Rat number two takes a turn

Teleportation, then… Haha, what a world-balance changing ability, a whole new doctrine, a whole new way of waging war, of doing any business, of leading a life.

Every Hunter has different abilities that make them useful in different things. Some knew how to spit fire, some knew how to create their own clones, all very useful abilities in their niche. And some, like His Majesty, Osmond the Third, knew how to wipe out entire cities and armies and hordes of Grimm at the snap of their fingers. Their ability turned the site of their battle into a scorched wasteland for kilometers around.

Different Hunters had different abilities, different levels of training, different weapons, and different reputations to them.

There were Hunters who are only one in name only, self-taught Hunters with primitive self-made shivs or bows, who people scoffed at calling 'Hunters' because they could run a hundred meters a little faster or lift a little more weight. Some others used their Auras solely as a bar gimmick or to seduce a young gullible girl they'd picked in a bar, telling their incredible stories of how they'd single-handedly scattered hordes of Grimm. Confused whether the horde was of manticores, deathstalkers, or something in between.

Some were true professionals. They are unstoppable killing machines, equipped with the latest weapon technology, that at times the untrained observer might have thought they were encountering a character from legend or fairy tale. They strolled through battlefields, bringing death and terror to the enemy, causing even the most hardened veterans to gasp in mute admiration at the power of the supermen fighting alongside them, guarding Remnant.

And some very rare individuals like His Majesty could simply keep entire nations at arm's length, serving as both leader and strategic armament, controlling world politics.

In any case, for all Hunters, there was at least one extremely important trait in common – uniqueness.

Uniqueness was a positive feature in image building. When a Hunter had a recognizable image, it was much easier to find them in magazines and was much more valued in Remnant than a gray jacketed figure, with a plain-looking rifle slung over their shoulder. Hunters are colorful people, they have to be, whether it's the Semblance, weaponry, or even dress style, every Hunter is different to tackle all possible crises or missions.

However, that uniqueness also presents a huge problem for the Kingdoms – the impossibility of standardization. And the impossibility of standardization meant the inability to replicate and reproduce the capabilities of Hunters.

No, of course, the most eminent scientists had tried to understand the essence, the nature of Semblances, the nature of aura, to best replicate the Hunters' abilities – but it was not easy. After all, there were few reasonable scientific hypotheses as to how, in an instant, quite reflexively and instinctively, a Hunter could learn to turn into smoke or start attracting metal to themselves.

And for every Hunter, the process needed to be replicated – not exactly an easy endeavor.

So while various Hunters, including His Majesty, could use their abilities well, sometimes even enough to make entire nations pause, the whole of world politics even. In the end, these were all isolated capabilities, affecting a particular place, but not resulting in a world paradigm shift. No Hunter could be everywhere at once after all, until now, that is.

His Majesty, King Osmond the Third, Jonathan Goodman, has taken a step that until this point seemed impossible to skeptical observers.

An army is made to solve problems, and different armies solve different problems, King Osmond just made one to suit all occasions.

Atlas' solved one, Vale's army another, and Glenn's a third. Glenn didn't need an army that was perfectly prepared for the conditions of battle in the snowy wastelands of Solitas, for capturing valuable deposits of Dust and clearing Grimm in the underground complexes and caves of the ice continent. It was all a game of need-to-know, with some armies focusing on speed and others on range capabilities, some boasting of excellent logistics and supply, and some boasting of a separate school of outstanding tacticians and strategists.

But there was a kind of parity in any army. In other words, even if one army was superior to the other on one of the battlefields, the limitations of technology, of human nature, meant that neither army was absolutely superior to the other.

Even if Atlas possessed an unmatched air fleet, that didn't mean that Vale or Mistral couldn't possess one at all – they just didn't need it to the extent Atlas did. Atlas' possession of an air fleet was also not a complete game changer for the other states, it was not the Atlas' perfect and indestructible weapon that ensured they would win any confrontation.

Mistral, for example, had long ago studied the actions of its 'ally' and had prepared its forces well for the moment when Atlas's hovering battleships would move on Mistral.

However, what if there was some advantage, some technology that could transcend the technological frontier and completely overturn the whole world view of warfare? Of doing business, of life?

Glenn's Army required about a week to assemble and prepare its personnel – a briefing and first training session to work out a potential plan of action. Of course in reality, one week was too short, even simple exercises, even those that did not have to be played out in the real world, required months of preparation…

And openness, there's no such thing as a 'secret' Army movement, that is, until now.

The most Jonathan could give the army command headquarters was a week.

