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So it is done: Go
🕑 Added 2022-12-25 03:18:52 +0000 UTCNight was finally falling on Atlas, ending the unnaturally long day – literally. Being in the sky, the soaring city of Atlas enjoyed extra minutes of daylight, thanks to physical laws and its position up above the surrounding hills of Atlas, which could not even be called mountains. It was literally a city elevated above the mundane…
Unlike Mantle.
Robyn practically spat at the thought, but managed to hold on at the last second before she pulled her cloak away from the window of a car.
The bulk of Atlas loomed over Mantle, a rusting colossus of human greed, hate, and indifference. Its position, a mark of pride for Atlas.
Who in Atlas even cares about life in Mantle? Who cared that the bulk of Atlas hung over the whole city, blocking out the sunlight? Do the people of Atlas even care that the people of Mantle spent even the brightest of days, in their shadows, able only to gaze at the monument to human folly hanging in the air instead of the sun?
It's the little things really, the increased percentage of mental illness, vitamin deficiencies, things that lead to discontent, things that are to be managed. Percentage and percentage and percentage, Mantle’s life reduced to numbers and graphs – who cares what the people of Mantle even want? As long as they can dig, they could all be depressed, suicidal, lemmings for all Atlas care.
If Atlas didn't care that Mantle was drowning in filth and suffocating under their heels, why should they pay attention to some little thing that wouldn't reflect more than another little notation in the margins of another report?
Well, the unpleasant truth for Atlas is that little things do tend to pile up.
It was not the lack of light or the annoying view from the window that drew the people of Mantle outside in a united movement, in a desire to remove their humiliating slave collar. But it was such trifles that continued and continued to accumulate, gradually filling the cup with resentment of the people of Mantle.
Until the cup was overflowing and anger poured out onto the streets of Mantle, and that wave swept even the 'city above earthly problems'.
Robyn didn't consider herself anything too special. No, in a sense she could be called special as much as she doesn’t feel it – here she was, in her mid-twenties, the official representative of all Mantle, the voice of the people, the most influential woman in Mantle.
But there was nothing really special about it – unique perhaps, but if it wasn’t Robyn, it would be anyone else. Mantle needed a voice, Mantle needed someone to be its leader, someone to fight for them, someone to raise Mantle’s flag and hold Atlas to account.
Robyn had become that voice, just as that voice could be any other person of Mantle who found themselves in similar circumstances, who had made moves like hers.
Joanna, perhaps? Her Deputy for the ‘army matters'? She lacked charisma, but when it came to performance, rigor and methodicality she was unrivalled. She was cold, and detached; she could be the hard voice of the army for Mantle, making Atlas reckon with Mantle – though perhaps not so suitable in high offices, then at least in the streets.
Or perhaps Fiona? She was too soft, overflowing with sympathy, but she had the popularity of the people on her side. Even in Atlas, there were those whose hearts were not completely eaten away by the worms of hatred and blindness to Mantle's suffering… however few there were, and they liked Fiona.
Fiona would have been able to reach into the hearts of many, to extend an offer of peace to the two warring nations, Mantle and Atlas… As much as Robyn would have to hold her vomit back at the thought.
Or Adam. He had the toughness, the charisma, and most importantly, the drive and incredible ambitions – he was a visionary… Of sorts.
If Adam had spoken for Mantle's, Atlas would have howled in pain. There’s hardly anyone who hates Atlas more than Adam, Robyn would be very surprised to find one.
But in their place was she – Robyn Hill, former factory worker turned resistance leader for Mantle. The leader of their common movement.
Robyn did not lead Mantle alone, of course, her movement would die in the cribs without outside support. Jonathan and Ghira both supported her to the best of their abilities – and Robyn saw both the purity of their thoughts and their aspirations. For a new and better world, for a Mantle that would stand among its equal states, denying the yoke of Atlas. And for this Robyn was grateful to her allies.
Even now, after the successful first round of negotiations, Robyn was meeting with the two of them to discuss their next steps. What to negotiate the next day, before retiring to her hotel room without worrying about a possible attempt on her life among the two other leaders.
Not that anyone would actually worry about such a thing while in behind-the-scenes negotiations, but openness was rare in the higher circles to which Robyn now belonged, if only by chance.
True, it was worth confessing honestly that as much as Robyn trusted Jonathan, and, to a lesser extent, Ghira, she didn't trust General Ironwood at all. And the fact that Robyn would otherwise have to be away from Jonathan and Ghira, deprived of the opportunity to keep a close eye on James, kept her from going back to Mantle, to negotiate instead. Here she was, trusting Atlas and staying in the hotel assigned to her.
