Remnant - V

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Requested By : Gib

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Admiral Ironwood awoke to the dull 'bwoom' of the Still Water's Truth and the shifting crash and roar of the ocean beating against the hull of the ship. He rolled off of his cot and stood with a groan, pacing over to the desk on the other end of the spartan quarters and looking down at the map laid out over it. They were just south of Menagerie now, judging from where they'd been last night when he laid down and the predicted weather patterns. He traced out the path with his nail while his off hand went through the rote motions of turning on his coffee machine. As the machine worked, he slid his hand to the side of the map, running his finger along the edge of the paper while his thumb traced out Menagerie's relatively unexplored easteran coasts.

If they could just establish a base there, they could-

"Ah!" He pulled his hand up suddenly, more surprised by the sting than anything, and looked at the little papercut at the base of his right forefinger. He frowned, sighed, and pushed his Aura into it.

That was one way to wake up, he supposed…

Sighing, he turned to the wardrobe beside his desk - the only other piece of furniture, really, made of the same dark Mistrali wood as the rest - and pulled out his dress uniform for the day. The uniform itself was simple, consisting of thick grey pants and an equally thick overcoat that hung down to his calves with his name stenciled over the breast and his admiral's bars sewn onto the shoulders. The shirt under it was white wool, with silver buttons that shone under the open coat - a bit warm, perhaps, for the climate, but when they returned north he would appreciate it greatly.

He'd learned that years ago, when he was just a young recruit.

That had been so long ago…

He stepped through the door out of his room and into the halls of the bowels of his ship and turned as his assistant stood straighter. Smiling, he asked, "Lieutenant Copper, how are you?"

"Good, Admiral." The slight woman nodded, dressed in the same uniform as him with her own notes of rank sewn into her shoulders and bright green eyes sparkling from under her auburn hair. She offered him her clipboard and he took it while she briefed him rapidly, "Paperwork for the day, Sir. And message relays from Atlas as well as a request from the Engineering Corps to field the Knight-100s in our hold."

"Thank you." He nodded, skimming them and turning to walk. She followed, as ever, trailing along just behind him. Quietly, he asked, "Our food supplies are below expected levels?"

"Spoiled bread, Sir." She answered sharply and simply, the consummate professional, "As well as poorly sealed fish. The former was discovered yesterday. The latter was a concern at port - if you recall, the Council ordered us to-"

"Police from the locals, when we come in." He frowned, "I'm aware."

"I know you dislike it." His second murmured, "But… The Faunus started this violence. For my opinion, it is time we properly occupy the territory. Choke out the fighters elsewhere."

"I suppose." He sighed, "Assuming that they don't simply come to occupy Atlas… Without our navy, whole at least, the Kingdom is at risk."

"Such is war." The woman nodded, though she sounded as displeased by the problem as he was.

"Such is war." He agreed, turning his thoughts to it all and frowning. This would be the third occupation of Menagerie, and he was sure it would end the same - with Mistral's coasts raided by bandits, insurgents and Grimm, and the Kingdom calling on Atlas' aid for it all.

They would leave, the Faunus would reassert control, and within a month, plans would be made for another reoccupation.

Back and forth it all went in an endless loop even he didn't see a way out of… Atlas couldn't contend with the Faunus' fighters inland, the terrain was both foreign and inhospitable to their way of fighting - that being with heavy naval support. The mountains simply made it unfeasible. At least, assuming Atlas did not wish to quadruple its navy's size and land ground forces on every single inch of Mistral's coastlines to allow themselves to bombard anywhere. Which was sure to be an occupation that left Mistral overjoyed.

And that was setting aside Vale entirely…

Which he was certain much of that petty Kingdom would enjoy.

"When do we arrive?"

"Within the next few hours, Admiral." The woman reported, "I took the liberty of ordering basic readiness checks."

"Move to full readiness checks - I want every gun checked and rechecked before we enter bombardment range." He ordered sharply, "And I want our best Marines prepared and fed now, so their stomachs are empty for the landing."

If they were doomed to repeat this blasted cycle, then he would at least do it professionally. The Atlas way. Even if he was the only one it mattered to, it still mattered - and he would be damned to shame his uniform. Or the Faunus he faced, for that matter - they deserved men in uniforms, bringing their very best at all times.

Even if they hated him for it all, he would still offer them that courtesy - and demand it of his men.

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Down two horses - with one dead and another run off too far to hear, or care about, Ghira's whistle - it normally would have been an arduous trek back on foot, with the horses far too burdened by their equipment to carry them as well. Instead, the towering Shockwave had been happy enough to carry their surplus, and the supplies their horses could have carried as well. The weight was less significant to him, he'd explained, and wouldn't slow him - but it would have slowed the horses, and thus that would have slowed him.

Which was kind of ironic, when you considered it - more weight was less of a burden for him.

