Atlas is, if anything, responding relatively calmly to the current trifles surrounding their political atmosphere. What has the populace in a tint of disillusion was the doubt of the lingering threat of war dangling above their heads; a sword held up only by a single string of twine. There were many who waved off the incident between the Atlas and Mistral, claims that the two countries would not start a war over unmarked outposts. If anything, the relations would sour and the two kingdoms would impose tariffs on trading goods, and lead to shifts in the economies.

Though the floating city itself seemed secured, those of the city of Mantel were of a different persuasion. As it stood, the denizens of the former kingdom capital were going about their daily routines, though, with the common talk amongst them being over whether or not the Mistrali kingdom would be brazen enough to try something retaliatory. Of course, that was just amongst the younger generation, many of which noted the influx in enlistment posters plastered all across the city. The older population noticed the influx in the rising prices over common commodities, the mandatory curfews, and the lack of coverage regarding the military's former General and his pending trial.

Suffice to say, Mantle was growing uneasy, and with the threat of war as a possibility, several grimm had been drawn to the lower city, prompting an influx of students from Atlas' schools to be deployed on mass. Alongside them, several of the kingdom's own hunters were contracted to take part in the defense of the city.

Though, their efforts were only made all the more difficult with the news networks constantly running the story that caused the northern kingdom to be in such disarray. The constant reminder that their military's paranoia and affinity for secrets was what made the idea of a foreign kingdom marching on their homeland was what made the populace uneasy. Atlas, the floating jewel in the sky was safe, away from terrain-based vehicles, and protected with the highest tier defenses the northern kingdom had at its arsenal. Meanwhile, Mantle was nearly left to its own devices, with outdated weaponry and few, if any, strafe runs from Atlesian air support during Grimm swarms; the city was on borrowed time.

The few soldiers and students present weren't much help, if anything; they were only served to remind the denizens of the current political state of their kingdom.

Of course, within the central hubs of the ground based city, taverns and communal squares, ones with a panel and in constant broadcast, were privy to the court proceedings of the former General and his involvement with the secret bases in northern Anima.

Four hooded huntresses paced calmly amongst the crowded streets, their faces remained visible so as to not arouse suspicion or attention their way. The head of their group was focused on the road ahead, often sparing an eye to the panels that would either show Midas being questioned by his peers, or they'd show them.

Red Dawn.

The masked group, many would dub a cult, that was continuously brought up in the day to day conversations of the common folk. Under normal circumstances, they'd be branded as a splinter faction of the Fang, or another little group seeking to cause havoc. However, what caught the attention of many was one member's abilities in particular; the strings emanating from his fingertips. To those who knew, and remembered, only one group of people had that ability; to seemingly give life to inanimate objects, Reavers.

That very name was enough to incite a great deal of fear for those who've actually found themselves in combat against these outcasts. Though, there hasn't been a sighting of their kind for a long time. And for the head of the four huntresses, she knew exactly why. She was there, as a student…no, as a soldier, she fought was supposed to be pockets of Reaver cells whose ideologies made them a danger to the whole of Remnant. What she found instead haunted her to present day.

And now, the sins of the past have resurfaced to usher forth pain and suffering akin to what their people felt all those years ago. That had to be it, there wasn't another plausible explanation as to why they would reappear now, after all the time that's passed.

"Robyn?" A faint voice broke the huntress from her thoughts, her head turned to face the source that called for her attention, only to find her companions staring worryingly at her.

"It's nothing, Fiona. I'm fine, really." Ironically, she was rather well versed in lying.

Though not visibly convinced, her company didn't seem too eager to push for details, choosing instead to let their leader be. The smallest of them, the sheep faunus focused her attention on the screen above them just as the image displayed again the kingdom's former General.

"Hard to believe General Midas was actually removed…so quickly too." She mumbled, eyeing the image with a sense of worry and fear.

"Midas Ironwood was many things, but untouchable was not one of them." Robyn noted, glaring at the old man's image a bit longer before tempting to avert her eyes.

