A Fairly Reasonable Crashout (RWBY Adam SI) ch 47

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"And here we have stunning images from the SDC Headquarters!" The ANN News Caster spoke rapidly, his voice brimming with disbelief. "Jacques Schnee, the titan who has steered SDC policies for decades, has been voted out of his seat by a majority vote of his board! Replacing him is his wife, Willow Schnee..."

General Ironwood leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the news playing across his computer screen. He exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Atlas was fraying at the seams, and patchwork solutions were no longer enough. The rot had to be cut out at the source and that source had always been Jacques Schnee. For decades, Jacques had ruled the SDC with an iron fist, and his board of cretins, bastards, and sycophants had greedily suckled at the monopolistic teat. But even they had come to realize that, with the world's attention now firmly fixed on Atlas, they were no longer safe.

Ironwood had been preparing for this. His inspectors, protected by Specialists, were already compiling a growing list of atrocities committed in the SDC mines across Solitas alone. The violations were so egregious they bordered on cartoonish villainy, all orchestrated by one man.

Jacques' inner circle, sensing the noose tightening, had made their move. If they wanted any hope of salvaging their own lives, they had to cut loose their boss. The deal was simple: in exchange for lighter prison sentences at select facilities, they would hand over Jacques Schnee on a silver platter, no questions asked.

It grated on Ironwood to negotiate with such scum, but it was an opportunity he couldn't ignore. He had accepted their offer, and the board had delivered. Now, it was the government's turn. The arrest order was ready. After years of unchecked power, Jacques Schnee would finally face justice.

Ironwood allowed himself a grim smile. Justice had come for the bastard at last.

With Jacques out of the picture, his replacement was already in place. Willow Schnee, a decision proposed by Winter of all people, was now at the helm. Ironwood had never met Winter's mother, but it seemed he would have to rectify that soon. The SDC had wrought immense pain on Atlas, but it had also fueled its growth. The fleets, the people, and the city itself depended on the company's resources. Talks of breaking the SDC monopoly had surfaced recently, but Ironwood shelved those thoughts for now. Atlas couldn't afford to disrupt its supply chain in the middle of a crisis.

There was still much work to do.

The military needed cleansing. The unofficial patronage system had to be dismantled. The officer corps, tainted by Jacques' influence, required a complete overhaul. With Winter's assistance, Ironwood had already begun planning. Officers too closely tied to the SDC would be removed entirely or reassigned to far-flung outposts like Argus, where they could do no harm. He moved carefully, though. Too much disruption in the ranks could spark additional unrest.

Then there was the civilian government.

Ironwood had no intention of intervening directly there. The Council's popularity was at an all-time low, with many citizens demanding elections. Privately, Ironwood agreed. The current Council members were irreparably tainted by their association with Jacques and his empire. Their claims of ignorance would fall on deaf ears. How could the highest officials in Atlas not have known what was happening?

He stood and turned to the window behind him, gazing out at the city below. Even from here, he could hear the crowds. They were singing. The news had broken out it would seem, and with it, a wave of celebration had swept through the streets. He smiled at first, when he heard the song, but then his face fell.

[SPOILER="We Are Geyer's Black Horde"][URL unfurl="true" media="youtube:ufUOO4W-ar8"]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufUOO4W-ar8[/URL][/SPOILER]

Geyer.

Perhaps this meant the former Councillor would return to the fold. Her imprisonment had been controversial, punishment for breaking protocol to expose the rot within Atlas.  But personally, that was, in his most humble and soldierly opinion, bullshit. Ironwood wondered if a pardon might be in order for her. That would restore the world to what it was.

The crowd's singing reached a crescendo as cheers and celebrations echoed through the city. In that moment, Ironwood allowed himself a small smile.

Then, his scroll rang. He blinked, glancing down at the screen. His eyebrows rose when he saw the name.

"Ozpin," he greeted.

​A most wholesome chat followed. 

A chat which would have ended well, if their world was mundane. 

But Remnant is far from mundane.

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They all were watching the news. And they hated it. Atlas should never bow down to public pressure. Atlas should never, ever bow down to the rioting, jeering crowd. Atlas was strong, eternal, and proud! Ironwood had betrayed the Kingdom, surrounding himself with the Colorists and the Bund. When SAC had declared Ironwood's ascension, he and other officers had obeyed. They were loyal to the Kingdom and to the Marshall. And if Ludenstahl said that Ironwood was now in charge, so it was. 

But it was clear that Ludenstahl had placed his trust in the wrong man.

