Ignore the troll spamming as usual

Cover Art: Serox

Chapter 24

"Target has self-destructed. I repeat, target has self-destructed."

"Primary target on sixth by sector A1."

"Sir, the Council of Vale are attempting to patch through."

"Valean airspace requesting priority comms."

"-emergency line from Councillor Adrian Sol."

"We have visual on primary target. Maintaining distance and requesting orders."

"Sir! Fires are spreading from the downed Bullheads. One building is engulfed!"

General James Ironwood stood before a digital overlay of the city of Vale, hands down on the edge of the display unit as he stared over the various red icons projected on the 3D hologram. All around him, men and women in uniform sat at various terminals barking away commands and messages. Clover stood nearby, hands linked behind his back, patiently awaiting his orders. A thousand and one things to do. It wasn't an unusual experience.

"Dispatch four squads to deal with the fire below," he eventually called. "Tell Valean airspace we're claiming diplomatic immunity and to seek confirmation on their own. That should keep the Council busy while they rush to confirm if that's the case. Hold Sol on line. Inform him I'll speak once the issue is dealt with."

"Sir!"

"Yes sir!"

Three soldiers hurried off to comply, halving the issues at hand. James hummed loudly, peering down at the map and more specifically the flashing red circle being pursued by three red triangles. The vehicle was keeping to the roads making it easy to track.

"Clover."

"Yes General?"

"Get in contact with Chivalric Arms. I don't care what you need do but I want an explanation for why we have a war machine running loose in the capital city of our allies. I also want full specifications of its capabilities, armour and weapon loadout."

"Yes sir!"

As Clover rushed off to comply, Ironwood leaned down and pressed a single button, patching through to communications. "Ironwood here. Sound in."

"Elm here. On target."

"Marrow here, sir. On target."

"Harriet here. On target. Orders, sir?"

"Maintain distance for now and do not engage," he instructed. "We're working on securing combat capabilities for that weapon. Until then, you are not to engage under any circumstances. I repeat, you are not weapons free."

"Understood sir."

The war machine swerved left and began to travel down a new street, the three aircraft in pursuit but falling back just a little. There was no chance of losing the target considering how big it was and how much of a disturbance it was causing, but there could be no attacking it either. The collateral damage would be too intense. Even a single missed shot could kill commuters on the roads, to say nothing of what might happen if that thing was armed with an explosive payload.

"Comms. Patch Sol through to me."

"Yes sir."

The intercom buzzed and Ironwood spoke. "Sol."

"James. I've been updated on the situation. How bad is it?"

"We have an unregistered war machine bearing Chivalric Arms' regalia rampaging through the city of an allied Kingdom. It's as bad as it sounds. What the hell are they playing at?"

"I don't know," Sol admitted, "But the Council will have answers."

"Not good enough. I need information right now."

"We're leaning on them. They're claiming it's stolen."

"Of course it's stolen!" Ironwood barked. "But it wasn't before. And don't tell me the Jaune Arc snuck that thing into the city either. I want Chivalric Arms answering for this, Sol. They might be able to get away with the `rogue employees` excuse last time, but now they're jeopardising relations between our Kingdom and another. I'll have them dragged up on charges of treason if I must."

"That's a dangerous claim, James. Private and Public Business won't stand for one of them being dragged over the coals. It sets a precedent that others might face the same. I can see Jacques Schnee raising a stink."

"I will personally nail Jacques to the wall if he tries. I am not in the mood, Sol. You either call Chivalric's CEO back before the Council to answer for this, or I dispatch troops to arrest and drag him there in person."

"I'll see it done. Sol out."

Damn him. Ironwood wasn't sure who he meant with that, but damn them all. The Civilian side of Atlas' Council had their uses whenever issues of a civilian nature came up - they understood urbanisation and taxation better than the military did – but there were times like this where he wondered if it wasn't worth the sacrifice to be rid of them.

It used to be better. Back when this system began, and the positions were filled with genuine people doing their best for Atlas. Before big businesses like the SDC and Chivalric Arms realised the political power they could gain, and the Council became bloated with career politicians taking `generous donations` from investors and businesses who wanted their agendas pushed. Jacques didn't even care what happened to Chivalric Arms; he'd vote against any action on them, though. He'd vote against anything which allowed for oversight into private business.