Joanna's subordinates, of course, did a complete sweep of the hotel, inside and out, after which they simply took it over, amicably asking the hotel staff to leave. Robyn wasn't about to take any chances, even if James could see reason, not daring to deprive Mantle of the leader of the people, if not wanting to have outright open war. That however didn't mean that none of his subordinates or Atlas' ordinary men wouldn’t have decided to deal with Robyn for good if they got the chance.
They didn't care about Robyn or that she was just a random Mantle voice, that others would take her place, that killing her would not solve their problems. Atlas had never cared about Mantle, what need were they to understand the psychology of the Mantle people?
So Robyn made her way to her hotel and left her armored limousine. Robyn hadn't wanted to use one, but the situation demanded it, at least for Mantle’s people ease of mind, if nothing else. As she exited the limousine, Robyn glanced around at the sad state of Atlas, something she couldn’t have enjoyed behind her limousine’s tinted windows. Grinning inwardly, drawing a cigarette from the pack, she lit it a moment later, slamming the door shut behind her with a thump of mechanical feet.
Robyn couldn't have smoked in the hotel, at least to avoid the risk of the fire alarm going off, but she couldn't do without a cigarette for too long either. At least no one’s going to bother her about it when she’s still outside of it, right? Then again, if someone did, she wouldn’t care, she needed the smoke.
The four hours of discussion with Jonathan and Ghira had drained Robyn, leaving her exhausted, and Robyn dreaded the prospect of facing the spotlight and the cameras tomorrow.
But at least she wouldn't be shaking hands with General Ironwood, showing him the document they'd signed together! If they forced her to do it, she'd let diplomacy go to hell!
Robyn took a few steps before she took her first puff, feeling the unpleasant heavy taste filling her mouth and lungs, taking some of her worries and nervousness away with each puff. She looked at her hotel for a moment, taking it in, it was only a three stories tall building, And Robyn had to wonder if this was another of Atlas’ snub. While it was opulent enough, it was definitely not somewhere of a diplomatic delegate quality, but that was not why the building was chosen for Robyn in the first place. It was perfect for somewhere to weather a siege, not tall enough to be unstable or be a good sniping target, but tall enough to provide a good firing point if somebody decided to attack the building…
Robyn made her way to the door of the hotel before taking another puff, a little deeper than the last, feeling the heavy taste on her tongue pulling at her nerves somewhere inside her mind. She glanced at the men and women standing in the lobby, dressed in their gray military uniform of old Mantle. Robyn had not formed her own full-fledged special operations agency, but these men had been handpicked personally by Joanna to fulfil just that role. They were quite likely to be the foundation of the future Mantle intelligence agency…
When Robyn got her hands to organize them into a separate branch of the army – or state, that is.
Robyn leaned her throbbing head against the cold concrete of the Atlas building, not realizing until now how much she'd been exhausted by the negotiations with James, and then the discussions with Jonathan. Robyn took another breath before raising her hand and taking the cigarette from her lips, letting out a ring of smoke before leaning against the wall once again.
“Ma'am," One of Joanna's men’s voices caught Robyn’s attention. "Are you all right?”
“Yes, I'm fine," Robyn took another puff, releasing it into the air. "Just a little tired…”
The man, though, as Robyn noticed a moment later by the wolf's tail dislodged from beneath his uniform, a faunus, didn't ask Robyn for more than he should have. He only nodded and stepped away from her, letting Robyn take another breath before coughing unexpectedly.
‘Huh, I haven't coughed from a cigarette in… About two years, maybe? Did I get a crappy batch?’
Not that it was hard to sell bad cigarettes at Mantle, quite a lot of everything in Mantle was counterfeit, often even sold along with the original products, through ignorance, or the ‘ignorance’ of the retailers.
On the other hand, since Robyn’s name had become known in Mantle circles, the problem of counterfeit products had all but disappeared, at least for her. Where Atlas had money. Mantle had principles, and few would go to the trouble of supplying Mantle's voice with substandard products. Even if some might have had the greed to do so, they also had enough common sense to understand that supplying Robyn with substandard counterfeits was bound to reflect badly on their business reputation. And maybe their health.
If someone from the more ‘militant’ part of the Mantle Liberation Front got a wind of it, it wouldn’t end well for them.