"Wonder who's gonna be the new General. They can't keep the position vacant for long." One of her own commented, to which the woman agreed, albeit silently. No, the new General would have to be chosen quickly, before any political powers had a chance to throw in their candidate picks for the position. Of course, that left the selection process to the Military branches. It was a stretch to assume Midas' son would succeed him, but the act alone would paint the image of nepotism to the everyday folk.

Still, whoever the choice, it was of no concern to the woman or her huntresses.

Just as they were about to make their leave, a bulletin shot up across the various screens in the vicinity. The image of a dark skinned girl, a cadet judging by her uniform, and a young one at that, came to life with the three letters that should never be read atop a child's picture.

M.I.A

-Bulkhead over northern Anima-

Above the frozen tundra of Anima, a lone bulkhead soars hidden in the clouds. Why it chooses to remain high above, masked by the passing clouds was of its own accord. Beneath them was nothing but pure forest and jagged cliffs. Its engines were muffled by the harsh winds, and with the white coating that coincided with Atlas' military colors; the bulkhead would blend in with the clouds for a short period. That was of course until one took notice of the stream of smoke coming out of its two thrusters.

Within the bulkhead, the cockpit was unnervingly silent, with the pilot focused on the keeping the ship in the air. And with a little 'persuasion' from one of her captors aiming a sidearm at her, with her aura still unlocked, any retaliation she had would be met with swift fatality. Cadet Soleil's eyes would often peer towards the one beside her, the shortest of the four in that had taken her base off guard, taken whatever it was they had been searching for, and took her as hostage for the remainder of their venture.

She noted the fully-masked individuals, their hoods seemed etched unto their headwear, the masks themselves were less of what one would associate with the Grimm, and felt more akin to a form of religious nature. With the arrival of what she assumed to be their leader, and having gotten a chance to see the puppet floating aimlessly over him, her cult theory was beginning to gain a firm foundation.

"Vahlok." Came the voice of the second female, though her voice was muffled, she could hear the high-pitched tone most associated with youth. These masked individuals were either around or the same age as her. And that thought unnerved her, particularly the idea of having to fight children of what she assumed to be a brainwashing cult.

The mentioned cultist shifted her head slightly as her comrade approached.

"Touching down in five." There was a faint hum, followed by a simple nod. Not too long after the second returned back to the others.

There was a small pit of anxiety growing within the cadet, for the bulkhead was low on fuel, and she knew once this ship touched down; they 'd either regroup with the rest of their group, or they would be assaulting another base. In either scenario, the outcome did not have her coming out of this unscathed. Although, a few scars and bruises were much better than returning home in a casket…or rather, not at all.

"So…" Came the sudden voice of the current captor watching over her. "Why'd Atlas make the choice of putting kids in an unmarked outpost in the middle of an active warzone?"

She was referring to the conflict with the Fang in that region, though the cadet would be hard-pressed to consider the engagements with those splinter units a 'warzone'. And regardless of whatever these cultists assumed, she wouldn't dignify a response. That and her assignment in the outpost was Military intel, need-to-know basis only. She wouldn't know the answer regardless.

She remained silent; her face remained unchanged since her capture.

"Ah, the silent treatment, yea I got that a lot in Atlas. Military wasn't my style but I still gave it a shot…didn't work out so well." Soleil's eyes widened and her heart raced to a point one could see her chest thumping uncontrollably. She had just been given information regarding her captor; a former Atlesian personnel, and simply knowing that small bit of information meant her lifespan was just shortened. And all it took was a simple sentence; a moment of reminiscing was what signed her death warrant. Then again, her response was vague, and there was a chance this could be played off as nothing more than a ruse to get her riled up. "Not gonna lie, made some good friends there too…felt amazing to put all of them in their place." She didn't need to know that, because if she returned to Atlas, it would make it all the more easier to find out who this cultist was. "Ya know, it's just you and me right now; I can tell you somethings I'm not particularly allowed to." This came in the form of a whisper from her captor who was way too close for comfort. To the point that Soleil swore she could feel the soft breathe hitting against her neck.

