The Games We Play

DISCLAIMER: This story is NOT MINE IN ANY WAY. That honor has gone to the beautiful bastard Ryugii. This has been pulled from his Spacebattle publishment. Anyway on with the show...errr read.

First Interlude - James Ironwood

"What weapon was that?" He demanded at once, eyes focused on the feed they'd brought up. One of his assistants flicked quickly through a scroll, but he'd already crosschecked it himself as the White Whale flew on.

"It's not one of ours, sir," Pike said hesitantly. "Perhaps they modified the weapons?"

Ironwood didn't even bother pointing out the flaws with that statement—that they wouldn't, or at least shouldn't, have had the time to do such a thing, much less unnoticed—and simply focused on his flying target. One of his more experienced aids brought up a copy of the unknown weapon being fired without needing to be prompted and he shifted his gaze to scan over it.

It was a normal round—well, 'normal' may have been a more accurate description, given the enormous weapons the White Whale used. However, it was standard fair for the ship itself, but for the whirlwind that seemed to follow in its wake and cloak it. A gesture turned to another image, of the rounds effects on the pursuing craft; a hull damaged by mere proximity, yet not enough to explain its sudden fall. It was almost like…

"What do you think?" Ozpin asked, returning. He'd broken away to direct evacuation and security, as well as to make sure the two VIPs were seen to safety. Coming back however, Ironwood couldn't help but find his demeanor…grating. He didn't expect the man to be shaken, really, for rare few the times when he'd seen the Head of Beacon less than unflappable. Indeed, he and countless others had drawn strength from that, over the years. However strange things got, however dire, Ozpin would all ways be the center that held.

And yet, sometimes he wished the man would react, at least a little. With an investment of countless lien stolen, with one of the heads of the White Fang humiliating them with his escape, with one of his friend's children having just been held hostage, even still did Ozpin stand, casually drinking his coffee.

With the amount of caffeine the man drank, you'd think he'd be a tad more excitable.

Still, situational irritation aside, he trusted and respected the man, so he answered the question even if it gave him the bizarre feeling of a child being called upon in class.

"It's a Monachus round," He said. "Somehow bolstered with a wind-based enhancement. When it hit the FM, the damage had nothing to do with its sudden descent—it'd hard to tell with just a glance, but I believe it must have altered the wind speeds above and below the craft's wings, directly interfering with its ability to fly. Generally, I'd assume it was making use of some kind of Green Dust, but…"

"They shouldn't have had access to the ship long enough to make any major adjustments," Ozpin stated the obvious, peering at the screen. "And yet the ship itself seems rather more…agile than I anticipated."

Ironwood grimaced, unable to argue the point. The AS-WW was the first of its class, a cutting edge ship meant to introduce a whole new world of aerial travel. Despite its tremendous size, it was capable of speeds matching Vacuo's FCs, could carry hundreds of passengers from Vale to Mistral in less than a day, and was armed enough that it should have been the safest way to travel between the kingdoms.

But there were things it wasn't equipped for, things that should have been impossible for it from a pure mechanical standpoint, and yet also things that it was doing regardless. Before his very eyes, it was far surpassing even the top speeds it had achieved testing and when the pursuing ships managed to approach close enough despite that, they were attacked with weaponry the ship shouldn't have had. More alarming than that, however, was the maneuverability of the ship itself. Revolutionary technology or not, the White Whale was a gigantic monstrosity ill-equipped for the stunts it was now performing.

As one of the men who'd had a direct hand in its development, if you'd told him yesterday that the AS-WW could perform a Bell Tailslide at high-speed to cause it's pursuers to overshoot, he'd have said it was impossible. And then maybe shown them the math for why it was literally, physically impossible.

But he also couldn't argue with what he saw—and he'd seen it. Followed by another loop and a wingover. And too many other things that should have torn the ship apart. It left him uncertain whether the Hunter-bearing ships following it were honestly unable to approach or if they were just wondering what they were looking at. It was hard to imagine something with the size and shape of the White Whale to be so…graceful, yet here it saw, flying through the sky as easily as a Leviathan claimed the seas.