"Clover," he shouted. "Give me some good news. The Ace Ops can't shadow this thing forever."

Clover held a hand over the receiver he was speaking into. His expression spoke of nothing but ill. "They're claiming its experimental and confidential information, sir. I'm trying to push my way further up the line to speak to someone in charge. No, I won't be submitting a formal request," he snapped into the receiver. "Your machine is running rampant through the streets of Vale. Put me through to someone who can answer for this immediately!"

Fucking hell. Ironwood wasn't normally one to swear but this had to be the worst situation they'd been in for years. They had the firepower to bring it down – no matter how hi-tech it was, it was one machine – but lacking information on its weapon loadout or even its power source, they had no idea what amount of force was enough.

Or if that thing will go off like a warhead if we detonate it. I can't take that risk in a population centre!

If they knew what it was armed with he could order the Ace-Ops to steer it to a less populated area, but if they tried that now and it pulled out weaponry they weren't prepared for, he'd be throwing lives away. The damned thing had free reign of the city. It could go wherever it wanted.

"Sir!" someone shouted nervously. "It's moving toward the freeway!"

Ironwood slammed his hands down and stared at the map of the city. It was! The machine had taken another left and was on a direct course for the roads leading up to Vale's freeway, a supported multi-lane road that ran across the entire city. The arteries of Vale and, as a result, packed full of civilians.

"General Ironwood!" Marrow called in. "It's heading toward a major road. What do we do?"

"We can't open fire up there," Elm shouted. "One missed shot could bring the whole structure down. There are residential districts below."

"We're sitting ducks," Harriet summarised. "He can shoot us, and we can't shoot back."

Worse. If they were shot down it would only cause more damage. Damage to their reputation, to their diplomatic stance with Vale and even to the city itself, particularly if more fires came from the debacle. Ironwood looked to Clover, eyes saying everything. Clover shook his head, grimacing and swiping a hand from left to right in a `negative` motion. There was no call back from Sol either, not that he expected them to have cornered Chivalric Arms within the last three minutes.

"Sir." Harriet sounded resigned. "Requesting orders."

They knew just as much as he what had to be done. It didn't make it any easier to touch the intercom and broadcast to the entire fleet.

"All units. Pull back. Cease all surveillance." Grudgingly, he sighed. "Let them go."

On the holographic display in front of him, the three triangular blips representing the Ace-Ops pulled away, leaving the red pulsating circle of the war machine to pass along the freeway and eventually disappear from tracking entirely. The bridge of The Vanguard paused for a moment of silence; a frustrated helplessness felt by all.

Clover broke it, shouting angrily into the receiver, "Then expect a military escort to come and take the documentation from you, sir. Good day!" He slammed the device down, stood and summarised everyone's thoughts. "What a mess..."

/-/

The news hadn't gotten any better within the last two hours. The brief talk with Vale's Council had been inconclusive and annoying. Like his own, they didn't understand how or why a battleship like his couldn't just "deal with the problem" and take out the enemy. He had to patiently explain the payload his flagship carried and just how much devastation it would unload on Vale if he'd opened fire. By the end of it, they'd been pale faced and nauseas, acting for all the world like they'd never realised just how large an arsenal an Atlas battleship held.

Ridiculous. It was a battleship. What about that designation suggested a precision implement? It was designed for ripping holes in large armoured warships or bombarding Grimm hordes from a distance. Their largest cannon would have indeed torn that thing to shreds, just as it would have the freeway, a whole block of houses below it and every civilian within a two hundred metre diameter with – and this had been tested – a ninety-eight per cent lethal efficiency.

What precision tools they did have, namely their aircraft and lighter barrages, might have been enough had they received specification of what they faced. The problem was that using it would have engaged hostilities. If he'd sent the Bullheads in, Arc would have known that he had to fight. And that was a final decision. He'd have started a running battle with an experimental military weapon in the middle of the city.

Without proper intel, that just couldn't be done.

"James."

Ironwood sighed and looked up at, for once, a friendly face on his monitor. "Ozpin. I hope you're not here to heap more trouble on my plate."

"Not at all. I wanted to personally thank you for holding back."

"What else could I do? At least someone understands why it's not a good idea to wildly engage an enemy whose combat parameters you have no idea of in the middle of a city. Your Council is made up of morons."