A week of desperate hiding until the last moment, a delay of even a day, even a few hours – could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

What if Ozpin found out about his plans and passed the information on to Ironwood?

What if Robyn had looked closely and guessed Glenn's next move?

Maybe if the information reached Kaiser and he decided to be proactive for once?

So many possibilities where failure is the only end point.

Preparing an entire army for a march is a difficult endeavor. The journey across half of Remnant from Glenn to Atlas would have taken days if with ideal conditions, with perfect logistics, escort, excluding any human, geographical, or Grimm factor. In other words, the ideal might as well just be called impossible.

It takes resources for so many men to march across Remnant and get to Atlas. Many, many resources needed to be spent to assure its success; Dust, spare parts, maps, and even intelligence. Even before ever firing their first shot against any of Atlas' men, a copious amount of resources needed to be spent.

A state had the ability to stash a lot in its pockets, but there was a limit. And so, an army moving or mobilizing in any way couldn't be kept a secret for long.

One only had to look closely at how the newly assembled bullheads took up their position in the hangars, and how quickly the supply of Dust suitable as fuel for those began to disappear. At how the army's need for pilots and drivers suddenly increased, and the attentive observer would always begin questioning, 'why?'

The questions were easily turned into assumptions, and any intelligence services worth their name would analyze these assumptions, until they turned into 'intelligence'.

But what if you exclude the army's most important factor, their Achilles heel? What if you can completely neutralize the logistics of it?

Teleportation. A feat that makes sci-fi writers and generals around the world lick their lips, barely keeping their heart from beating too hard from joy.

Thousands of soldiers, able to be on the other side of the world in the blink of an eye. Supplies delivered without the possibility of interruption of the supply chains, delivered instantly wherever they're needed. The ability to send reinforcements, or retreat, at any time from any battlefield. Any battlefield is a battlefield where such armies have the complete advantage.

The technology that changed everything.

Jonathan gave the order to start preparing his army for a 'peacekeeping mission' in the heart of Atlas, and in just a week it must be completed, using the RATS to conceal information about the preparations taking place. A tall ask for any army, but one that must be abided.

A week, it's the maximum amount of time Jonathan could buy before the first shot is fired – the maximum amount of time Jonathan could conceal his preparations.

Any day more, and the information would come out, one way or another, every extra day is twenty-four extra hours during which an enemy agent could notice Jonathan's actions. Any less, and Jonathan wouldn't have been able to prepare the army at all, wouldn't have been able to develop a plan of action and raise the necessary personnel to complete their tasks.

Jonathan had only won this week thanks to his trump card. Declaring that he's clearing areas around Glenn to establish satellite cities around the city, enabled him to hide information about the preparations. Especially as Jonathan showed no signs of preparing an army for a long-distance campaign. No bullheads, to the excessive extent required for the flight but not required for the work clearing the Grimm around Glenn, no fuel supplies, no setting up logistics camps along the way. The necessary work for an army in a campaign of war.

And thus was his stealth complete, and nobody knows that Glenn was preparing for war.

Indeed, Jonathan's teleportation was his huge trump card, a trump card that some of Remnant's most powerful and influential players were aware of, but not the general population of the world. And if people don't know about it, it seems as if it doesn't matter.

Jonathan could easily teleport around Remnant, ending up anywhere and anytime, and this caused many powerful and influential players to simply acknowledge this fact, and began planning around Jonathan's abilities. But the fact that this information was hidden from the mainstream population caused a spotty blindness in the eyes of observers.

Ozpin was one of the most powerful and ancient beings of Remnant, accustomed to playing with the fates of entire nations and generations, but no one knew that. No one had even suspected, for hundreds or thousands of years, that it was so. Ozpin had no plans to reveal this information.

Salem controlled the armies of the Grimm, sending hordes against humanity and the faunus of Remnant, but there weren't more than a dozen people alive who had guessed or knew of her existence. Salem was in the shadows, always in the shadows, and silently watched as the Kingdoms of this world were born and died.

Jonathan knew how to teleport. The most powerful people of this world knew about it – but…

Surely Jonathan would not dare reveal this secret to the public, would he? Ozpin was hiding his power, Salem was hiding her existence, surely Jonathan would play by the same rules of the powerful entities of this world and hide his secrets. Wouldn't he?

Well, therein lay the paradox of the situation. Playing by the rules of the two ancient entities. Jonathan could not win, simply because he had not devoted hundreds of years of his experience to the game. He simply couldn't win a game obeying his opponent's rules, the same way a novice couldn't win any game against a supercomputer.

But Jonathan wanted to win. He needed it.

