Save the world? Fuck that, I want to make money! (RWBY SI) ch 18 (Patreon)

Qrow had to admit, he had fought in high-intensity battles before. Some against fellow humans, others against Grimm. But fighting a battle alongside crazy Frontier boonies, Atlesian marines, the remnants of Mistral's old army in the middle of the freezing cold while they were trying to get faunus miners out of the dirt was something so ridiculous, only a movie studio could of think that.

But life had a funny way of imitating art.

Harbinger had seen use in their sector at least. In all of the lines, some had accounted themselves rather well, others needed Huntsmen to plug the line. Theirs, the crazy bastards managed to hold out on their own. Now, they were resting on their asses, trying their best to shield themselves from the cold. Qrow himself had wrapped his body in far too much fur to be comfortable but it was either that of freezing. The Atlesians had the decency to put up handy lamps that warmed the body via generous pouring of fire dust but even it struggled against the storm.

By his reckoning, they were experiencing the tip of it. The eye of the storm was still a distance away. It still didn't stop the bird part of him from screaming to run away. Glancing up at the sky, no animal would be found in a place like this. Only humans and faunus were insane enough to stay in the cold. And the grimm.

He shook his head. Time to check on the kids Ozpin had saddled him with. He left his dugout and marched up the line. As much as he thought that it was over, the fighting began to pick up again as the ground rumbled and the big cruiser in the sky unloaded its cannons into the distance. Peeking over the parapets, the shells were blowing Grimm sky high. Whistles and cheers went up as the Grimm died under heavy artillery fire. Qrow wasn't a military man by any means, big strategy was more of Ironwood's thing. But even he recognized that having a little bit more cannons wouldn't be a bad idea. Or maybe lots of missiles.

That would be cool.

He marched off, finding the dugout that the little shits took cover in. He didn't bother to learn any of their names as he had fully expected to leave the kids in a safe place and do everything himself. He reasoned that with this being such a dangerous assignment, they would be better off serving soup at camp or something. But no, Ironwood did not want any deep sallies further ahead, merely within a established perimeter. Qrow felt a little miffed at that alongside the other established Huntsmen as their skills were better use in the field instead of being in a line. But then, they saw how fucking cold it was and how deep the snow had been in some places. Invincible as they were, they still were bags of meat that felt cold and sank in the snow.

​He ducked, walking under the dugout that the Atlesians had erected. As he had expected, the little shits were huddled in the corner like baby owls during a storm trying to keep warm around the lamps their hosts had generously set-up. In one corner, a Silver Shield sat with his back against the wall, nursing a wound to his shoulder while an Atlesian Specialist tended to him. Or judging from the argument from them, the Atlesian was fussing over him.

"Don't move too much, old timer. That nevermore feather got you good," the man insisted. The Silver Shield scoffed.

"I have had wounds worse than this," he snorted. "Open my back! I got scars all the way back to the Great War, puppy. Mine were gained from marching with heroes and Emperors, you got yours from training!"

​Qrow pitied the Specialist whose lips tightened at that.

"As you say, old timer. Now stop moving please, and let me put gauze on you," he said, shaking his head as he took out a little bottle with a spray. He leaned in, letting foam wash over his shoulder wound. Despite his bravado, the SIlver Shield hissed. Shaking his head, he turned to the students who were watching him with heavy sleepy eyes.

"How's Ozpin's star team doing?" Qrow asked.

"Cold, Mister Branwen," their team leader whined.

"It's the life," Qrow replied. Huntsmen always went out on missions and they never had a choice of enviroment. Rain or shine, day or night, they did what needed to be done.

"It could be a little less cold," replied the student. Qrow inwardly groaned. He really should have learnt their name. His brains did let him remember their team name. Something wtih a K. Or was it a C?

From where he sat, their lone Silver Shield scoffed. "Back in my day, we only had a blanket to keep ourselves cold. Sometimes, we had to share the blanket!"

"I'm sure that did wonders for the health of the unit," the Specialist muttered, packing up the gauze. He turned back to the merc.

