"Absolutely not," Jacques Schnee said flatly.

Winter should have expected that considering the absence of morality in the body of the man she called her father. In a ordinary day, she wouldn't have found the strength to stand up against him but now, it was different. She was going to press on. She had seen the TV announcement Alexander had made about a rescue attempt. Even despite the doubt within Winter's mind about the possibility of any survivors in the blast, she still dared to hope. Such was humanity at its core, to hope in the face of impossible odds. The indomitable human spirit in the face of tragedy.

Her hands tightened.

As much as Winter vowed to leave the SDC as soon as she could, it wasn't so simple as her just announcing to drop everything. Not when she first had to gather evidence against her own father and expose his crimes. It simply wasn't enough that she wished to disenthrall herself from her father. Morality, good sense, and plain conscience demanded it of of her. She knew that it was very much likely that her father would get away free and without consequence. Her very soul desired justice and now that her father was at the forefront of the world's gaze, it was the golden opportunity for her to prove her worth and name by destroying his and the bootlickers he had as board members.

Because of him, the name which had been associated with hard work, perseverance, and spite against the apathy of the universe was associated now with greed, avarice, and death. In her family, her mother had lost herself to wine to cope while Weiss and Whitley was simply too young to do anything. She wasn't going to go and saddle Weiss with the issues her father had made if he left. Of all the people in her family, she was the only one who could go and save their name.

For justice. For her family. For her grand-father.

But first, the rescue.

"But father, if you refuse this, you are aware of the massive hit this will be towards our PR? It's already tethering on a downards spiral from the mine blast. To publicly refuse a stated offer of rescue would be..." Winter attempted to bring up but Jacques responded quickly.

"I am aware," Jacques snapped, his face annoyed. "I told you, Winter. Trying to rescue anyone from there is a fools errand. A waste of money. If there is a rescue that's going to happen, it will not be on the company payroll."

"You need not worry on that," Winter said, glancing outside her window. Crowds had begun to form, a long line of vehicles beeping at each other and trying to get inside a compound with thick walls and a eagle's banner. She turned her attention back to her scroll.

"All that is needed now, father, is your approval and to convince General Conrad to re-open our airspace to allow for international volunteers. No expense on the SDC and you," Winter insisted.

"Tch," her father tutted. He looked thoughtful. "Well...the blast would no doubt have erased any signs of our culpability and I seriously doubt that anyone there is left alive. Very well. I will make a public announcement to the...Wayland."

Winter grinned, not out of her father finally seeing sense, but on what she was about to do. "Way ahead of you, father."

Jacques Schnee raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean way ah-"

She cut off the call. She glanced forward towards the driver's seat. "Klein, be sure to organize lien and dust deliveries to the Royal and Imperial Factory. Use my account, alright?"

Klein nodded, his moustache a mighty bastion of good male grooming and style. "Of course, Miss Schnee." He paused, a slow smile coming to his face. "Your grand-father would be proud of you,"

Winter flushed. Well, if Grandfather was looking at her from beyond, she hoped he was proud of her. Unlike Weiss who was simply too young to remember and Whitley who wasn't even born yet, Winter had met Nicholas Schnee and knew him.

No, she shook her head.

He would be proud of her.

With that in mind, Winter reached for the door and stepped out onto the street. A shadow was cast under her, the flattering banner of the Wayland Eagle. The snow and cold wind hit her face quickly as well but she was kept warm by the burning fire of justice in her breast. Her entrance was not unnoticed as the long line of folk saw her immediately. Most kept their distance while the media rushed to her.

"Isn't that Winter Schnee?"

"What's she doing here?"

"Schnee murderer!"

She ignored the comments as she prepared to face the world. She took a breath, head held high, as she glanced into the pointed cameras. "The Schnee Dust Company proudly announces that it is approving the rescue efforts organized by Royal and Imperial. We urge those with the resources to join us."

"And what do you intend to do here, Miss Schnee?" a reporter asked.

A look of utter determination came upon her.

"To join in and rescue my people," Winter said firmly.

"You want a what?" General Conrad asked, confused.