Occasionally, the massive machine would move more quickly - almost jogging, but not quite - to get ahead of them. The first few times he'd done it, they'd kicked the horses to keep up only to find him kneeling to inspect an animal or plant in his hand. Or, once, a small Grimm that writhed and bucked to be free - a Razorback, which was a kind of armored tortoise as native to the badlands as a Grimm could be native to anything.

Ghira had asked what he was doing and the machine had rumbled simply, "Cataloguing. Do not push the horses to keep up with me."

The two Faunus had traded looks, shrugged, and done as he said.

This time he'd vanished into one of the many dry vales that stretched out among the foothills of Menagerie's protective mountains. Instead of an animal, though, they found him leaned over the rusted hulk of one of Atlas' bulky airships - which was itself long enough that, from tail to head, it would have come up to Shockwave's chest and was easily as wide as the Cybetronian was. He was stooped over the hulk, peeling back layers of rusted metal that he discarded as he worked, leaving them in a large pile beside him.

Curious, Ghira asked, "What are you up to, Shockwave?"

"Scavenging." He answered simply, "Studying."

"Oh?"

"I require materials for further repair." He reminded the Faunus as he carefully extracted a thick, silver fuel line that ran from the belly of the craft towards its tail. Leaving it dangling from the hole he'd already made, Shockwave turned to remove the panels obstructing its removal and went on, "And I require knowledge in order to prosecute your war. Is this a standard combat aerial vehicle?"

"More or less." Shockwave pause his work and turned to regard Ghira, and the Faunus chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, "W-Well-"

"Atlas uses them all the time, for aerial drops for their mechanical divisions and airborne troopers if they feel like making a show of things, or to drop bombs." Alex cut in, explaining far more succinctly the military usages Ghira was less knowledgeable on - he knew them more for their freight capabilities than anything. His fiance, though - she'd have known it all off-hand.

Ah, the pain of missing his better half…

"I see." Shockwave turned back to his work and mused, "The fuel line primary to engine utility runs along the belly. Foolish vulnerability."

"Is it?" Alex chuckled, "Nothing we have can get through its armor to make that matter."

"Nothing you had." He noted meaningfully, extracting the fuel line and throwing it over his shoulder while he dug out more of its wiring and less rusted and damaged internal plating. "I will see that rectified in short. If this is what I am preparing for, I fear over-arming primitives more than I fear failing to face this 'Atlas'."

"As one of those primitives," Ghira pointed out, "we don't like being called primitives."

"Primitives typically do not. For civility, and gratitude, I will refrain." Shockwave noted, turning and laying out the length of cable and samples of armor plating on the ground before producing a small disk the size of Ghira's head. He set it aside and explained, "A location beacon. I will return for proper salvage and study at a later date."

"Can't you just access Atlas' Scrolls for the information?" Ghira asked as he stood and turned to look down on him, "Like you did mine?"

"Such data could be faulty or modified, censored or otherwise altered to prevent such avenues of exploitation. Such are purely logical protective measures." The towering machine countered readily, gesturing with its cannon to the broken machine, "Even damaged as such, this is a far more accurate sample. I will require more to verify what I come to conclude, but regardless, we can move on now."

"Alright." Ghira hummed and turned his horse, looking up at the mountains and humming again, "I think we're… A couple hours out, now."

"Good." The machine nodded, "I am eager to arrive and begin my work."

"That sounds ominous…"

"It will be, among other things." Shockwave's luminous eye turned to him and then he looked away, "But not for you and yours. Of that you may rest assured. For Atlas, however… My upgrades will be properly terrifying to them. Of that you may also rest assured."

"Honestly, if they're half as good as my gun, I'm already excited." Alex offered gently, "And a little scared, maybe?"

"That is… Rational." The machine nodded simply and then moved on, forcing the two Faunus to kick their horses into following. As they walked, he explained, "I will need raw resources and labor to begin my improvements, Ghira Belladonna. I hope it has gone without saying that this is the case."

"It does, yeah." Arranging it might be tricky - they had people to spare, of course, but materials? Especially metals? Those were much harder to come by. Whatever the case, "We'll see what we can do. First and foremost, though, we have to get you fixed up properly."

"That is not the priority."

"Yes it is." Ghira argued firmly, waving him off when Shockwave turned to regard him, "My people can fend for themselves. You need to heal, and then you can help. I'm not going to have a trip all the way out there wasted because you pushed yourself. Am I clear?"

"Crystal…" Shockwave regarded him for a second longer and then turned away and rumbled, "Very well. I will see to repairs as a priority, where I am able."

Ghira watched him walk for a long moment before turning away and frowning. Did he really think Ghira would push him when he was seemingly injured? It seemed so, and that was something of a worrying thought to say the least.

More worrying, though, was the smoke he saw over the mountain as they rounded a bend.

