General James Ironwood had seen many battles throughout his career within the Atlesian military. Some were small skirmishes, while others were larger, deadlier affairs. Some ended with the man returning home with all of his brothers and sisters who had sworn the hunter's oath beside him at Atlas Academy. Some ended with a long, lonely walk back to a transport alone, covered in blood and ash. One had ended with the loss of nearly half of his physical body, and all of them had cost him a bit of his soul. None compared to the battle he was fighting internally, or the one about to begin all around him.

The name "Ironwood" came with a reputation well known to the citizens of Atlas and Mantle, and held even more gravitas amongst the soldiers and hunters in the Academy. With that reputation came respect, and sometimes, fear. Rumors had spread like wildfire following his instatement as the head of Atlas Academy, and everyone had their own personal theory about how and why he had taken the second council seat and with it, nearly half of the electoral power in Solitas. Despite all of the murmuring behind closed doors, some things about the man were simply known amongst the populace and military alike.

The General was cold. Terse in his orders. Level-headed until pushed to the brink. Stoic. Easy to please and quick to give praise, but unafraid to express his disappointment in a job not done well. There was passion for his responsibilities, and a reverence among the people for his power. When General James Ironwood spoke, people listened, and it was a fact that the man had grown to appreciate throughout the years. Even so, when he stood before the microphone in a booth on the upper tier of the grounded Amity Arena with a camera pointed at his face, that knowledge came with a brutal, uncomfortable weight.

Every eye within Mantle was upon him. Every ear turned his way. Friends, enemies, and employees alike had stopped their daily routines to hear his words, and he knew it. He could feel the tension in the city, even standing there almost entirely alone in the booth and isolated from his people. His lips were dry. His hands were clammy. He would rather have been anywhere else on Remnant, but he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

General Ironwood knew that over the course of a few minutes, his next words would be directly responsible for the deaths of countless people. And yet, he spoke, because he knew that there was no other choice.

"Greetings, citizens of Mantle. I come to you this morning with dire news," the man began before taking a pause.

He had meant to breathe in the time he had bought himself, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to finish even such a simple task. They were all watching. She was watching. He could feel it.

"I…" General Ironwood began again before taking another pause.

He could not allow himself to appear weak. Every second he wasted was another that grimm could begin flooding the streets. Every pause and stutter would erode the public's faith in his ability to lead. Every breath he took once he began pulling back the curtain would allow time for more people to panic, costing more lives and delaying the escape of others who kept cool heads. Once he began, there was one chance to get it right. One opportunity to prepare the future survivors for an unwinnable war. One shot conveying the information that his people needed in order to live and explaining to the unfortunate ones why they had to die. A lesser man would have walked away and thought only of self-preservation as his subordinates handled the evacuation of the fortunate few.

General James Ironwood was not a lesser man.

"…I come before you today to say that I have lied to you," the man began before clasping his arms behind himself and adopting a more military style stance. "We, your leaders, have all lied to you. The origins of the grimm are not as mysterious and fantastical as they may seem. We lied for the same reasons a parent lies to their child uncapable of understanding the more horrible truths of the world- to protect you. Unfortunately… our protections- my protections- have failed. I have given everything for these twin cities, and even so, it has not been enough."

Pietro Polendina and Maria Calavera exchanged a somber look from their places at the control panels beside the General, but neither dared to say a word.

"There exists a grimm queen- an immortal entity we believe to be almost as old as Remnant itself. She goes by the name of Salem, and she is the source of the grimm scourge. She will stop at nothing to see Remnant ruined and our Academies destroyed… and she is coming. We have reason to believe that she is here in Solitas already, and no army in Remnant can currently stand against her. We have worked to stave her off for as long as possible, but now… now, there is nothing to do but take ourselves and our Academy off the board and rethink our strategy."

Maria turned her attention to General Ironwood, her mouth a thin line as she leaned on her cane. Though she knew the man couldn't see her as he stared into the camera, she offered him a nod before turning to leave the booth.

"I cannot, and I will not ask you to stay and fight an unwinnable battle in Mantle," General Ironwood reassured. "But… I cannot, and I will not lie to you any longer. The evacuation of the lower city begins now… and there is not enough room in Atlas or on the transports for everyone. The cruel and terrible reality that we now face is one where uncomfortable choices have become unavoidable. Every living soul in Mantle must now decide between boarding an escape craft to Atlas and staying to defend those trying to flee. We will save as many as we can, and I will fight alongside you, as will every member of the Academy and Atlesian military force. I ask that you all remain orderly and listen to the brave souls volunteering to organize the evacuation, lest panic cause more chaos and toll more lives. We are not yet under attack, but we must be ready. No opponent would see the beginning of our retreat and allow us to flee without intervention. We cannot afford another source of terror beyond Salem herself, and we cannot allow our emotions to draw more grimm."

Pietro Polendina walked his chair into frame at the cue and began working on a panel behind General Ironwood. Both men knew that what he was doing was all for show, and yet, it was entirely necessary to sell the conclusion of the speech.