She felt herself shiver, hair standing on end as she tried ever so hard to keep her tears from bursting out. This cultist was giving her enough information that would require either the cadet or her to be put down. Of course, many cults prefer both.

"Vahlok." The cadet's hair stood straight, her back straightened and her grip tightened on the steering controls. There were two males amongst the group, one of which was the snarky smartass that would occasionally pester the other female…and the second made her uneasy. Mostly because she could hear a feminine whisper echo with his actual voice. It was eerie, to put it mildly. The doll above him wasn't helping her case either; the worst of it was when on occasion it would glance her way. Though she couldn't put a finger on it, there was something about that doll that made the cadet feel uneasy, as if she were actually being watched by the thing. "Stop scaring the girl…"

"Aw, you're no fun." Ilia nudged away from the cadet, her gun still aimed at the pilot. "Besides, we were just having a little girl talk, right?"

Soleil shuddered; her head remained facing forward, remaining ever so silent.

"Right. Get ready to drop; our target is going to be under us in a few seconds. Atlas branded a 'special cargo' aboard the Sundas, if its what i hope it is, we might just come out lucky this time around."

"What about her?" Soleil felt her heart racing again, her head was swarming with thoughts of taking these cultists out with her in a blaze, assuring there were four less of these fanatics attacking their outposts. But then…they were kids, like her. Yes, Atlas deployed her to an unmarked outpost in a foreign nation, but the Fang needed to be dealt with immediately, and Mistral's lack of response was proving ineffective.

"Sahvot will watch her. The ship is low on fuel, so we'll be touching down for the next phase of our objective. Last thing we need is this one alerting her higher ups."

*beep* *beep* *beep*

'Incoming beacon, audio only.'

Came first a small red blip to silence any further conversation, followed by the ship's onboard computer alerting them of an audio message. The eyes of the cultist were first to the ship's systems, then to Soleil. And she felt their stares too.

Before they had a chance to interrogate, the system came to life with a frantic hushed voice coming in.

'This is Private Sanghir, Atlas personnel aboard the Sundas, we're under attack by White Fang insurgents. We require immediate assistance from any and all Atlesian units in the area-'

*bang*

The gunshot came as no surprise, but it wasn't exactly expected mid speech. But the fact that the beacon was on repeat was a less than comforting. Still, it gave a sense of what they were jumping in to. Once the clouds parted, the bulkhead was given a clear view of the still running train below them, the flattened platforms were littered with Atleisan soldiers and bots, blood stained the decks, and dripped across the passing countryside. The sight that greatly angered the cadet was what she saw at the back of the train. Noncombatant personnel were lined up at the edge, a rope was tied to the tail end of the train. The other end of the rope was tied into a noose, wrapped around the necks of the unarmed staff, many of which were faunus…what would follow would only cement Soleil's growing hatred towards the fanatical group. She wanted to turn away, avert her eyes to what was happening, but with the train being their objective, and the White Fang seemingly rushing in and out of the carts once they were spotted; her eyes needed to be focused on whatever incoming fire came their way.

She felt a hand grasp her shoulder gently, she tensed, if only for the feeling of dread that vaguely masked her fury.

"You wish to avenge them?" It was a simple question, yet she found herself unable to answer. Was this a trick, were they playing on her emotions? "Fly straight, and keep the ship stable. We'll clear a landing zone. Is there a way to refuel here?"

Ciel analyzed what little she could make out of the section of the train they were heading towards. Very subtly, she nodded, hesitantly pointing towards a fuel tank and a platform large enough for the ship to land on.

"Hmm, good. Land there, keep the area secured. Keep the airship in one piece; and we'll save as many of the noncombatants as we can." She couldn't tell if he was lying, a big chunk of her military training warned her that this was nothing more than an empty promise, that her comrades were gone and he was only playing on her emotions to keep her in line…however, looking back at the train and all the possible fellow Atlesians possibly still alive; she wanted to believe him. She wanted to save her people. So she nodded; effectively making her deal with the devil.

With another faint hum, he let go of her shoulder, rising only when they felt the bulkhead rumble. The Fang had begun firing at them with their own arsenal, as most of the AA guns were either taken out or disabled. So, they fired with their own weapons, which at their current range made them more a nuisance than an actual hazard. Though, the closer they got, the more the firing increased, a rocket propelled grenade blew up close enough to rattle the ship rather violently.

And yet the bulkhead carried on.

"Damn, you'd think these ships would have something to fire back with." Mercury grumbled out, rummaging through the ship's containers, searching for a weapon.

Ciel made no sound, instead, she pressed a few keys, opening the sides of the hull, and from the floors, two miniguns on opposite ends of the hull emerged.

"Nahkriin." Mercury's head snapped towards Ilia, the second in command of their little outfit, and currently with so low and cold a voice he swore the outside felt warm in comparison. "Light them up." Having seen non-armed faunus, civilians, be murdered in so cruel a fashion by a group she once had faith in, made her blood boil to such a degree.

He needed no further order. Without hesitation, the silver-haired mercenary fired relentlessly upon the terrorists, bloodcurdling screams were heard as when the dust and smoke cleared, their bodies lay idle, bloodied and riddled with holes.

"I thought we didn't kill anyone." Came the comment from the second female, which in turn somewhat surprised the cadet, seeing as her assumption of this group was that they had no such morals to merit a rule against murder.

"Needlessly." Ilia responded, her eyes still fixated on the dead Fang below. "But monsters like them; death is a kindness they do not deserve." Her voice held in it so much venom; Ciel swore she felt light-headed and woozy with each second she spent near the cultist.

"Get ready to board." Jaune reminded, prepping his poison vials just as Emerald quickly stood in front of him.

"Let me come with you. Nahrkriin can watch the girl and hold off any Fang that comes snooping. The box cars will be a restrained environment, I'm more agile than him." She didn't come off as too pleading, but there was a hint of want in her tone. She didn't want to be left on babysitting duty; she wanted to be where the action was. Or, and this was Ciel's own assumption, she wanted to be beside her leader, if him gently grabbing her hand and her tensing up was of any indication. The faint way in which she shuddered at his touch didn't help her much either.

"I need you here to keep our little pilot alive, and to scare off any stragglers." His tone was soft, missing the distortion and replaced with an oh so clear voice. "This won't take long, I promise." His hand caressed the side of her mask where her cheek would be, to which she leaned in, albeit lightly. The sight of which irked the cadet, to see the cultist act in such a way was playing further into the narrative of fanatical loyalty.

"…I'm landing." Ciel's voice kept itself in monotone, voiding any unnecessary signs of fear or anger.

With Mercury going ham on the Fang that actually tried to retaliate, the landing was going rather smoothly. The bulkhead was able to dock on the platform closest to the tail, where a large portion of the Fang was gunned down already, leaving the head of the ship for them to continue on foot.

Before the three cultist left the ship, their leader turned to Ciel, with the ship now landed, she was to be kept an eye on the rest of the ship until their return, and though she would rather be out there fighting, she wouldn't assist these fanatics in whatever scheme they had in mind for the train to begin with.

"Refuel the airship. We won't take long, hopefully." Just as he was about to leave, from an unknown source of courage in her she knew not where, came a demand she was in no position to make.

"Do not forget my people." But she made it regardless. Her fixed glare at him was wavering, if only by the sudden heads turned her way, and the manner in which the second female's hands caressed the hilts of her revolvers. She felt as though she had just stomped on eggshells, but she did not regret speaking her piece.

"If I find any, I'll bring them here." And without waiting for a response, they three sprinted straight for the door. Just as it opened, a Fang poked his head out; a dagger flew just quick enough for him to see, but too fast for him to dodge. The blade struck between his eyes, killing the Fang instantly, the three pushing him inward as an array of gunshots and screams echoed from inside the train cart.

The slaughter of these Fang had begun, marking the start of a bloody war between the White Fang and these individuals. It was a welcoming thought that these groups would end up fighting each other from here on out, it would make for less casualties amongst the Atlesian involvement. Interrupting her thoughts was a coat being thrown at her. She removed the clothing from her face, only to find a revolver aimed at her.