The proceedings had gotten into a recess and attention had now shifted into the budding public call for a rescue attempt. Even if it was obviously a fruitless effort, people still clung to hope. To Jacques, it was all nothing more but naked self interest. The faunus were obviously in it for their relatives inside the mine. The labour unions were there for their members. The wretched Old Guard was there for the interest of national security and then there were the ones who were simply in it for public points.

"Approve international flights for the rescue attempts," Jacques Schnee repeated.

"Why I would be happy to, Jacques, but that is simply impossible when you have to consider Atlas's security," General Conrad explained. The old man turned and clicked on a button on his table. A holographic image of Solitas appeared. At the center was Atlas. In the far distance was Courrières. Normally, the map would have been that but multiple black spots dominated the screen.

"The black spots are tracked Grimm Hordes," General Conrad muttered. He clicked on another button, showing tiny symbols of Atlas with numbers by them. And those Atlesian symbols were concentrated around the city while a few were around the black spots.

"Those are our air fleets. Most are stationed near us just in case those hordes try to threaten Mantle and Atlas. The others are tracking the hordes. And Courrières is-"

"Courrières is located outside the walls, in the North, and is a smoking ruin," Jacques snapped. This old fool needed to replaced, clearly. "That we know but the hoi polloi insist that it be scanned for survivors anyway. Sometimes, the mob's demands must be met. If I say no, the SDC will be crucified. If you say no, you will be crucified. We have no choice here."

"But I thought the plan was to give you a few sanctions here and there?" Conrad asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's still in place, General," Jacques said, patiently and resisting to roll his eyes. "But with this rescue, that can be justified. The SDC helped out hence, you can be lenient. A win for both of us."

The General looked hesitant. "Still...the-"

It was then the door had a few knocks. Strong ones. "Enter!" Conrad yelled aloud. Not a second later, Ironwood entered the room, one of his men in tow. Jacques did not like Ironwood's creature. He was too casual for his own good. Immediately, Conrad's expression turned icy as he met with Ironwood.

"General Ironwood. What do I owe this visit?" Conrad greeted him neutrally.

"Sir, requesting permission to lead a force to secure Courrières," Ironwood said, getting straight to the point. "I've left a call with the headmasters of the other Academies and they concur that a rescue attempt be made regardless, despite the possibility that there is no one left at the mine. They will also be sending teams here to assist."

"We are looking into that," Jacques added in, glancing at the tactical map Conrad had drummed up. Ironwood gave him a cursory look before glancing towards the same map. His eyes noted the Grimm hordes active on Solitas.

"Believe me, I am of the mind they should be rescued too," General Conrad proclaimed, ignoring the fact that he was considering in letting whatever survivors there die in a different conversation. "But I cannot spare any ships to secure Courrières not when Atlas must be protected first."

"With all due respect, sir. The Grimm have been aroused by the negativity this has drummed but their hordes are nowhere near Atlas," Ironwood pointed out as he glanced at the tactical map.

"Requesting permission to speak, sir?" Ironwood's floozie asked.

"Go ahead, Specialist Ebi," Conrad nodded.

"The public call for a rescue is growing. If we approve this, the hope that will rise from this discontent will do wonders to lower the negativity the public is feeling hence calming down the Grimm." Ebi suggested. Conrad looked thoughtful at that information. His eyes bored back to the map.

"Very well," Conrad finally decided. "I'll spare a cruiser and two destroyers. Wings of Atlas, Sprit of Life, and Providence. I will need someone to go and lead the fleet. I'll appoin-"

"I'll do it," Ironwood cut through.

"You?" Conrad muttered in disbelief.

"The Council session is on hold anyway. I am ready and able. Send me, sir." Ironwood pressed again. Conrad shrugged his shoulders.

"Very well," he nodded. At that, Ironwood saluted and turned on his heels. Jacques leaned back on his chair, disliking the General for not even giving him a damn hello. Has the standards of the military slipped so much?