And it worried him. As a general and a huntsman, he knew the worth of knowledge, which is why he'd participated in the wonder's construction, had seen it pushed to its limits. He'd wanted the machine to be as good as they could possibly make it—and it had been. To push the machine passed that until it could do this…

He didn't even know how it could be done. Literally didn't know. They, the best minds in Atlas and from around the world, hadn't found a way, had thought it impossible with the technology currently at their disposal, but it was obvious someone had disagreed. And yet, to do this…

Bare minimum, it would have taken massive adjustment to the engines, jet, and converter. Extensive internal adjustment to the ship's structure to withstand the strain on such a scale, perhaps additional Dust converters situated throughout the design to aid in maintaining the ship. It's most likely need a better computer to assist with the calculations that would no doubt be required, too, and much of the storage space might need to be requisitioned or removed entirely and—

It was all guesswork, theoretical. He couldn't say anything for sure what would be needed because he couldn't be sure what would be needed—no one could. They couldn't build anything like that yet.

But obviously someone could. Someone had. Worse, they'd done it without them knowing, to a ship they owned, in a timeframe they could only speculate on. It should have been impossible. He wanted to say it was impossible, but the evidence was all but laughing in his face.

How big of an operation was this, if this was the result? How could such a thing happen without them knowing? He'd checked the ship himself just this morning, making sure everything was in order and everything had been normal. How…?

It didn't matter. In the end, no matter how much it bothered him, it didn't matter. He knew that sometimes he got hung up on the technology side of things, on the desire to learn, know, improve, but there was a time and place. Here, now, his concern wasn't how the ship was flying, but to make it stop. He could look through the wreckage later, if so needed.

"Do we have anything like a positive ID on that man yet?" He asked his more experienced assistant.

Pine shifted the scroll in his hands and shook his head.

"Nothing yet, sir," He said. "He must have been laying low until now; we've never seen him before. Or if we have, we can't tell through his disguise."

He hated unknowns. Hated them. But that also wasn't his concern right now; if he could be captured alive, they'd figure things out. If that wasn't possible…well, he'd live without knowing, he supposed. In this case, all he needed to know was that there was a powerful member of the White Fang involved with what must have been a major operation. Unknown powers, unknown goals, unknown man—it didn't matter, because what they did know was that he had to be stopped.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Ozpin murmured as he raised his cup to his lips once more. At his sharp glance, the Headmaster of Beacon gestured vaguely at a screen with his cane. "Who's flying the ship? And, perhaps more importantly, how?"

It was a good question, he acknowledge, and one he'd skimmed over. The trained pilots and backup pilots were all accounted for, though they'd found their pilot of choice thrown out with the trash. Whoever was now flying the ship was an unknown, someone they hadn't trained. No mean feat because the sheer size and complexity of the ship was such that they'd had to build a specialized cockpit for it. Later models were intended to have a more streamlined design, but it was difficult because of the simple amount of things the pilot needed to be able to control and the number of situations he had to be able to address—they'd barely managed to keep it flyable with one pilot and strongly recommended two. Even what controls were the same were still commanding something very new and very large.

It wasn't something just anyone could hop into and expect to fly. That hadn't really stood out to him, though—still didn't, really—because it was a minor impossibility, relatively speaking. If they could rebuild the entire White Whale, then it wasn't hard to believe they could figure out how to fly the thing. Although…

"They'd need to know a lot about the ship," He mused aloud. "Both to fly it and modify it—and to disable the security on it, of course. To do that…"

He didn't bother finishing, instead sending a message to the Schnee Company Headquarters and the Science division in Atlas, looking for any thefts, any leaks. Ozpin waited silently as he worked, watching the skies.

In the end, he snarled in annoyance.

"Nothing?" Ozpin asked, probably guessing what he'd done.

"Nothing," He confirmed, annoyed. "No reported thefts of anything related to the White Whale, here or abroad."

He wasn't surprised, honestly; if something big had happened, he'd have been informed, after all. But…

"Not knowing you've been robbed isn't the same as not having had anything stolen," Ozpin noted.

"I know, but they covered their tracks well, whatever they did," He replied. "We'll conduct a more thorough investigation later. For now, though, it's a dead end. Still…"

He frowned, watching the ship on screen again. Several ships were arranging themselves around it—or at least, trying to in-between more of those air shots. One tagged a nearby ship, causing it to fall suddenly behind, creating an opening for the White Whale. Before anyone could do anything, it rolled to the side, spiraled in the air for a moment before turning so that its belly faced the direction it had formerly been traveling. The aerial behemoth banked, flying downward as it turned hard to go a completely different direction. The whole maneuver had barely taken a breath and the mechanics of it made his head hurt.

