Save the world? Fuck that, I want to make money! (RWBY SI) ch 17 (Patreon)

+++

"Miss Emerald! Where are you?" the voice of the lady echoed in the halls. Emerald Sustrai said nothing, hiding behind a marble column as the maid staked through the hallways carrying a dress in hand. Emerald did not like that dress. It was far too pink for her tastes and girly. The lady was annoying too. Always fussing over her as if she was made of glass.

It had been days since she had been a scared little girl in the streets of Vale. And now, she was a scared little girl in a doll house.

She awoke in a bed she later learned was Red Eyes-no, Alexander. His bed was soft, like snow. And the decorations! If she thought that his room was rich then the entire house was just too much for her brain to handle. She was about to explore when she felt a strong hand lift her up, turn her around, and there was the amused face of Land looking at her like she did some trouble. She protested being held up but the mercenary offered her to the ladies in dresses. Maids, they were called, before disappearing.

It was a horrible experience. They refused to leave her alone, forced her into baths, and made her wear frilly dresses as if she was a doll. She was not a doll. She was Emerald, damn it.

Back to the present, Emerald snickered to herself as the maid walked off, her foot-steps echoing through the hallway. Her mirth died down however as the hallway became silent and left her on her own. When she wasn't being accosted by the maids or hiding from them, she was either exploring or being just...here.

Where was Alexander and Land in the first place?

The maids only looked at each other when she was asked where he was. One of them, Nava, said that he was going out to help people. Emerald did not know how else to react to that other than he was taking too long and come back to her qiuckly.

She was lonely here, damn it.

But before she could think of anything else, her ears perked as the sound of foot-steps echoed in the hallways. Another maid? Emerald made ready to hide but before she could, a deep male voice chuckled.

"Hiding from the maids are you?" Gerard Wayland laughed Emerald's eyes widened as she glanced up to see the older man looking down at her, eyes twinkling with mischief.

And just like that, Emerald found herself a grandfather.

"Come with me, girl," he chuckled. Seeing no other option, Emerald reluctantly stood up and followed him as he walked on.

Gerard for his part regarded the street urchin quietly. Immediately, he noted the red eyes she had. While they by itself weren't a sign of possible blood relations as there were other people with eyes as red as theirs, it was still a possbility to consider. If she was indeed related to them then he was more than happy as the Wayland Patriarch to legitimize her into the family. Getting a portion of their wealth, that remained to be seen as he was still unsure of her quality. If she wasn't a Wayland by blood then it was fine. He was still going to treat her with the same courtesy and love as any child should have.

His father had the habit of sponsoring random children and giving them an education. Gerard half suspected that those children happened to be his siblings albeit they did not know of him nor their sponsor. If the stars aligned and Emerald was a Wayland, Alexander might have accidentally found a cousin.

"How are you finding the house, Emerald?"

"Big," she muttered. "It makes my feet hurt."

Gerard stole a glance at her shoes and noted they looked rather familiar. A pang of pain went through his heart. Alana and him had planned to have a second child, hopefully a girl this time. Her death halted those plans. Still, better that those shoes were getting used by someone than gathering dust in the corner. It did fit Emerald however, alongside the lime-green frilled dress she was made to wear.

"You'll grow into those shoes, I know that. Your clothes too," Gerard nodded.

"Are you Red Eyes dad?" Emerald asked, looking up at him.

"I am," Gerard nodded, Red Eyes being Alexander.

"Where is he?" Emerald asked with the imperious preciciousness of a child.

"Outside, trying to find people underground," Gerard revealed.

"Why are they underground?" Emerald asked, confused.

Gerard thought about how to explain the complexity of business and ethics to a literal child. He decided that getting straight to the point would be best.

"Because bad people placed them there. Those people underground would have been safe if the bad people supported them but they did not," Gerard sighed.

"Then those bad people need to be in jail," Emerald muttered.

Gerard chuckled, looking outside. "They will. There are good people who will make sure of that,"

He raised an eyebrow. Was it him or did the clouds get darker outside?

+++

The news that people were alive quickly spread like wildfire. People were roused from sleep, the ground forces were also placed on high alert. There was on higher objective now but to get those people out of the ground. However, it was easier said than done.

