Chapter 27

I Walk The Line

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James Ironwood was very tired. He hadn't slept much in the last few days. There was too much to be done. Every soldier who had died in the assault needed a letter written to their next of kin, funeral arrangements had to be made, approvals had to be made for those in need of prosthetics, interrogation logs had to be reviewed, it was never-ending. Normally, he had people for this, junior officers who would handle these more mundane tasks. Ironwood had told them their services would not be needed at this time and had given them other assignments to keep them busy. It had been a long time since Atlas had lost these many soldiers in armed conflict, he was going to manage it.

He had his Semblance to thank for how he was able to keep working on such little rest. When he activated it, it enabled him to keep operating long past when a normal person would collapse from exhaustion. In the past, he had even used it to stay awake and active for over a week. Though it wasn't without consequences or drawbacks. While it kept his body going, his mind still suffered from fatigue and sleep deprivation. It was a rather disorienting state, a body that was in peak condition combined with a mind that was tired and desperate for sleep. He often felt sluggish and disconnected, he would swear that a punch he threw had no energy, only to see it shatter an opponent's nose effortlessly.

He could turn it off when his work was finally done, though the crash was horrible. If he pushed it for more than a day or two, he ended up sleeping for sixteen hours, sometimes more. Food and water helped take the edge off of, made the blanket on his mind a little lighter, but it was a minor relief. The overall pressure didn't go away.

At one point, Ironwood had taken a week to have his brain activity studied while he was under the effect of his Semblance. The doctors had been startled to learn that his Semblance did nothing to prevent the negative side effects of his brain being deprived of REM sleep. He had been warned that pushing his Semblance for too long could potentially lead to brain damage or death by exhaustion. It didn't matter though. He didn't have the time to be slow and careful. The Legion crisis wasn't over.

It was so frustrating. The raid on the White Fang and Legion camp had been a success, but not a decisive success. Caesar and most of his senior officers had escaped. Their honor guard had been sacrificed in the process, along with most of his forces, but it meant little. So long as the masterminds were still out there, this crisis wasn't over. And so he found himself in the brig of his capital ship, staring into a cell with cold hatred in his heart.

Vulpes Inculta looked up from the bed he had been lying on. He looked like a different man without his armor; with his short white hair and sallow face he almost looked like a down on his luck man turned petty criminal. Nothing about him screamed that he was the mastermind of terror campaigns. "General Ironwood, I presume?"

"Let's skip the pleasantries," Ironwood said, stopping right in front of the bars to his cell. "Where is Caesar, and what are his plans?" This was the most vital victory he had achieved. If he could squeeze Vulpes just right, he could finally end this conflict.

Vulpes got to his feet, an analytical eye observing Ironwood. "I'm certain Barca has already told you Caesar's vision, why must I repeat what you know?"

Irritation blossomed in Ironwood. Of course, he was going to be evasive. "Don't try my patience," he growled. "You're responsible for the deaths of dozens of Vale citizens and Atlas soldiers. Such blatant terrorism wasn't tolerated when it was being carried out by the White Fang, and now that you've escalated with blatant cruelty, we won't," but Vulpes interrupted him.

"You compare us to those sad little animals?" he said, his voice seething with disgust. "They're worthless, squabbling children without us to guide them. A boy leads them, more concerned with his wounded pride than his supposed cause. I had little difficulty twisting his base desires to our advantage, unpleasant and insufferable as it was. The White Fang are terrorists, beating their chests and breaking things because that's the only understanding of the power they have. The Legion? The Legion are not terrorists, general. We are at war with you."

"You think this is a war?" Ironwood said, incredulous. He heard the Legion had a borderline religious zeal for its culture and leader, but he hadn't expected its intelligence experts to have internalized its propaganda so fiercely. "You've spent your entire expedition running and hiding. You hold no territories on Remnant, have no alliances with proper states, and have failed to achieve anything aside from spreading death. And as of three nights ago, your dead outnumber our dead three to one."

"You hide behind your machines, cowering in a floating city while beasts control your entire planet. Do not mock me with false bravado, cowardice is a way of life here," Vulpes said. His body was still, his eyes cold and calculating, but there was a fire in his voice. Fire and hatred both. "Atlas is soft, Remnant is soft. The Legion isn't soft. That's why we rain so much terror on you despite our differences. Look at Walker, at Barca. Do you know why Caesar hates him and not you? He's vicious. He wants to kill and maim every last one of us. And he does so. Frequently. Our raiders? He kills them. Our spies? He snuffs them out. The agents we send to recruit allies? He turns their hosts on them. He craves our deaths in the blackest depths of our hearts, and there is no level he isn't willing to stoop to obtain it."

