"So… This… 'gunpowder' is why weapons from Earth are able to kill so quickly here on Remnant?" Watts' mustache moved as he spoke.
"Why guns kill so quickly." Thrax corrected "Higher decomposition time, higher pressures, and I am eternally confused you have never heard of it, since you have all the components."
"What components?" Watts said almost annoyed.
Thrax then suddenly stopped in his step and admired his surroundings from the main road of Kuo Kuana, quaint huts and houses. He watched a woman carry a big basket of coconuts down the road, Thrax went to follow behind her. Watts watched with a rather confused gaze but joined Thrax, nonetheless.
"I've disassembled the scrolls you people use and they have gold in their chips. The buttons on your vest, they are gold too, yes? How pure?"
Was Thrax thinking of robbing him? "Ninety-nine percent." Watts said with suspicion.
Thrax hummed "I assume the purification process involved selective precipitation?"
"No, dore bar electrolysis."
"Ah, an expensive method, we call it the Wohlwill process, I forget you people are rich, but you are aware of selective precipitation for gold, yes?"
Watts narrowed his eyes at the man walking in front of him, almost offended that he had assumed he didn't know a core part of metal purification, especially as a scientist, one of the best scientists on Remnant.
"Of course, using nitric acid to dissolve any impurities in a collection of gold, then collecting the gold precipitate to eventually be melted down and used for whatever means needed. I may not be a metallurgist, but this is basic chemistry."
Thrax laughed "I am simply making sure that the people of Remnant have nitric acid."
"And nitric acid is a component of gunpowder?"
"No." Thrax suddenly stopped as they reached a beachside market.
Frustrated with the needless conversation, Watts just silently tailed Thrax as he observed the market.
Hundreds of faunus gathered around stalls selling various amenities, mostly fish, but a few stalls sold vegetables and red meats. Thrax strolled around the market, viewing the various stalls.
Watts had had enough "What is this? Instead of working we're doing your groceries?"
This man seemed to do so many unnecessary things, he even told Watts that he would have to go with Thrax to the volcano in the middle of Menagerie with a small group of White Fang, for a reason he did not know.
Thrax seemed to ignore Watts as he walked up to a stall selling pickled meats. Some of them already cooked and sliced like at a deli, a distinct red color on a cut of brisket despite it being cooked and fragrant.
Watts sighed, was this really the man he was to work with? Despite the clear indignation on Watts' face, Thrax continued, approaching the lady manning the store from behind the rough counter laden with different meats.
"Excuse me, madam. I believe I've eaten the beef at your store before, you pickle your food before cooking it, yes?"
A nod from the woman "Yep, we brine our meats with some spices and saltpeter. Saltpeter keeps the meat red even after you cook it."
"Oh?" Thrax was happy yet intrigued, and this was clear even if the sole visible characteristic on his face were his eyes "May I have a small sample of this salt?"
The woman walked over to a sack behind the stall and got a pinch of saltpeter and delivered it to Thrax's open palm.
Watts watched as Thrax pinch grabbed the small pile of salt with other hand and brought said hand up to his head scarf. His hand protruded from his scarf at around the area where his mouth would be, and a moment later he put his hand down.
"Bitter." He simply said. "This is indeed the saltpeter that I know. May I know your supplier?"
"Our family makes our own, we don't sell it though." Thrax clicked his tongue but the woman immediately followed with "I'm willing to craft up a deal with you though, for a price of course."
Thrax waved his hand "This is of no issue; I will return soon."
The woman smiled and nodded as Thrax walked away.
Watts paused, eyes open, taking in what he had just seen.
"Truly a genius you are." Watts said in a neutral tone as he finally caught up to Thrax "Your culinary expertise will surely lead the White Fang into victory."
"You lack imagination, Arthur, you are aware of what saltpeter is right? Its chemical name."
"Potassium nitrate." Watts responded, seemingly resigning himself to Thrax's insanity now.
"What do nitrate ions do when they decompose?"
"They release oxygen."
Thrax cackled "A lot of it."
Watts squinted his eyes, what was Thrax getting at here? Why was Thrax making a point about the release of oxygen from nitrates when al he seemingly wanted to do was shop for brining salt.
The he remembered their previous conversation about gunpowder and how its superior pressures led to American weaponry performing more effectively.
He finally concluded his thoughts and spoke with a realization as the two continued their walk back to base "The release of gas leads to pressure buildup… "
"And since nitrate ions are composed of three oxygen atoms, you do not need many to produce high pressures."
"Is that why you're seeking to buy saltpeter? Because it is component to gunpowder? But from my experience with nitrates, they need very high temperatures to decompose."
Thrax scoffed "You are thinking like an engineer, think like a chemist. When something needs to be heated to extremely high temperatures to decompose, you don't need something capable of reaching those temperatures, you only need something with lower ignition numbers to set a reaction."
"But then you would need something to ignite that object in the first place."
"Unless it is an extremely reactive element, like say… sulfur."
"…Is that why you want to go the volcano tomorrow?" Watts' eyes widened, it all made sense now. Saltpeter to provide the pressures required, sulfur as a reactant, now they just needed fuel for the reaction like fire dust or something with carbon.
Thrax just nodded "The reason why your fire dust-based weapons are so ineffective compared to Earth weapons is because you only use fire dust, it is reactive and explosive, yes, but at most it should be fuel or a catalyst to a reaction because it does not displace as much gas as a nitrate would."
That was… brilliant. How nobody on Remnant, even himself, thought of this was beyond him. Perhaps the abundance of dust and Remnant's reliance on it stifled innovation of this level.
Watts sighed, conceding this point "If we're searching for sulfur deposits tomorrow, we are going to need safety equipment."
"I have much stock of charcoal at my abode, surely you know how to make a gas mask."
"Of course I do."
Embassy of the United States
Kingdom of Vale
1230 hours
Elijah leaned back in the lavish leather chair of his office as he regarded the three people in his office, one analyst and three people from the PAG detachment, one of them being from MI6. Having just walked in after he had suddenly called them up, they looked confused and rather frantic.
"'Afternoon." Elijah called out to the three people standing. "I'm sure you three are wondering why I called you here." He then waved his hand around "Don't worry it's nothing bad, you've all been doing a great job, but as you all know the elections are coming in 40 days. Two seats are up for grabs, whose?"
He already knew, but he wanted to test them.
"Oscar White and Pamela Hue." The MI6 agent answered, Elijah pointed enthusiastically at him and nodded before speaking.
"Of course, we only really care about Oscar White, Hue is neither here nor there on her opinions of the United States, she's of no threat. Oscar White on the other hand is, and we've been working that angle for a month at this point. He's gonna start his campaign soon, we need to do something."
The analyst squinted her eyes "Haven't we been doing a lot already? We have bugs in his home that show him being abusive to his wife, his dealings with underground elements of huntsman industry, and soon we're gonna have a sex tape of his."
"None of that is admissible." Elijah simply said as he took a cardboard cup from his desk and took a sip from it.
What the said rang true for what evidence they had, if they were to release all that now, questions would rise about where the information came from and how it was taken. It would be obvious to many from the recordings that they were taken illegally using hidden cameras and microphones. The truth of the United States being willing to spy on Vale's citizens would not do very well for its popularity at such a critical period of time as the present.
To Elijah, the release of all this information should be done as a last resort, should the election draw near, and it seemed Oscar White would still win.
The MI6 agent, Aspinall, spoke again "If I may ask sir, if we're willing to go through all this effort, why don't we just kill the man? We know we can get into his house rather easily. Why not have the SOG donnies pose as home renovators, put some rat poison in his water supply and be done with it?"
"We can't. White is an active agent of Vale politics, his opinions on the United States are clear and well established. Tell me what you think would it look like to Vale if just a month after the United States establishes its own Embassy, its main opposition in Vale politics just up and died?"
Aspinall conceded to which Elijah continued "Believe me, if it were really up to me, Vale would look like a slaughterhouse, and it might be soon enough, but right now we have to give a damn about optics. As such, Vale politicians are off the table. Now, back to White, how can we break his campaigning without releasing our stash of ill-gotten footage?" Elijah paused "Spinks."
He called out to his head of PAG operations who then looked him in the eye "Sir?"
"Haven't your guys been working on funding pro-American liberal politicians?"