"All this trouble for a bunch of animals," General Conrad scoffed, shaking his head. Ironwood was just about to leave, Ebi by his side, when he halted on his heels. He turned back once more, face quiet with fury, as he deliberately went to General Conrad's desk and leaned in, looming over the old man. His hands reached forward, gripping the table.

"Miners of the Schnee Dust Company," Ironwood repeated, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Citizens. Of. Atlas."

"We-" Conrad tried to respond but then, the table began to creak dangerously as Ironwood's fingers crushed the metal underneath his palms.

"Citizens. Of. Atlas," Ironwood stressed again, each word and syllable a promise of violence if General Conrad did not refer the miners as who they were.

Their people.

"Of course!" Conrad nodded quickly, sweat dripping down his brow. Ironwood gave him one last furious glare before he turned to leave. As they left, Conrad let out a shudder.

"This faunus issue is getting out of hand," he muttered. "Even my own officers are going crazy for them. Animals! We already gave them a damn continent to live on and they still want more?"

Jacques however did not leave his attention from the door. He would need to keep a careful eye on Ironwood. Clearly, he was dangerous.

I had clearly underestimated people because as soon as I had given details of where people should go, my own fucking scroll nearly exploded from all the attention it was getting.

For Atlesian citizens with talent necessary for this outing such as Huntsmen, other miners and related field for the digging, woodsmen to cut trees, and other such fields showed up outside the Foundry in droves, demanding entrance inside. To my not-surprise, a good portion of whom were faunus. To my surprise, humans had shown up too.

Father, thank his soul, took on most of the administrative problems. He coordinated with companies who were willing to put forward their resources to make this rescue work. Inside the foundry, heavier Bullhead models from a air transport company was there and was being filled to the brim with supplies and men. Volunteer workers from hospitals, rescue organizations and related field were there, teaching others what to do in case they found someone injured or taking note of what they needed. I spent my time being the face of R&I, making sure people were at their assigned places. I had people wear arm-bands to signify their roles. One for rescue, another for protecting people from Grimm, and one for support roles. I decided on a color scheme. Black for rescue, Red for protection, and Gold for support.

I was under no illusions what the color scheme meant.

I was also in the middle of talking with Cheng. She had arrived with her force and were quickly forced into winter clothing. She was rather upset that the first thing her soldiers would do under my banner was to play rescue but was placated with the fact that her openly doing this work would generate positive attention for herself and her band. That, I was in the middle of convincing her when my scroll rang. I glanced at it and picked it up. The words spoken to me filled me with confusion first then, bemusement.

"I'll be on my way," I said as I excused myself to Cheng and went out to the front entrance. I had to be careful on where I stepped as the sheer amount of supplies and people in the way meant I had to be careful. The blocking became more apparent the closer I went to the gates where a semi-circle had formed around someone. People went aside to let me pass.

I smirked in amusement as ice-cold blue eyes met mine.

"Well well! Look at who came!" I said aloud, greeting Winter Schnee. The Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company crossed her arms.

"Funny," she said, lips thin. She shook her head. "I did not come alone, Wayland."

I raised an eyebrow at that as the roaring of trucks filled my senses. At the gates, trucks with the Schnee Snowflake pushed on. "Help," Winter said, letting me look back at her. "You will need all you can get."

I whistled, noting the sheer line of trucks. "Your daddy do all this?"

She shook her head. "No. This was all at my expense."

Wow. What a way to flex your money there, Winter. As much as I wanted to spite the Schnee, I had more important things here to do. "Then come along, we still have much to organize."

"After you," WInter nodded in determination.

Winter had never visited the Royal and Imperial Foundry before. She appreciated history and the finer things and immediately, she couldn't help but be awed at the foundry which had supplied the armies of Mantle for centuries until recently. But there was plenty of time to gush about it when the rescue was over. Alexander had done an alright job in getting things organized with the armband system for example.

"I've gotten people into their groups. Black for rescue which involves going into the dark, Red for protection duty. it might be an empty mine now but who knows what sort of surprises wait for us there. And the gold, it's for support services. Medical, food, you name it," he explained.

Winter nodded then, a thought came to mind. "Any symbolic meaning to it, Wayland?"