"And yours isn't? I've heard nothing but complaints from you for months."

"It's a pandemic of stupidity," James gritted out. "Letting them escape with the machine was the better choice. It'll be easier to deal with it later than now, especially if we can locate and disarm it before it's activated again. We can always try again, and next time we can better evacuate the civilians. Fighting them then and there would have led to untold loss of life."

"I agree. I'd much rather you not force someone so dangerous into a corner when they are armed with something like that. You have my assistance, naturally. I can send Qrow and huntsmen in should you need them. Has Chivalric Arms capitulated and provided you the weapon specifications?"

"If you count these preliminary reports, yes." Ironwood felt no fear waving them in front of the screen. Why would he when they were redacted so heavily it might as well be a solid block of black lines. "I've sent back a demand for a complete copy. I'd say I can't believe they're daring to push us like this, but business has never had any respect for Government and we both know they're stalling. I've half a mind to order an invasion of their premises."

"It would be amusing to see. Sadly, they manufacture most of your arms, don't they?"

"They do." Ironwood sighed. "Part of the reason they get away with as much as they do." A notice appeared on the bottom of the screen and he hummed. "One second. I have a priority call from Atlas. I have to take this."

"I'll remain on hold."

Nodding, he pushed Ozpin's call aside and muted it, then accepted the one from Atlas.

Adrian Sol's face appeared. The man looked as haggard as James felt, and was clearly in James' office. It was close enough to the Council Chambers that he imagined Sol had come right there for what would be a long night's work. Retirement meant little at times.

"James. The Council meeting has concluded. I have your specs for you."

"Unredacted…?"

"Clear, though on a personal level I'm unsure how much I trust them. Chivalric Arms has said the redacted copy you were sent was a clerical error from an overzealous employee seeking to follow company policy and not realising it was an emergency."

"Hmph. I'm sure it was."

"I'm sending them through to you now."

"Summarise for me."

"Anti-air, anti-ground, anti-missile, anti-infantry, anti-armour. About the only thing it isn't anti- is high velocity kinetics, and even then it's armed with some thrust capability, so it might be able to dodge a shot from a battleship. Well, the initial shot. Its armour is hefty on the front, but I doubt it would stand up to that kind of payload. Your aircraft, on the other hand, would have been swatted out the air."

"The right choice to retreat, then."

"Indeed. I and the other military minds on the Council understand that."

"Civilians…?"

"Not as understanding. Chivalric Arms themselves are quite upset and seem to think you should have secured the prototype for them. Worry not," he said when Ironwood's face shifted. "We explained to the Council why that wouldn't have been possible. I won't say they understand it, but they've accepted there was no better option."

"Good. Why do we allow them involvement in military affairs again?"

"Because Atlas is a democracy, James. You know that. Keeping them out of military issues is only one step from keeping them out of other things. It's a slippery slope back to the authoritarian regime Mantle once was. This isn't ideal, I agree, but this inconvenience is better than the trouble they would raise if we tried to keep them out. The people wouldn't understand."

That was the crux of it. The people. Politics always did play more on popularity than capability, which was a dangerous tone to take. Popular decisions were often by their very nature inefficient decisions. Lower taxes, more freedoms and less oversight sounded good on paper, but when that led to less investment for healthcare, businesses like the SDC using their freedom to force impossible working conditions on faunus and for Chivalric Arms to get away with what it was, the flaws in said ideals became apparent.

The problem wasn't the average joe on the street using his new freedoms to cause trouble. It was those with power using the law to skirt around its intent. It was important documentation on a rogue war machine being withheld because `business didn't answer to military` at a time where it mattered. And as a result, Jaune Arc and Roman Torchwick were free to escape with their trophy.

"What of the model itself?" Ironwood asked. "Did Chivalric Arms have an explanation for why they're developing military technology in an allied city under false pretences? I've love to hear an explanation for that."

"The machine was stolen by the White Fang and brought to Vale."

"What!?" Ironwood slammed his chair back, standing and punching a fist down onto the desk. "That is nonsense and you know it, Sol. Don't feed me that crap!"