"Yes, sir, we've started donating to a few, hopefully they'll win out over White or Hue."
Elijah waved his hand "Hue, maybe, not a chance they'll win over White though. You have to switch up your approach."
"Sir?" He inquired, confused by what Elijah meant.
Elijah decided to clarify "White appeals to a certain part of the population, racist to the faunus, tax cuts, removal of Ozpin as headmaster, stronger ties with Atlas and Mistral. These people exist all over Vale and will vote for their golden boy that is Oscar White. And for all that Oscar White is, he is also idealistic, we can't bribe him. So, what you should do is find someone with all the same ideals as White, but maybe more charismatic, and more willing to be molded by cash and coercion."
Spinks grasped at his chin and nodded "So look for another conservative with potential to win, and get them to win, appeal to the voter base but with a candidate that's more willing to ally with us. But how can get a candidate to be more popular than White? He's entrenched himself in that group of people, they all love him."
Elijah suddenly stood up and walked over to his coat rack. He put on an overcoat and his hat, then he took a tin of cigars from his overcoat and lit one. He knelt down and took his suitcase.
"You're the Political Actions Group, it's your job, figure it out. Donate to a campaign, coach them, I don't know, just get it done before campaigning starts. Or at least get in contact with someone. Report back to me immediately once this is done."
As a symphony of 'yes sirs' graced his ears he left the office swiftly. He walked down the grated metal stairs of the CIA's office room as he made his way out the door. However, he was stopped by Sarah Kingston, an analyst.
"Sir."
He turned around, adjusting his hat as he did. "Yes?" In her hand she held a folded piece of paper.
"I just got this bag from the two COMSEC guys listening in on the bugs at Oscar White's house. It's… concerning sir, can we discuss it in your office?"
Elijah paused, thinking on it "I got some urgent business as well, how important is this?"
Kingston shook her head and handed him the paper "You can read it as you go, it's important, but nothing that really needs to hold you up, sir."
Elijah nodded "Alright." He took the piece of paper and left the room, walking straight for the main embassy building.
As he crossed the street that divided the Annex building and the Chancery, he unfolded the piece of paper that was given to him and read it silently. Its contents took him aback, something that was uncommon these days. His eyes widened and he slowed down in his step, forgetting to greet the marine manning the door at the Chancery as a result.
Once he had gotten up Toby Ziegler's office, he came in urgently, not bothering to take off his coat or hat, simply going straight for the seat directly in front of Ziegler.
"Oh, Elijah, good, I was just waiting for your reports, I'm supposed to meet with the National Security Advisor in an hour, gonna need them."
"Those can wait, I need you to contact the regional security office. Tell him we need to up security."
Agricultural District
Kingdom of Vale
1730 hours
The past week had been rather quiet for SAC/SOG as they had barely anything to do now that their job with Oscar White was finished at least for now. As such, they had been relegated to focusing more on secondary targets.
All the major anti-American journalists had already been bribed by PAGR or intimidated by SACR. Politicians were outside their scope for now; Elijah King didn't see it fit to assassinate politicians without good precedent. Setting that precedent was their job now.
Bowman laid on a grassy hill a little more than half a mile away from a large family ranch. He fidgeted with a rubber ball the size of a jawbreaker, throwing it up and down as Woods laid prone, surveying the home with a pair of binoculars.
"Man." Bowman caught the ball in his hand. "I hate this tedious shit. What're chances that Godfather just ran out of things to tell us to do so he sets us up for busywork that leads nowhere?"
"One hundred percent." Woods sighed out while continuing to look through the binoculars. "Like we've been watching this house 16 hours a day the past week, and we're supposed to wait for a moment that the whole family is out, how the fuck are we supposed to know when that's gonna be?"
"Right. We're wasting our time sitting on our asses out here, man. Least the limey gets to hang with hookers and shit. You believe him when he says he doesn't try anything?"
Woods chuckled "Not a damn chance." He adjusted a wheel on his binoculars "He handles all our finances after every snow deal, visits the whorehouse at least once a week."
Bowman stopped throwing the ball and just laid staring at the blue sky "I mean it is official business, wouldn't blame him if he did a lil' summin' unofficial on the side though."
Woods cackled "I see 'em moving around in there through the windows, they look dressed up. Think they might be leaving for something."
Bowman turned over in interest "All of them?"
Woods shrugged "Not sure. But daddy and mommy seem all dolled up in the living room. Cardin, their eldest, is in Beacon."
Bowman took out his own pair binoculars and started spying through the windows to confirms Woods' sightings.
"They got another kid too, right? A daughter, you see her getting all prepped up to leave too?"
"Not yet."
The Winchester family was a strong political force in Vale, rich and deeply ingrained in Vale's political history, much unlike Oscar White who was a native of Mistral, though they shared very similar politics. Fortunately for them, unlike Oscar White, the family chose not to live amongst their ilk in the upper-class districts of Vale, instead choosing to live near the outskirts of Vale, making it easier for the two CIA men to spy on them.
Their home was a large single-story bungalow.
Scaup Winchester, the patriarch of the family, was a prominent Vale councilman. His political beliefs were far less overt than Oscar White's, or at least he tended to mask his true beliefs far better, hiding his ideals with euphemisms and dog whistles, much unlike Oscar White's candidness.
His wife, Cynthia Winchester, was an actress and Valean socialite, holding a wide platform and audience, with which she used to bolster her husband's already strong political base.
Altogether they made perfect targets for a disgruntled person tired of their politics and disguised hatred of the faunus.
For the past week SOGR had been doing rotation at their home, and now it was Woods and Bowman's turn, much to their dismay.
They were wearing civilian clothes, thick jackets hiding Kevlar vests underneath, conceal carrying Glock 19s, wearing balaclavas.
All things considered, they looked incredibly conspicuous, their only saving grace being the sparseness of the district leading to very few people actually seeing them, if any at all.
"They're moving for the door." Woods noted with Bowman nodding.
They watched as the two heads of the family exited their home in ballroom clothing, heading straight for the family car. Scaup yelled inaudibly at their house, presumably to call their daughter who promptly exited the home in similar clothing to her parents. They all entered the car, which then started up and left.
"Shit." Bowman pocketed his binoculars "Wasn't expecting we'd actually get to do something." He knelt up as he watched the car pull out the driveway and move down the long road going back to the city. "Should we drive up to the front of the house or not?"
Woods stood up "Not another house at least 3 miles in every direction, we don't need to bother."
As the car disappeared into the horizon, Woods and Bowman walked up to their car which was situated on wide dirt path on the hill. Bowman popped the trunk open and took a spray can from within, putting it inside a large pocket in his puffer jacket. Woods took a single sledgehammer.
Bowman walked up to the side of the car and opened the back seat which had a Bluetooth speaker, he got and held it in his hand.
The two disguised men then made the trek down the hill and past the field of grass leading directly to front yard of the Winchester ranch.
Once they reached the front yard, they tried to open it by twisting the knob at first, but when it turned out to be locked, they looked at each other. Bowman then backed up and with one swift kick, the door burst back sending splinters of wood and dust backwards, revealing the insides of the house.
Wordlessly, both got to work.
Woods began, hefting the massive sledgehammer up and spinning it around, smashing it into the nearest wall. Since the house was made of concrete, it made a resounding thud and cracked. He walked further into the house and began to smash at anything he could see.
In stark contrast to all the fun Woods was having, Bowman quietly looked around the house for a large open space. The walls were likely to get cracked by Woods, so he chose the tiled flooring on the ground at the living room. He switched on the Bluetooth speaker, set it on the couch and connected his phone to it.
"All my life I want money and power, respect my mind or die from lead shower."
Rap music joined the sounds of destruction that met any item at the end of Woods' sledgehammer.
Bowman took the red spray canister and got to work on the ground, beginning with rough red lines.
Woods proceeded to enter the bathroom. Given that there wasn't enough room to swing his sledgehammer in arcs, he laid it upon his shoulder.
He kicked a few times at the toilet causing the porcelain to crack and eventually to fall apart.
He took the sledgehammer and jabbed it a few times at the window then at the sink, both getting destroyed.
The rampant destruction continued for a full twenty minutes as Woods moved from room to room smashing anything in his sight. Walls, furniture, decoration - nothing was safe. The once quaint homestead was reduced to what looked like a wartime ruin once he was done.