The sound of a finger tapping against hard light echoed. "The miners are located 700 meters underground," the miner, Markos, explained. "Looking at the holo map. it seems that they are trapped in one of the refuge areas in the tunnels."

The command room was crammed with everyone that could fit in, each man and women trying to peek over each other's shoulders. In one corner, Ironwood's face was on the screen listening in to Markos's explanation.

"No wonder then that they were able to be shielded, being so deep underground like that," the good General commented. The connection was a little bit spotty but he could still be heard.

"Is that all of them? Survivors?" I asked. Winter glanced at her scroll.

"According to the lists, there were a hundred employees at this mine," she explained. "A descent was expected today with Amitola's group. The rest were either at home or were...vaporized during the blast."

It was a disheartening thing that we hadn't found any bodies at all. The force and make of the dust explosion had erased anyone made of meat. That was a unfortunate result when you are mining literal magic. Those with aura activated would have taken it better, tanked it even. But these were mostly faunus miners who would have been vaporized in a instant and a few human supervisors who were city-folk and were unlikely to have activated auras.

"We can look at the bright side now at least," I added back. "People are alive, what are our options?"

At that, a barrage of suggestions came from those inside the command room. Each man and women offering possible solutions to what could be done. General Ironwood's voice was like a drum that drowned out the noise. "One at a time, people," he chided. Despite the fact that he was a face on a screen, his authority dripped through. Folk paused, glancing at each other.

"Let's start with Markos," I opened up towards the man that found the thirty-three. "Do you have anything in mind?"

Markus scrubbed his chin. "Well...the quickest one we could do is boring a bigger hole with a larger drill then lowering a capsule they can get in. Afterwards, we can go and pull them out one by one."

"Is such a drill available?" General Ironwood asked.

The miners all glanced at each other. Someone raised their hand. "Mine's the largest," he said.

"Your name, sir?"

"Boris, sir," the man introduced himself. He was an elderly looking man, a slavic style moustache on his face and grey wolf ears on his head. He stepped forward.

"If we do this, how sooner can we get this done?" I asked, getting to the most important thing.

"My drill can work well as long as its fed power," Boris replied assuringly. "At most, four more days."

"Four days," Winter repeated, her eyes were glinting with mental calculation. She looked up.

"The miners down there would have food for a day, We have  to resupply them," she put out. A chorus of ayes echoed around.

"We can install a tube on the hole I drilled then just send supplies down," Markos suggested.

I was sure that there were better plans, better ways to get them out but this was a plan. "I'll forge the capsule to get the miners out," I volunteered.

"And I will get you all the time you need," General Ironwood said with finality.

"Then we have a plan," I nodded. With a smile, I lifted my fist up into the air as I turned to the crowd. "Let's go get ourselves some miners!"

​"Hoo-ah!" the assembled men and women cheered, determination in their eyes. Some cheered to rescue their kin be it father, brother, sister, or mother. Others did so because they were fellow miners and acted out of solidarity. Regardless of their reasons, we all were united in that one goal.

"Mister Wayland, Miss Schnee, a word if you will." General Ironwood suddenly said.

+++

The hum of the bridge and the chatter of its crew did not distract Ironwood from focusing on the screen in front of him. In it, a young man frowned as Ironwood relayed to him the news.

"We've recieved word from Atlas that the north will be undergoing a massive snow-storm. Our weather stations are saying the storm will come in our area in a sling-shot manner. To make it worse, the storm is most likely going to force the Grimm horde we are tailing into the opposite direction, to your location."

Alexander's face frown turned into a grimace. "Of course, this isn't going to be as easy as we thought,"

"Operations never are. You must account that man cannot control everything and there exists forces beyond our control and comprehension," Winter commented, grimacing as well.

Winter had no idea how right she was on that. The Queen came to mind, Ironwood thought. He did check in with Ozpin regarding possible weather manipulation from Salem regarding the upcoming storm but the old man confirmed that the Queen had been nothing but quiet in regards to their current issue. Ozpin had even entertained the idea that she was a spectator to the whole affair as much as they were. Ironwood nearly laughed at this. Atlas's biggest political crisis in recent memory and it all happened thanks to the short-sightedness and avarice of Jacques Schnee.