"Just let the gauze do its work and your shoulder will be back to normal," he continued.

"Can I still fight?" the man asked the important question.

"Well, you're stationary and not swinging a weapon around so you can still fight," he replied.

"Good!" the Silver Shield preened before returning back to his weapon and pulled the trigger. The others watched in bemusement as the Silver Shield went into his robotic like motions of shooting and killing.

​The man and his fellow mercs were crazy to fight without aura but then again, these were men of a by gone age moved by tradition and allegiance. They thought differently compared to Qrow and the others.

"How long do we have to stay here?" one of the students asked.

"As long as it takes," the Specialist said with finality.

"Even with that big storm coming to us?"

​Clover Ebi did not know how to reply.

+++

"There are survivors, Jacques."

The meeting room was cold, squalid, and devoid of emotion. The only emotion present were the celebrations happening outside their window. The faunus were the worst of it, cheering and hooting like their species won a collective medal. Jacques Schnee stood before the window, hands folded behind his back as he glanced down at the crowds.

"They will surely testify against you. Against us," a board member muttered.

"They will not if they know what is good for them," Jacques said as he turned back. His face betrayed no emotion other than utter confidence. Even despite the setbacks, Jacques did know he could go and move his way out.

"Here's how it shall be," he spoke up. "The miners will be asked to testify before the Council. They will say that the mines were in that terrible condition because the foreman neglected to improve conditions."

He raised a finger up before the board could speak. "I am not finished. We do not even have to doctor evidence. Each safety report that was sent from the mine, it was always the same one."

"But what if the miners themselves all talk about their experiences there? Surely, they will tell the truth, as they have, before the council!"

"Then, we tell them this. We offer them a early retirment package. Generous and likely able to support them for the rest of their natural lives. In exchange, they do not testisfy against us." And Jacques genuinely doubted that package would last long. The faunus would have likely breathed in the dust from the tunnels and have breathing problems. There was an option to have them killed but even he knew that was out of the question.

"People would accuse us of threatening the faunus!"

"We aren't putting a gun over their heads," he snapped. He paused, continung in a calm tone. "We are merely telling them that of course, they can go and testify against us. However, they will do so without restitution."

The board glanced at each other. Jacques stepped forward, leaning on his table.

"Nothing will happen to us, I assure you. I have prepared for this exact contingency. Our lawyers are prepared to put out fires and I myself will personally douse the flames."

And with their concerns, the meeting was adjourned leaving Jacques to ponder on their current situation. Utterly sure that he was alone, he allowed himself to sigh, the only sign of weakness he would let slip from him.

This issue was proving troublesome. He was well aware that he had some responsibility in this disaster, he wasn't that deluded to say otherwise. But to fully blame him was ridiculous. That mine was already a hazard even before he bought it. Well, it was fortunate that the previous owners were still alive and in his board. All he had to do was make them take the blame for it, selling a faulty mine and decieving the SDC of all culpability. And if people were going to accuse him of neglecting it, there was always that dead foreman to blame.

The SDC under his leadership had gone through crisies before, The SDC would survive this crisis now, provided everyone did their part.

Now, to get the council aboard.

+++

"You want to what?" Ironwood leaned in, disbelief in his voice.

General Conrad's face on the other-side of the screen was pained but firm. 

"The snow-storm is coming to your area, Ironwood. I am ordering you to take our forces there and leave," General Conrad affirmed. "If the storm arrives, your ships will be facing the very worst conditions and while I do not doubt the capability of our builders, a storm is still a storm. Pull our people out and go."

​It took all of Ironwood's patience and power to not just snap at his superior officer. To simply pull out now and not even with a sin-His mind halted as a sick sort of realization came to mind.

"General, you understand that we have not saved even a single miner down there," Ironwood said carefully. 

"I am aware, General," General Conrad snapped. He took a breath. "But if you stay, we will lose two destroyers, a cruiser, and the men and women of that group. Not to mention civilians from foreign Kingdoms. Already, I have the parents dialling to our diplomatic office regarding how long their children have to stay here." 