As Woods left the master bedroom he went up to where the music was blaring from, seeing Bowman finish up a rough art piece of the White Fang emblem on the ground.
"I busted my ass for half an hour wrecking the place and this is what you do?" Woods said mockingly.
"Ey, don't act like you weren't having fun, I can hear you smiling from the other room."
Woods chuckled as he 'admired' the bad attempt at a White Fang logo, the 'fang' in particular looking less like a canine and more like a nub, but it was serviceable.
"You get up to anything else other than wrecking shit?" Bowman asked, standing up, the fumes of the drying spray paint assaulting his nostrils.
Woods reached under his leather jacket and held up a few papers, sensitive documents. "Yep! Let's get outta here."
Bowman nodded as Woods left, heading for the door. Bowman was in the process of doing the same until he came upon something. A family photograph on the ground, the glass of the frame cracked from falling on the ground after Woods smashed the table it was on.
Bowman the opportunity for one final detail. He took a combat knife from a hidden holster, cutting x marks onto the heads each member of the family, and threw it back on the ground.
Jacques Schnee, a man of high pedigree, and equally high status in Atlesian Society.
A man whose entire persona was built on his image, an image he used to marry into the richest family on Remnant, an image he used to entrench himself into the limelight of Atlesian high society. An image he had done much to cultivate and perfect.
Jacques as such did his absolute best to make sure that the people who surrounded him were at the very least able to match this image. High class parties every month, inviting only the top of the Atlesian societal food chain. He made his family keep up with this same prim and proper image.
He always made sure that even when it came to his associates, both in business and inevitably, politics, that they would do nothing to put a stain on his image.
"I never said that I hated the faunus or that I see them as subhuman, I just think that it's human nature to have in groups and out groups. To us, the faunus are the out group. Is it really so bad that I don't want to associate or even be near them?" The speakers on the scroll set blared out the jovial tone in Oscar White's voice, another interview he was conducting somewhere in Vale.
Jacques inwardly cringed despite being alone in his office, a habit he had developed.
Oscar White had always been known for his rather stringent policy on the faunus, but this campaign was the first time he had ever been this overt with his views, no longer bothering to mask them. While this had galvanized his radical follower base, it made people outside his voterbase less willing to associate with the man.
Jacques Schnee was starting to become one of these people. Not for any sort of disagreement with Oscar White's views, but for the way White chose to present these views, which were starting to affect his bottom line.
From the very beginning of Oscar White's career, Jacques was always there as a backer both in funding and in publicity, their ties were very publicly known, and the very same investors that were beginning to divest from White were doing to the same to the Schnee Dust Company.
This would not do.
But the problem was that Jacques could not afford to do the same to White. Should Jacques pull his funding and support from Oscar, he would surely lose the election in the coming month. He would have little money to campaign, and those in the upper class of Vale would be influenced by Jacques' move and place their ballots elsewhere.
This, too, would not do.
As much as that would be the easiest move to take, Oscar White's economic policy was too lucrative to divest from for Jacques. No tariffs and low corporate taxes were the reason why Vale was the SDC's second biggest market below Atlas.
No, Oscar would have to stay in power, but he had stop ruining his image, Jacques had to make this clear to the man.
He watched on the screen as White said his thanks to the interviewer, stood up, waved to the cameras and the film faded to black. He gave it a minute.
He then took his scroll from under his pristine white dress jacket and dialed in Oscar's number. He held up the scroll to his ear. A few rings, then he heard Oscar's voice.
"Jacques! Pleasure to hear from you! You watched my interview? I sure showed that pansy."
The Schnee held him back from sighing "Yes, I did watch it. But… I have a few… suggestions."
A pause "Oh? And what would that be?"
Jacques took a second to think, to choose his words carefully. The conversation was calm, there was no need quite just yet to lay into the man.
"Perhaps you're too abrasive with the way you speak; don't you think you could become more popular if you chose your words more carefully?"
"Bah! You're sounding like my old publicist. Do you have any idea just how much fiercer my followers have become since I stopped mincing my words? It's so much more freeing too, finally getting to say what I want to!"
A tick formed on Jacque's forehead, he was starting to sound like a petulant child, memories of the tirade he had to go on with Weiss when she chose Beacon over Atlas flashed through his mind.
"Your followers might agree with you more now, but do you have any idea just exactly how much all that you say has been making you less popular with everyone else? With your other investors, with the moderates, with the Americans."
He hated to invoke the name of metaphorical Boogeyman of Atlas right now. Jacques himself was not sure whether to see them as a threat or as a potential ally yet, but he knew for a fact that antagonizing them especially right now as they stood as a big unknown was not the best idea, far from it, in fact.
"Why should I care what they think?" His voice took a more annoyed tone. "Don't act like you don't agree with me Jacques, the Faunus don't deserve their place in the kingdoms, Ozpin doesn't deserve his place in the council or as headmaster, and the Americans nor their pithy planet deserve their place on this planet! Why. Should. I. Care?"
Jacques took a deep breath, the tick had grown to a furrow "Do you know why, Oscar? Because if you don't start caring you can say goodbye to my support. "
"Jacques-" He stumbled on his words but was silenced by Jacques slamming his desk,
"No more money, no more publicity. I'm not going to be there to catch you when you want to have an extravagant campaign day, I won't endorse you. Because the more you philander around with this stupid extravaganza, the more difficult it becomes for me!"
Silence met him.
"Do you understand me?!" He said again.
"Yes." A begrudging tone, but it was a confirmation, nonetheless.
"Good. I will be there for the beginning of your campaign next week. No more interviews, but if for some brothers forsaken reason you still do them, then don't be an idiot." He hung up.
He was gonna be there in Vale in the next week anyway, the Atlesian winter was beginning to peak. He needed out of Atlas if even for a little, his summer home in Vale was the perfect out. Now if only he didn't have to bring the rest of his family.
Embassy of the United States
Kingdom of Vale
2300 hours
A marine security guard watched as a single large cargo truck drove past the open gate.
He watched a maintenance worker look down one more time at the manifest to make sure it was the correct one, and sure enough, it was right. A shipment of various frozen meats and vegetables.
As it passed the marine, he heard something, what sounded like footsteps dragging across the concrete of the pavement.
He squinted his eyes and watched the truck drive by but saw nothing on the other side. He decided that he must have misheard, likely the wheels making a strange sound.
In another part of the embassy, making roving patrols around the halls of the second floor of the chancery was Corporal Rob Sandhagen.
His rifle at the ready, prepared and anticipating for any threat to present itself, he walked at a steady pace down the hall.
Even late into the night the embassy was still well lit, though many of its occupants had already retreated for the night. Only maintenance crews, those on the graveyard shift, and of course, the marines remained. Then again there was also the annex building on the other side of the parking lot, but the schedules and staffing there were largely unknown even to the marines. It was still patrolled nonetheless, though not by Rob.
He let out a yawn, wishing to God above that he hadn't been put on the night shift. Being a marine security guard afforded him multiple privileges that usually weren't seen by the average marine, but even they had to contend with the uncomfortable situation of a night shift.
But this was a special occasion, the fact that he was in full kit denoted that fact.
Generally, the MSG participated in three kinds of patrols, general patrols, security patrols, and counter-terrorism patrols, only counter-terrorism patrols required that the marines be in full kit.
Rob had no idea why. The regional security officer which handled the MSG detachments had just suddenly placed the order yesterday that counter-terrorism patrols were now in effect, not knowing why he now had to lug around an extra 35 pounds of gear was quite the trip and he hated it.
He turned a corner, same hallway, tacky decorative ceiling, closed wooden doors everywhere, black carpeted floors, absolutely nothing amiss.
Despite all this, Rob had a twinge of an understanding, not a complete one, but a twinge. Vale was hectic for an embassy post, nowhere near a contender to those in the middle east, but the protestors here definitely got up to a lot more tomfoolery than its western counterparts.
Rob personally had to tackle someone the week before.
Vale was new territory, with entirely different customs and etiquette when it came to protests. They were lucky someone didn't get gunned down for rushing past the gate yet.
But the fact command saw today in particular as reason to start gearing its men in full gear made him suspicious, the marines as the acting security and law enforcement in embassy's premises made it so that they were aware of all immediate threats outside or in, yet here they were on counter-terrorism patrols not knowing what threats needed to be answered with the full breadth of their equipment.