"You heard him, refuel the ship." It was the one that wanted to partake in the firefight. It seems she got the short end of the stick, having to stay behind while her comrades were off fighting elsewhere. In a cosmic sort of way Ciel related, though, it was a fleeting feeling. Without another word exchanged between the two, she dressed herself and was escorted to the tank, hoping they'd find at least a handful of survivors.

Meanwhile…

Resistance was fairly easy; these Fang had let their guard down too quickly after taking the train. Or rather, the ones further up the box cars, the ones closest to the tail end heard the miniguns, damn near felt the train shiver with the heavy barrage. And yet, it didn't take long for the first lines to fall, albeit with them being mildly prepared. Strewn across the floors and walls were the remains of Atlesians and Fang. Both the sight and smell was grotesque, which only prompted more feral attacks from the smallest of Red Dawn's faction. With each Fang she came across, Ilia went straight for a stun, using her whip to slice their throats. Their gasps were only met with a feral grin from the former Fang. His hands grasped his slit throat, though blood still leaked onto the walls, a touch managed to splatter across Ilia's mask. Through her eyehole, her eye twitched at the sudden desecration of her new uniform, resulting in her kicking his leg, forcing him down and slamming his head against the wall. Blood dripped from both the new open wound, and his now exposed throat. He fell onto the floor, twitching violently as he drew his final breaths.

Taking a look around, Ilia took in all her eyes could see; every civilian corpse, every faunus that was lined up and executed by their own people. Her anger was brimming to the surface, a low guttural growl escaped with each exhale. This was not what the White Fang was supposed to be, this wouldn't bring equality. If anything, this massacre alone would set the old chieftain's movement back for years to come. These people, these civilians…this wasn't their war, they had lives, families waiting for them. So did these Fang, each of them too had family waiting, and here she stood; her hands soaked with the blood of her people.

The pain in her chest seared, she clamped her eyes shut, clenching her chest and pushing aside anything that was not part of the mission.

"Damn, she's going all out." Mercury commented, kicking a downed Fang, assuring the terrorist was dead. His pants were riddled with blood spatter as well, though; he seemed to relish more in this environment than his comrades. He took in each sight with nary a flinch or heave. Which is why the blond brought him along, Mercury worked best in this environment; after all, where else would the son of an infamous mercenary thrive.

Emerald…she saw enough outside. Though she was no saint, Jaune didn't want her to see this. The actions outside were nothing compared to what they'd seen inside. There were some staff kept alive, though, for entertainment it seemed. Their bodies were hung across the halls, clear for the Fang to revel and gawk at. Their corpses were treated as mere decorations, a stomach wrenching sight, though; the three did not allow it to affect them much.

As for Emerald? She was…Jaune couldn't pin a clear word on it, but he'd rather not expose her to this. The less of her humanity lost the better. The three of them…well, it seemed they were on the same path, Mercury being the one ahead by a few paces.

Though, if there was one person he would've preferred not seen this; it was Ilia. Like her, he still held the image of the White Fang akin to Ghira's reign; when they would seek equality through protest and debate. The time when being a part of the Fang was something to be proud of. But what they've seen now…this was not what the Fang was meant to be.

He regretted bringing her along, he cursed himself for allowing her to talk him into allowing her to join in the raid.

There was no going back at this rate, the blood of these terrorists were now on their hands. If…when this reached back to the outside world; Red Dawn and the White Fang would be fighting their own war. And if it ever got out that one of their former members was the one currently cutting through their ranks, the propaganda machines of Atlas and Vale would have a field day.

"Nahkriin…" Jaune muttered, gaining the silver teen's attention. "Not now." And with that, he kept his remained silent, choosing instead to walk around the Fang corpses and test each for any survivor. Summer and the clone doll went around as well, using their blades to jab at the bodies, checking for any reactions.

Leaving Jaune alone with a near feral Ilia, her breathing was rugged, and her hand gripped her whip ever so tightly as her eyes continued to gaze at the scene around her. At a point, her eyes landed on her partner, glancing upwards to meet his heterochromic eyes fixed on her.