"I know that I am asking the impossible… but I know that if anyone is capable of the impossible, it is the brave men and women of Solitas," General Ironwood said with a sense of finality in his tone. "I will be raising Amity Arena up and beyond even Atlas in the coming hours to re-establish global communications and inform all of Remnant of Salem's existence and our predicament. If those who remain behind hold on to hope… we may receive reinforcements in short order. No matter what happens here today, war has come to our home… and we must make the first move before the enemy seizes the advantage. May we emerge from this as whole as we can… and I am truly sorry. Godspeed."

A breath left the General for what seemed like the first time in minutes as the camera was remotely switched off. His posture relaxed into an exhausted slump, and his neutral expression melted away into a dour frown. A hand raised to rub along his beard, and he drew in another shuddering breath as he tried to maintain his composure. He eventually settled for cracking his neck to one side as the limbs of Dr. Polendina's chair whirred and clicked behind him.

"…there was nothing else you could have said or done… though the choice not to throw Ozpin under the bus or mention Robyn's arrest was… interesting," the man said solemnly. "Few people could have given that speech, let alone made it through without cracking. For what it's worth… I'm proud to serve."

"And I'm proud to have you in my service, old friend," General Ironwood replied as he drew one of his pistols and cracked open the cylinder. He checked that the firearm was loaded before snapping it closed and beginning to repeat the motion with its sister. "I wish it had never come to this. I wish I had known all of this years ago, and had time enough to work on a plan without sacrificing our people. Wishes, though, count for nothing. All that matters anymore is what we do with what knowledge we have now."

"True enough," Dr. Polendina agreed. "Listen, just in case we don't make it through this… I'm s-"

"I understand why you did what you did," General Ironwood interrupted as he holstered his pistol and turned around to face his colleague. "And from working so closely with our guests from Mistral, as well as speaking more candidly with the Ace Ops… I'm seeing more value in being open and honest about the emotional toll of what we do on a daily basis. My biggest regret in handling the situation with Hope and Pax was making you feel as though you were unable to tell me what you had done… and that is entirely on me."

"…I'm not sure I know what to say," Dr. Polendina said as he drew a cloth from his pocket and used it to wipe his eyes. "But the fault for this- all of this- doesn't lie with you. There's something else I hope you learned from Yang and her friends during their time here."

"And that is?"

"That none of us have to, or even can do this alone."

General Ironwood couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from upturning as he let out a noise of amusement.

"…you're not wrong. I'll be relying on your help when Watts arrives. Miss Calavera's, as well."

"That arrogant fool shouldn't take long," Dr. Polendina mused as he stuffed his cloth away. "He won't be able to resist the temptation of controlling Amity, now that he knows our supposed plan for it."

"I hope you're right. He also won't be able to leave…"

"Hold the damned line!"

"Ma'am!"

Caroline Cordovin, a diminutive woman with greying hair and sagging features in an Atlesian military uniform ran past the squad of three Argus soldiers firing down into the darkened hallway of her headquarters. The ricocheting bullets were chased by the screams of grimm and humans alike from elsewhere in the building. Monitors affixed to the walls in the hallways flickered and sparked with static as a corrupted signal tried to come through, and the woman thought she could just barely make out the form of General Ironwood amid the technological snow. Though seeing his warped body was a small reassurance, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was getting back to the communications room and trying once again to send a signal to her people.

A beowulf scampered out in front of Caroline from a side hallway as she continued her sprint. Without hesitation, she thrust her sidearm into its stomach as it reared back. She let out a feral yell to drown out the one that the monster let loose at the same time. As the grimm swiped a limb downward, she thrust up a hand to catch the forearm and emptied round after round into its chest while pushing forward and continuing to run. The beast exploded into a cloud of ash, coating Caroline's white uniform in black soot just before she shoved through the communications room door. Footsteps echoed behind her as her men provided covering fire, holding back another wave of grimm trying to make its way to her.

"Son of a bitch…" the woman commented as she emerged into the empty room.

Caroline ran as quickly as she could toward the central comms panel and hunched over, studying the blinking indicators and waveforms displayed. It all made sense to her, and despite the destruction of the signal jammer atop the tower outside the city, none of the conveyed information was good. No signals were coming in from outside the city, and those going out to Atlas were intercepted halfway through by a foreign device. The woman gritted her teeth and slammed a fist into the panel as she looked out the wall of windows beyond the panels. All color drained from her face as she did so.

The morning sky was blotted black with flying grimm. A massive shadow crept across the landscape as the leviathan-class floating beast advanced over the headquarters and began flying beyond it. Swarms of black creatures were running from Caroline's men in the streets and toward the shoreline, as though they were fleeing Argus entirely. In a sense, they were, but the woman knew that the battle for her city had not been won. The sudden mobilization could only mean one thing, and it was the one thing Caroline had been fighting so hard to stave off for as long as possible.

"Gods, no… they're heading right for Mantle…"

Author's Note:

Next week… the invasion and evacuation kick off.

-RD