He rounded a corner, getting to the staircase leading downstairs. He slowly walked down to continue his patrol on the ground floor.
"Yo!" Another marine passed him by as he made his way upstairs, likely to the third floor.
Rob shrugged his head upwards "Sup." And continued on his walk.
Once he got to the lower floors, the first thing to greet him was the empty chancery lobby, empty desks and stalls once populated by native employees.
He looked at the pristine beige floors of the lobby, rigorously maintained by janitors who worked around the clock, unfortunately for its sightliness it now wore the smudged markings of the boots of the many marines that patrolled the building.
Tap. Tap.
His body swiveled around to look for the sound that came behind him. Nothing, just an empty front desk.
He turned back round, eyes squinting. He should be the only person on this floor right now, and one of two people in the building acting as rovers. He turned back around and walked over to the back of the empty desk, inspecting the area.
A pen had fallen down, as he picked it up, he felt a warm breeze hit the nape of his neck, he looked up to see a ventilation unit just above the desk, it must have gradually moved the pen until it fell down. He placed it back on the desk and resumed his duties. He roved down the hallway that led to elevators, past that were doors that led to various rooms.
He slowly walked down the hallway. A straight corridor that ended at a left turn.
Tap. Tap. Tap…
There was that exact sound again, but more distant, just around the corner, and there were more. He sped up his walk and reached the corner, peeking his head around, he looked down the very empty hallway. He was beginning to feel like he was going crazy.
He'd heard it twice by this point, and now that he though about it, neither of those times sounded like a pen dropping, it sounded closer to shoe heels hitting the tiled floors. This was all getting a little suspicious. But there was nobody to be seen.
Either they were so fast that they could get out of sight, or he was hearing things.
"Cousin Jacky is a schizo. It run in the family?" He asked himself in a low whisper for no particular reason
The question was, was all this pertinent enough to radio detachment command about?
He mulled it over as he walked cautiously down the hall, ready to react as quickly as possible to any sound.
He pressed the radio button on his vest.
"Locust, this is Crook. I've been hearing what sounds like footsteps on the first floor of the Chancery, over."
"(COMMS) Roger, Crook. Where on the first floor did you hear the footsteps? Over."
Sandhagen walked as he continued to speak "It started at the lobby; I just heard it again down the hallways here at the eastern wing."
There was pause "(COMMS) Roger, I'm sending over Bagman and Fixer. Start investigating door to door on the eastern wing."
That was surprising, did they have reason to suspect a break in? Det command wasn't very forthcoming with why they needed to be in CT kit today, was this why?
"Wilco, out." He released the pressure on the button and got to work immediately.
He opened the first door on his left. The lights were on, which was normal, nothing but filing cabinets and a few work computers. He still made it a point to go around the room to make sure nothing was off, there weren't any nooks or crannies within a room that someone could fit themselves in to hide, and the undersides of the desk were pretty open and visible.
Nothing, he concluded. He came back outside, shutting the door behind him, and started to search another room, gun trained and at the ready.
It dawned on him then that his radio communication with det command may have been heard by any possible intruder and they were now alert and knew that they were being looked for.
A pang of nervousness hit him as he searched another room. He may have tackled a protester, but he was sure that the man was unarmed and posed little threat. This intruder though was a complete unknown, and he knew that combatants in Remnant could get quite ridiculous with their prowess, he'd hate to face one of those huntsmen alone.
The room he had just searched was much of the same, unopened file cabinets and computers. He stepped outside and immediately was alerted to two sets of fast paced footsteps coming his way from the left. He trained his gun at the direction, but brough it back down as he saw the familiar sight of two of his fellow marines running down the hall.
There was Rowe, the one he had passed by earlier on the staircase, and Patterson, the Post 1 who just prior was standing guard outside the chancery. They both simply gave Sandhagen a nod as they rushed past him and didn't bother with caution, taking a door each and opening them with haste, giving the rooms a once over before going to the next one.
Sandhagen complied with the approach, not much use checking each room thoroughly when everything could be seen from the doorway anyway. He went down the hall, going door to door some more. Everything was the same.
"Shouldn't we split up?" Sandhagen called out to the other two as they rushed past him to continue searching other rooms "Get at least two guys in the west wing."
Rower answered him "Nah, Roberto and Elliot were sent over there, passed by 'em at the lobby."
Sandhagen nodded at the man as he went to another door.
He pushed the door open with one hand and brought it back to foregrip of his MK18 as he scanned the room once and he saw it.
A drawer on a filing cabinet closing…
But that was it, there was nobody closing the filing cabinet, it just seemed to close on its own.
He stood still at the doorway, not sure what to make of the situation. He felt a tap on his back, startling him as he quickly turned around, it was Patterson.
"You good there, man?"
He shook off the nerves and yelled out to Rowe who just got done searching another room "I got something here!"
Rowe ran up, Patterson tilted his head and popped a question, looking confused since the room in front of them looked completely empty.
"What?"
Sandhagen walked over to the exact filing cabinet that he caught being used as the other two stood at the doorway.
"I saw this drawer just close on its own, there's nobody else in the room though." He looked around the place to confirm what he already knew.
Rowe gave a little laugh as he stepped forward and walked next to Sandhagen
There was a slight corridor between the wall and filing cabinet that he passed through "You sure you ain't seein' shit man- "he stopped as he felt like he bumped into something, or someone.
Rowe did not get to assess what happened though as a force clocked him square on the chin, popping his jaw and knocking him out cold.
"What the fuck?!" Patterson rushed over to the stiff unconscious body of Rowe as Sandhagen clicked his radio on.
"Locust, we got a man down in room 112, first floor, break, there is a hostile on the move who is invisible – "
Tap. Tap. Something just stepped in front of him
Instinctively he jumped back, but the smooth floors and the speed at which he moved cause him to slip, he fell on his ass and with a grunt brought his rifle up and shot blindly at the direction he heard the sound.
A burst of three rounds came out of his weapon, two of them found their way into ceiling, probably hitting some electrical wiring causing the lights to flicker, but the third round stopped midway in the air, the area around shimmered in a faint gray glow before returning to completely stillness.
He heard faint groan. He had actually hit the intruder.
"(COMMS) Roger, do you have an ID on the intruder, over."
He ignored the transmission and focused on the situation at hand.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The footsteps were getting farther, the intruder was running away. Patterson seemed to catch wind of the sounds getting closer to him, stopped looking after Rowe and stood up, he aimed his gun at the direction but before he could pull the trigger-
"AH!" He let out a pained yell, letting go of his rifle and grasping at the massive bleeding gash that was now on his face. "FUCK!"
With the adrenaline rushing through his veins, Sandhagen had to make a split-second decision, he prayed to God that it would be the right one. He had narrow line of site between Patterson's lanky frame and the doorway that the intruder was now probably rushing to.
He took aim and fired at what looked to be an empty space. The three rounds all found its mark, the first caused the same shimmer he saw earlier, the second one caused a gray light to blink, and the third one entered flesh and bone as it struck the nape of the now visible intruder right as she exited the doorway.
He finally got off his ass, stood up and hastily jogged up ahead, he stopped for a second as he reached Patterson "You good?"
Between pained grunts, he spoke, he held the wound with his hand, blood rushing between his fingers "Yeah- yeah, get that motherfucker."
Sandhagen rushed to doorway, where just outside was the body of the intruder, now lifeless, splayed out across the floor, she bore a single wound, the bullet hole on the back of her neck.
Around her shoulder was a bag that seemed to be packed full of documents, beside her a bronze dagger.
He heard the sounds of boots hitting the tiles all around him, it seemed every marine on site had been sent to investigate the gunshots. Given how serious the situation was, he wouldn't be surprised if the RSO and local police had been called already.
His CO, Sergeant Hernandez, was the one to speak "What happened?"
As the adrenaline began to wear off, he had trouble finding words. Shakily, he spoke.
"I got it covered."
Well, I'm glad to hear that you're safe, Ambassador."
"Oh! They weren't after me anyway, you shouldn't worry about me, I am going to worry about what I'm going to have to say to the press from back home later."
Ozpin could hear a sigh on the other end of the line. He spoke up "Nothing important was taken, right? Do you have an idea as to who she is yet?"