"It is what it is, James. You and I both know how this is going to go. There's not enough evidence to provide for a case that Chivalric Arms breached international law, and it's not in Atlas' best interests to prove it. Not in Vale's either. If it gets out that something like that was built in Vale, their Council will be forced to act against us or lose face. We'll be forced to act in kind. Trade sanctions, accusations and long legal battles that will go nowhere, not to mention the loss of face. It could cost us our treaty. Neither side desires that kind of incident right before the Vytal Festival. We can't afford it, not with so many problems on our plate. The White Fang are a convenient excuse. It is as of now the official findings of the Council."

"And Chivalric Arms goes free yet again," Ironwood sneered.

"What do you want of me, James? I know your personal crusade to see justice done. I don't disagree with it. I really don't. But Atlas is bigger than one young man and his family. Ten people, James. Ten people for the sake of tens of thousands whose lives might be uprooted by this."

"Uprooted meaning losses of jobs, Sol. Not life."

"It can feel just as devastating to those it affects."

"I think Jaune Arc would disagree."

"Jaune Arc is a criminal. He is a terrorist. His opinion isn't important to Atlas, nor should it be important to you. As I said, James, this is a democracy. It is the majority that matters. The truth is what the majority votes on. In this case, the truth is that the White Fang has stolen a powerful military weapon from Chivalric Arms and smuggled it into Vale with the intent of arming dangerous psychopath Jaune Arc with enough firepower to imperil innocent civilians – and that Atlas will be the ones to stop him, bringing down the monster and saving the day."

Sol leaned back in Ironwood's own seat, his face set in firm neutrality. "That is the truth the Council has decided upon, and the truth you will have to come to terms with. The official news has already been sent out to the proper channels. As of now, it is accepted as fact across all four Kingdoms. Deviate from it and you'll only cause problems."

Deviate and be removed, he didn't say. Sol didn't need to. His position as General of Atlas was also tied into the vote system, albeit that kind of vote was thankfully among the military only. That said, the full council could call a vote of no confidence if it were unanimous. They might have to if he went out and claimed his own council was lying. It would be him versus them, and they'd take whatever steps necessary to ensure Atlas' reputation was not impinged.

Jaune Arc was just one person. He wasn't even an Atlas citizen. The truth he carried, however, had the potential to upset a lot of people. And so long as Chivalric Arms were supplying arms and tech to Atlas, they were a million times more useful than Jaune Arc would ever be.

"It is what it is, James. The White Fang stole the machine – it's called a Paladin by the way. Very exciting technology once it's in our hands. It could do a lot of good for Atlas, both against the White Fang and the Grimm."

"And that fact forgives Chivalric Arms all they've done? Are we now a Kingdom willing to sell our own out for power and influence?"

"We always have been, James. Always have been."

Ironwood closed the call before he could put a fist through the screen. It caused Ozpin's to come back up, despite that he would have preferred silence. Ozpin understood his expression, thankfully. The man sighed and waited patiently for him to calm down. And to speak.

"The White Fang stole the Paladin from Atlas and brought it to Vale."

"Impressive of them, especially considering how hard it must have been to smuggle it in." Ozpin sighed, knowing the truth just as well as he did. "I expect the Council of Vale will be agreeing with that theory soon enough. It's easy to blame the faunus. Even good for business for certain people. I'll speak with you in person soon, James. Welcome to Vale. I wish it could have been on a happier note. If you need to get away from it come visit. Glynda and I shall have tea and coffee prepared."

"Thank you, Ozpin. I've a feeling I'll need that. Ironwood out."

The screen winked dark, leaving Ironwood alone with his thoughts. His one good hand came up to cup his chin, fingers covering his mouth. Everything had seemed to simple before. The White Fang broke the law and attacked innocent people. The Grimm were mindless monsters. Even Salem and the truth few others were privy to was simple compared to this. It had always been easy to do the right thing, even if that meant driving his men into exhaustion.

The right thing. What was that now?

One man, one family, or the stability of Atlas. One man's life against the relative peace of mind of over half a million people. If it were lives against lives it would have been an easy choice but lives against peace; justice against stability; truth against convenience.

A good soldier would follow orders.

"Sir." Clover waited in the doorway, knocking lightly on the metal hull beside it. "I have news from Vale."

"Enter, Clover. What is it?"