If anything, Salem didn't have to do anything to destroy humanity. All she had to do was sit back and let mankind do it themselves.

With that out of the way, Ironwood could at least focus on this task at hand. No immortal evil witch Queen frustrating the current effort made it palatable.

"We have advantages, however," Ironwood spoke up. He clicked on a button and a tactical map of the mine appeared.

"Courrières is located in a mountain valley. That valley has one way in and out coming via a chokepoint. My marines and Specialists, your Silver Shields, and supporting Huntsmen have established a defensive line at that chokepoint. My destroyers and the cruiser I am on are providing much of the heavy fire-power to support but we cannot take on a whole Grimm horde and a snow-storm at the same time," Ironwood informed them. 

​He then continued. "I urge that work continue as fast as possible. The defensive line will hold for as long as we can but if it comes to critical mass, we must evacuate or this will be a much bigger disaster than it is." 

"Time to haul ass, then," Alexander sighed. "I'll inform my people. You inform yours."

He nodded.

Winter spoke up. "Buy us as much time, General. We will be fast. For Atlas." 

"For Atlas," Ironwood muttered before cutting off the link. He then glanced up, turning to his Communications Officer. 

"Sir?"

"Broadcast a fleet wide transmission as well as to our men on the ground," he said. The officer nodded and pressed a button.

"You're live, sir," he said. 

He took a breath. Then, he spoke.

+++

"Here you go, soldier," a gruff voice said.

Clover Ebi glanced up. Above, the Silver Shield soldier was a literal walking anachronism. His uniform was the Wayland Blue Tunic, pants, and knee-high boots with a capped hat on his face. The only sign that he was a Silver Shield was the patch on his chest. In his hand, a steaming mug of coffee.

"Specialist, actually," Clover replied, taking the mug off the Silver Shield's hand. 

"We're all soldiers here," the Silver Shield replied, eyes glistening with amusement as he went and sat next to Clover. 

"Not u-us," came a shivering voice. Clover and the Silver Shield man glanced over their shoulders to the corner of their dugout. Four students from Beacon were trying their best to warm themselves by a fire. Clover recalled them as passionate and full of fire when they arrived with their Huntsman minder but that man, Qrow, had been pressed into a skirmishing troop that dealt with some Grimm way ahead. Despite the military nature of everything, General Ironwood had taken into account that there were civilians and students from the academies with them and thus, the bulk of the newbies and militia were all placed directly on the entrenchments to keep watch. The actual experienced men and women sallied out in groups to deal with any Grimm.

In the beginning, it was far easier to deal with but strangely, more and more Grimm were wandering into their lines. 

"We are all soldiers today," the Silver Shield snorted as he laid his weapon on the window facing outwards on the snowy paths ahead. 

Clover had to admit that those things may look rugged but handy particularly the Buzzsaws and Deuces. It was a surprise to learn that the bullets had no dust and relied mostly on kinetic force. Grimm were mighty particularly the large ones but even they fell to machine guns that shot bullets as fast as it took them. 

So much so that the students were complaining about the lack of Grimm for them to kill. 

Clover knew that it was mostly the advance teams doing the killing and what they shot at were only stragglers. He didn't tell them that however. They might demand to be set out to sally. 

"It's too damn cold," one of the Valeans muttered.

"Welcome to my world," Clover chuckled, Kingfisher in hand. He thought about his fellow Ace Ops members each one separate from him and with their own troupe of students to baby-sit. While their strength was with each other, Ironwood didn't want a scandal where a student actually died. Hence, they were saddled with Ace Op member as well as a few Silver Shields. 

"Your world is terrible," the same Valean replied, sneezing. 

"It has its moments," he snorted. The Silver Shield member with them laughed.

"You're going to have to get used to it, boy. Soldier or Huntsman have to deal with the fact that the weather ain't your friend. You are lucky that you have dust and all these modern stuff," he shook his head. "Back in my day, we had spears and shields. That was it."

"How are you still alive?" Clover asked. The Silver Shield laughed.

