baghanda growled. "We could take him and all of the Hunters if we weren't spread so thin. But every two-bit Human gang with a grudge is on the prowl for Faunus blood thanks to what happened in Vale. Someone dies at least daily, usually, it's worse. Drive-bys, arson, more people being jumped than I can count. But the Hunters? They're the worst." He glanced at Kanton. "Show him. I hope he's got a strong stomach."
Kanton nodded solemnly before reaching into a pocket and producing a scroll. Tapping it, she flipped it and then showed it to her. James had seen enough death in his time to brace himself for what he was sure was coming, but it still hit hard. Kanton slowly flicked through photos as he watched, each one of different people in the same situation. Dead, their backs against a bloodstained wall, their stomachs torn open, their innards spilled. There were no other wounds, the damage to their guts had been the fatal wound. A slow and painful way to go, no doubt done on purpose. As he looked, something began to stir inside James. He remembered the Hunters, the young kids, their leader, Dorian. He remembered how much delight Dorian had taken in tormenting the bartender, how frightened she had been. No doubt both of them had been thinking of what the Bull had done. His hands clenched.
"That's what the Bull Blue does," Kanton said softly. "Never anywhere near places that are under protection, but we can't be everywhere in Mantle at once. And the Faunus that are stuck living in human-dominated areas? There's not much we can do for them unless they're willing to leave everything behind to take shelter here; most of them can't. Oh, and sometimes we just find one or two people with bullet holes in their heads." She flicked and a few more pictures appeared. All of them depicted corpses that appeared to have been executed from behind at close range. James fought back the urge to spew out a string of angry cuss words.
"So we're stuck," Baghanda said bitterly. "Playing defense. It's taking everything we have just to keep places like this safe. We escalate it anywhere, even when it's not the Hunters, they'll send the Blue Bull into Faunus neighborhoods and let him run wild. We'd be able to put him down, but not until a few dozen Faunus were dead." He looked at James sternly. "We're telling you this because they won't care if it's a human or a Faunus. A Hunter or another human gang member ends up dead, the Bull goes off his leash. We need you to not mess things up for us, they're hard enough as it is."
"And I assume local law enforcement isn't doing squat," he remarked. That got him a bitter laugh from Baghanda.
"The Human police putting their necks on the line for the Faunus ghettos. Good one," he said. "No, they don't bother investigating much of what happens here." He grit his death. "Unless it's a Human. Then they make time. Nothing for all those people the Bull gored, but pretty students get all the media attention. So just...if you want to help we're not in a position where we can say no, ok? You seem all right for a Human, but you need to listen." James wondered if that last statement could be anymore loaded.
Kanton noticed as well. "Not everyone who wants Faunus equality hates Humans," she said hurriedly, with the voice of one who was trying to east a bruised ego. "We work directly with a couple of Humans running humanitarian aid, hundreds of homeless Faunus have a place to sleep because of them. But most Humans are apathetic to what we're going through." She gave a frustrated flick of her tongue. "Hate I understand. I know what it's like to hate people. To just not care though? It's maddening."
"I understand," James said. "I won't cause any problems for you." He got to his feet. His fists were squeezing so tightly that they were beginning to shake.
At once, Kanton raised her hands. "You don't need to leave, you've done enough to show that you're not an enemy. We just want you to be careful."
"I know," he said. "It's just that I'm a bit frustrated right now. Those pictures got me in a bad mood and I need to stretch my legs before I do something stupid." He gestured to the counter. "I think I overpaid for my drink. Feel free to buy whatever you want on my tab." With that, he walked off." His head pounding, wishing he had gone back to finish his whiskey first, James walked out of the bar.
He didn't get far before Kanton caught up with him. "I assume that you know what organization Baghanda and I belong to? We didn't exactly bother hiding it."
James stopped, turning to face her. "White Fang?" Kanton nodded. Rolling up her sleeve, she showed James a tattoo of a red wolf head with three claw marks behind it. It was wrinkled and worn, Kanton was apparently a veteran. "Look, I know you guys had nothing to do with the attacks in Vale, ok? I didn't come here to start shit. So long as you don't start killing civilians, I couldn't care less that you're in the White Fang." That wasn't entirely the truth, he was very glad that he had found a White Fang member, but now was not the time to explain what his mission was. He had only established very basic ties.
"I don't think you mean ill, but want you to remember something." As she did, something odd happened to her eyes. Her pupils were flooded with a veritable rainbow of colors for the briefest of seconds. James felt dizzy just looking at them, to the point where he staggered and had to brace himself against a nearby wall just to stay standing. "I have a little trick to make you forget everything incriminating. I'm sorry, but we just met. I can only trust you so much. If I need to use this on you, I will. Don't give me a reason."
James slowly forced himself back up. "Noted," he said groggily. He couldn't help but reflect that this was about as warm as he could expect.
"Very well. Mr. Walker? If you want my advice, get out of this city," she said. Her voice wasn't cruel. It was tired. "Nothing is waiting for you here but pain and misery. If the Hunters don't kill you for defying them, you'll get jumped by a Faunus gang that's trying to even the score. Wherever in Vale you came from, I promise you it's a better place than this." She grimaced. "I've got too many people to look after. You? Find something better."
James's anger subsided for a moment. A brief moment. "I'm going to go clear my head, I'll be back later tonight. I hope you'll still be there."
"Oh, I will. This is one of the most popular bars in Faunus neighborhoods. I need to keep it safe." She glowered. "Now that Adam has made everything so much more difficult for us." Giving a nod, James walked off. He crossed the street and turned the corner before ducking into an alley. He promptly leaned up against the wall and stared at nothing. The images he had looked at flashed in his head. They were all random and ill-planned out acts of spite that accomplished next to nothing. But they still had the same level of cruelty as he had come to expect from the Legion.
He silently stood there in the alley as time ticked by. Half an hour passed and he didn't move. Then he heard the familiar humming noise. Glancing up, he saw ED-E floating down to him from the rooftops. "They didn't see me."
James's body tensed. "Which way did they go?"
XXXXX
Raven's eyes narrowed. She was kneeling in her tent in her tribe's temporary fortifications, her table ladened with teacups and tiny morsels. Three men in simple traveling clothes were kneeling on the other side of it, one of them holding a briefcase. They had arrived earlier that day, being guided by one of her own. Her response to this had to be angry, for outsiders being let into the Branwen Tribe's territory without her permission. The only reason Mann hadn't been punished more harshly is that he had had enough common sense to have blindfolded them and the strangers had claimed they were bearing gifts.
She had given them an hour of her time and made it very clear that she was counting every second used up. They had presented themselves as members of Caesar's Legion, a new power in the region who wanted her help. But not only were they not from the area, they claimed to not even be from Remnant itself, but from another world called Earth. Frankly, it struck her like they were trying to pull a fast one on her. "I understand your apprehension," the middle one, a man named Gabban, said. "These are dangerous times. But rest assured that Caesar's Legion views you as nothing but a potential ally. Indeed, we have heard many things about you. You are one of the few in Remnant who shares Caesar's enlightened vision of the world. The strong thrive, the weak serve them." He smiled. "And there are few stronger than the tribe that harbors the Spring Maiden."
"And you know about the Spring Maiden...how exactly?" As she spoke, her hand slowly tightened around the hilt of her sword. Gabban noticed.
"A certain Professor Lionheart," Gabban said, a little more quickly than he normally spoke. "He is a coward, and not a particularly smart one." Raven made a small, annoyed noise. Gabban's assessment of Professor Lionheart matched her own. "It was rather simple really. Recently we have acquired allies in the White Fang, freeing them from the grip of a mysterious outsider called Cinder. They had been kept in the dark, but they were able to point us in the direction if Lionheart, who was originally to be their contact for an upcoming operation. All my leader Vulpes had to do was approach him and say that he had been sent by Cinder. He freely answered any and all questions that we had after that point. Even those he thought were obvious."
Gabban smirked, forgetting his fear. "It was pitiful. A teacher of warriors cowering in his office because of a few words. He let loose such precious secrets, his profligate oaths cast aside to save his own skin. And we learned such wondrous secrets from him." Gabban paused. Hesitation flitted across his face. "Wondrous and terrible. Maidens, Relics, Gods." He swallowed. "Salem."
"So, you know about Salem then," Raven said, her grip loosening by a tiny amount. Gabban nodded. "Then I can be forward. Your Legion has been boasting about how strong it is. Do you intend to fight her?"
Gabban looked taken aback. "Of course we aren't." That caught Raven by surprise. With all their boasting, she had expected them to be as foolhardy as Ozpin in thinking Salem could be defeated. "Mighty Caesar has his uses for this world, but they are limited in range," Gabban continued. "He will take the gifts and tools of Remnant and bring them back to Earth.
"And how exactly does he intend to get back home?" Raven asked. "This Earth of yours?"
"The portal is on the other side, and under our control," Gabban said. "Communication with it is very difficult but doable. Micro-portals can be opened that are capable of transmitting radio waves. The nature of this requires that the far side to be the one to initiate communications, and they are under strict orders to do so only at pre-designated times. Lest our communications are intercepted. But on the day of our mission into Atlas, the far team has strict orders to open the portal, enabling us to escape back to Earth."
He smiled widely. "And there, Raven? Aura has not been discovered on the far side. You have free reign to be an unrivaled goddess of conquest, second only to Caesar himself. With the Spring Maiden at your side, Caesar has stated that you are free to plunder and seize any land not already under his control. Do as you see fit with the populace, Caesar only asks that you consider selling some of the healthier ones to him. He is more than willing to pay a fair price for such an act. But the true gift Caesar offers you is not this. It is freedom. Freedom from the fear of Salem. For after Remnant has exhausted all of its value to Caesar, he will cut the connection. The two will be severed, and we on the right side will be forever spared the blight of Salem. Free to build a world where the strong thrive and the weak do not hinder their growth."
Raven, for the first time in nearly two decades, was at a loss for words. She had let Gabban in out of curiosity, feeling that it was unlikely that he would be able to offer her anything that she did not already have. He had managed to surprise her. A world without Salem. A tempting offer. She rebounded quickly. "This is assuming I even believe your claims about another world," she said, keeping her tone guarded and neutral. There was a good chance he was trying to play her for a sucker. "Another dimension? It sounds like a childish fantasy."
"But of course," Gabban said, giving a small bow. "It is why Caesar was so careful in picking his gifts." With that, the man holding the briefcase moved forward, setting said case on the table. With a flick, he unlocked and opened it. Inside were a pair of strange rifles, with brass bodies and several tubes haphazardly running from one end to the other. Instead of a magazine, odd yellow cells were pressed into their bottoms, and instead of a barrel, there was a needle extending out of a tube that was crackling with green energy.
Aside from the odd weapons, there was a stack of documents bound together with a leather strap. "A pair of plasma rifles, and documents from Earth. Old maps and geographical papers. Caesar was thoughtful when providing his gifts, he has laid out territories that would be ideal for you to conquer. Much of Washington and Oregon are ripe for you to take as you please. The only tribe in the area is a pitiful and weak tribe known as the Great Khans. You will find them to be easy pickings with a plentiful bounty." He smiled. "Word has it they have discovered horses up in northern Washington. Beasts of burden that you would no doubt serve you greatly."
Raven idly scooped up the papers, undid the strap, and began to rifle through them. If this was a scam, it had a lot of work put into it. There were several maps of a western coastal area, many labeling an area called "America" some doing the same but with newer marks regarding a "New California Republic." The paper was aged and wrinkled while the ink was faded in a way that suggested age. The marks regarding the republic, while newer than the rest, still had wear and tear that suggested they were a few years old. The dissonance tore at Raven. This all sounded like madness, yet she couldn't think of any other way that these maps could be forgeries unless this was a scheme ten years in the making. And she hadn't even been chief of the Branwen Tribe back then.
"Caesar is willing to offer this, safe passage to Earth for your tribe, and much more in exchange for your assistance in a handful of battles," Gabban said. "We have business here before we return to Earth, regarding Atlas. It will not be easy, but we have so much to gain. Of course, we can't share too many details at the moment, but once our alliance is secure, we will be able to." He held out his hand to Raven. "What say you?" Raven looked at this hand. The catch had finally come. The moment where the proposal that sounded too good to be true ended up being just that. Another Ozpin situation where she had been promised the world, yet was expected to act like an expendable grunt.