I will not become Ozpin's pawn. And I will destroy Salem.

Which begs the question – how does Jonathan do it? When playing the game would only assure his loss?

Change the rules of the game.

Not to try to squeeze Ozpin out of the shadows, where he has long woven his web, and not to try to outplay Salem on her prepared Grimm battlefield. But to make a move that both players could not anticipate, because it did not fit the rules of their duel.

Unleash the army's teleportation abilities.

The mere senseless disclosure of such information, was 'against the rules' of Ozpin and Salem's war. Had he simply uttered the information about it, he would have achieved little more than irritation from the two eternal adversaries. No, if Jonathan wished to use the power of his move that is 'against the rules' to the fullest, he needed to make his first move his last, to make the most of his 'unconventional' move.

Capture Mantle and Atlas and make them his own.

However you look at it, Robyn's actions nor her way of doing things were perfect. After her victory, she wouldn't be as brutal as Adam, but she wouldn't be soft either, she would be a half-hearted ruler, hated and loved in equal measure, without the benefit of either. For months the streets of Atlas would have been stained with blood, for the sake of the beautiful Mantle of the future, Robyn would have burned Atlas to the ground. And yet, she would not have gone completely along with Glenn to make that happen.

She would have been glad to help Glenn, to put her energies into supporting Jonathan's edicts, but it would not have been unconditional support. Robyn would not have allowed Glenn to reach the levers of power in Mantle and Atlas, and after a while there would have been a split in the allied camp. Glenn and Mantle could not have integrated as strongly as Glenn and Menagerie had in that short time. And even with all the strength of Glenn, Mantle, recovered from its problems, would quickly enough start bumping heads with its ally in decisions and in politics.

Simply because Mantle was not Menagerie.

It was an industrial, manpower, and resource treasure trove, Mantle was too strong, it was worth it to recover from the turmoil, and yet, a fully recovered Mantle would also be a danger to Glenn.

But what if we took Robyn out of the game and inserted Glenn's troops into Mantle as an 'emergency measure'? At the same time, without giving even a hint that Glenn was preparing for this – using teleportation to prevent anyone from coming to their senses. A fait accompli.

The conquest of Mantle and Atlas. In a matter of hours.

The Glenn Army burst into the streets of the cities, with the passing civilians unsure whether to run, scream or do anything else, by the time the military on both sides could realize what was happening – it was over. Glenn's tanks had swept away Atlas' roadblocks, and Glenn's military had 'taken over' Mantle's headquarters.

Mantle and Atlas were conquered in eight hours.

Eight.

Jonathan's main trump card was not even the suddenness of his actions, but the open brazenness of it. He did not adhere to the unwritten code of conduct for politicians, working by using prolonged machinations and elaborate intrigue in high places, but with a swift and open aggression he moved his troops, taking control of Mantle and Atlas.

Robyn was plunged into a coma, she would wake up. In two or three weeks – Mantle needed their symbol and Atlas needed a scarecrow.

Adam's actions had almost messed up Jonathan's plans by starting to act on his own, but it did help Jonathan's side of the story. He had pretty much signed his own death certificate.

How easy it would be to die in a hectic gunfight on the streets of Atlas.

Robyn will wake up, In a couple of weeks, when Glenn's army is fully entrenched. When it has established 'temporary' command of the peacekeeping mission' and created a 'temporary' administration for the peacekeeping contingent area of responsibility.

When Glenn finally sinks its fangs into the conquered state and reaps what Mantle and Atlas could offer. It was that kind of temporary.

Then Robyn will wake up, after a couple of weeks of desperate battle for her life and health, weakened, unfit for a position of leadership.

Atlas' poison will be insidious, it will leave a mark on Robyn's body. So Robyn, after a couple of months after their successful revolution, would hand the reins of power over to her trained heiress, Fiona Thymes, and will retire. To a quiet, peaceful rest on a state-provided estate with full board. Under Glenn's protection, of course. It's their peacekeeping contingent's area of responsibility. Too bad the Mantle Liberation Front never got around to training their own secret services.

Fiona will control the state, acting as the face. Robyn will be the symbol. Glenn, on the other hand.

Glenn will provide peace, order, and administration – to solve the Atlas and Mantle crisis once and for all.

For as long as the situation demands. Based on his friendly and allied obligations to Mantle and Atlas.

***

Dr. Polendina flitted about his home, which was simultaneously a clinic, prosthetist's office and a research laboratory in one, in a panic. For the first time in his years living in Mantle, regretting that he had never managed to get himself a suitable assistant, now forced to rely solely on his weak body, deprived of mobility. His mechanical legs scurried across the floor in an attempt to carry the doctor from one desk to another, from the drawing book and to the set of parts.