Vulpes continued, his eyes boring into Ironwood. "Tell me something, Ironwood, do you know how Barca obtained that peculiar scar across his temple?" Ironwood didn't respond, but his mind instinctively flew back. Walker had mentioned this after Rumford's interrogation. He had been ambushed and shot before being left for dead. "Oh, so he told you," Vulpes said. Ironwood's gut lurched. Vulpes could read him that easily? "That makes things easier, you already have an example. Barca actively pursued one of the most powerful men in all of Vegas out of a personal grudge. And he sent that men running from his cradle of safety, so desperately that he ran into our main stronghold in the region, desperate for a way out." Vulpes's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Of course he failed and we crucified him. But before we did, I saw fear in that man's eyes. He knew Barca was right behind him. And he was. I hate the man, but he forces me to accept that he is one of the greatest threats to the Legion we have ever known."

As Vulpes spoke, images filtered into Ironwood's mind. About how Walker had engaged an entire enemy compound without backup, slaughtering nearly every single person inside. He, an unlicensed civilian, had taken that act of mass slaughter on his own free will. If Ironwood hadn't covered up for him, it would've gone down in history as the most deadly mass shooting in Atlas history. "But you?" Vulpes said. "You lack the resolve of Legion and Barca. If we are mere terrorists, why have you been unable to stop us? The answer is simple. Your responses have been flaccid. You wish to defeat us. We strive to destroy you, regardless of how much it costs us. You shy away from such hardships. It is why the Legion will endure while your Atlas will crumble away from decadence and squalor."

There was a fundamental lack of respect in how Vulpes looked at Ironwood. It wasn't a man staring at a sworn and hated enemy, it was an irritated parent unimpressed with a child. It irked Ironwood. After everything the Legion had put Remnant through in the last month, after all the time and energy he had spent responding to them, he was being dismissed as someone not fit to shine their boots. All while this man was the only thing standing in the way of him ending this nightmare.

A small part of his mind vaguely wondered if he was thinking things through. But he had written too many letters to parents who would never see their children again, seen the end of too many service records, and seen too many lifeless servicemen because of the inability of these savages to control themselves. And now he was being lectured by one of them. No. No more.

Without conscious thought, his hand drifted down, typing in the security code to the cell on the keypad next to it. He strode in as the door opened, heading straight for the man responsible for so much pain. Vulpes did not blink. "Spare me. I'm quite familiar with profligate attempts to use misdirection and empty intimidation." He attempted to continue but was cut off as he began to gag. Ironwood's hand had closed around his throat.

It was so easy to smash Vulpes against the wall, even with how exhausted he was, the man felt more like a paper doll than anything else. Vulpes spluttered, his face turning red as he clawed at the hand choking him. Ironwood didn't feel it, it was the hand that had long ago been replaced by steel. But even then, he could tell just how easy it would be to crush the throat he was pressing down on. "Where is Caesar, and what is he planning?" Ironwood said, his voice soft and deliberate. He let go, Vulpes gasping for breath and clutching at his throat as he did. "I asked you a question. Or perhaps we need a repeat so you can tell me more about how 'flaccid' my actions are."

Vulpes collected himself quickly, adopting his old look of hatred and superiority. Ironwood wondered if it was a coping mechanism. "You know full well what Caesar is planning. Unless you are truly lacking in cunning, you know what he seeks, why he tolerates Marie F. and her depraved ways. The Winter Maiden and the Relic of Creation." Ozpin had been right. Ozpin was always right, wasn't he? Even if he was in another's country, in another's field of expertise, he was always right. But through that, something else broke.

"How do you know about the Relics? About the Maidens?" he asked. "Did you learn it from Cinder and her followers? We know you've been undermining her at every step of the way." He needed an answer here, he needed to know how off-worlders had stumbled upon Remnant's most closely guarded secret. If the White Fang had been given knowledge of Salem's true goals, he needed to know. A loosely-knit terrorist organization was an intelligence leakage nightmare, and he needed as few people to know about these affairs as possible.

"Oh." And now a smile broke across Vulpes's face. "Not quite. But I did get it from a well of knowledge she had made use of before. You see, general, you've been betrayed by one of your own. Leo Lionheart." Ironwood's thoughts came to a crashing halt. Professor Lionheart? How? How was that even possible? Vulpes had to be lying. He had given up a potential source of information too quickly, too easily. This had to be a trick to sow distrust.

It was as if Vulpes knew exactly what he was thinking. "Where else could I learn about Relics and Maidens? Where else could I learn about your Professor Ozpin's ability to reincarnate? About your pet's ability to turn into a bird? About Salem and how long the fight against her has been lasting?" he asked, sounding as if he was enjoying himself. "Oh, and I'm afraid I might have some rather bad news for you. You see, the so-called Lionheart lost control of the Spring Maiden a long time ago. She ran right into the hands of someone we attempted to reach out to. The Branwen Tribe."

Ironwood didn't think before he acted. His hand clamped down on Vulpes's throat again, not hard enough to choke him, but with enough force that breath wouldn't come easily. Vulpes made a shallow, rattling noise as he once again fully grasped at the hand holding him, his face going red. "You're lying. If you had a reliable source of information you'd never let us know while you could still get something out of it," Ironwood snarled. "And we know you tried reaching out to the Branwens, why reveal their true potential if you want them on your side?"