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"Shockwave!" He stopped and turned at the panic in the Faunus' voice and Ghira pointed up, into the sky. He turned and followed his finger to a pillar of trailing smoke - which was soon revealed to be accompanied by numerous others too indistinct and small for him to make out without employing moderately more intense sensor suites. From behind him, Ghira said, "We don't have fires that burn enough to make smoke pillars like that. It has to be Atlas! They're attacking!"

"Acknowledged." He rumbled, turning and charting out the trail the Faunus had made - as well as the dozen or so cuts he could make away from it, due to his size, to shorten the journey up. He turned and knelt, wrapping his hands around Ghira and lifting him up.

"W-What are you doing-"

"Intervening." He rumbled as he turned to make his way up the path, cradling the Faunus against his chest as he went. The path crumbled in one place and he fell to a knee and buried his cannon in the rock to anchor himself as he rose and continued on.

"Why are you carrying me?!"

"Legitimacy," he answered, "in case Faunus come to investigate the giant mechanical being firing heavy ordinance on the fleet."

"Oh," his sensors barely picked up the Faunus' words, but they registered, "that's fair, yeah."

As he crested the hill he knelt to drop the Faunus unceremoniously - but harmlessly - on the ground beside a squat building presumably used for ranging the mountains. Then he unslung their supplies, dropped them as well, and rose to survey the settlement at large.

It was, in a word…

Poor.

Much of the settlement was little more than clusters of tents, overtly primitive log constructs laid haphazardly wherever their builders had willed it. With no rhyme, no reason, merely the wonton lack of plans and patterns prone to such organic disorder. Beyond it were warehouses, built more sternly and seemingly someone else based on their design and the docks beyond them, which were of a more advanced scheme than anywhere else in the settlement - if only for having power generators at their bases and actual electricity.

The settlement was also on fire, he noticed a moment after these other observations - a cluster of wooden shacks and lean-tos burned near the beach.

The source was evidently a unit of soldiers, dressed in black clothing with silver breastplates and toting long rifles as they marched up and down the beach, barking orders to kneeling civilians and their fellow soldiers. While they 'worked' a long train of Faunus, distinguishable as much by their features as their treatment - guided out, hands on heads, by yet more soldiers - were forced out to join the others kneeling on the beaches. More bands of soldiers could be seen moving through the settlement, policing goods from the Faunus and beating down those that resisted.

His optics zoomed in as one beat a woman back with his rifle butt. She fell and the soldier turned, leveled it.

And fired.

"Atlas."

"Yes." Ghira nodded, turning from the Faunus that had, reasonably, come out to question the mechanical titan looming over them all. "Atlas."

"Are all of those ships transports?"

"No." Ghira answered and pointed, "The docks can serve four ships, two to each side. They only have three out there, so those three are the transports. And from the looks, they're almost done unloading."

"They are looting."

"Atlas does that." Ghira nodded, "Food, water, weapons if they can find them. And anything of value. The soldiers take it."

"I see." Shockwave rumbled and, had he been able, he was certain his blood would have been boiling - even so, his fury rose with the heat flushing through his cannon. "Would you prefer they all die here and now, or that I rout them?"

"Excuse me…?"

"Their ships are primitive. Unimpressive. I can disable or destroy them as I please." Shockwave explained, "Would you prefer I cripple them and allow survivors to leave, or would you prefer that I slaughter them all? I give you the choice."

Immediately, the other Faunus around the man shouted their own opinions, but Shockwave ignored them.

His eyes remained fixed on Ghira's.

"Drive them off, but kill enough to make the point." He instructed simply, "Leave the flagship and the transports - Atlas will only brutalize my people elsewhere if you kill their officers. And the transports are mostly going to be crewed by civilians and draftees, people Atlas is willing to risk on them."

"Acknowledged." He rumbled as he leveled his cannon on the ship furthest to the left - what he surmised as a corvette from is smaller size and lighter armaments.

He split it in two with a single pulse of fire that melted fifty percent of it emanating outward from the center, then mirrored as much on the other corvette. A destroyer turned, angling its cannons around towards him, and he melted the entirety of its upper deck - guns, command deck, all of it. As it listed to the side and turned away, he mirrored such on the other destroyer and turned his sights on the largest ship, which flew the flag of Atlas high.

That had to be the command ship…

Ghira's words echoed in his head and he frowned, but aimed carefully and adjusted his power down. Death took the front and rear of the ship, melting both away from the top down to just above the surface of the water. And then he annihilated the top of the bridge tower, melting away the radar and radio systems as it turned to flee, its transports in tow. Those he only light damaged, raking minimum-power fire across the horizon as they left and ripping through a handful of decks in what would be more cosmetic damage than anything.

"So they do not conclude, and thus think to take advantage of, our unwillingness to fire on mere conscripts." Shockwave explained expectantly as he lowered his cannon and looked down on the stunned crowd. After a moment he looked away and added, "On the positive side, I believe I have located research materials and raw resources. Potentially."

"Y-Yeah." Ghira murmured, "I think so too."

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