"What horror… What horror!" Dr Polendina's mind was in horror, in shock, as was he himself, rushing from one workstation to the next.

"Mr Quartz, you said it wouldn't come to that!" Polendina's relationship to his patron has always been one of trust, if not friendship, Mr Quartz has always represented himself as an influential, yet open and kind patronage for the old cripple thrown off the cliff of scientific honor in Atlas. He had donated large sums of lien so that Polendina could open his prosthetics clinic in the poorest areas of Mantle. The money he spent covering all expenses, from Polendina himself to the things needed to provide succor for the people of Mantle, which made Mantle breathe a little freer.

Polendina himself could only admire Mr. Quartz's kindheartedness.

Moreover, Mr. Quartz had allocated fabulous sums of money to Polendina's own personal project, the development of the first artificial Hunter, his daughter. Not only by the right of blood, but by the right of Aura, of his soul, and the labor invested in her creation, his Penny.

So it was only natural that Pietro valued and trusted Mr Quartz's judgement. Not only had he demonstrated himself over the years to be a man of principles and good-naturedness, but he also possessed a most worthy mind and charity. Mr. Quartz money supporting Mantle and at the same time managing to keep his position hidden from the gaze of Atlas.

Of course, Pietro sometimes had questions as to why exactly Mr. Quartz had withheld information about his assistance to Mantle from Mantle himself, but Pietro never bothered entertaining these speculations. If Mr. Quartz had done so, then it was only natural that there was a good reason for it.

Perhaps Mr Quartz simply didn't want to draw attention to himself. Some people didn't chase the recognition and deafening roar of the crowd in their support, continuing to do their universal duty to all Remnant in silence without making it public.

In any case, even when the situation in Mantle and Atlas heated up, Mr. Quartz only issued a few simple instructions to Polendina, but did not interfere in his activities. Telling him that a common summit between the leaders of the world will soon be held, the doctor should not worry about the outcome at all.

Of course, Pietro believed the words of his patron, and for a while it even seemed to Pietro that the situation had been resolved. A fragile truce between the two warring factions had been established, the summit's decision was announced, after the leaders of states had arrived in Atlas – and the world held its breath.

And everything flew to the Grimm in the night!

No one even knew for sure what had happened. In the middle of the night, the loudspeakers suddenly came to life, waking the people of Mantle from their sleep with a loud siren, panic swept over the people.

Has Atlas attacked Mantle?! A Grimm horde?! Did Robyn give the order to launch an assault?!

No one knew why the siren was sounded, and neither did the doctor himself. All he knew was that he needed to escape, whatever the situation might be. Pietro could hardly hope to survive it in his current place and state.

Pietro ran around his house, trying to gather all his necessary belongings, but knowing inwardly that he could not hope to escape from his house without help either. Not only because he was a cripple that he could not take a step outside the gates of his place of residence without his huge chair. And being in the chair made him stand out from any crowd and even more so in any street like a black blot on a white sheet. But also because he could not leave his house without Penny.

Penny wasn't activated yet, but she was almost ready – her body, mind, and soul in place. Only a few minor details remained, like her artificial hair or clothes, after that, with a press of one button and Penny, his artificial daughter, would come to life.

She would take her first step and look around the world… In about a week or so.

Pietro could not activate Penny now, the process would take days, and there was no way he could bring Penny with him to his new place of hiding, wherever that is. Even ruling out the very possibility of lifting her, which Dr. Polendina was incapable of being just a man, and one far from his best physical form. The machinery required for that, required careful and lengthy disassembly and installation, requiring at least several skilled workers to complete.

Dr Polendina was in a panic, as he listened to the howling outside the window begin to be interrupted by another siren, before a loud knock on the door made the doctor freeze in fear.

Pietro was ready to lunge at anyone, defending his life's work, but he was only one man, what could he do at that moment?

The loud knock on the door repeated before he heard a loud hoarse voice of a man from behind the door. "Dr. Pietro Polendina?"

Pietro froze, the utterance of his name meant that the knocking at the door was no accident, whoever the man behind the door was – he knew that Pietro was here. And that they knew who Pietro was.

Pietro froze, after which he tried to cheer himself up. Though crippled, he was a man after all, not a coward, so he would meet the enemy with his head held high, whatever the outcome.

Pietro pointed the four mechanical legs of his chair towards the front door, then slid the chain from the door, the only protection of his home in this unforgiving, cruel world. Before opening the door with a crash, preparing to receive a bullet to the body a moment later.