"All that's being said on the news right now is one to one with what happened; all she was able to take were accounting documents and a few personnel listings, nothing that would've stopped the embassy from functioning even if she did escape with them. As for her identity, we have no idea, she had no I.D. and the Vale police detectives said her face didn't show up on their criminal database."
"That is good to hear." Even Ozpin had to wonder why this assailant wanted to steal documents in the first place. Sabotage? Blackmail?
"Well anyway, I have a lot to do today, thank you for checking in. Compared to the leaders I have to deal with on Earth, you seem a lot more bearable."
"Oh?" Ozpin said, almost amused, taking a sip from the cup of coffee on his desk after he spoke "Well, I hope to see you in good health soon. Give my regards to the men who were attacked."
"I will. Goodbye Headmaster Ozpin."
"Goodbye, Mr. Ziegler." The call ended. Ozpin watched the holographic display of his personal computer compress and close.
He laid his face onto the palms of his hands let out a deep breath. Just what was the world getting to? Just what were these people thinking? Finally, an opportunity to make peace with the Americans had come, and it was almost ruined by some invisible assailant.
Truthfully, Ozpin's first worry upon hearing the news from Miss Iridia via call. He was worried that Vale, and therefore, he, would in some way be blamed, either for the attack itself, or for failing to prevent the attack. Fortunately, Ziegler was understanding, and it seemed like the Americans came well prepared for such incursions.
He had watched the VNN report on the event though and heard that two men came out injured. An ongoing internal investigation was being conducted by the Americans and they were not letting the Vale Police Department interfere. He wondered why.
None of that was important though, he had his reservation about what truly happened, but all was well as long as peace was not jeopardized.
He heard the familiar ding of his personal elevator; he recognized that peace was not what walked through those doors as he met the eyes of General Ironwood who walked at a steady pace to where Ozpin was sat.
"James." Ozpin greeted "Are you here about the attack on the American Embassy?"
James didn't match his greeting and simply shook his head. As he got closer, Ozpin noticed the bags under his eyes.
"No, I heard about that, but it seems the Americans sorted everything out. I'm here about the recent attacks of the White Fang on your fellow councilman."
Ah, this was about the attack on the Winchester residence. Ozpin tilted his head "Is there something you want to say?"
"Do you know about Jacques' plan to spend his vacation in Vale?"
Ozpin leaned back in his chair, cup of coffee in hand "Also to help Oscar White campaign."
Ironwood laid a hand on his desk gently yet with aggression "His politics are none of my business. My point is, the White Fang are back, they're attacking Vale's politicians, and the American Embassy just got attacked."
"And?"
Ironwood looked at him in disbelief "And? Them being destroyed was apparently only temporary and now they're targeting journalists and politicians in your city. Vale is unsafe! I would be ashamed if anything like this happened in Atlas."
"It is indeed quite concerning, and I've taken steps to ensure that this doesn't happen again. I've advised the police districts to increase patrols and I asked to be updated daily on each case. Furthermore, we have no evidence that the attack on the American embassy is even related to the White Fang, I just spoke with their ambassador, and they have no evidence of such."
Ironwood rubbed his face "My point is that if your own politicians, journalists, and even the Americans can't be safe in Vale, how can I trust Jacques Schnee to arrive here in Vale without the White Fang trying to do something at his estate?"
Ozpin nodded along in agreement; Jacques of all people would be the most likely target for a prospective attack by the White Fang here in Vale.
"If you're truly concerned for Jacques' safety, perhaps you may tell him to not vacation here?"
Ironwood sighed "You know how he is, Oz, he hates staying in Atlas this late into winter. All the more reason is that his friend is starting his campaign around the same time as his yearly vacation. I've tried to convince him already, but he's hellbent on it. He says he's confident that his guards that automatons the Atlesian army has lent him are good enough protection."
Ozpin hummed "Councilman Winchester is thus far the only man directly involved in politics to be attacked and he was lucky he was not at home when the White Fang appeared. The journalists who have been kidnapped or attacked were assaulted while in transit. You're a general James, I'm sure you can think of security measures with this information in mind."
Ironwood agreed with a nod "I can, but as a councilman of Vale, I beg you to at least try and quell the attacks before Jacques arrives next week."
Ozpin leaned forward "I assure you that I will do what I can."
"Thanks, Ozpin." Ironwood turned around to leave but was stopped when Ozpin called him.
"Before you leave, may I suggest something to add onto your protection detail if you haven't already?"
"Yes?"
"Winter is currently under your command. Perhaps, Jacques would be more at ease if his daughter acted as his bodyguard."
Ironwood shrugged "I already asked her, she refused. Even after I told her that Jacques was going to bring the rest of the family along.
Ozpin noted the word 'asked' and not 'ordered' Winter especially would not reject a direct order, but it seemed as though that even Ironwood had the mercy to not subject Winter to that.
"Alright, goodbye James."
Ozpin watched Ironwood enter the open elevator. It descended just as Ozpin began to contend with a nearby pile of paperwork.
Embassy of the United States
Kingdom of Vale
1421 hours
It had been a long 15 hours since the attack on the US embassy. After having shooed away the local police, dealt with the press, and spoke with various Vale politicians who expressed their genuine or feigned concern, most of the higher ranked staff on the embassy now sat around a conference table.
Elijah King sat right next Ambassador Zeigler, with the real Public Affairs officer, Karl Duckworth, and the head of the Political and Economic affairs section, Bill Pack being to his left. In front of these four were the Regional Security Office chief, Jason Lynn, management section, Matilda Usher, and finally, their DoD representative, Brigadier General Aaron Drake.
The matter on the table being, of course, the recent attack and the response that should follow.
Outside of the MSG, and key workers in the Annex building, this room held the only embassy staff to know of Elijah's true role on Remnant and the breadth of information he likely had on the attack. Everyone stared silently at him, waiting for whatever he had to say.
The only ones he had previously informed about the attack were RSO head, Lynn, and Ziegler himself.
"I can't say much on the matter, as most of you already know, we at the agency were tipped off about a possible attack. We didn't know when it would be, and we didn't know how it would be pulled off, all we knew was that there would be an attack, so I asked Lynn to put the marines on heightened security.
"And what about the attacker's identity? The press will want a statement on that." Pack spoke up.
"While we don't have an exact identity, we have a lead."
"How?" Pack continued "Didn't the VPD say her face didn't turn up on their criminal database?"
"That's because she's not a criminal. Not in the White Fang, not some Branwen out for revenge, not even some low-level stick-up artist." Elijah responded to shock of everyone who wasn't the RSO or Ziegler "She is, or was, a huntsman. One under contract of the Vale Shield Company, a private huntsman agency owned by Oscar White."
General Drake leaned forward "So you're saying Oscar White has something to do with this. Haven't you all been looking for something to pin on the guy for a while now? Isn't this the perfect thing to use?"
Elijah clasped his hands together "I'm not saying he had anything to do with it." He lied "Because if we run with that, what are the courts or White himself gonna say? It's a private company, anybody with 60,000 lien and a chip on their shoulder could have asked for this job."
Elijah shrugged and continued "In that case the only thing White would really be liable for is bad vetting of clientele or failing to manage an employee."
Drake wore a scrupulous expression "So what? You're just gonna let this slide?"
Elijah smirked "I didn't say that either." The smirk came off his face as he leaned back in the chair "Look, we have our works in progress all around White, there's a lot I can't say, but I can say this. The attack today may have been a complete failure for our enemies but it's a signal that we're not the only ones making moves here in Vale. This attack might not be the last, but I doubt they have another invisible girl in their roster."
"I'll keep the MSG on counter terrorism patrols and start supplying NVGs as part of regular kit, just in case." RSO Lynn said to which Elijah nodded in agreement.
The others looked at this though with clearly disagreeing faces, they wanted action against the perpetrators of the attack. Truthfully, Elijah couldn't blame them, this was still their personal safeties at risk.
The problem was that striking at Oscar White now was too early, they needed more time to build something strong to put him down for good.
"Rest assured though, we're not going to be taking this face down ass up, I have something ready for the guy who did this. But for now, just for now, you're gonna have to trust in our regional security office."