He paused, glancing at a few workers bringing forward a banner to a flagpole. The highest flagpole had that of Atlas, of course. The second one bore the R&I eagle and the last one...it was the three colors combined as one. Winter understood it as a symbol of the Foundry being the headquarters of the rescue effort.

"Perhaps," Alexander nodded, watching the flag fly to the cheers of the crowd. "Red, Black, and Gold. From the Darkness of the past, Through the Blood of the present, and Into the Light of the future."

A shiver went through Winter, always an appreciator of symbolism. She recognized that today was perhaps one for the history books. Humans and faunus working together, the different Kingdoms sending help. They were all making history. It was time perhaps for her to conduct herself well.

"Then let's get to it, pell-mell. If not together to heaven..." she quoted. Alexander's eyes widened as he heard her speak. He turned to her, laughing.

"Then hand in hand to hell!" He finished. He shook his head then took a step forward to Winter. He only stood a head above her so she didn't really have to crane her head much.

"I know that our families are at odds. We haven't been friends either but today's history. What do you say a truce for now and when this is over, we can try to be friends?" He asked, extending a hand.

"Friends," she agreed, her reaching out to touch his.

Their touch...

It was electric.

The mine...it was quiet. Rubble, smoke, death. What was once a busy and populated mine, now empty.

Then, there was noise. The ground shook as engines screamed from heaven. Through the mist and the smoke, a shape took form. A sleek and winged aircraft, it's side bearing the Lantern of Atlas.

From its bridge, Ironwood glanced at a tactical map and took note of the different dots around the mine. Black dots only meant Grimm.

"This is General Ironwood to all crew!" he barked, his voice spreading through the comms. "We are the advance force for the rescue effort! Keep the vicinity clear of Grimm and let us rescue our people! If you see anything that has more than two legs, you shoot it dead, do you hear me!?"

"YES GENERAL!" the bridge crew cried. A warcry shared throughout the ship. He nodded, turning to the bridge officer. "C2, clear the drop."

The man, a faunus, nodded in determination. "Aye, aye. Sir."

He then turned and spoke into his comms, his eyes flaming.

"Roll in, roll in, all combat teams! Squads Alpha, Beta, Zulu, drop drop drop!"

The hanger doors of Providence opened for Bullheads to swarm out like bees leaving their nests. Wings of Atlas and and Spirit of Life swooped in laying covering fire with their lasers, acting as precise lance strikes towards the bigger Grimm. Atlesian tactical complexity and skill shone as the sun as the Alphas fell. With their gun run done, they opened hatches as Marines landed on the dirt.

"Secure this position! Let's get our people home!"

Hammering, drilling, labour.

When the roaring of industry meant noise and pollution, now it was the sound of salvation. The whirring of drills was the most frequent, chopping and pushing apart rock and stone of the Solitan Mountains. After the Atlesian Navy and its complement of marines had cleared away any Grimm that had wandered into the confines of the mine, the relief teams were granted access to finally do their work. Geologists and Dust prospectors from all the Kingdoms were ushered in first. They were to find out if Dust residue had fallen to a safe level and see if another blast would be possible.

The fact that drills of different shapes and sizes were going at it to the dirt meant that it was safe now.

Clad in warm furs, Winter pressed a finger against a button. Quickly, a holographic map of the mine appeared. The way the mind was dug resembled that of a corkscrew going downward and downwards. General Ironwood had approved of and with assistance from the generous civilian volunteers established proper facilities to house people and material. A necessity since they were in the coldest region of Solitas after all and no one was that stupidly optimistic to think that they could go and find someone so soon.

She sighed. It had already been four days since the digging had started. The first was spent by the Navy clearing the area. The second was clearing the debris and rubble and whatever impediments lay that would slow down operations. A day and a half was again spent both in establishing habitation blocks and drilling. Now was the fourth. The plan was to bore holes into the ground in a circle then rapidly closing in. With each drill, they would then send scanners down into the tunnels that could go and emit a unseen wave that could detect signs of life. It was a generous donation from the Valean Maritime Institute. Primarily used to scan the ocean floor, now used to save miners.