But instead of breathing his last, he reflexively shielded his eyes from the bright light of two car headlights shining down on him.

"I'm sorry, Doctor." The man's voice from behind the door now sounded quieter, but still as hoarse. "For intruding into your home, but to ensure your safety, we are forced to enter your property."

"Securing my… what?" Pietro slowly repeated the words spoken by the man opposite, as if trying to taste what had been said, before allowing his mechanical chair to take a step back in some bewilderment to take a closer look at the man. "That is… Come in, of course."

The man who emerged from the headlights finally stood before Pietro's eyes. He was a short but rather massive man due to his developed musculature. The man had a short straight standing haircut and an unremarkable face and was dressed in a gray coat without any blotches or markings on it, making his where his loyalties lie hard to make out.

The man started looking around Doctor Pietro's house with a keen eye, probably already noticing suitable places to set up firing points. Several more men appeared from behind him almost inaudibly, easily passing by the man and Pietro himself, dispersing around his house, making Pietro wonder who were his unexpected new acquaintances. "Excuse me, you… did Mr. Quartz send you?"

The man seemed to be distracted for a moment before he looked at Pietro and tried to smile, but his smile looked rather unconvincing to Pietro. "In a way we are. My name is Lime and we're… Mr. Quartz's allies, yes – Glenn's Special Services at your service."

***

Willow awoke to a rumbling sound that managed to snap her out of even her alcohol-ridden slumber, barely able to crouch down from a fit of vomiting due to the loud noises reverberating inside her skull.

Some screaming, and something else… Are the children screaming again? Maybe Jacques… No, wrong, Jacques… He hasn't been home for a while. And the kids, they… I think Winter said they were moving? Or something…

The blurry circles danced in front of Willow's eyes, glistening in all the colors of the rainbow, making Willow want to vomit.

Or perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, or the hangover, or the smell. Or anything else, really.

The rumbling outside the walls of her room seemed to come closer and closer, and Willow could now hear the screams, but she couldn't quite make out who was screaming. Or was anyone screaming? She heard the rumbling, and the screams several times, but the identity or source of the noise didn't make it any clearer, simply making the pain in her head worse.

What a headache… Willow felt nauseous, so, ignoring the rumble, she tried to fall down and burrow her head into a pillow, but after a few moments, even through the pillow over her ears, Willow could hear the voices.

The door to her room opened with a loud bang, the door crashing into the wall next to it rang so loudly that Willow couldn't keep her stomach under control, and it turned inside out moments later. The vomit covered her own bed with undigested food, alcohol, and stomach juice.

"HERE! SHE'S HERE!" A loud shout made Willow blur her gaze around before she found… The man? That was shouting, though Willow couldn't make out who it was, her eyes were too blurry for that… Or were there two of them?

"CATCH HER!" Willow saw something moving sharply towards her, but was unable to keep her vision under control. The loud sounds and her addled state was too much, and she began blacking out. Her loss of consciousness makes her miss as the visions before her, and the screams, changed from a furious one, a moment later to surprise, and then suddenly to one that is completely panicked.

Willow vomited, uncontrollably so, for at least another few minutes, so that by the time she was able to stop and look up. The picture before her eyes was starkly different from what she had expected.

There were many smells in the air, vomit, unwashed body, unwashed clothes and… Blood.

Willow blinked before realizing that there was more than just her now in her room.

Willow tried to focus her gaze on the figure in front of her before belatedly realizing that it wasn't the one who had burst into her room a few minutes ago. That one was a young lad, a faunus, and this… actually she can't really tell.

"I've never let myself go like this before, and that's saying something," The speaker's voice was distinctly feminine, cold, husky, mocking and yet almost disgusted at the sight of her,

"Okay… Um, Miss Schnee? The escort has arrived, and I advise you to hurry to follow, it was only a couple of daredevil protesters this time, but Grimm knows who will be here next."

Willow tried to concentrate her gaze on the figure in front of her before, unknowingly, mouthing her realization. "Raven… Branwen."

"At your service." Raven grinned mockingly across from Willow, shaking the blood from her blade onto the body of the faunus she had just torn apart.

"Just popped in for a second, to see what's all the commotion about, so thank your lucky stars… And we'd better get out of here."

***

Jonathan sighed, looking out the window, at the chaos unfolding in the previously silent night, then shifted his gaze to the standing mug of coffee.

So it is done.

Jonathan took a sip from the cup, squirming slightly at the bright, bitter taste.

Do you have anything to respond to these moves, Ozpin?