But still, he and the officers obeyed, for Atlas. 

But now...

Captain Merrow stood on the terrace of the garrison command post, watching Atlas alight with celebration. The silver-white city had been transformed with ribbons of light, rainbow and brown-shoe banners unfurled, bodies moving in slow tides through the avenues. But through it all, that damned song. 

"When man first dug, and woman first span, where was the nobleman?"

The Faunus were out too now, spilling into the streets, their tails and ears flashing in the glare of the floodlights, laughing louder than anyone. One had climbed atop a streetlight, waving a flag of the White Fang, light blue with the snarling wolf on it. All whooping, cheering as bold words looped the same headline over and over again, JACQUES SCHNEE REMOVED FROM POWER. WILLOW SCHNEE ELECTED TO HEAD OF SDC. 

But still, he had a job to do. Maintain order, watch the fireworks. 

First, the one climbing the streetlight. 

"Handle that," he ordered into his radio, keeping his tone measured. "No force unless necessary. Just get them to climb down. We're not looking to make a scene."

The officers nodded and waded through the crowd. Merrow stayed back, watching from his command post as they approached the celebrant with careful, deliberate movements. He could see the tension in the officers' shoulders, the unease of approaching a crowd that might turn hostile in an instant. But to his relief, the Faunus atop the streetlight hopped down with a grin, slapping one officer on the back before disappearing into the sea of bodies.

Merrow's radio crackled to life.

"Captain, we've got a buildup at the corner of 5th and Main," came a voice, tense but steady. "Looks like someone set up an impromptu stage. It's slowing traffic to a crawl."

"Copy that," Merrow replied. "I'm on my way. Keep it contained until I get there."

Merrow descended the staircase to the street level, where the crowd surged like a restless tide. He scanned the scene, his sharp eyes darting between the clusters of people. Faunus and humans mingled together, the divisions that usually kept them apart blurred in the haze of celebration. A street vendor pushed through the throng, handing out steaming cups of spiced cider. Children darted between legs, their laughter rising above the murmurs of the crowd. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, his presence alone enough to part the sea of revelers. People stepped aside, some muttering curses under their breath, others simply averting their eyes. When Merrow arrived at the corner of 5th and Main, the scene was already chaotic. A makeshift stage had been thrown together with crates and planks, anda Faunus woman with fiery red hair was shouting into a microphone, her voice amplified by a battered old speaker.

"Today, justice has come for Jacques Schnee! Today, Nicolasburg is avenged! Today, Jacques Schnee has fallen!" she proclaimed, fist raised high.

The crowd roared its approval, fists pumping in the air. Merrow felt a flicker of irritation but forced it down.

He approached the stage, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Alright, folks, let's clear this out," he called, his voice firm but calm. "You're blocking traffic. Let's keep things moving."

The Faunus woman turned her gaze on him, her eyes burning with defiance. "Blocking traffic?" she sneered. "Is that all you care about? People are celebrating justice, and you're worried about traffic?"

"I'm worried about keeping everyone safe," Merrow replied evenly. "That includes you and your friends. Now, let's take this somewhere else before things get out of hand."

For a moment, it seemed like she might argue, but then the crowd began to shift, their enthusiasm waning as the reality of the situation set in. With a scowl, the woman stepped down from the stage, and the makeshift platform was quickly dismantled.

Merrow let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He tapped his radio.

"Scene's clear," he reported. "Traffic's moving again."

As he turned back toward the garrison, the noise of the crowd swelled again, the celebration undeterred. He paused for a moment, watching the people move through the streets, their faces alight with hope and defiance. Merrow would let that continue, thanking that a confrontation wouldn't happen. His men were lightly-armed, mostly with riot-gear and pistols. High Command had feared the presence of rifles and heavy equipment would enflame tensions further and Merrow, despite his reservations, knew what that sort of image projected. 

​Thankfully, things were stable despite the chaos. And Merrow would continue to keep it that way. 

"Captain," his radio called. "We're requested to reinforce the Benderblock Plaza. Ghira Belladonna is set to deliver a speech there." 

Ghira Belladonna had arrived at Atlas in solidarity of his people. Merrow did not care for the White Fang Chief but as far as he was concerned, he was a glowing security nightmare. But still, he had to do his job.

"We're moving. LT Tanavee stays here. The rest, with me." 