So, taking one last puff, Robyn tossed the butt and extinguished it, staring blankly at the cigarette pack, wondering if she could tell by the sight of it, if it was a fake… Before she coughed again.
Something's not right!
Robyn’s mind instantly became alarmed as the cough burst out again – this time stronger than before. Its force literally made Robyn crouch halfway down in a fit of coughing, feeling how different this cough was from the previous one. These were much more intense and painful, cutting into Robyn’s lungs, making her feel as if she were trying to spit slime that had stuck to her throat, burning inside her body, and could not do so.
The soldiers were instantly beside Robyn, but when she failed to respond, still bent over in a fit of coughing, pausing only for moments to try to catch air, they reacted instantly. “Medic here – now! Contact Joanna!”
Robyn tried to raise her voice, but a moment later, a new coughing bout shook her, causing Robyn to fall off her feet. Her loud barking cough felt deafening, before with another cough she felt not only saliva leave her mouth, but something denser.
Robyn’s gaze was able to see this object for a moment, covered in a viscous pinkish and slightly foamy substance, a small black-red piece of… Something.
Something from my body.
Robyn realized too late that James had lured her into a trap, made her relax, let her drop her guard… Or maybe not him, but one of his associates? Robyn didn't care.
Her coughing fit soon became a shortness of breath, and Robyn’s sight became blurry, she couldn’t even react when someone lifted her body. She heard noises, screams, and voices cut through the cotton that had begun to fall over her ears. In a lucid moment, Robyn realized that her clothes had been pulled away, and she was no longer in the street but somewhere far away.
Robyn felt as if something inside her was falling apart, and at the same time dissolving into acid. As if something inside her was crawling through her organs, consuming them, making Robyn scream, but instead of screaming, she could only cough and try to catch a little more air once more. Her vision slowly constricted, narrowing to dots dancing in the half-light in front of her, and her ears could only make out that there was some sound next to her that Robyn couldn't make out.
Perhaps it was just her cough, tearing her throat from the inside. Perhaps she vomited as she coughed, perhaps not, Robyn no longer knew if she was dead or still alive, what was happening and where she was.
The darkness that fell over her eyes was her salvation from the pain.
***
James Ironwood made his way to his office without meeting the eyes of his subordinates.
Because he knew what he would see there.
James knew he'd betrayed his people. Betrayed his kingdom. Betrayed everything he swore to protect.
Just as they had betrayed him.
James knew that being betrayed was no reason for any other betrayal – and so he didn't meet the gaze of his subordinates, waiting for his encouragement, or maybe his support.
What would I tell them? That Atlas had lost? That the kingdom had fallen? And that it was all in vain?
James had fought like a wounded lion…
Or a cornered rat.
He had snapped back, tried to bargain, threaten, pressure and bargain again…
But Atlas has no card to play – and everyone knows it.
Atlas can make life difficult for Mantle, but no more than that – it is incapable of putting a decisive issue on the line that would force Mantle to give up at least some of its positions. Anything that Atlas can threaten Mantle with, is either nothing more than a mere irritant, or can be offset by Glenn and Menagerie. James has been cornered, and all he could do was sell his life as dear as possible on his last stand.
In this case, to save as much as he could of Atlas in the face of the imminent absorption of Atlas and the transformation of the Kingdom into one of Mantle’s.
James was not a politician, that was his chief weakness. James had never had a taste for politics, backstabbing, treachery and social games didn't do it for him. Meaningful innuendos and secret agreements? All of it flew past James' mind, no matter how many times he tried to learn politics himself. Some people just weren't cut out for this kind of work.
But one did not need to be a politician, a master of verbal intrigue and networks of favors, to understand the situation in which James had found himself in.
James had been able to get Robyn to give him some paltry concessions, but it meant nothing in the end. At best, a couple of months' delay before Atlas was forcefully absorbed into Mantle, and then the rest of the cities in Solitas would follow Atlas’ fate.
Mantle had beaten Atlas, completely. All supplies, all natural resources, even leaving Atlas’s sky abode, depended solely on the mercy of Mantle, which surrounded Atlas on all sides. Complete and utter dependence on the mercy of Mantle, Atlas would not live long under such conditions. Total dependence on Mantle meant that Mantle, if only in the minds of the leaders of Mantle, a desire would arise – Atlas would be absorbed, simply because there was no alternative.
And it would arise indeed. Robyn hates Atlas, and no one can keep a rabid dog down.
A day after James waves the signed treaty in front of the cameras, Mantle will put forward its terms. Rates for transporting cargo to Atlas, for people, for supplying dust and water, and Atlas will have to agree, simply because it couldn't do otherwise. Atlas would have to pay, would have to agree to all the terms, and when that wasn't enough, would have to bow to Mantle, being absorbed into the new state when its coffers ran dry.
And so it would be. Mantle would devour Atlas, and others would follow.
Atlas had always maintained a centralized state, for greater efficiency of response and control – in the cold wastelands of Solitas, people had to follow the command of one for survival. If the heating system stopped working in the city, Atlas has only twenty-four hours before emergency heat supply systems stop working – every minute matters. And so it was that Atlas ruled Solitas, and now it had lost it all.
An organized structure, a power system, has a major plus, fast operation and high efficiency, ready to respond to any emergency – but it’s also a major disadvantage.
Take away a man's head and he dies. Take away the bureaucratic apparatus from the state, and it dissolves.
And the entire central bureaucratic apparatus of Atlas was in Atlas itself, and they couldn't even leave it. They couldn't because Mantle controlled the ins and outs of Atlas – it had gone from an impregnable fortress, to a box in Mantle's hands.
The box might not open, or it might open – but what difference did it make if it was still in the hands of the owner?
So James couldn’t look into the eyes of his subordinates and closest associates as he moved towards his office. A place which had also recently become his bedroom and dining room – and nowadays, he had even less reason to walk out of his office. And he knows who was really responsible for his fate – more than Robyn and even more than Jonathan.
Ozpin, why?
James considered Ozpin a friend. Maybe not the kind of friend he could sit down with, drink whiskey and reminisce about the good old days, but the kind of friend he could trust. A confidant from whom he could ask advice, who would support him in times of need.
As it turned out – he had been wrong.
James was deluding himself. Perhaps he even knew it before, knew somewhere on a subconscious level that the man who had survived thousands of years, hundreds of rebirths, simply could not perceive him, James, as a friend, the same way James perceived Ozpin himself.
Ozpin… Perhaps I have no reason to resent him, to feel cheated, betrayed? He's just doing what he thinks is right – just like the rest of us. He's just decided to sacrifice Atlas, to sacrifice me, moving towards his goals, maybe he just sees the situation differently…
Besides, what difference does it make now?
As James made his way to his office, he glanced at the pair of Atlas agents guarding the door. With one glance, he conveyed his mood and his desire to be alone to them, so that they only nodded briefly and left their posts, leaving James alone. The solitude allows him to step into the office, closing the door behind him. For someone that is of a very important position, James Ironwood no longer cared about his own safety – not that it’s lacking in any way, of course.
Getting into the top floor of Atlas’ Tower, James Ironwood's private office, was difficult – it would take an entire covert operation to do it, and even if someone wanted to do it, James would have one question for them. Why?
James had already lost, already ready to sign the contract, his own letter of resignation and will lay signed in his desk drawer, as did his gun. What was the point in killing James when he was already ready to sign all the necessary documents and end his life by suicide, one only needed to wait a day, maybe two.
James made his way to his desk, then past that, to the sofa placed next to it, completely out of place in the room, and plopped down, his eyes closing, ready to end the day without even undressing.
James wasn't afraid of what would follow – he knew that he would still fight to the last, but he also knew he had already lost. There’s no need to count on the Brothers' mercy or unexpected help, he’s already driven to the brink and James was already a dead man walking.
James closed his eyes, whereupon he suddenly heard a quiet sound in his soundproofed office.
It was a slight, barely perceptible step, with a slight clatter at the end, as if a small bird was strolling imposingly across the cold floor of his office.
“So there is a reason to kill me after all.” James said quietly but clearly, into the air, not addressing anyone in particular, not opening his eyes to greet his assassin. “Qrow?”
“No," The voice of Qrow's obnoxious older sister burst into James' mind, making him open his eyes, curious. So it wasn’t Ozpin that’s going to end his life, but Jonathan? “You tried to arrest me, and here I am, in Atlas, where you wanted to take me… Only I don't think you're at all happy about that at the moment.”
“Raven.” James shifted his gaze to the girl, who had assumed human form, not even bothering to rise from his seat, too exhausted to worry about his appearance and image, much less with a known criminal sneaking into his office. “And what does Jonathan want with me?”
“You're even less cheerful than I remember you being, which is quite the achievement, you were always quite the dour man.” Raven threw a look at James with an emotion that James could even call ‘sadness’ or maybe "regret,’
”No exclamation that you'll fight to the end!’ or ‘Atlas' army doesn't give up that easily!’”
“What is the point?” James grinned wryly as he answered. "Judging by the fact that you snuck in here without anyone being the wiser, I'm already dead. It's unlikely that Jonathan decided to send me a simple reminder, and if you can't handle my assassination, there are probably a dozen agents covering you. And in an extreme case the entire Atlas Academy would disappear with me too – I saw what Jonathan was capable of… I didn't believe he'd resort to such an extreme reaction – but I’ve just recently learned that I’m a poor judge of character. What’s another surprise?”
“That sounds fucked up,” Raven answered simply, but it was in that simplicity that James heard sincerity for the first time in this long, long day. “So… Any last words?”
“Give me the gun… And I see that you are about to kill me with my own gun – heh, saved me a couple of seconds by asking you to retrieve it from my desk.” James said calmly, looking at Raven, then, seeing the mute question in her eyes, allowed a small smirk to appear on his face and voice.
“No, I'm not going to fight back… I just want to do everything myself.”
“Heh, doing my job for me.” Raven nodded with a smirk at Ironwood’s words – before pulling James' gun from behind her back.
James only smiled weakly at that – apparently they were planning to fake James' suicide, or the murder of his closest supporters, but James was already prepared to do just that himself.
No need for a staged suicide if the suicide could actually take place.
James had planned for it to happen later, but James already had lost power now over his life, or his death.
Raven held the gun out to James, not at all worried that James would start fighting now, she didn’t even bother being cautious, she could see that James had already lost all his fighting will. Squeezing the gun’s handle slightly, there was still some resistance from Raven, but she released it a moment later when James didn't try to pull it forcibly from the girl's hands.
What was the point of fighting if he had already lost?
James pulled the gun out of Raven's hands, looking over it almost lovingly. His trusty weapon – it had been in his hands from when he first enrolled at Atlas, the Hunter Academy, when he'd joined the army, and when he'd risen to the rank of general.
James slowly stretched out his fingers to the trigger, then cocked the gun, bringing its end slowly to his temple before raising his gaze to Raven.
Which shifted her gaze slightly to the side, as if not wanting to face James, but not letting him fall completely out of her sight.
“Pray to the Brothers that one day your boss won't also find you a stumbling block for his plans. I couldn't stop him, and neither can you," James said slowly his last wish, an admonition for Raven's action.
Before he pulled the trigger.
***
Jonathan looked out the window, into the cold night of Atlas.
Jonathan's gaze caught sight of a vehicle racing at full speed, it seemed ready to ram roadblocks in its path. Only the Mantle Liberation Front flag shining through the window caused the Atlas soldiers to stop in their desire to fill the moving object with lead.
Jonathan knew the vehicle was moving in his direction at the moment, the suddenly leaderless Front was in turmoil – they needed a leader, they needed help, they needed direction. The message on Jonathan's scroll had long since been erased from all possible memory – digital or otherwise, the dry lines of a report from Raven.
“So it is done.”
Do you think Ozpin looks at the world the same way?
Jonathan shifted his gaze from the rushing car to the distant tower of Atlas, the very top, a floor only containing one room.
Helping Atlas and Mantle, winning the lives of many at the cost of the lives of a few. Poison here, murder there – and in the end, millions live better lives, freed from oppression, blessed by your wise gaze, blessed by your wise guidance. No price is too high for the common good, is it not?
Jonathan shifted his gaze from the tower of Atlas to the silent mirror in his room.
The mirror where he himself was reflected – the mirror where Jonathan Goodman was reflected.
Who is Jonathan Goodman?
That's me.
And who's in the mirror, looking at him?
Jonathan Goodman.
Yes, he is. But is it you?
Jonathan took a step back, wanting to no longer see the figure in the mirror.
Before he heard the sharp rumble of an explosion, suddenly turning around.
The fiery cloud soared for only a moment, rising so fast, Jonathan practically missed it, seeing only pillars of smoke rising to the sky.
And hearing Atlas’ emergency sirens shriek sharply, shattering the silent night.
This… I didn't plan this.
Yes, Jonathan. You didn't plan it – but…
Jonathan closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, looking with grim determination at the puffs of smoke that had begun to rise.
So it is done.
Comments
Bob
Man i already understand it was building up to this but damn that was depressing