"The Branwens rejected our alliance," Vulpes said, his voice strained and spluttering. "If they wish to make an enemy of Caesar, they will pay the price for their insolence." Even through his labored breaths, there was a glint in his eye. "After all, can you truly ignore them now that you know they have a Maiden?"

Ironwood loosened his grip ever so slightly. Vulpes took a deep breath but was still trapped in his grip. "You think I'll buy into that bait? That I'll become your attack dog?"

"Can you truly afford to not act when you know Raven Branwen possesses such a valuable power?" Vulpes asked. "You're welcome to, but I doubt that you will." He was right. He was right and Ironwood hated it. A Maiden not under their control? When they already had Cinder Fall on the loose? This was a nightmare scenario. And unbidden into his mind, he remembered the last time he had talked to Leo. He had seemed nervous when the topic of the Spring Maiden had come up. No. It couldn't be true.

"As for why I'm telling you about Lionheart, it's rather simple," Vulpes said. "I despise the man." Ironwood didn't need to question this. The cold fury that Vulpes had been wearing ever since the start of their conversation had somehow intensified. If he hadn't been a simple muscle flex away from being choked again, Ironwood would've thought that Vulpes was ready to kill him. "Do you know what I had to do to learn all of this from him? Tell a simple lie. Nothing more. I told him that I was a new accomplice of Cinder and that I needed to be brought up to speed. That was it. I sat there, in his office, while he told me everything. In the very center of his academy, where he held the most power, and he was cowering like a mangy dog the entire time, as if afraid I might strike him if he didn't talk quickly enough. He's worthless to us, there's nothing more we can gain from him. Do with him what you will."

A heavy silence filled the air. Then Ironwood let Vulpes go. The other man said nothing, but there was a general sense of superiority about him. He felt that he had won. "This isn't over," Ironwood said, closing and locking the cell. Vulpes didn't dignify him with a response. Moving to the far end of the holding area, he opened the door to leave. Ozpin was right on the other side. His face was pale. "You heard?" Ironwood asked.

"Yes," Ozpin said. "Leo...I don't want to believe it, but we have to investigate. I haven't personally laid eyes on the Spring Maiden in years, and Vulpes learned everything from someone." Ironwood nodded. He was only half-listening. His mind had turned inward. Somehow, it had escaped him until now just how incredibly precarious their situation was. They had only one-half Maiden that was combat-capable, while the other Maidens were too old, too young, captured by their enemies, or were MIA. He had to rely on subordinates from other countries that couldn't reliably follow orders and were prone to insubordination. And now he was learning that he couldn't even fully trust the other academy heads? Was it any wonder Salem had achieved so many victories lately?

"How do you want to approach this James?" Ironwood snapped out of his thoughts. Ozpin was looking right at him.

"I'll decide that in the morning," he said briskly. "I have hours of paperwork ahead of me. But I think we need to have a call with Leo. And if he has stabbed us in the back, steps will need to be taken." Something was stirring inside him, something dark and ugly. The more he thought about Leo, the more it growled.

"James," Ozpin said uncertainly. "Don't you have subordinates to handle this?"

"They tried to handle it, I overrode them," Ironwood said. "This is too important to be delegated." Ozpin didn't understand. For everything the man had done in his countless years on Remnant, he had never had to juggle everything along with running a modern military. He was just about to continue when his scroll begin to buzz in his pocket. Irritated, he pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. "Winter Schnee." His stomach somersaulted as he answered, his previous irritation gone. "Winter?" Possibilities ran through his mind. Was this a ransom from her captors? Did he need to put a trace on this call?

Fortunately, the answer he received was from Winter, who sounded relieved instead of under duress. "General, it's good to hear from you again. James and I are safe now, thanks heavily to the works of Qrow." Ironwood couldn't help himself, he let out a laugh of relief. Safe. Winter was safe. At a time when dependable allies were increasingly rare, one of his best officers was safe. "We're, and it's a long story as to how we got here…well." Winter sounded uncomfortable. "We're at Schnee manor."

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Author's Note: I've written a lot more than what I posted, but it had the old problem of running out of control in terms of the size of the bloat it was coming to, so I decided to split it up into two chapters again. I hope you enjoy this one and I'm sorry about the wait. I've been sidetracked with another, a more personal project that I'm not sure I can share with you guys. I do apologize for that and I hope this was worth the wait. Hopefully I should have another chapter up in a few days!

I've been wanting to write this scene for a long time, Vulpes and Ironwood facing off. They're two characters that have such radically different world views, but are similar in how they're both willing to go so far for what they believe is right. That and this is just one of those moments that make crossovers so exciting in the first place. Different characters from such different worlds colliding.

I would like to thank my legacy Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, Ryan Van Schaack, ChaosSpartan575, and LordofNaught for their amazing support.