"I've finished patching us into the police dispatches with their approval, sir. I have Zeki overseeing it. One thing he noticed rather quickly was a sudden attack on the other side of the city. A fleet of four lorries moving in convoy were attacked, upturned and robbed. Everyone within was killed."

"Are we blaming that on Arc as well?" Ironwood asked testily. "Impressive of him to be in two places at once."

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Clover. I'll explain in debriefing. There's something suspicious about this attack, I take it, or Zeki wouldn't have brought it to your attention."

"Yes sir." Clover stepped up and deposited a single printed image on his table. On it, a man in black lay slumped over the steering wheel of a lorry, his visor and helmet melted to his face and the window not smashed, but turned to a slurry on the edges, thick and curling inward like it had been struck by heated plasma. "This is one of the drivers, sir. The driver of – according to the livery – a kitchen appliances company. Dishwashers and such."

Ironwood chuckled. "Heavily armed for that kind of job. I suppose lifting home appliances into place must involve body armour and handguns now." Scrunching the paper up, Ironwood tossed it into a nearby waste disposal bin. "Any survivors we can question?"

"None sir. Whoever hit them took effort to kill each and every one of them."

"And the cargo…?"

"Gone. No home appliances as you might imagine. We found discarded medical equipment in one, along with a medical bed strapped down to the floor."

His fingers dug into the metal table. "And the patient?"

"Missing, sir. No sign of a body."

/-/

Roman was no stranger to unflattering news stories but even he had to turn off in disgust when Lisa Lavender started to talk about how he'd thrown his lot in with the White Fang in smuggling dangerous military hardware into the city, which he'd apparently used alongside Jaune Arc to attack and rob a warehouse before joyriding through the city in.

That was the end of him, wasn't it? He'd always been careful to keep himself on the right side of things. The wrong side of the law, admittedly, but the right wrong side. That was to say he stole, blackmailed, and conned but didn't kill. He didn't do anything that would have earned himself a life sentence of the interest of every huntsman in the Kingdom.

So much for that. I'm well and truly stuck now.

Roman Torchwick – terrorist. It didn't even sound good. He tossed the remote away with a groan, pushed himself out the loveseat and stomped loudly toward the dining room of his safehouse, making sure the two brats inside heard him coming.

"Surprise, surprise, we're being hailed as monsters," he reported upon entering. Jaune looked up from where he was sat next to the mute girl who had decided to come along with them. The promise of clothes and food had been enough for her. He'd granted her a spare pair of his pants that were much too long for her, and she was still wearing his coat, looking for all intents and purposes like a miniature version of him. Throw in a bowler cap to cover some of that hair and they could have looked like father and daughter. Wandering over, he pulled out a seat and sat down. "Figured out anything from our delightful little guest?"

The girl grinned cheerily up at him from a bowl of ice-cream she was devouring. Adorable. In a murder you later kind of way. Roman puffed on his cigar, so far out of shits to give that the casual threat amused more than worried him.

"Only that they moved my mom out of there before," Jaune said. "She says Mom used to look after her, comfort her. Well, she doesn't say anything, but you get the idea."

"Hmm. Makes sense." The kid didn't look jealous about the fact the girl got to be with his mother when he didn't. That was good. "Mothering instinct. I've seen it happen before, often in stick-ups and hostage situations." Usually when he was robbing a store and there were customers inside. He didn't let any harm come to them, but they'd still been afraid. "Some people deal with stress by curling up into a ball and panicking while others push it away by looking after other people. It's sort of a way to distract themselves from what's going on. Fight or flight, but instead of that it's nurture or internalise."

"Having someone to look after might have made your mom feel a little less anxious about losing all of you," he added. "It would have been a comfort to her, like letting a child keep a teddy bear when sleeping alone."

Jaune looked surprised by his expertise. Roman shrugged – understanding how people acted and reacted was the first step to avoiding accidents. He liked to plan his ops out, especially early on when he'd been making a name for himself and one mistake would have meant jailtime and the death of his career.

"What's more surprising to me is how the midget could pilot that thing." Roman cocked an eyebrow when the girl scowled at him. "Don't like the name? Well maybe if you'd write down your name for us, I could use that." He smirked. "Midget."

Her mismatched eyes fumed at him.

"CA would have just called her weapon or subject. It's what they did for me."