"The Faunus boy we let go seemed to be the muscle," He said aloud. "And there was evidence he sabotaged some of our ships. Then there's that man with the Nevermore mask, who we assume is the leader. There must be a pilot and a programmer and maybe someone to steal the information about the ship, though that could have been one of the other ones. And an engineer, even if I still don't know how."

Ozpin said nothing, causing him to frown.

"Don't agree with me all at once now," He said. "Anything you'd like to add?"

"You always get wrapped up in your work, James," Ozpin said, though not really chidingly. Because it was Ozpin saying it, he wasn't sure if it was even connected to what he said next. "They're flying towards my cliff."

"…What?"

He focused on the screen again to see the White Whale flying on a collision course with the cliff Beacon was built upon. It sped towards it fearlessly, angling down sharply as it crossed over the river towards the towering cliff walls. Outside the limits of the city proper, its pursuers had already begun their attack, rounds hammering against its surface, and for an instant he wondered if they'd hit something, if the White Whale was falling—but no, the rounds didn't seem to do any meaningful damage.

The FMs in pursuit seemed as confused as he was, but continued the chase as the airship drew closer and closer to the cliff, most likely expecting a trick. But when the White Whale didn't pull up…

For a moment, he wondered if this was their goal, to cause damage to Beacon's foundations, to topple the Academy. With everything else they'd done, they couldn't assume anything. It was heavily reinforced in the case of natural or unnatural disaster, but maybe they knew something he didn't, had figured out a weakness they'd missed.

And yet, for all his concerns, Ozpin didn't so much as flinch, calmly watching the proceedings. As they drew closer, the pursuing ships ceased their fire and pulled up, evidentially realizing the White Whale wasn't going to stop. Was this an attempt to drag them down with him? Had they given up hope on escaping? Or, no, was this a—

At the very last second, the White Whale spun on its axis, momentarily exposing its belly to the sky as it pulled down so close to the cliff wall that for a moment Ironwood though they were touching. Instead, however, the ship pulled away into a wide loop facing the direction opposite the way it came and then up wide until it hung upside-down just barely above the cliff. It spun smoothly on its axis again, righting itself as it rose up behind the ships that had formerly been on its tail.

Now, however, they were in front of it, having chosen to go over the cliff instead of following to the rocks. The glow of its weapon systems was ominous, a reminder that the Hunters had become the hunted.

—A trick, he completed the though, staring at the maneuver. Even if the ship had been capable of withstanding the forces of the act itself, to fly that close to the wall…

"The students will be disappointed," Ozpin almost seemed to sigh. "Had he hit the cliff, I could have canceled tomorrow's classes."

He would have turned to stare at his friend if the White Whale had not opened fire, more of the strange rounds flashing out, even hitting ships. He saw shapes leap away, Hunters carrying pilots as the ships lost control and span down to earth. One smashed into the courtyard of the school and another into the grass, but a pair of ships smashed into one of the school buildings.

"Ah," He said, taking another sip of his drink. "Never mind, then."

Not for the first time, he wondered who had put his friend in charge of a school and what the hell they had been thinking at the time. Sure, his record of producing skilled Hunters was undeniable, but…

"How far out are reinforcements?" He demanded from his assistant instead of progressing further down that train of thought. Pine tapped quickly at his scroll, moving to a map like screen with a number of glowing dots.

"The group positioned at Forever Fall began to move in as soon as we confirmed the White Whale's trajectory," He said before hesitating for a moment. "They'll be in range shortly, but…none of them have any Hunters aboard, sir."

He knew what his assistant was saying, however much it grated—with the maneuvering capabilities the White Whale was displaying, with its unknown weaponry, and with the serious possibility that it had more tricks waiting up its sleeves, it was quite possible that aircraft alone would not be enough to take it down, even beyond the city limits. Their best chance, as before, was to get Hunters in position to infiltrate the White Whale and take it down from the inside. He could bring up the schematics, pick out all the places to target, and though he couldn't be certain of anything given the likely changes to the ship itself, he was pretty sure that he could tell them how to bring it down once they got into position.

But he didn't want to send them out there.