Ziegler finally decided to speak up, and he did so loud and clear "I'm gonna ask that you all leave the rom." He then tapped Elijah on the shoulder "Except for you."
Everyone gave him a confused stare but obliged nonetheless, with everyone except Elijah standing up and filtering out the door, leaving the two men alone.
Ziegler waited till the footsteps were out of earshot before he continued speaking.
"So, what do I tell the people back home? Press, State Department, hell, I'm pretty sure the White House is gonna want answers, and if I say anything about Oscar White, everyone's gonna be out for blood. And If I say that we have nothing yet to stall, they're gonna start calling for replacements in our personnel."
Ziegler eyed where the RSO was just sitting as he said this, he would be the first out the door should the State Department be unsatisfied with the progress of the farce investigation.
Elijah just sighed "I'll have my people craft up a fake identity, say she's some stick-up artist who wanted to try and blackmail the Embassy for some easy money. That should suffice. Forge a couple text messages and we should be in the clear."
"Risky game we're playing here." Ziegler shook his head.
Indeed, he spoke the truth. They were withholding information not only from Vale but also from their superiors in the State Department and the White House, all so that the CIA here on Remnant would have time to truly destroy Oscar White's future in politics and public image.
"It'll be worth it in the end, it's all gonna come together soon enough, just gotta keep faith in the agency, Ambassador." Elijah assured to which Ziegler chuckled.
As his chuckle died down, Ziegler tilted his head "Oh yeah, I heard Jacques Schnee is coming here to Vale to help campaign for Oscar, your guys got anything planned for that?"
Elijah just smirked "Some things I can say- "
"Some things you can't, I get it." Ziegler shook his head with a laugh and waved the man off "I got a few calls to make, you go on ahead and do whatever it is you do in that building of yours."
"You bet." Elijah stood up and walked over to the coat rack to collect his belongings before he left.
SACR Safehouse
1923 hours
Mason's head jolted up as he felt someone flick the side of his head with a finger. He turned to his right to see Weaver staring at him plainly. He looked around the basement room from the rundown couch he was previously sleeping on to see the two MI6 operatives filtering down the stairs, with all the major SAC/SOG components already gathered around the table.
Mason sat up, rubbed his eyes, then looked at Weaver.
"How long was I out for?"
"Twenty minutes, more or less." He shrugged.
"Mm." He nodded
Woods had called for a full meeting just an hour earlier, but unfortunately, the Brits had been out to collect the 'footage' they had of Oscar White from the brothel, and so they had to wait for them to arrive, eventually, Mason had just fallen asleep on the couch from the length of the wait.
He stood up with the others and approached the long table. On it were a mix of maps, a radio, and a few images. Directly in front of the table was a whiteboard and a pin board with a collection of writings and photographs.
"Alright." Woods began once everyone was around the table "So we all know about what went down at the embassy, we all know that was Oscar White, and I know a lot of you want to do something about, and so do I. But we haven't been given any orders to respond, so we won't. Instead, I've just been informed by Godfather that Jacques Schnee is visiting Vale in nine days."
This came as a shock to everyone in the room, he was a person of interest in their operations in Vale, and the fact that he was visiting meant that it was almost guaranteed they would do something with the visit.
"We've…" Woods trailed off, the shape of his lips forming into a smirk of amusement "…been told to assassinate Jacques Schnee."
Immediately the collective feeling in the room shifted. Page covered his mouth, Bowman silently laughed, Mason stood stark still.
They all expected to do something. Not an assassination though.
Weaver, however, looked confused "Why now? I thought we weren't allowed to assassinate any politicians?"
Woods chuckled "I was confused too, but apparently all the framing we've done on the White Fang means if we're to assassinate a guy like Schnee, White Fang's mortal enemy, then the suspicion will be off our backs as long as we plan this right."
"We're planning this?" Page snapped his fingers and pointed at Woods.
"Yeah, they're pretty swamped over at the embassy dealing with the uh… aftermath of the attack, even without all that they don't have anybody with experience planning these kinds of operations, so we're the best bet. I called you all here because I wanted to get an early start at planning, since we only got nine days."
Pickett put a hand on his chin "What happens to all our other stuff then? The stakeouts at the brothel and White's house?"
Woods shook his head "All that will have to put on a pause for now, we gotta stick to planning for the next operation and communicating with our betters over at embassy for info. Right now, they're trying to figure out Schnee's method of transportation and the airport he's gonna be landing at."
Mason finally spoke up "Alright, once we have that, what do we do from there?"
Bowman put an arm around Mason "That's what we're here to talk about, shitbird." That garnered a few laughs from the men around the table.
Woods crossed his arms and walked over to the whiteboard, he picked up a blue marker and uncapped it.
"Alright, let's just start by bouncing around ideas, you got something, speak up and I'll write it down."
Page gave an amused smirk and spoke "Classic; get up close, and pop him a couple days after he lands." He made pistol fingers as he talked.
"Getting up close is gonna be a problem." Mason shook his head "Guarantee you that guy is gonna be surrounded by guards."
Page responded with "We don't need to get close; we've been waiting outside of politicians' houses for hours on end the past few weeks, mate. We all setup a getaway method, get posted on any abandoned or empty areas around his house here in Vale, and take the shot when we see him."
Mason continued to argue "Yeah bring a big rifle in the middle of a city, totally inconspicuous." He rolled his eyes "He's also probably gonna be up in the upper-class district, doubt there'd be much abandoned buildings."
"Alright then." Page seemed to concede "What do you lot think, then?" Page looked around the room, everyone seemed to be rather silent.
"Drive-by?" Bowman brought up, seeming to doubt his own suggestion.
Page smirked "Unless any of you happen to be NASCAR drivers, I don't see how we could make a getaway from a chase."
"We just did that like last week." Weaver retorted.
Page shook his head and crossed his arms.
"Yeah, when we kidnapped a journalist, we got the cops called on us because people heard a girl screaming. We shoot a gun at one of the most powerful men on Remnant and it won't just be regular bobbies after us."
Bowman looked at Mason and mouthed 'Bobbies?' to which Mason just shrugged.
Pickett stepped forward and planted his hands firmly on the table "What if we just plant a fuckin' bomb, yeah?"
They all stared at him incredulously.
"What? Fire dust in a suitcase, do the same delivery shite we did before, or plant it near his car, get away, and once we're far enough, boom! Once it happens, we'll be here at home and having a drink, lads."
Bowman pursed his lips and nodded, Mason put a thumb on his chin, he saw the reasoning in that, unlike with a shot being fired, this would lower the risk of whoever did the attack.
"Now the problem with that…" Woods chimed in "Is that this isn't Oscar White security we're dealing with."
Weaver commented "Yes, didn't we find out that the Atlesian military runs security for him? They will probably do a better job at checking anything we deliver."
This was true, the Atlesian military, as comparatively small and weak as they were to Earth militaries, were still the premiere force on Remnant when it came to the native kingdoms, and from what they knew about General Ironwood, the head of the Atlesian military, he was a meticulous man. If he knew that Atlas' prime breadwinner was at risk of being attacked in Vale, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that the Schnee's security would be a lot more difficult to bypass.
Woods shook his head and sighed "Alright, we aren't getting anywhere here, how bout let's just wait for Godfather to come back to us with info on Schnee's vacation home, from there we do what we always do. Stake out the place, note his routines and schedule, from there we can make a plan. Sound good?"
That was an agreeable course of action to everyone as they all nodded along, except for Mason.
"Or." He cut in "We get him right as he gets here."
"You're going to get in trouble!" Weiss reprimanded Yang who threw a piece of crumpled up paper outside their window. "How hard is it to just go outside and empty the trash bin?!" Weiss pointed at the trash bin that was now filled with various scraps, candy wrappers, and crumpled paper.
Yang retorted "Remind who used up all our white out? Not my fault Oobleck wants this thing with no ink erasures and due tomorrow!" She mindlessly threw another crumpled piece out the window as she began anew on her 'essay'.
Weiss silently fumed but was backed up by Blake was who was previously just silently reading a book atop her bunk "If you had started on that a week ago when Oobleck gave it, there would've still been white out left." She calmly retorted.
Ruby jumped off her bed and placed a hand on both Yang and Weiss' shoulders "Guys, this is just what the teachers want! They want to break us apart with their homework!"