Captain Merrow and his team approached Benderblock Plaza, escorted by the low, rhythmic hum of the crowd that seemed to grow louder with every step. The plaza, nestled between Atlas' towering skyscrapers, was already packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people. The floodlights from nearby buildings illuminated the sea of bodies, their faces a mixture of jubilation and fervor as they chanted slogans and waved banners.

Merrow paused at the edge of the crowd, taking in the scene. The plaza was utterly transformed. Banners of all colors and affiliations draped from the surrounding buildings: rainbow flags of the color revolution, Bund banners, and signs painted with slogans like "Justice for Nicolasburg!" and "No More Schnee Tyranny!" A massive projection screen had been set up on the far side of the plaza, looping news footage of Jacques Schnee's removal from power. The crowd erupted into cheers each time the headline flashed across the screen.

But it was the sheer number of Faunus that caught Merrow's attention. Ears, tails, horns, and scales gleamed in the artificial light as the Faunus in the crowd surged forward, their voices rising above the throng. The White Fang insignia was everywhere. Flags waved high, and improvised armbands adorned the arms of countless Faunus, their pride on full display.

On the main stage in the center of the plaza stood Ghira, his deep voice carrying over the noise of the crowd as he addressed them with calm authority.

"Today is a day of change," Ghira declared, his voice amplified by the powerful sound system. "For decades, the Faunus of Solitas have endured under the yoke of exploitation. But now, we see the first cracks in that system! Jacques Schnee has fallen! And yet, our work is not done. We must continue to push for equality, not through violence, but through unity!"

The crowd roared its approval, shaking the very ground beneath Merrow's feet. Even with years of riot control experience, he felt a pang of unease. The energy here was electric, dangerously close to spilling over.

He signaled to his men to fan out, their riot gear and helmets making them stand out like islands in the sea of bodies. "Eyes open," Merrow ordered, his voice low but firm over the radio. "Stay visible, but don't provoke. We're here to keep the peace, nothing more."

As he moved closer to the stage, Merrow noted the makeshift barricades the crowd had erected around the plaza's perimeter. They were a haphazard mix of crates, steel beams, and old construction equipment. Hardly a serious fortification but enough to make it clear that the crowd intended to hold their ground.

His radio crackled. "Captain, we've got reports of agitators on the west side. Small group, maybe twenty strong, shouting anti-Faunus slurs and trying to push through the crowd."

Merrow grimaced. "Copy that. Hold them back, but don't escalate. Reinforcements are on standby if things get out of hand."

He pushed his way through the crowd, his presence cutting a narrow path as people stepped aside, some glaring at him with open hostility. Others simply ignored him, their focus entirely on Ghira and the stage.

Merrow keyed his radio again. "We're in position at the stage. Keep monitoring the perimeter. If anything happens, I want to know immediately."

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High above, a shadow loomed.

Perched atop one of the towering skyscrapers that shadowed the Benderblock, the figure crouched low, almost blending with the steel and glass facade. The woman carried a long, rectangular case slung over her back, its edges worn but sturdy. The faint hum of the crowd below reached her even at this height, a cacophony of cheers, chants, and the steady rhythm of Ghira Belladonna's booming voice.

She reached her position, a narrow ledge overlooking the packed plaza, and set the case down carefully in front of her. Her hands moved quickly, almost methodically, unclasping the latches with a faint click. Inside, nestled in foam cutouts, was a sleek sniper rifle, its matte black surface absorbing the light.

As the speech continued below, she removed the rifle, assembling it piece by piece with practiced ease. Barrel, stock, scope, each component fit together seamlessly. From another compartment in the case, she retrieved a small magazine, loading it with a soft, metallic snap.

The crowd roared as Ghira's voice rose in impassioned fervor. "We reject the notion that violence must be done for progress to continue! Wtih law, with justice, we prove that peaceful means are possible!" 

The woman ignored him. She settled into position, her body pressed against the cold steel of the ledge. She extended the rifle's bipod, steadying it against the railing, and pressed her cheek against the stock. Through the scope, the world below came into sharp focus. Thousands of faces filled the plaza, their expressions alight with hope, anger, and determination. The woman scanned the sea of bodies, her scope gliding over the crowd with meticulous care. She passed over Faunus waving flags, humans applauding, children perched on their parents' shoulders. Her finger hovered over the trigger, but she kept searching.

Then her scope found Ghira Belladonna.

The Faunus leader stood tall at the center of the stage, his broad shoulders and commanding presence making him an easy target. He gestured passionately as he spoke, his deep voice carrying even to her high vantage point.

Her breathing slowed. 

Focus tightened around her target. 