He didn't hate Hunters, not even remotely. Hell, he was a Hunter, had fought in countless battles to protect people and happily sacrificed parts of his own body for the sake of his duty. He respected everyone who shared that same courage, that will to put everything on the line for the sake of their people, their world. Anybody who went through the training and stood against the terrors that faced humanity was a hero.

But heroes tend to die. He'd seen it, in the War, in the line of duty—men, women, and even children at times, draw into the conflict when things got bad. He'd seen some of the greatest Hunters he'd ever known disappear without a trace, just leaving one day and never coming back. Sometimes, they'd been sent out on his order, dying to try and obey his commands. Sometimes he'd sent them out in full knowledge that they wouldn't return. He'd seen what he'd thought were the most brilliant lights in the world fade, one by one.

He'd watched as each year, the numbers of his former students dwindled. Class Reunions were rare among Hunter Academies for good reason; all they really did was show how many people had fallen. If he somehow got his own class back together, a group that would have once filled a lecture hall would now leave it all but empty.

That's the secret of being a Hunter—you swear to protect people even if it kills you and it does. That's why he'd dedicated his life to removing soldiers from the battlefield as much as possible, equipping them as best he could when that wasn't possible. Yet it seemed that no matter what he did, he always had to send people into the fight, to risk their lives.

Hunters were their best bet for taking down the White Whale, but there was no way of knowing what they'd find in there. They had no way of knowing who or what was inside that ship, but based on how the Schnee Heiress had seemingly been easily defeated and based on the skill the Faunus they'd let go had displayed…there was a chance, as ever, that whoever went in there would not come back out.

And, as ever, there was someone who had to make the decision.

"With your permission, I would like to request the aid of Beacon's faculty," He asked his friend, polite but tired. Ozpin tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"It will delay your ships somewhat," He warned.

He didn't reply, busy writing and sending off a message to the soldiers and teachers in question. They'd be ready, he knew, turning to keep watching the screen as the White Whale flew on, rising easily above the Beacon that was the academy's namesake and flying into the forests beyond. For a moment, it flew unmolested as its followers stopped briefly at Beacon, several small figures leaping up into the ships before they continued their pursuit, approaching the AS-WW at a steady pace as the minutes passed.

And then the stolen ship surprised him again by opening fire. Not with the strange wind-rounds it had used before, nor even at the ships closing it, but upon the forest below, carving paths of destruction with anti-Grimm weaponry.

Perhaps fittingly, the Grimm responded. They rose in a sudden, startled cloud, countless black shapes rising from the trees at the destruction and noise. Nevermore, Terror Birds, and other types of flying Grimm took to the skies as they were disturbed.

The White Whale simply flew right passed, moving quickly through the skies above. Some of the figures gave chase anyway, the largest and fastest species, but most turned their sights on the prey that was approaching, rather that which sought to run away, and moved as one to intercept the approaching aircraft.

The response was thankfully immediate, dust rounds firing from the ships, Hunters moving into position as best they could. Storm clouds even seemed to gather above the ships, growing as they flew into the dark mass and spitting thunder and hail upon the monsters. Black shapes fell from the sky, slain quickly by the spells and arms of Hunters. It was a testament to the power of Humanity's defenders that monsters fell by the dozens in seconds.

And it was utterly pointless. As the ships were distracted, the White Whale sailed on and by the time they dealt with the hindrance, it had gained precious ground. As they approached, the massive ship merely tore more Grim from the forest below, forcing those on its tail to waste time putting down the demons it had called up. When they got too close despite that, they drew the attention of the larger fell creatures of Grimm, such as the Giant Nevermore that had given chase. And each time, it got that much further away.

"Where is it going?" He demanded, gritting his teeth. "It must have a destination, but the way it's going—"

"It's flying over the mountains," Ozpin said easily, stating the obvious. The White Whale showed no sign of shifting its course away from the mountain peaks.

Except…

"But if it does that, it will—"

"If it does that, it will be beyond our grasp," Ozpin cut off. "Or at least beyond those chasing it. As escape routes go, its rather unorthodox, but the effectiveness in that regard would be undeniable."

The man sounded bizarrely like he was grading one of his student's tests. He could acknowledge the truth in the words, that beyond a certain point he would have to withdraw his men because it wouldn't be worth the risk, but…

"That's…that's like charging into a Deathstalker's den so the Beowolves will give up the chase," He replied. "You'd have to be desperate or insane to try that. What are they planning…?"