She half expected to see worry or fear, and Oum protect him if she saw pity…but she didn't. She saw him looking to her with a half-lidded eyes. If she had to guess; he was either stoic, or amused. She'd run him through if it was the latter.

Her ragged breaths were easing, but her teeth refused to buck, bearing for the world to see the anger she could no longer tame.

"The hell is-" A female Fang emerged from a nearby room, a whip was quickly coiled around her neck, bringing the terrorist down to her knees, and a dagger pressed tightly at her back. Jaune had never seen Ilia move so fast, of course, the growl and anger were nothing new, yet mixed in with whatever was plaguing her thoughts could result in a path he needed to keep her from straying towards.

"Move, and I gut you." Ilia whispered, pressing the dagger further inwards, inciting a yelp from the Fang as her back arched on instinct, which only caused the coiled whip to tighten.

Jaune took the initiative, kneeling in front of the Fang with a dagger in hand. Ilia eased her threat, allowing the girl's eyes to open, to which they bulged at the sight of the faction that was causing havoc to their organization across Anima. There was a moment of anger that flared in her eyes. Yet, it was temporary upon seeing the remains of her kinsman.

"I'm going to give you one, and only one chance to answer my question truthfully." Jaune reached out, grabbing her chin with his bloodied glove, nudging her head upwards to face him. The fear in her eyes amplified, more so when she felt an unnerving aura behind her, with the tip of the dagger nudging at her with passing second. "What business does the White Fang have here?"

"Go to hell." She snarled at him, earning a faint hum that instilled more fear in her than the sight of her comrades being prodded by the lifeless puppets.

"Oh, I intend to." And with that, Ilia's dagger ran straight through, piercing her heart, and killing the Fang instantly. Perhaps the only merciful kill so far. And yet, their mission was still far from over. Ilia threw the girl's body aside, unceremoniously. The girl heaved once more; a soft sob escaped her exhale.

Before having a chance to prod, Mercury emerged from a nearby room, dragging a struggling mess of white stained with red. There was an incessant ranting coming from the one being dragged, a nonstop pleading if you will. Though, it didn't appear as though Mercury cared much as he just simply dragged the unknown by the collar, throwing him down at the feet of his leader.

"Found a live one, he was hiding in a closet." His tone was rather monotone, though it was enough to incite a tangent of fear in this one.

"I'm sorry." The forest green-haired one answered rather frantically, his tail coiled across his waist as he kept his arms up, protecting his face from any form of retaliation. "Please…I'm sorry…" He kept rambling on, muttering apologies. Only stopping when the sounds of footsteps stopped before him. He dared to peer up, only to see a masked individual with a blood soaked dagger towering over him. "NO! NO!" He staggered backwards, bumping into Mercury as he inched further away from Ilia. "Please!"

He tried going around Mercury, to crawl enough away for him to pick himself up and run. His tread came to a halt when he saw the bodies littering the hallways. It was only then that his rambling stopped, the putrid smell finally reached his senses, and he gagged at the sudden inhale of the stench around him.

"Is he Fang?" Mercury asked, twirling a dagger in his hand whilst grabbing hold of the faunus' collar.

"His uniform indicates Atlesian." Jaune noted, eyeing the blood stained carefully.

"Could've been an insider for all we know." Ilia threw in her two cents, shifting close to the blond as time went on. "How will we know for sure?"

Jaune pondered her question for a moment; the thought of the pilot came to mind. Although having two hostages was not part of the plan, he didn't want to risk Ilia's assumption to be the end result. "Take him to the ship, I'm sure we'll unearth his true affiliation. We'll return when we're done here."

"Heh, alrighty then." The jovial one began tugging at the teen's collar, inching him towards the gory scene, and quite possibly to a fate similar to theirs.

The lump in his throat finally came bursting out, his struggling increased. "Wait. WAIT!" He reached out towards the two that were departing, identifying the tall one to be the leader of the group; he reached out in the hopes of striking a deal. "I have access to the mainframe."