So far, no luck. Each tunnel that they had bored into revealed nothing but cold dead silence.

With each passing hour of drilling and finding nothing, the more it made Winter feel that there really was no one left alive down there. The numbers had come in revealing that the blast was perhaps the strongest explosion in recorded history. If the blast hadn't killed people then the chain reaction of it going through the tunnels would have.

Then, a voice joined her. "Looking at the tunnels again?"

It was Alexander, Winter found. They never had a proper chance to talk until now. He was too busy organizing the movement of people from ordinary volunteers to his now private army of Mistrali veterans. Winter resisted the urge to frown. Their leader, Cheng, was someone she automatically had a disliking too. Perhaps it was the way she held herself, cocksure and arrogant. Or perhaps it was the way she glanced at Alexander when she didn't think anyone was looking at her. Winter was quite sure that Mistrali royal had something up her sleeve, something not pretty she felt. But whatever her feelings towards her, Winter had to admit that she and her band were what they claimed to be.

Half of them had traded their weapons and armor for picks and scanners, doing the heavy work with the other volunteers while the other half was outside the perimeter making sure that any Grimm wouldn't wander in. She was surprised that the migrating hordes of Grimm hadn't walked in on them but the answer why became clear to Winter when she would look around.

She saw it on the faces of every miner donning their gear and putting on their headlight helmets. It was flashing in the eyes of the soldiers who worked with the miners too or as they braved the cold of the outside as they guarded the perimeter circle. It was the cry of effort that left each of their lips, the fire that burned their hearts against the squeezing grip of the universe. The one thing that drove men and women to greater heights of defiance.

Hope.

Winter shook her head to refocus on her task. Pressing a few more buttons, certain sections of the map was alit with green. "I was just trying to see how much of the tunnels had been drilled and map. This is the latest record that the SDC had of Courrières but I cannot help but feel we are missing something..." Winter said.

"Missing what?" Alexander asked, walking up to watch the mine.

"The map here is outdated. This was a geological map made a year ago. There could have been expansions to the mine that weren't recorded yet," Winter explained.

"Would it be possible that they were never recorded at all?" Alexander theorized, his voice full of implication.

Winter grimaced. She knew exactly what Alex was trying to get at and she wouldn't fault him for thinking that way. The SDC was notorious for its slipping quality and...gifts to those in certain positions. She never really was brought into that before, her father kept his actual cards close but her snooping around in their records as she searched for evidence to present to the Council had all but confirmed to her that everytime the government had asked for safety reports of the mine, the SDC sent the same thing over and over again.

"It's possible, yes. My father saved on things where money should be spent," Winter sighed. There was no pleasure on Alexander's face but rather, a grimace. She took a quick glance around to confirm if they were alone and to her satisfaction, they were. The staff were all still away for their lunch break.

"No offense, Winter, but your father is a right rat bastard," Alexander swore freely. Winter didn't need to be told that twice.

"And water is wet. He..." she paused. Thinking about her father made her feel nothing but disgust and shame that she was related to the man. She needed a clear mind to speak lest her words be poisoned.

"He used to have his moments where one thought he was a good man," Winter sighed. But then, she looked back to the tunnels.

Her eyes narrowed, her hands closing into a fist. "He was never good in the first place. Whatever decency there was in him ossified a long time ago. And because of this...I wish to see him behind chains."

"You want to imprison your own father?" Alexander asked, surprised. Feigned or not, she didn't care to find out. Instead, she nodded.

"Yes. This? If he doesn't end up behind bars after this then that would be a miscarriage of justice."

"Surely you gotta go and be back at Atlas then? Find the proper stuff to leak them?" Alexander pointed out.

"It wasn't enough," Winter admitted. "I may be the Heiress but my father has kept the most critical files for his eyes only, a sanitized version of it made available only for his trusted employees to read. Even the files I found sufficient were made to look as innocuous as possible. This mine...this place? Once we can gather enough evidence here then we can go and present it to the council."