"Death can claim me when it earns my hide," He boasted as he pat his Buzzsaw weapon. "I don't think death will come close not while I still have this."

​Before Clover could reply, his comms shook. His eyes widened then narrowed as he clicked it.

"Marines, Sailors, Huntsmen, Volunteers, and Specialists of this Expeditionary Force," Ironwood's voice came through. 

​"General Ironwood's speaking!" he said, turning to the Silver Shield and the Valeans. "Put up your comms!" 

"By now, you have all heard of the 33 miners who are still alive down in the depths. It is my pleasure to inform you that a plan has been hatched by the Black teams to get them out and bring them home. Currently, Alexander Wayland has begun forging a capsule which will be inserted down the earth for the miners to get in and that will bring them up." 

Smiles all broke around the dugout. Looks like this wasn't a wasted effort after all.

​"However, the plan will take hours or possibly days. Normally, this wouldn't be an issue but I am informed by our weather stations that a snow-storm is due to hit this area of Solitas. Not only that, the snow-storm will be pushing a grimm horde into this valley." 

At that, confusion and fear spread among the students who were already whispering to themselves about the Grimm. The Silver Shield and Clover did not react to this other than stoic acceptance. 

"The many labours of these past days have borne fruit with the discovery of the miners. The blood, sweat, and tears of everyone in this chapter has been rewarded. And with the eyes of the world upon us, we will defend that which we have striven for." 

The Silver Shield stood a little bit straighter, a fact that the students did not miss. And perhaps with that sign of courage of a soldier, it made them sit a little straighter as well as the General continued to speak. 

"You are not alone in this cold. Men and women from each of the Kingdoms have all gathered here in this one miraculous moment to bring those miners home. And we will bring them home. The Grimm will try to stop us, fleeing from the winter storm as they are. We will not let them. So much of us, human and faunus, have had our homes, lives, and futures been taken by them. We will not let them. They will come with the full fury of desperation and hate as what they are made of. That will not happen. We can and we will repulse them. You have with you the support of the Atlesian Navy, mighty and with cannons that will ruin their advance. The technology of Atlas, the arms of Royal and Imperial, the talents of the Silver Shields, and the courage in all of our hearts." 

Clover felt his throat dry, listening to the General's words. He had never heard General Ironwood speak so fluently before, and with so much emotion. Now, it felt, they were speaking not to a General but to a man who has had enough of his world taken away by the darkness. They were no longer scared medieval men with boards and swords. They were now in the modern era with the very best technology one could ever hope for. And they were all because they had talent. And that talent, they were going to use to their fullest ability. 

"We fight now not as different kingdoms or even as a human or faunus, but as brothers and sisters in arms striving to bring our fellow men and women home. The rescue team asks for time and that, we will give. We will give it for as long as they need and for as long as we can offer it." 

​Clover stood up, Kingfisher seemed to sing to him, to let it be used to defend the mine. The Silver Shield glanced at his Buzzsaw, the bullet in their links seemed to glow under the light. The students all glanced at their weapons, each one brimming with life.

"In my capacity as a General of Atlas, I ask this of you listening to me now: Do not count seconds. Do not count the days. Count only the the number of Grimm you have killed. Kill the Grimm, that is your mother's prayer. Kill the Grimm, that is the cry of all your ancestors. Do not waver, do not let up."

Clover felt the blood inside of him boil as the General spoke his last word.

"Kill"

The comms went silent. But noise did not end for a cry left the trenches and the dugouts. A cry that the world would hear. Some cried aloud for Atlas, others for their families, some merely let out a roar of defiance. For in the distance, doom and death marched closer and closer, screeching out their odious cry. 

And Remnant, now, roared back. 

+++

Howls were in the wind. Roars and other mimicry as well for the creatures of darkness struggled. In one moment, they were swept up in a wave of utter misery and anger that fuelled them down to their very core. But mighty as they were down to their very molecule, nature was mightier, stronger.

Wilder.

The wind, it forced the aerial grimm to fly a little bit lower. The ones in the ground, they didn't have it any easier either. As if sensing the very evil it they were made of, the cold bit and bit hard. The few Grimm who weren't moving froze in place, thrashing violently as nature attacked.