Roman hummed, watching the girl nod to say it was true. Creepy bastards, those CA guys. "Fine. Sounds like you need a name. You sure you want us of all people to come up with it? He calls himself `Null`. I mean, can you imagine someone that edgy?"

The girl giggled silently but motioned for him to do it. At least she had the sense to leave it in his hands. Then again, he was so tired he couldn't think straight. His eyes roamed over the room before settling on her, her hair and then the bowl of ice-cream before her.

"Neo. Neo Politan."

"Roman, really?" Jaune sounded offended. "That's-"

The girl – Neo now, he supposed – nodded happily. She mouthed the word `Neo` a few times, tasting and finding it to her liking. Roman wasn't sure if she knew where he'd got the idea from or not. Hopefully, she'd see the funny side once she did.

"Neo, then. Sheesh." Jaune didn't see the funny side. "I guess they must have been training her to use it. I'm more surprised Atlas let us go when they had us dead to rights. I hope the White Fang can keep that thing hidden."

Wouldn't count on it. Even ignoring the fact those guys were idiots, it wasn't going to be easy to hide something that big. He wasn't about to say that when it might mean them having to get rid of it, though. "I'm sure they'll be fine. Not like we can handle it ourselves. As for Atlas, I imagine they thought we were taking all those people on the freeway hostage. Sort of a shoot at us and we'll shoot at them kind of deal. That's certainly how the news is playing it."

"Yeah. They usually do."

He sounded used to it, which earned a groan from Roman. It was alright for the kid to not care about his already ruined reputation, but he had bigger concerns. I'll have to leave Vale once this is over. There's no way I can stick around. Maybe fake my death and move to Mistral. I hear that have work for enterprising criminals.

Assuming he survived, that was. With Atlas here, things had gone from dicey to outright ridiculous.

Roman's scroll began to buzz. Jaune and Neo looked over but didn't seem overly interested. Sighing, he took it and held it up, signalling he had to answer it before walking off back into the living room to do so. He prayed it was Junior with good news.

"Hello Roman. Nice to see you again."

Oh hell. "Cinder. How are you? Is this about the dust? I'm busy catching up on stock and I'm a little behind, I know, but you've heard about what happened."

"Your arrest, yes." There was laughter on the other end. Her stupid brats no doubt. "For once I'm not calling about that. You are behind schedule, but your recover is admirable given the circumstances. I am satisfied by your recent work with the White Fang."

Satisfaction, huh? That was new. Telling, too. Cinder wasn't the type to let anyone off the hook, which meant she was preparing another to throw him on the moment he let his guard down. He wasn't about to.

"So, if this isn't about that, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I understand you're currently sharing board with an interesting young man."

Roman glanced back to the dining room and lowered his voice. "That's one way to put it. I'd say `terrifying` personally. Dangerous – and not in the good way either. More like a wild animal you're worried might take your face off if you look at it wrong."

"And what is the good kind of dangerous, Roman?"

"Why, that's you of course. Clever dangerous. Dangerous but reasonable so long as I'm being useful."

"Hm. Quite the flatterer you are today. Then again, I've seen the news. You must be coming down off quite the rush. I'm genuinely impressed, Roman. Causing all that trouble and then evading Atlas without capture isn't something to be brushed aside."

And now who was the one buttering the other up? Roman cupped his face, already knowing she wanted something they both knew he wouldn't like. Damn it. Things were bad enough with one nutcase in his life, but now he had a mini-me in the form of Neo and Cinder of all people was showing interest.

This really wasn't his year.

"What do you want, Cinder?"

"I want to meet with and talk to your young friend. I have an offer for him."

"Word of warning, he's got a one-track mind. I can tell you now that no amount of money, power or anything else is going to convince him working for you is a good idea. That's not just me causing trouble, Cinder. I'm stating facts."

"I'm aware, Roman. You needn't worry. He'll want to meet with me tomorrow. In fact, he'll insist on it."

Roman felt an uncomfortable put open in his stomach. "Dare I ask why?"

"Because I have something he's looking for."

Cinder chuckled.

"Or should I say, someone."

I wonder who she has.

"I have… Spruce Willis!"

Massively unimpressed Jaune face.

"What? I asked Adam what you like, and he said Spruce Willis movies. Wait, where are you going? Come back and serve me, knave! Don't walk away from me!"

Next Chapter: 27th July

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