Then finally, Cinder Fall squeezed the trigger. 

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Merrow stifled a yawn. Ghira was finally wrapping up his speech, and frankly, Merrow was relieved. His feet ached, his back throbbed, and his stomach growled with a vengeance. All he wanted was to go home, collapse onto his couch, and eat a proper meal.

A sharp crack split the air like lightning.

The crowd fell silent, a hush as heavy as stone rippling outward. Merrow's heart lurched. He saw Ghira stagger, his eyes wide with shock. For a moment, his aura shimmered, shielding him.

Then came another shot.

Ghira glowed again then his aura broke, the protective barrier shattering like glass.

"NO!" Merrow's voice tore from his throat as adrenaline surged through him. He shoved his way through the crowd, which had erupted into chaos. Jubilant cheers transformed into screams of horror and disbelief.

People scattered in every direction, a panicked tide moving against him, but Merrow kept his eyes locked on the stage. Ghira dropped to one knee, his voice silenced mid-sentence as the chaos around him grew deafening. A third shot rang out. This time, the bullet found its mark. Not Ghira, but his bodyguard, who threw himself in front of his chief and shoved him aside. The bodyguard crumpled, blood staining the platform as security scrambled to pull Ghira away.

"Secure the perimeter!" Merrow barked into his radio, his voice sharp and commanding, barely cutting through the cacophony. "Get medics here NOW!"

"There! On the roof!" someone shouted.

Heads whipped around, and all eyes turned to the figure fleeing across the rooftops. Even from a distance, the shooter's pristine white uniform was unmistakable: Atlesian military.

Merrow's blood ran cold.

The crowd turned, their fearful eyes now filled with suspicion, fixed on him and his men. His soldiers instinctively drew closer, shields raised, their bodies tense with dread. 

A roar erupted from the crowd, a wave of fury crashing down on Merrow and his men.

"They're with the shooter!" someone screamed, and that was all it took. The mob surged forward, fists pounding against riot shields, projectiles flying through the air. "Atlas shot Ghira!" 

"Hold the line!" Merrow shouted, his voice straining against the riot's deafening roar. His men braced themselves, shields locked, but the sheer weight of the crowd pressed against them like a living tide.

"Reinforcements! Where the hell are my reinforcements?!" Merrow barked into his radio, but other cries hissed back at him. His heart hammered in his chest as the riot gear groaned under the strain.

They couldn't hold much longer.

Merrow's eyes darted across the chaos, searching for a way to restore order. He saw one of his men fall, his shield ripped from his grasp, the soldier dragged into the crowd screaming. Merrow's stomach churned as the man disappeared beneath a storm of fists and shoes.

"No!" Merrow yelled, his vision tunneling. Fury overtook him, a red haze clouding his thoughts. His hand dropped to his sidearm, and before he even realized it, he was aiming into the crowd.

"OPEN FIRE!" he roared.

The words tore from his throat, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

Then came the staccato crack of gunfire. Red sprayed across the Benderblock as his bullets ripped into the crowd. His men, their sidearms raised, let loose as well. The mob faltered for a heartbeat, the front ranks recoiling as bodies crumpled to the ground. Blood seeped into the cracks of the pavement, mingling with the shards of broken glass and debris. But the crowd wasn't retreating.

Their fear was gone, replaced by a blind, seething rage. They surged forward again, trampling their fallen as they slammed into the riot shields.

"Commander, we can't hold!" one of his men yelled, his voice high with panic. His shield cracked under the force of the mob, splintering as fists and blunt objects hammered against it.

"Stay together!" Merrow snarled, but the line was breaking. He could feel it.

Another soldier went down, his helmet ripped off as the crowd dragged him away. He screamed, his voice rising above the chaos for an instant before it was drowned out. A woman screamed as she charged, a bloodied piece of rebar swinging toward him.

Instinct took over.

Merrow fired.

The woman crumpled, the rebar clattering to the ground beside her. The red haze in Merrow's vision deepened. 

"Push them back!" he bellowed, his words barely audible over the chaos.

But his men were faltering. One by one, they were being overwhelmed, their shields splintering, their batons knocked from their hands. A young soldier to his left cried out as a brick struck his temple, dropping him where he stood.

Merrow turned, his chest heaving, and saw the crowd closing in on him. Their eyes burned with hatred, their fists ready to tear him apart.

This was it.

But then, finally, the sound of jet engines high in the air. A bullhead flew low, it's guns at the ready. 

It whirred.

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A/N: Salem has made her move.