"Atlas. You want me to attack the most heavily fortified place in the world outside of Salem's inner sanctum. You want me to die doing so, don't you?" Gabban faltered, and for the tiniest of moments, Raven saw anger flash across his eyes. Outrage. It was all she had needed to see.
Gabban attempted to recover, to put up a friendly facade, but it was too late. Raven's crimson red blade arced out of its sheath and sliced through the air. Gabban was dead within a second; he fell to the ground sporting a gash that had been opened from pelvis to neck. Roaring in outrage, the man who had been to his left drew a pistol and opened fire. Raven idly deflected the bullet before dashing forward, impaling the man in the gut up to her sword's hilt. He gasped in pain, dropping his weapon and weakly grasping at the blade as he bled from the mouth. Drawing out in a single, graceful movement, Raven flicked her blade and separated his head from his shoulders. Flicking the blood off of her sword, she turned on the last man
"Wait wait wait, hold up, I didn't want to be with them! Look, I'm not Legion, I'm an NCR citizen!" As the last survivor babbled, he grabbed his sleeve and rolled it up. In his haste, he nearly tore it off, revealing a tattoo in the process. It was of five letters in simple black ink, NCRCF. "I was in a gang, Powder Gangers, trying to get away from the law after that madman Walk-oh fuck, right you wouldn't know him." The man backed into a corner as Raven took a simple step forward. Nowhere near enough to reach him, but enough to make her point clear. Talk faster.
"Right, right, please don't-there was a crazy person the Legion hates and he killed most of my gang. I was running east just to get away from him when the Legion picked me up. I thought they were gonna kill me, its what they usually did to Powder Gangers, but instead they stuffed me in a uniform and said I was a legionary now." The man went to his knees. "I don't like these people! I think they're a bunch of pricks! They only reason I didn't ditch them is they would nail me to a cross if I did anything to cross them! Look, I'll work for you! You've got more balls than Caesar ever did! I'm good with cooking up explosives, how bout it!?" He clasped his hands together. "What do you want from me!? I'm on my goddamn knees begging!"
Raven stayed her sword. "I don't trust a man who's eager to switch sides. But I want you to do something for me." She pointed to the two dead men. "Run back to Caesar. Tell him exactly what happened here. And tell him Raven Branwen isn't for hire. This is what mercy from me looks like. If any more of his men come this way, he'll see what it looks like when I'm cruel. Do this favor for me, and I'll consider it payment for letting you live. Deal?"
The man nodded. Slowly, he got to his feet. "I...I'll do it," the man said hesitantly. "But I don't think it's gonna go the way you think it is. Caesar? He's a spiteful old man. Less eye for an eye and more ten eyes for an eye. He's gonna be pissed and want revenge for this."
Raven shifted her sword so that the edge was resting against the man's throat. He looked like he was about to pass out from fear. "Then tell him he's welcome to try. Better men than him have done so and failed. Now. You have your message. Deliver it." The man gave her one last uncertain look before turning and bolting. He tore out of the entrance to the tent and through the Branwen tribe compound. A few of her tribesmen laughed as he made his way through them and to the gate, but did not touch him. She would've made it clear if she had wanted him dead. Instead, he safely made his way through the array of tents and to the wooden gate, which he crossed unmolested.
There was a laugh behind her. The entire time, Vernal had been watching from the rear of the tent in a relaxed position. Her decoy Spring-Maiden. "What are you going to do?" she asked, idly leaning against a pole behind her.
Raven walked to the mouth of her tent, sheathing her sword. "I'm going to follow him. Keep things in order while I'm gone." She passed through the flap without looking back. In the blink of an eye, her body changed. No longer was she an able-bodied warrior, but a sleek, feathered raven. Not missing a beat, she had been doing this since she was a teenager, she flapped her wings and took flight, following the running man at a distance. When she had first gained this ability from Ozpin, it had felt awkward and strange. Now it felt like a natural part of her, an essential part of her kit. Indeed, she had come to enjoy and even look forward to the wind in her feathers and the world spreading out beneath her.