That stopped the leader in his track, giving the faunus a side glance and a spark of hope. It was one thing if they were here just to raid the ship and kill off the Fang, hell, the military would be grateful for the latter. But a plethora of nightmarish imaginations conjured up in the soldier's mind over what these cultist might do to him, considering they don't particularly like the Fang, he had a slim chance at convincing them he wasn't one of them without any substantial evidence. And there was no way he was going to go with them to any place, movies and literature had already cemented an idea of what masked individuals, like these folks do to their captives, especially if they want information.

"I have access to the train's archives, and that in turn is connected to the CCT. But the firefight with the Fang took out a few of the data storages." The trembling teen uttered that last bit with hesitance, hoping the damaged archives wouldn't set off these individuals. If they were here for something, there was a good chance they wouldn't obtain it, and if they hadn't killed him by now, then he felt useful to whatever they were aiming for.

Their faces were covered, so there was no visible reactions to his plead.

Rather, the three stood frozen in place before the taller of the three took a few steps forward, meanwhile the solider nudged a few paces backwards in response.

"Are there more survivors?"

It was a simple question, yet it caught him off guard. He shook his head, unable to render the words; instead his head shook solemnly, remembering the screams of his comrades slowly die out over a time, leaving him alone in a closet to repent for his sins. Had it not been for these individuals, he was certain the Fang would've found him sooner or later. But there was one thing he did indeed know; there was a very small possibility of anyone else being found alive in the tail end of the train. "There might be up front, but not here."

The silver themed cultist glanced at the doorway towards the front of the cart, then back at the soldier. "I'm guessin the mainframe is near the front too?" When the solider nodded, the silver one grabbed him by his uniform and hoisting him up. The faunus let out a faint whimper as he was soon face-to-face with the leader of this group.

"Show us."

As if the halls they were in were hellish enough, the ones ahead were just as, if not more bloodied with severed limbs, and a few internal organs slathered across the floors. Trails of blood led to closed rooms. The bodies were mutilated in such a way, one would assume a savage beast had passed through, waving its talons aimlessly, caring nothing for whatever stood in its path.

Through it all though, there were no signs of life, Fang or Atlesian. There were many bodies, the Fang corpses, the ones from the firefight, were arranged and placed in rooms with care and respect, while the Alesian bodies were piled on atop one another; it was safe to assume who won the fight this time around.

Although, there was one thing bothering the silver themed cultist.

"Somethin ain't right." He mumbled, "How the hell does an Atlesian military freight get overrun by terrorists?"

No one answered, no one was supposed to. That is of course before they were reminded of their added guest. "This isn't a military freight." The three stopped abruptly, causing the soldier to glance between them with frantic eyes. "T-the Sundas is a transport freight, but we have no weapons or military gear on board. Just food, clothing, and…" He stopped himself, a bit late. His eye widened, as his brain came to some form of realization. "No." he mumbled softly, his dumb being bitten on by his teeth as his mind attempted to comprehend something. "They're here for her."

The muttering was one thing, but the cryptic talk wasn't exactly in the realm of the silver mercenary's list of things he had patience for. Roughly, Mercury hoisted the soldier up, holding him above ground by his collar. "And who is 'her'?"

The soldier, eyes still widened, gave a response the three did not expect, nor did they want to hear.

"The heiress…Weiss Schnee."

Now, among most things, I'd like to think people can understand cause to effect. Example, in canon RWBY, Ilia is fed propaganda and made to believe the Fang was the only true way to getting justice for the Faunus. In this story, however, before she spends too much time amongst them; she is eventually roped into a misadventure with a childhood friend, all the while being exposed to the truth of the organization and their actual goal.

And before anyone wonders if the killing in this chapter is going to be brushed over…yea, that's not gonna happen. If anything, the future dialogue between Red Dawn will hinge on how the next few chapters play out.

What's gonna happen? Well, I have a lot planned so stay tuned.

Also, yes, the Happy Huntresses will be playing a bigger role in the coming chapters as well. Ciao.