Weiss moved to argue but was silenced by a sudden ring coming from her desk. She walked over, opened her scroll and paled even more than should be possible with her alabaster skin as she saw the caller I.D.
'Father.'
She didn't bother excusing herself from the room as she pressed accept and hastily hurried out the dorm. She looked around the hallway, it was empty. She walked a few feet away from the door to prevent any eavesdropping before finally bringing the scroll up to her ear and speaking.
"Good evening, father." She greeted with utmost politeness.
"Weiss. Good evening, I take it your studies are going splendid." His raspy voice came through
"They are, father, my grades should be released within the next week."
A short silence came before a response "Good, do not disappoint me, Weiss." Another silence, but before Weiss could respond her father had spoken again "As you know, I will be visiting Vale soon as part of my Annual vacation, I will also visit my friend, Oscar White."
Oh, brothers, Oscar White? Weiss had always hated the man every time she saw him at her father's fundraisers, she got a strange feeling about him, his politics were also quite abhorrent.
"Do you want me to visit you at our vacation home?" Weiss asked.
"Of course! I would love to see my daughter." Weiss almost smiled at that… Almost, she would have if not for what her father said next "More importantly, since your sister has refused to come visit me, you would need to take her place, make the family look complete as we take the stage with Oscar, with your mother and brother, we must present a united front."
Really? He was using her as a political piece now?
"B- but father, I have no interest politics."
"You will do what you're told, Weiss, don't forget whose company credit card you have in your wallet."
Weiss breathed deeply "Yes, father."
"Good, goodbye."
"Goodbye." Weiss hung up the call.
"Closing in on the volcano." A White Fang pilot said from the front of the bullhead.
Watts and Thrax sat together on a small metal bench attached to the wall on the passenger side of the bullhead. Watts turned and spoke.
"How long?"
"Eh…" He estimated "Ten minutes till we reach the base."
Thrax then looked at the other men and women in the bullhead, eight fellow white fang operatives sat in metal benches in front of him.
Thrax spoke aloud with an uproarious tone "One more time, everyone, I am going to state our mission objective, the collection of sulfur." Almost as if on cue, Watts opened the hologram emitter on his watch and displayed a spinning image of what a block of sulfur looked like.
Thrax continued "We can find this at the vents around the volcano's base. These vents will blow out toxic fumes, and you must wear your gas mask at all times around the vents. There are no doctors here, well, except for me… and Watts." He let a little out a little cackle at which Watts rolled his eyes "Neither of us are medical doctors though, so should you go unconscious from hydrogen sulfide inhalation, we will not even attempt to save you, for Kuo Kuana is two hours away. By then, it will be too late."
Watts crossed his arms and built off of Thrax's statement "Some of the gasses emitted are harmless, but I suggest that none of you take your chances and just wear the masks."
Said masks were currently in a large metal container in the bullhead following them. The White Fang members, none of them wearing their trademark facemasks, looked nervously at each other.
Thrax continued "After today, you will be conducting your own mining operation here, thrice a week. Watts and I are simply here to show you proper methodology, but after today, you will be going on your own."
Over the next few months, Thrax calculated that they would need at least a few thousand kilos of sulfur. Not all of this could be used immediately, but the incoming war with the United States, however, meant that they would need large stockpiles that they could transport to the bases being built around Anima at present.
The sulfur collected today wouldn't just be for gunpowder. After all the production of gunpowder required very little sulfur; Thrax intended for the rest to be used for fertilizers.
Thrax was aware of the diminishing popularity of the White Fang within Remnant, even in Menagerie where they were a prevalent political force. He intended to reverse this.
"This is unforgiving work. Until every sack in the other bullhead is filled with sulfur, we will not leave today. So, if you want to get home soon, you shall work fast, and efficiently. If after today your sulfur operations start to turn out low, you will be punished."
Thrax left it out to their imagination as to who would do the punishing, Thrax, or Sienna. This seemed to terrify the members in front of him.
They all then felt a sudden jolt backwards as the bullhead started to deaccelerate and descend. "We're dropping down." The White Fang pilot curtly stated.
Watts grunted "Yes, your piloting skills make that very clear."
"Aww, Arthur." Thrax said with a mocking tone "Is the rough ride making you sick?"
"Bugger off."
They all felt the bullhead touch the ground; they all heard the landing gear of the bullheads behind them hit the ground too. Everyone began to unlatch their seatbelts, standing up as they finished.
A White Fang grunt opened the door, illuminating the once dark bullhead with the desert sun. She pressed the button for the ramp to descend, and as it did, Watts and Thrax were the first out.
Their work boots hit the sandy gravel beneath them and their eyes beheld the massive and dormant volcano in front of them. It was flanked by sandy hills, all around these hills and at the uneven ground at the base of the volcano were these massive vents that expelled white smoke. They were a good two hundred meters away from the nearest vent.
The volcano pierced the skies and touched the clouds above. For the first time since coming to Remnant, Thrax stood in awe of what was in front of him.
"Sometimes…" Thrax seemed to ponder "It becomes hard to not appreciate the beauty of nature that God has gifted us."
Watts suddenly turned to Thrax in a little shock. He didn't take Thrax of all people to be the religious kind, and to say something so quaint, at that.
Thrax suddenly walked forward, Watts followed, the grunts stood in single file horizontally. Thrax turned and faced them.
He looked over at the other two bullheads, the ramp descended, but nobody came out - those bullheads simply held their materials.
"All of you." He addressed the group. "Go collect the equipment from the second bullhead.
Watts then turned to Thrax "When can we start installing the pipes?"
"Once I have demonstrated how to find and collect sulfur, do not worry. It will not take long."
As Thrax finished that sentence an advanced looking metal chest was set in front of him by a grunt, then another, and another.
After the third chest came a set of empty sandbags. When they were done, all the White Fang filed in front of him once again. Thrax opened the first chest which Watts saw as cue to open the other chests. Inside were roughly built gas masks and nitril gloves for the first two. The third one contained what looked like metal arms?
Thrax quirked an eyebrow at that, he didn't remember asking for those to be brough. Watts picked up the first arm and placed it behind his left arm, then pressed a button on the 'shoulder' of the arm. Suddenly, it lit up with a blue hue, metal protrusions suddenly shooting out from the back and wrapping around his bicep and forearm.
"An exoskeleton!" Thrax exclaimed. "Brilliant." He marveled at Watts as he placed the other piece upon his right arm, doing the same.
Watts seemed to brush off Thrax's approval "It's quite rudimentary, really, my power suit is far more advanced."
Thrax shook his head "A discussion for another time. Alright, everyone put on the gas masks, I apologize for their poor construction, Arthur and I were unable to procure many of the proper materials. I assure you that when the shipments Arthur ordered arrive, you will be equipped with better masks."
The grunts walked over to the crates and put on the roughly made masks. They were indeed poorly constructed, made out of whatever scrap metal or plastic that Thrax and Watts could scrounge up and sanitize, with the 'straps' being shoelaces from discarded boots.
Each mask was different but none of them covered the whole face, simply covering the mouth and nose.
Thrax picked up a mask, and people then began to watch him to see if he would take off his scarf, and he did. But not before turning around so the back of his head would face them instead. They could see that he had medium length dark brown hair. He donned the mask and redonned the headscarf, with a large protrusion now coming from where the mask was under the scarf.
As he turned back around everyone went back to minding their business.
"Now the gloves." Thrax said as he picked his own pair, Watts did the same. "Each of you take a sack." And they did.
The gloves fit loosely on their hands. For some of them they were too tight, but fortunately, the gloves didn't need to be a perfect fit, the masks did.
"Make sure all your masks are tied tightly." Watts reminded everyone; his voice slightly muffled from his own mask. "If you breath in the white smoke, chances are you won't die immediately, but the less you inhale, the better."
Thrax waved them all towards himself "Follow me."
He then approached the nearest vent with smoke billowing out, followed by the rest of the group, with Watts walking next to him. As he walked just within a hundred meters of it, Thrax stopped and turned around, and then spoke to the group.
"What does it smell like? Don't answer if you don't smell anything particularly amiss." He said calmly.
Then a man at the center of the group answered diligently "It smells like burning eggs, sir!"
His covered face met his palm with a sigh as he stomped over to the man and placed a finger on his chest. The grunt seemed to shrink at Thrax's approach despite possessing a more imposing figure.