Part of her wondered if Ozpin had picked this form as a joke, it had never been a particularly imaginative one. Then again, it wasn't as if that had been a new concept to her. She and Qrow had managed to exhaust just about every bird-related joke and pun there was before either of them had even managed to hit eighteen. There was a tiny pang of nostalgia in her stomach, but she strangled it before it could become more than that. Her brother had made his choice a long time ago. And now she was going to make hers.
She didn't trust this Legion for a second. However, the evidence was slowly building up that they had not been lying about another world. And their plan in regards to dealing with Salem was sound if it was true. She needed more information though. If Gaban had been lying to her, then she would bring Vernal through her portal and massacre them in retribution. If he had been telling the truth, however, she was going to ensure that she and her tribe were around for that portal. Reap the benefits of the Legion's actions and then escape to a place where they could finally be safe, complete with the tools to ensure sure it stayed that way.
A warm feeling spread through her. Safe. Truly safe. No more looking over her shoulder for the eternal threat. Free from Ozpin's baggage, finally. No more wondering if it was safe to tell someone about the gift he had given her because they may tell the wrong person and Salem would recognize magic for what it was. The gift she had taken would truly be a gift. It felt like a dream. But it was worth checking to see if it was real.
For so long, she had played a dangerous game. The power of the Spring-Maiden, of all the Maidens, was a double-edged blade. It made the wielder stronger than Aura ever could, but it made one a target. It was a delicate balance that one had to maintain, and she had struggled with it ever since the last Spring-Maiden had come running to her for safety. She had been unable to maintain the balance, she would've been an easy target whenever someone came looking for her power. It was in better hands now. And now she had a chance to ensure the Spring-Maiden's power was forever in her grasp. If this all worked out, the Branwen Tribe would have their future secured forever.
XXXXX
Dorian was still pissed. He had blown a grand on that custom pistol and the sergeant hadn't even given him a chance to recover it. Not that he was going to tell the sergeant that he was pissed enough as it was. That drove Dorian madder than anything else, how the fuck was this all his fault? The old man had been the one who had started shit, it wasn't like he had known what Dorian was going to do. This entire situation blew. Not only had his first day on patrol with the Hunters ended with him embarrassed like this, but they had also been driven straight back to base afterward, so he had never even gotten to teach the animals their place.
He was resting on a worn couch in the base's common area. An old, long-abandoned refinery on the outer edge of Mantle, as in so far out that you could see snowy forests from the roof, that the sergeant and his war buddies had managed to buy for pennies. Most of the Hunters lived her full time, with them pooling their resources to keep the place heated and powered. It was the first place Dorian had ever felt at home, and he had gone and been embarrassed the first day he had ventured out to prove himself.
It was a big, mostly one-room building though there were quite a few side rooms for the makeshift kitchen, bathrooms, bunks, and the guest room being occupied by their VIP. It had been bare when it had been bought, the machinery having been long since taken to Atlas, but had been gradually filled up with everything the Hunters could scrounge up. Second-hand furniture, pool tables, a few TVs with chairs around them, even a few mini-fridges with beers. Dorian couldn't appreciate it right now, though.
A whistle broke through the air. "Dorian! Pizza!" Dorian glowered at the speaker. Basil was walking towards him, a cheerful smile on his face and that stupid green scarf he always wore around his neck. "Come on, there was extra money in the community pot tonight, I was able to buy some of the fancy stuff. Ten of them in the kitchen, you gotta get some before it all goes. You know how it's like around here."
"Not now Basil," Dorian hissed. Why was this asshole always so insufferably cheery.
"Look, I heard what happened today," Basil said, idly plopping down next to Dorian. Dorian scooched as far away as he could. "You messed up. There's always one who screws up when we get taken out for Basic. You were the unlucky one." He shrugged. "It happens, one of us has to bite the bullet so that the rest could learn from it. No one ever comes into the Hunters a mega-badass, we all gotta learn."
"Oh shut up," Dorian said. Basil had no idea what he was talking about. Things had been going so well. If he had just had a little more time, one of the Faunus in that shithole of a bar would've drawn a gun and the Hunters would've been able to show them who was boss. But he had lost his chance. God, it pissed him off.
"Look, I get it, you're smarting," Basil said, getting to his feel. "Everyone's smarting when they're all ate-up. It'll get better, I promise. Come on, sitting around won't change anything, you'll get a chance to prove yourself tomorrow. Let's go get some pizza. I gotta take second third shift guard duty soon and I want a full stomach.