Her father may be short-sighted and greedy but he had developed means to cover himself well. His answers at the Council Chambers a few days ago was a sign of that. But his words could still be enough to damn him. Winter leant forward, pointing to a few small lines that led upwards. "You see those lines?"

Alexander followed. "What about them?"

"They're ventilation shafts," she explained. "They serve to let air get inside the mine but are also a way for miners to escape via ladder access. The fact that no miner has gotten out from there means that the ladders were never there in the first place."

There too was the idea that everyone down there was dead but she refused to entertain that idea, not when there was much of the mine to scan.

"Did I mention that I hated your father?" Alexander asked as he considered what she had said. Despite the whole situation, Winter couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes. Yes you did, repeatedly," Winter snickered. A part of her felt that it was inappropriate to smile and laugh especially their given situation but...they have been hard at work for four days now. Some cheer was good morale.

Alexander shook his head, crossing his arms as he glanced outside. "Help is still pouring in from the outside, mostly from aid organizations but also from big names too like Beacon. Their headmaster's dispatched a team led by a unpleasant gangly Mistrali. Something about him felt unlucky to me so I had him placed mostly on guard duty in the perimeter. The students however were much more useful so, the other two are helping out with the Gold Teams while the rest are with the Black Teams."

Winter couldn't help but be amused. "Their leader felt unlucky to you so you had him stay in the cold of Solitas?"

"Mhm mhm," Alexander nodded.

"How unlucky," Winter tutted. Alexander paused, glancing at Winter with eyes as wide as saucers before finally, he laughed. Winter snorted first then joined in with him. He wiped a tear away, his belly laugh dying into a chuckle as he grinned at her.

"You have a sense of humor. Who knew?" Alexander said, still not believing what he had heard.

"General Ironwood has said that good humor keeps the dark thoughts away," Winter recalled.

"I never ever recall the General Ironwood as someone who makes jokes," Alexander muttered. "He always looked like he was contemplating something important."

Winter forgot that Alexander had chosen to leave the Academy. That and he wasn't really getting into further contact with the General unlike her.

"He has his moments, I admit, but you are correct he can be focused at times," Winter nodded in agreement. "If he were here, I have no doubt he would want us to focus too."

General Ironwood had left a single Destroyer to watch over the mines. He took his cruiser and the other destroyer away to shadow a Grimm horde not to far from them. If there was an emergency, he would return to the mine immediately. If the horde decided to migrate then he would be blasting them away with his squadron.

"Speaking of him, you are joining his ranks soon, correct?" Alexander suddenly asked. Winter's eyes widened. Her plans to run off to the military was something she kept close to her chest.

"How did you know?" Winter asked both in surprise and a little wariness.

He shrugged. "You were always a star pupil, Winter. No one places that much effort in Atlas Academy not unless they are itching for a position in the military. And besides, you'd make a great Specialist."

"...You think so?" Winter asked

"Absolutely," Alexander nodded with utter certainty.

"I see..." Winter coughed, looking away. After a minute or two of doing so, she glanced back looking just fine. "I do plan to enter the Specialists, yes. The SDC is too tainted for me to stay there far longer."

She sighed. "It is no longer my grandfather's cherished company. My father's influence is too great, too deep. I would not cry if the Council decides to dissolve it and merely allows my family to keep a few mines to our name."

The board was corrupt and the rot had seeped down the tree. There was no saving an old rotten tree whose only purpose was to steal the nutrients of the forest, letting the other plants suffer. It needed to be slashed down to its roots for new life to grow. She had no doubt that by the time Weiss would come of age, she would be managing a smaller but cleaner SDC. From there, she would grow it however she wished, take it to new heights not seen since her grandfather's day.

"Most people of our caliber wouldn't think like that, you know. They'd want their money makers intact as possible," Alexander commented.

Winter chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, please. Even if the SDC was downsized, Alexander, my family would still want for nothing. Our accumulated wealth alone would be enough to run a small country without ever worrying about taxing its citizens."

From someone else, it would be an arrogant boast. But Winter was not exaggerating. It was a fact. The primary reason her father hadn't approved a rescue was cost but looking at the current expenses the rescue was generating was trivial. It would barely even be a dip in the ocean.