Ironwood thought about this order. "May I confirm, sir, that this is a direct order from you?"

"It is, General," Conrad nodded, surprised and pleased at Ironwood's sudden turn of obeisance. 

"Understand that it will take time for us to pack up," Ironwood pointed out. 

"Just get out of there," Conrad said with finality before cutting off the connection.

Ironwood glanced at the empty screen before nodding to his Communications Officer to turn it off. Quietly, the man did so. As soon as he was done, he glanced up at him, eyes alit with betrayal. 

"Are we...pulling out?" he asked carefully. The bridge crew was also looking at him too. 

"Pull out? Absolutely not," Ironwood assured their concerns immediately. He never had any intention to. 

"But General Conrad made it an order to pullout, sir. Are we going to disobey his orders?" another officer asked. To that, Ironwood shook his head.

"I never said we were disobeying him, Lieutenant," Ironwood assured him again. He walked forward, turning to the Navigation Officer.

"How far away is the storm?" He asked. The man turned back to the navigational map. Taking a ruler, he placed it against the screen.

"By tomorrow, sir."

​Ironwood grimaced. 

"Here's what we shall do. Put it in writing that I gave the order to evacuate. However, due to disturbances and delays thanks to the incoming storm, carrying it out took time." he ordered. His eyes narrowed with determination.

"We aren't leaving until we have those miners out. We promised the world that they are going home. And they will."

If his hunch was true then General Conrad was likely pushed by Jacques Schnee to order a withdrawal. That way, the mine would be buried by snow. Everyone had done their utmost to get them out but nature had its plans. If Jacques thought he could let the weather bury his responsibility, he was dead wrong. 

"Comms Off, do we have a record of General Conrad ordering us to pullout?" Ironwood asked.

"Aye, sir. What for?" The Communications Officer asked.

Ironwood smiled, shark-like. "For insurance, Comms Off."

​The Comms Officer then turned to his console, alerted by something. He clicked in and for a few seconds, was quiet. His eyes widened.

+++

"Councillor Geyer, a word?"

Florianne glanced towards the door to her office where Yeaman stood, a bunch of papers on hand. She lowered her scroll where she was watching reports of the 33 miracle, as it was now called, unfold.

"I have here some papers with me, I was wondering if you'd take a look at them," he said, tone business-like.

Florianne's eyes narrowed at his tone but then, she glanced over his shoulder where a shadow loomed. Immediately, she understood why he was speaking as he did. She replied in kind. "Of course, Councillor!"

And with that, Yeaman entered and had the door closed behind him. He walked up and sat across her. Before Florianne could speak, Yeaman leaned in, eyes determined. and whispered. "I am of the mind, Councillor, that the SDC ought to be punished."

Florianne's couldn't help but smile. "Good thing you have seen sense, Councillor. I-"

"No nationalization," Yeaman interrupted, wiping the smile off Florianne's face.

"You know that the SDC is malicious. Why not nationalize them?" Florianne's eyes narrowed.

"That would add too much strain on the government, Councillor Geyer," Yeaman explained, his tone soft but firm. "I am...disgusted by the SDC and Jacques Schnee but to nationalize them? That will scare the other corporations and bring instability to another situation. The best punishment for the SDC is breaking up its monopoly. We bust the trust, as you will."

Florianne thought about it. If she pushed on nationalization, Yeaman wasn't going to give his vote. Sure, she could go and argue for its case but Yeaman was already risking much in thinking about this, judging by the skulking shadows following him.

"Understand, councillor, that my family relies heavily on the SDC for its support. I...I am risking my own position and life for this. My family will likely cut its ties to me to protect themselves from the wrath of the SDC. This is the price for my support. That and imprisonment for Jacques Schnee, should enough evidence is gathered. No nationalization." Yeaman said with finality.

Well...at least Yeaman found his spine at least. "Very well, councillor. No nationalization."