Thrax's eyes looked manic as he stuck the finger on the man's chest "If you can smell anything you have not tied the mask properly, retie your mask, and come back to the group."
Watts added "While you are there, please tell the man at the rearmost bullhead to fly it closer to the vent over there."
The grunt stood there, frozen. Thrax turned back around.
"Now."
The man complied and backed away a few dozen feet while Thrax and the rest of the group kept walking to the vent.
As they got there, they noticed the small puddles of strange green colored liquid that pooled near the vent, then the multiple pillars of pale-yellow stone. The sand near the vents itself were peppered with smaller particles of this yellow stone.
"Those are sulfur outcrops, they are impure, but they will be sufficient for now." Thrax looked at the group, all of them carrying metal batons and rods "These are soft and easy to break apart, the larger outcrops you can break with your implement. You may also do it with your hands, I guarantee your gloves will break but prolonged exposure of sulfur to bare skin is not deadly. It may cause a rash, however."
As he spoke a bullhead dropped off just a few dozen feet behind them, and dropped the ramp.
The smoke billowed around the vents and near the outcrops.
Watts then took over "These masks will protect you from the smoke, but the longer you expose yourself to it, the less effective the masks will be, so as much as possible, you should collect sulfur outside the smoke."
"Give me your baton and sack." Thrax ordered an unnamed grant. She complied and gave him the metal baton and empty sandbag.
Thrax held the sandbag with his left arm at the baton on his right. He then approached a large sulfur outcrop the size of a person and with one swift motion, swiped the baton at it, dislodging a chunk the size of a human head. He dropped the baton and picked up the chunk, putting inside the bag. He went back to the grunt and handed her the equipment.
"It is as simple as that. Once your sacks are full, place them in the second bullhead back at the landing zone, not this one." He pointed at the bullhead that Watts had ordered to move closer. "That one." He pointed at the bullhead behind the one that had carried them.
Watts almost had to laugh at how little trust Thrax had with the intellect of the White Fang members.
Thrax continued "Then, take a new sack, and repeat the process until every sack is full, no less. Is that understood."
Everyone nodded.
"Good, get to work."
As they all did, Watts approached the bullhead that landed nearby and dropped the ramp, he entered it and when he came out, he held a massive augur drill, easily hefting it up thanks to the exoskeleton.
Wordlessly, he came up to Thrax who was smirking under the mask and scarf, oh the things that were possible with this man's genius.
"Let's look for a place we can drill." Watts finally spoke.
"Let us."
They then walked alongside the volcano looking for a vent that protruded horizontally from the base. And after a short walk, they found one. They approach the vent, before stopping a few feet away from the vent itself.
Watts placed the head of the drill upon the gravel near the vent. He pressed a button on the drill. As soon as it came to life, instantly, puffs of smoke came from the drill site. The moment he finished, Watts pulled back the drill and observed the borehole that was about two feet in diameter and four feet deep.
Only small wisps of smoke came out.
Thrax shook his head "Not deep enough."
"I don't have a longer drill, should we find a vent with a shallower conduit?" Watts asked.
Thrax shook his head once more and silently walked back to the bullheads. Watts simply eyed him, wondering what he was up to. Had he given up? No, for all Watts knew of the man, Thrax did not seem like the type to be easily defeated like that. He then watched the man entered the second bullhead, and out he came with a shovel, Watts then realized what Thrax was up to.
As Thrax returned he struck the gravelly sand with a shovel and dug frantically at the base.
With this action he would allow Watts to tap further into vents with his drill.
"I did not take you to be the type to do manual labor."
Thrax cackled, simply continuing to dig "Your previously held belief that I got where I am today without a little bit of practice outside of the shop is… surprising. I personally had to cultivate farmland to procure my toxin spores, you know this."
Watts nodded in approval "I'll get the pipes."
"Yes, yes." Thrax continued to work, the hole he was digging was now two feet deep and wide, wisps of smoke came out. He had to hold his head back to avoid the smoke.
Behind him, Watts laid four metal pipes, each being a foot in diameter, and three feet long, at this rate they would have to connect the pipes in pairs with how deep they had to dig.
Thrax felt the sweat on his brow be absorbed by the scarf as he stopped digging and stood beside Watts who then went at it again with the drill.
By the time Watts was done, just as much smoke came from the borehole as the vents nearby, it was around five feet deep.
Watts hefted up the pipe and inserted inside, then went to get another one to connect both ends. "I used all the copper and tungsten I brought with me; we'll have to wait for my orders to arrive if we want more of these pipes. The alloy I used should be a very poor insulator. Meaning…"
As he connected the pipes, gas then blew straight through the pipe they had installed. And after just a minute-
"Good… Good…" Thrax watched as the gas rapidly cooled from the poor insulating as it hit the relatively cool air around them. It condensed into rich, clear, orange liquid that dripped down slowly from the pipe.
It was pure sulfur.
Eyy, sorry for how long this took, got busy with life, but it's out and shit is looking wonderful (story wise). Thank you all for sticking around, and also thank you to #1 beta reader, brozthebro for actually getting this read and corrected in time and helping with some decisions.
Also no omake this chapter, for a VERY good reason which you will see.
Monster King: Why, thank you, king.
MahNemIzJay: Hope you also enjoy this chapter, bro.
Just a Crazy-Man: Cool and amazing as that last chapter was, this one is even better.
VGBlackwing: Ozpin has his flaws, but when he's right, he's right. I cant wait to get back to writing their WW2 reactions.
Maglad: Thank you, I try to do my best with the espionage segments, as all that is the focus of this arc. Sometimes even the CIA don't get all the equipment necessary. I'm basing what they did with the reporter mostly on the one piece of footage we have of Delta Force kidnapping some terrorist suspect, they straight up just bagged his head and hefted him into a van, lol. Good suggestion on the vid.
RandoFox: No omake sadly, but next one there will be.
Rollynolly: They… The CoD villains prolly wont make any major appearances outside of some references.
NRF: This is true, Remnant has only around an eighth the population of earth in my headcanon, so there is quite a disparity.
Scrimmaster87: LMAO
Chalangka: Thank you, thank you, one day.
Kumalalakumalala: Well yeah, I wanted recharacterize good ol oz a lil bit. And yep, thrax works his magic.
Angrypotatoe: Thanks!
Crazzytony: Yep, this is the espionage arc.
Aesciuslongius: Nah, it is. Both sides did they evil, but one side is inarguably way worse than the other in both ideology and action.
Gunfighterxy76: Lmao, Sienna may or may not regret this decision.
30inches: Why ur name 30 inches dawg hahhaha. But yeah, Ozpin finally showing some teeth, and ur right on Thrax, he's a force of nature like nothing Remnant has seen in human form. Also thanks, I like more realistic portrayals of espionage than the james bond stuff, though the latter is cool too.
Viper221: Thank you! Don't worry, they'll appear soon enough.
Ronflores651: Thanks, ive done my best to keep it up.
Apex12: Thank you! And yep!
SombroaZorro70: IVE COOKED ONCE AGAIN, YOU CANNOT LEGALLY TAKE MY LICENSE. Thanks for the promotion though haha. But yeah I found those parts equally fun to write. He is. Yep.
Major Simi: Thanks, homes.
Nnickd2133: One of these is not like the other.
Stormwolf16: Thanks, I do my best to make the 'boring' espionage read as interesting. And yeah the human thing will stir some shit soon enough. DW bro, I am like, the farthest thing ever from a wehraboo haha.
Rvbrwby: They will be flabbergasted.
Guest: Here it be! And, CRWBY and its weird writing.
TheTamrielan: Maybe one day. Also for sure on the day of infamy speech.
Hidden nut 23: Why are u hiding ur nut, dude?
IIIArmaliteIII: More will come.
Garonx: LESGO A FELLOW MMA FAN. STIPE FIGHT WENT CRAZY BUT HE NEEDS TO FUCKING FIGHT TOM ONG.
Anyway thank you all for the reviews, hope to see some more once this drops, luh yuh all, thanks or sticking through with this story for 3 whole ass years, I wont be releasing this Christmas, so I wanna give an early Merry Christmas to all! Also a belated Happy thanksgiving.
See y'all on the next one, bye!
/9tVVBmGH