"There's been a change of plans," said a familiar voice. At once, Dorian and Basil snapped to attention. The Sergeant was approaching them, his hands clasped behind his back, and a stern eye scanning both of them. "Basil? You're relieved of duty tonight. Dorian? You'll be taking over for him."
"But I got first shift guard duty," Dorian said. The second the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. Basil shot him a panicked look and he could see the eyebrows of the Sergeant furrowing in silent anger.
The Sergeant gave him a piercing glare. "Oh yes. Yes, you do. You have third and first shift guard duty. Consider it a lesson that I don't want you forgetting anytime soon. When you're ate-up, you're not pulling your weight. Consider this making up for that." He gave a gesture. "Go. Now." Dorian felt himself go red in the face. It was bad enough that everything had gone to shit in front of everyone else, now this?
Basil took a nervous step forward. "Sergeant, if you don't mind me interjecting, I'm not sure this is a sound course of action. Dorian has to act as a guard for the safety and security of the whole unit. Asking him to stay on duty for sixteen hours is asking him to undergo sleep deprivation. The odds of him making a mistake, missing a potential intruder, or discharging his weapon at an inopportune time is-"
"Basil? As a matter of fact, I do mind you interjecting," the sergeant said coldly. "When I want the opinion of a know-nothing little fairy like you, I'll know I'm no longer fit for this job. So shut the fuck up unless you want to join him." Basil recoiled like he had been struck. He shrunk back, not daring to make eye-contact with the sergeant. "That's what I thought. This is a place for men, not little sissies." His attention swerved back onto Dorian. He found himself flinching before he could help himself. The anger that had been starting to build up in him was snuffed out like a candle in a tidal wave. The Sergeant's mouth twitched in the ghost of a grin. "So take your punishment like a man and don't whine like a little girl. Double guard duty. Right now. Don't bother grabbing your coat. Dismissed."
Not daring to talk back, Dorian moved as fast as he could without running. He didn't need everyone else laughing at him, seeing him scurry away from the Sergeant. Moving through a pair of double doors outside into the brisk cold was almost a welcome. He almost smashed into a rack on the way out, one ladened with pamphlets the Hunters would distribute in Human neighborhoods. "Only a true, pure-blooded Altesian can be a brother in arms, an animal can never be a brother in arms" was emblazoned on all of them, but Dorian paid no attention as he threw himself into the cold.
The ladder up to the catwalk that circled the entire building and provided access to the roof was just to his side. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed onto it and hoisted himself up to the top. Two more Hunters were already up top, both of them with military winter jackets, scoped rifles and one smoking a cigarette. "Hm, Dorian? Where's Basil?" the smoker asked, taking a long drag on her butt.
"Tired. I swapped shifts with him, Sergeant's orders," Dorian grunted, unholstering the new pistol he had been issued. The Sergeant had not permitted him to go back into the bar for his old one. The two guards traded looks and began to snigger. "What!?" he growled, taking a step forward. "Got something to say?"
"Yeah. You messed up," the non-smoker said. "We know what a punishment detail is. So put your dick away, boy. You're not a Faunus, you've got a properly sized skull. You can form thoughts that aren't primal."
"Man shut the hell up," Dorian growled. He hadn't even been issued a proper rifle, the Sergeant wanted everyone to know.
"Aw, little man is upset," the smoker said teasingly. Tossing her cigarette to the side, she mimed grabbing her own cleavage. "Be a good boy tonight and maybe mommy will let you touch a girl for the first time in your life. Basil won't be too jealous, will he?" Both guards laughed. "Well, keep that in mind and take the far end." Fuming, he forced his way past the female guard, who idly pressed up against the side to let him by.
As he did, he glanced to his left. The catwalk was pressed up against the second floor of the refinery. Not that the refinery had much use for a second floor than permitting enough room for the machines and allowing the guards that would've been on the outside to look in. Indeed, the catwalks were perfectly leveled with the windows, to the point where the railing was a mere centimeter away from the glass. Most of the Hunters were inside, drinking, laughing, eating, and he was freezing his ass off and being mocked.
He'd show them. First thing in the morning he was going straight back to that bar and getting his gun back. On the way out he'd tag the building and then set it on fire. Get a bunch of Fire Dust in with the booze and set the whole place up in an inferno That'd show everyone not to screw with the Hunters. And it'd show the Hunters to not screw with him. He ground his teeth as he looked in.
But then, something happened that threw him off guard. The inside of the refinery was very well lit, the Sergeant and his war buddies had brought in quite a few floodlights instead of bothering to get two-story ladders to put in ceiling lamps. They even had a few set up outside so that the guards could get a clear view of the surrounding area. All at once, the lights died. No flickering, no build-up. With the blink of an eye, everything was plunged into darkness.
"What the-oh you've got to be kidding me," the male guard said. Dorian squinted in his direction, but all he could see was a double of shadowy shapes in the dim moonlight. "I swear if one of those idiots didn't pay the electricity bill I'm going to-" he suddenly stopped. A noise creaked through the night. It was a particularly loud sound, it was like a crowbar tapping an aluminum pipe. Before he could ask what was going on, one of the black figures had leaned to the side. It looked as if he was idly resting against the wall.
"Now is not the time!" the female guard snapped. Going to her side, she drew a flashlight and flicked the switch. A beam of bright light carved through the darkness. "Get your ass up and-" she started as she drew the bead onto him, only to stop mid-sentence. The other guard's entire body was slack, his rifle idly dangling from his shoulder strap, his eyes lifeless. There was a gaping hole in his head, from which blood was lazily dripping down.
The guard moved forward. Whether it was to draw her rifle or call for help, Dorian never found out. The strange, metallic noise sounded again and she crumpled onto the catwalk, her body lifeless. As she fell, her flashlight went spinning out of her hand before coming to rest pointing straight down the catwalk. That's when Dorian spotted someone he had missed in the dark. Someone in full torn pants, a long coat, body armor, and a gas mask, with a massive gun hanging around his shoulder. And a silenced pistol aiming straight at him.
Dorian screamed, aiming his pistol, only for the metallic sound to echo and blinding pain to tear through his shoulder. His sudden movement had prevented what had intended to be a headshot, but it caused him to veer to the side in pain. Reaching out to brace himself, his stomach dropped when, instead of the railing, his palm smashed into the window. A window held up by a frame several decades old. It popped out of place, so neatly it would've been impressive if Dorian hadn't been counting on it for support. Instead, he found himself losing balance. Twisting, turning, he desperately tried to grab onto something but felt his body going over.
He fell. He could hear the sound of the frame shattering on the hard ground below but barely registered it. His heart was in his throat, he couldn't breathe. It couldn't end like this, he couldn't die falling to his death in the middle of the night. Then, just as soon as it had started, it ended. He slammed into the ground, a sharp pain in his legs joining the one in his shoulder. He howled in agony, rolling on the ground. The pain was so great he could barely think.
"For fuck's sake Dorian!" A flashlight shone on him as he tried to understand where he was and what was going on. "Can you not screw up for five seconds!?" Dorian tried to formulate a response, but his attention was diverted. There was a groaning sound of metal on metal, and the flashlight's beam left him. Quivering, Dorian fought through the pain long enough to look up. The light was being shone onto the window he had fallen through. The man who had shot him was there, an MG on a bi-pod being leveled at the lower floor. Screams echoed out as the Hunters saw him.
It was far too late. Before a response could be formulated, the MG roar to life. And bodies began to hit the floor.
XXXXX
Author's Note: There's something cathartic about writing a bi man taking on a violent hate group. Not a whole lot to say about this chapter. Thannk you for your paitence, I've been busy with summer school and a new job, but I've almost got my Master's so hopefully that means less school and more career building, which hopefully means more writing time. I had a lot of fun trying to come up with names in ways that fufilled RWBY's naming conventions, color and fairy tale, it's nice to set up some more concrete stakes, get Raven involved, and now to get the ball really rolling. Like I said, Atlas is where I intend the story to really pick up. Hopefully, you now have a taste of what I meant by that.
I would like to thank my Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, Ryan Van Schaack, ChaosSpartan575, and LordofNaught for their amazing support.