One Beowolf howled, urging its pack to move forward. It and so many other Grimm were part of the bigger horde. After much wandering, it finally found a path out. But just as it took its first steps, it suddenly was engulfed in a explosion of pure light. It wasn't just one however. Every step that the Grimm took, an explosion would follow. Fire as hot as the sun burnt those close to it, cracking of electricity coursed through the howling wind and rain. And so much more.

The Grimm made their cries, howling and shrieking at the sudden attack. But if they thought it was the last of it, they were wrong.

The skies opened as sleek airships as white as snow flew over the moutain tops. They veered downwards and the guns of the Atlesian destroyers opened up. The Wings of Atlas and the Spirit of Life were fast as thrown knives, their armaments singing a constant staccato song. The snow-capped earth unravelled as Dust artillery shells struck down the valley. They flew over the assembled group of Grimm, vanishing as quickly as they appeared.

Qrow glanced up from his parapet, watching the assembled Grimm cry out in frustration. Then, the shadow fuckers turned towards where he was and the collective group rushed forward.

He spat curses.

Of course just as he looked out, he was the one spotted.

He however was not alone.

The kid next to him looked ready to pull the trigger of his Atlesian Las-rifle but the SIlver Shield merc next to him tutted the boy. "Wait until they're in the perimeter, you fucking amateur!"

With a voice that sounded like he smoked fifty a day coupled with the intense look in his eyes, Qrow did not blame the young Atlesian marine for folding and take a breath. But before he could think about anything else, the ground began to shake.

His blood sang with fire and fury, his instinct telling him to go up top and deal with the Grimm fair and square but he couldn't. Ozpin had asked him to momentarily subordinate himself to Ironwood until the entire operation concluded. With so much media coverage, there were actual reporters wearing Atlesian vests and helmets watching everything unfold, Qrow understood it wasn't the time to be his usual self. Plus, Ozpin would actually frown at him.

When this all happened, Qrow was murderously sure that Salem had done her work in pulling all this chaos and even Ozpin himself was convinced. A little digging into the matter was both relieving and disappointing. All this chaos, all this blood and sweat...was all because of the SDC's greed.

He frowned. Of course, greed kills. Who knew? Morality and ethics aside, now wasn't the time.

Now, it was time to beat the shit out of the Grimm before their grubby paws touched the soil of the mine.

The wind suddenly picked up as Bullhead and Manta craft pushed forward. As soon as they were in range, they unleashed what they had on the Grimm. Missiles aplenty flew from the Mantas and crashed down onto the snow without consideration of finesse. There was simply no need to, not when the Grimm were so tightly packed. The Bullheads joined in as well, their miniguns kicking up Grimm parts and snow with each shot.

But despite the onslaught of fire, the Grimm kept moving. Qrow knew that it wasn't because of the impressive display of firepower from the Atlesian Navy. No, he could feel it deep in his bones. Far far up ahead, the storm that Ironwood had spoken about was coming. And the Grimm were running from it, right into the loving arms of their guns.

"OPEN FIRE!" someone yelled aloud. Qrow did not know who but someone said it. And the adrenaline filled soldiers, mercs, milita volunteers, and huntsmen obliged.

The dustless Buzzsaw and Deuce guns went first, the saw like the horns of hell spitting out lead with every second and the Deuce guns like mini-hammers. Under the firepower of the death machines, Grimm were literally torn apart by the sheer firepower. At his side, an Atlesian private watched in awe as the SIlver Shield was like a well-oiled machine. Soon, his spot was filling with bullet shells, the mound growing with every second. He stopped only when there was no more bullets to fire or if the barrel of his machine gun became too hot to fire.

Qrow was pretty sure Ruby would be over the moon watching the firepower all unfold. She was just that into weapons.

Then, the Grimm became close enough for the small-arms. A fact that the Atlesian marines and milita volunteers appreciated as their weapons went up. The marines loosed lances of light against the enemy, punching coin sized holes in the Grimm. Their militia allies, they shot lead. Not as fancy as the flashlights of Atlas but it hit just as good.