Winter however was under no illusions as to how their wealth was gained. They had made it off the sale of Dust, yes, but also at spending little or nothing at other areas.

And look at where it had gotten them now.

The man before was scared, that was easy to see.

Wilhelm Yeaman was well into his middle-age, his face was sagging and his hair combed neatly. His voice was soft, like a whisper and his eyes was just as soft as well.

"I...I hate it too, Councillor Geyer. This...this disaster," Yeaman whispered. His accent was aristocratic, genteel.

"Yet you hesitate," Florianne pointed out, sitting across his desk. They were in his office now, two glasses of wine between them. Outside his window, chants of protestors carried across the air, demanding Jacques Schnee's head.

While Ironwood was off keeping watch over the mine, Florianne was left behind to convince the one lame-duck Councillor about the benefits of giving Jacques Schnee the finger. She could see the desire in Yeaman to do the right thing but yet, he hesitated.

"Going against the SDC, against Jacques Schnee...it's a daunting thing," Yeaman sighed, gripping the ends of his chair. "Not just that, your idea to go and nationalize the SDC? It's another thing too."

"General Ironwood and I agree that the SDC has proven incapable of providing its service. Last month, they struggled to repair their supply lines. This time, it's the mine disaster. I have it on good authority as well that other SDC mines are suspect," Florianne repeated herself yet again, having explained her plan to Yeaman minutes earlier. "Surely, that is good enough reason to break up the monopoly Jacques Schnee has made?"

"It's because of its size, Councillor, that I hesitate," Yeaman replied again. "To break it all up would require tremendous political will. It would take decades to see this through, should it happen. What will this mean for the economy? For our military? The government would be paralyzed for years trying to do this. Furthermore, the SDC under Jacques would fight us every step of the way."

That made sense to Florianne. The SDC was big and so was its pockets to hire legions of lawyers, she assumed. That was enough to make a man hesitate then there too was the fact that Yeaman would be putting himself at tremendous personal risk. She and Ironwood could be confident in their case. She had the protection of the Bund and Ironwood had the prestige of the Academy, in the military, and with the other Huntsman Academy leaders as well.

Yeaman, the son of aristocrats and a holdover of the old regimen, had nothing. His family was connected to select political parties she'd rather never utter the names of.

"I am sorry, Councillor. I cannot support or vote whatever scheme you and General Ironwood have in mind," Yeaman ended. That would have been it but still, he cast his eyes downwards in shame.

Florianne considered her approach.

She found one.

"The reason why I left Atlas, Councillor Yeaman, was because of what it had turned too," Florianne began. Yeaman looked up from the floor, his eyes settling on her. "I saw the men and women of the Color Revolution compromise their ideals in the name of personal gain. All from the bounty of the SDC. We all knew how Jacques Schnee found the money for it, letting the faunus suffer and bullying companies to be sold to him. It was illegal, it was horrendous yet nothing was done. It sickened me so much that I left."

Yeaman's expression betrayed his true feelings. Marianne saw the disgust flare in his eyes the more she spoke. And so, she continued.

"It sickened my father as well. He was a traditionalist type, hard-working and honest. He saw it too, the degeneration of honesty in Atlas. But we were minor nobility that lost whatever influence we had from the Color Revolution. So the best thing he could do to protest was moving out too," Florianne recounted, smiling. "He was the firm type but even he wished for rightness."

"Do not misunderstand me, Councillor," Yeaman spoke up again, his tone clarifying. "I am sickened by this too but what you and General Ironwood are too radical!"

"All General Ironwood and I are asking you, Councillor Yeaman, is to free Atlas from Jacque Schnee's grip," Florianne said softly, but firmly. She leaned in, looking into his eyes.

"You hate it. You are sickened by it. And now? Now is the time for you to act upon it," Florianne continued, her voice now encouraging. There was still hesitation on Yeaman's eyes but he was starting to look reflective too.

