Save the world? Fuck that, I want to make money! (RWBY SI) ch 14 (Patreon)

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"Absolutely not," Jacques Schnee said flatly.

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

​Her hands tightened.

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

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

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

But first, the rescue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, she shook her head.

He would be proud of her.

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

"Isn't that Winter Schnee?"

"What's she doing here?"

"Schnee murderer!"

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

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

A look of utter determination came upon her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go ahead, Specialist Ebi," Conrad nodded.

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

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

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

"You?" Conrad muttered in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was under no illusions what the color scheme meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"After you," WInter nodded in determination.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their touch...

It was electric.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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A/N: I think this might be my best chapter, ngl.