His heart pumped as the Grimm moved ever closer. They were torn, eviscerated, killed in ways that he was pretty sure no one would survive from not even a Huntsman. The sheer volley of fire would simply overload any Huntsman, let alone Grimm. But still, they kept on coming. He stood up, Harbinger in sword form in hand, as the Grimm came close.

Sure, the guns and the cannons and everything killed the Grimm up close. But it was time for him to show the others why Huntsmen like him relied on good ol fashioned killing.

His eyes narrowed at one Beowolf hauling ass and ready to leap into the trench near him. He hated this static defense and the Grimm charging looked just about ready to go be his stress relief. He licked his lips, Harbinger raised, but before he could tap it, his right ear could only protest in horror as someone marched up with a Deuce machine gun and opened fire.

Qrow's eyes widened in disbelief as he turned to who had fired it. It was a woman, Cheng something, the Silver Shield boss, grinning like a maniac.

"Hey!" he squawked. "That was mine!"

"All is fair in love and war, kinsman!" she cheered, hefting her gun back up. "Don't get too attached! More is coming! Kill them all, Silver Shields! Alalala! Victory to Mistral!"

"ALALALA! VICTORY TO MISTRAL!"

And so, the trenches stood firm against the coming storm, figuratively and literally, as the clouds seemed to darken with each passing second. The Grimm poured forth, smelling the sheer hatred and anger and bloodlust the entire force was radiating. After a lifetime of fear, of being scared in the shadow of the night, the ones who shot against howling snow and wind let out their frustration in being caged, their hatred for being here, their anger at the Grimm which stole the planet.

The Grimm showed no mercy.

Each man and women would show none.

+++

The bridge was abuzz with activity as comms officers spoke into their ear pieces, touching and tapping against their holographic screens.

"Providence, this is Sector 4=3, requesting splash at Grid 45323, fire for effect!"

The comms officer glanced at his screen, tapping on the specified spot. "Copy that. Lower battery, Grid 45323, splash at target location, over."

The ship shook, not from Grimm attack, but as its guns let hell loose.

Ironwood watched the battlefield from the tactical map of the Providence. The Grimm had already breached the outer perimeter, stepping on mines that were planted much earlier. But the mines were long gone now, the Grimm breaching into the second perimter. His destroyers and their bullhead complements were giving everything they had but it was not enough. That left the third and final line, the entrenchments where most of the infantry was hunkered at. Both the destroyers and the cruiser has on did have a troop of Atlesian Knights to deploy but Ironwood kept them in as emergency reinforcements should any of the dugouts lose too much men. Plus, he was planning to sacrifice the robot troops when they had to retreat. Someone had to cover their rear and he wasn't going to let any one be a hero and sacrifice themselves.

Besides, the situation was dangerous but not desperate. They were holding their own well, whatever breaches and gaps taken care of by his specialists or the huntsmen volunteers. The bridge shook as more loud thuds echoed throughout the ship.

He grimaced.

He was already seeing deficiencies in his forces. There was a notable lack of heavy and light support. If he had more access to artillery and other saturation weapons, it would do wonders in thinning the enemy number. Brother-gods, he really really needed more artillery. Support aircraft as well. The bullhead and manta were inefficient as evident from their strafing runs. A heavy-duty support craft would be a gods-send if naval support was unavailable. Again, if there wasn't anymore things to dislike about Jacques Schnee, there was this one. The Atlesian Military had been twisted from capable of fighting other Kingdoms or Grimm to that of a mere support force that secured his interests.

As far as he was concerned, there was going to be spring cleaning when this was over and done with, the Atlesian military had a long grocery list forming up and if Atlas was going to win the struggle against Salem, the Kingdom would need so much more than what it had now.

He glanced at the other side of the map to where the mine was where a particular eagle was working round the clock. Royal and Imperial may have been laughed at when they pushed forward their Frontier series of weapons but now, those weapons were proving their worth in lien.

If they could make such reliable weapons while on a shoestring budget, Ironwood could only wonder what sort of things they could make with a bigger one.

But that was something for the future.

Now, they had an enemy to fight off.

+++

A/N: Updoot, mfers. 

Will add more. Stay tuned.

Edit 1: Battle scene added. Might add more.