"When the rescue is over, I have no doubt we will return to questioning Jacques with new evidence to mind. When the time comes, we will deliberate on the SDC's fate. Five votes. Ironwood and I and with you, that is enough to nail him." She then stood up, Yeaman's gaze following hers.

"For Atlas, for everything that is good and right now, Mister Yeaman," Florianne said. "And for the unborn millions yet to come."

The man died with a bloody throaty gurgle. It was not a scream, Roland found, but the sound of it? The life fading from his eyes?

It was glorious.

They had been staking out encampment of faunus trying to make their way south, towards the animal kingdom called Menegarie. Groups of the animals were always the best targets as they tended to be filled with valuables, women, and children. Roland didn't mind the others getting their shiny shit or their girls. As long as they left him the young ones.

He liked them like that, fresh and innocent. He figured he was being a teacher to them and his lessons were eye opening to the way the world works.

The weak fall, the strong rule.

But this encampment was disappointing, Roland found, as they combed through the bodies. There were no women or children, nothing valuable even. Just another band of worthless faunus carrying picks and other shit.

He was wrong then. They weren't going south to Menagerie. They were going North, something about the mine collapse there.

Roland really didn't care. That was animal business and if that pretty boy Wayland thought he could play hero, let him. Thinking about him now, Roland felt his pants tighten a bit.

He shook his head. He could always take care of that later. For now, they had to take whatever shit they could find.

"Move it!" he ordered, returning his sword to his sheath. "Raven wants to get us moving as soon as possible and I don't want you fuckers to get us left behind!"

The others made their grumbling but obeyed. Roland was stronger than them, very strong. Not as strong as Raven was but that bitch had something in her that made her fight hard. But as they worked, Roland could not help but notice some unease in the men.

The other tribes had started whispering about a fierce group hunting down honest and hardworking folk like them down with a vengeance the Gods would bring. To Roland, that was bollocks. Probably another feel good Huntsman thinking they were the shit and trying to solve the bandit problem around Mistral. Frankly, they were wasting their time.

They were not going anytime soon for as long as Mistral liked to be crazy. Even Roland recognized that. He wasn't going to do anything about it though. Why would he when the Branwen tribe benefited so much from the chaos?

He yawned, sitting his ass down on a nearby crate and watched the others worked. He was getting old now sure but he could still fuck like a bull.

He glanced at one of the men. Not as young as he would like but he looked young enough. Tonight, he was going to go into that boy's tent and show him why Roland was strong.

But unfortunately for Roland, the rumor he dismissed made their presence known.

Suddenly and without warning, heavy repeating gunfire echoed from somewhere. The men not caught by the onslaught were torn to pieces, their auras not exactly activated just yet. Roland however had his on. He fell onto the dirt, trying his best to look as small as possible, as the hail of bullets continued.

Then just as quickly as it appeared, the bullet storm stopped.

Stupefied, Roland glanced up and crawled forward, putting his back against a fallen crate. He reached for his belt and pulled out a revolver. Cocking it, he glanced over his cover. "YOU FUCKING IDIOTS! DO YOU HAVE A DEATHWISH? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO YOU ARE FUCKING WITH?"

"SILENCE, HEATHEN!" an old man's voice replied. Roland spat, disbelief in his features. Heathen?

"Who the fuck are you to call me heathen, old shit!?" Roland cried out, fully exposing himself.

"MY NAME IS CAPTAIN JOHN BROWN!" John Brown roared. "AND I AM HERE IN THE NAME OF THE GOD OF LIGHT, HE WHOM MEN WAS BROUGHT FORTH AND YOUR MAKER! I HEARBY ORDER YOU TO GIT, GIT IN HIS HOLY NAME! FOR HE IS ON THE SIDE OF JUSTICE AND YOU ARE ON THE SIDE OF CHAINS!"

Just as he finished speaking, Roland noticed movement next to brown. Faunus and fellow humans, armed to the teeth with guns he had never seen before. One of the faunus, a tiger one, marched up with a boxy machine gun, still smoking.

Then, she pulled the trigger.

A/N: Dudes will see Sienna with a .50 caliber machine gun and be like: ''Based"

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