Florianne couldn't help but feel upset on this. Jacques Schnee had ruined Atlas with his influence and money. He needed to get his shit kicked in. But Florianne was not going to be stubborn, not while they needed Yeaman's vote. 

Suddenly, her scroll rang. Raising an eyebrow, Florianne took it and gave it a quick scan. Whatever feelings of negativity she had felt was dashed as she then placed her scroll back down.

"I think we need to watch the news," she gleamed.

+++

​Ilia Amitola tossed and turned on her bed. No matter what she tried to do, sleep just wouldn't come to her. Her reasons were fully understandable. Her own damn parents were trapped underground and she...she couldn't do anything about it. There were people who had offered her sympathy and good words. That was kind and good of them. But there were others too that were just heartless. 

Like her friends, for example.

Of course, she gave those bitches a piece of her mind via her fist to their nose. All she did was defend herself and her parents but her school had blamed her for standing up for herself.

That was ridiculous! They started it by being pricks and when she stood up for good reasons, she was the bad one?

​She wasn't alone in her feelings however. Her fellow faunus had seen what happened and offered her sympathy, inviting her to a meeting with people who understood exactly how she felt. Illia had no illusions that it was the White Fang. While a tempting offer...her parents were still alive and were being rescued.

Her parents had worked hard to make sure she would want for nothing and to make sure she wouldn't risk herself by joining the White Fang. While her heart yearned for justice, she couldn't just spit on her parent's sacrifice while they were still alive. 

She sighed, sitting up on her bed. It had been days now and rumors were starting to spread about the rescue team pulling out due to the northern storms. She grit her teeth, her cheeks turning red with anger. They surely wouldn't leave her parents down there after working for so long, right? 

​Illia needed a drink. She stood up, intent on making her way to the fridge and make some tea. That surely would help calm her nerves. As she did so, she passed by the living room where the television sat. She paused, wondering if there was anything new from the mine. And so, she walked forward, picked up the remote and turned it on.

She sighed as there was nothing on the channels. Yes, there was coverage about the rescue coming in from the mining site itself but there was a blackout from there. Apparently, connection was starting to get spotty from the storm's interference. Just as she was about to leave and turn it off, the program on stopped as the symbol of Atlas came on full display. Blinking, Illia set the remote aside as the news man, Towne Cryer, came on.

His face was stern, stoic, as all Atlesians presented themselves. But his eyes...they were red with emotion.

"After hours of disconnect, we finally have video coverage from the mine. Live from north of Solitas, we are showing you live footage," he said before the screen turned.

Illia's breath stopped as the screen showed of men and women surrounding a pipe, the snow and wind battering them but still, they trudged on. In the distance, cannon-fire and guns screamed. Illia did not pay attention to any of it, her eyes glued to the screen.

[SPOILER="LIVE FROM THE NORTH"]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GR8mTntp5Jw&t=61s[/SPOILER]

Time slowed for Illia as the capsule door opened...and after days of darkness, little food and water, Illia saw her father step out. Emaciated, near skin and bones.....but alive.

ALIVE!

Her father was alive!

"This is just the first of the thirty-three, ladies and gentlemen. They're coming home, fellow citizens of Atlas. All of them." commented Cryer. 

The scream of sheer and utter joy that left her lips could have been heard the world over. Her lungs sang with the truth and victory. She swore on that night, she would give her parents a crushing hug until they got sick of it. And to thank every single person that made this possible. Outside, explosions began to echo. But it was not bombs or missiles...but fireworks. Illia ran to look outside her window. Despite the strong wind, the heavy snow, and the dark of night...the entirety of Atlas was alit with life.

Neighbors poured out from their homes, still clad in their pajamas. Many were faunus, to be expected, but there were humans too. Tonight, there was no faunus, no human.

Only brothers and sisters, united.

+++

A/N: And so, this arc is finished. 

Next arc?

The snowflake falls. 

An eagle rises. 

Thank you all for tuning in to this fic.

 If you think the epic times are over, there is more to come c: