A Fairly Reasonable Crashout (RWBY Adam SI) ch 37

+++

Silence dominated the room.

"They can't do this," Geyer muttered, repeatedly, as if she couldn't believe what she just heard. Her head snapped to Ironwood. "They-"

Ironwood's eyes met hers, a mixture of frustration and resignation. His broad shoulders sagged slightly, and for a moment, he looked older than his years.

"How can they protect Jacques Schnee!?" she yelled, her voice sharp with disbelief.

Ironwood reached for a pen on his table and raised it for her to see. A single stylized snowflake adorned its surface.

"This is why," Ironwood said curtly. "The Marshall wasn't lying when he said the SDC is Atlas's spine. If that spine breaks..." He trailed off, gesturing toward the window. "Everything collapses."

Geyer's hands curled into fists. Her voice trembled with fury. "Then the system is broken, James! If it relies on the suffering of children, on the exploitation of entire towns, on Jacques Schnee, then maybe it deserves to collapse!"

Ironwood's jaw tightened, his posture straightening. "Careful," he warned, his voice low. "You talk about the system like it's some abstract thing, but it's not. It's the people of this kingdom: the soldiers in the trenches, the civilians in their homes, the children who would perish if the Grimm descended tomorrow. You want to tear it all down? Fine. But don't pretend there won't be a cost."

Geyer stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And what about the cost of doing nothing? What about the workers in Englehoff? Nicholasburg? If we don't act, we'll have another Nicholasburg on our hands!"

"You're right," Ironwood agreed. "But what would you have us do? Start a war? Bring down the SDC by force? Risk the lives of every man, woman, and child in this kingdom just to make a point?"

"Yes," Geyer said without hesitation. "If that's what it takes. If that's what it means to actually stand for something!"

Ironwood rested his knuckles on the edge of his desk, his gaze fixed on the city outside. When he turned back, his voice was measured but heavy. "I don't disagree with you, Geyer. Jacques Schnee is a parasite. The SDC has rotted the foundations of Atlas. But Atlas doesn't survive without stability. The Grimm aren't waiting for us to figure this out. If chaos spreads, they'll descend, and we won't hold the line."

Geyer's lips curled into a bitter smile. "And you think this is control? Letting Jacques Schnee walk away from his crimes? Hoping he reforms out of the goodness of his heart? That's not control, James. That's surrender."

Ironwood's expression darkened. "And what happens if we destroy him? When the mines stop running? When Dust shipments dry up? When the cities lose power, and our defenses falter? Do you think the Grimm will wait while we rebuild?"

Geyer didn't flinch. Her voice was steady but laced with fire. "The very fact that you're worried about destabilization proves this system can't be saved. It's already dying. The difference is, we can make that death swift and controlled so we can rebuild something better. If we let this rot fester, it will collapse on its own and take everything with it."

Ironwood clenched his fists. "Do you hear yourself? You're talking about tearing down Atlas's foundation. That's chaos."

"Controlled chaos is better than catastrophe," Geyer shot back. "If we act now, we can limit the damage. Jacques Schnee isn't just a man; he's a symbol of everything wrong with Atlas. If we don't rip that symbol down, the people will lose faith in us forever."

Ironwood stepped toward the window. His reflection stared back at him, fractured by the glass. "You think the people will forgive us for throwing Atlas into uncertainty? For destroying the very thing keeping their lives running?"

"They won't forgive us if we do nothing," Geyer countered. "If we don't stand for justice, then we stand for nothing."

Ironwood's shoulders stiffened. "What happens in the meantime? While we're trying to restore order? What happens when the Grimm come?"

Geyer's voice softened, but her resolve never wavered. "Then we fight. Not for corporations or oligarchs, but for the people. For every miner, every family, every child this system has failed. If we don't fight for them, what's the point of Atlas at all?"

Ironwood turned to face her. "You're asking for a war, Geyer. Not just against Jacques Schnee, but against everything Atlas has built. Do you understand what that means? What it'll cost?"

"I do," Geyer said quietly. "And I'm willing to pay that cost because the alternative is worse. If we don't act, then we're complicit. At least this way, we have a chance to rebuild. To make Atlas what it was supposed to be."

Ironwood stared at her, his brow furrowed. For a moment, he looked as though he might relent. But then, he shook his head. "I need more than a chance, Councillor. We need time. We need a plan. I will not rush into something just to get ambushed."

Geyer's lips tightened. "We don't have time! We've had years, James. Years of watching the SDC bleed this kingdom dry. And now, you want more time? Do you think the people in Englehoff have time?"

Her voice sharpened. "I am releasing the tapes."

Ironwood's jaw tightened. "No, you will not. Do you think the Faunus, the workers, the downtrodden, won't rise up in fury? What happens when protests turn into riots? When the Grimm feel the chaos and descend on us?"

"Then we lose it," Geyer said coldly. "Maybe that's what needs to happen. Maybe people need to see that the ones at the top are complicit. That we are complicit. Jacques Schnee deserves to suffer. And if the system burns in the process, so be it."

Ironwood slammed his hands on the desk. "You don't get to play god with the lives of this kingdom! If you release those tapes, you'll put Atlas on trial, and the people will demand blood!"

"Good," Geyer said, her voice rising. "Let them demand it. Let them tear down every wall Jacques built. Because if we don't give them the truth, we're no better than the ones exploiting them. I want Jacques Schnee to feel the fear and desperation his workers feel every day!"

Ironwood's voice dropped to a dangerous low. "There is a better way to this, Councillor. Not this scorched-earth fantasy!"

"No," Geyer said, unwavering. "There isn't. Nothing will change unless we force it to. You say we need a plan, but all plans do is delay the truth. You say we need time, but all time does is let Jacques Schnee dig in deeper. If Atlas falls because of this, it falls. And if it survives, it'll be because the people fought for something better."

Ironwood stared at her, his fury barely contained. "You're going to tear this kingdom apart."

"Good," Geyer replied. She turned toward the door. "I'm releasing the tapes, James. To every network, every underground channel. The people deserve the truth. And if Jacques Schnee thinks he can escape justice, he's about to find out how wrong he is."

Ironwood's voice followed her. "You will stop, Councillor!"

She paused at the doorframe and glanced back, her expression cold. "No, I won't. Every day, I look at the people this system has failed. The only mistake would be doing nothing. Tonight, I resign. I cannot, in good faith, defend this kingdom any longer. Good day, General."

Without another word, she walked out and slammed the door.

+++

The cold wind bit at her face as she exited Atlas Academy, her breath visible in the frigid air. Geyer's steps were quick, her heels clicking sharply against the polished stone of the courtyard. She pulled her coat tighter around her, her sharp eyes scanning the unusually quiet grounds. The usual bustle of cadets and officers was conspicuously absent. That was when she spotted them.

Two men, clad in standard Atlesian military uniforms, stood near the gates. Their eyes were locked on her, their postures rigid and unmoving. No salute. No greeting. Just a heavy, oppressive silence.

Her stomach churned, and her pace quickened.

As she passed them, the faint crackle of static came from one of their earpieces. A voice murmured something inaudible, but the response was clear:

"Understood. Moving in."

Her heart leapt into her throat. The sound of footsteps followed her, deliberate and closing in. Geyer glanced over her shoulder to find the two men following her, their expressions grim and unyielding.

"Councillor Geyer," one of them called, his voice flat but commanding. "We need you to come with us. Now."

She didn't break stride. "I'm on my way to the Council Chambers," she replied curtly, her tone steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "If you have something to say, you can say it there."

One of them stepped forward, his hand moving to the sidearm strapped to his hip. "I'm afraid we can't let you do that."

Her blood ran cold.

Geyer didn't reply. Instead, she bolted. Her boots pounded against the pavement as she sprinted toward the parking lot. Shouts erupted behind her, followed by the unmistakable sound of weapons being unholstered.

"Stop her!"

She didn't look back. Her eyes darted across the rows of vehicles, searching for something—anything—that could help. Her gaze landed on a sleek Atlesian transport car, its engine still humming faintly.

Perfect.

Geyer yanked the door open and slid into the driver's seat. Her fingers fumbled with the controls as the dashboard lit up, the onboard AI chirping to life.

"Unauthorized user detected," the system announced. "Please scan your credentials."

"Not today," she muttered, slamming her fist against the override panel. The car hesitated for a moment before the engine roared to life.

Behind her, the armed men closed in, their weapons drawn. A warning shot rang out, ricocheting off the rear fender.

"She's stealing a vehicle! Stop her!"

Geyer didn't hesitate. She slammed her foot on the accelerator, the car lurching forward with a screech of tires. The guards dove out of the way as she sped past, her hands gripping the wheel tightly.

The city blurred around her as she weaved through traffic, her heart pounding in her chest. Sirens wailed behind her, and in the rearview mirror, she saw several Atlesian patrol vehicles joining the chase.

"Councillor Geyer," a voice crackled over the car's comms system, cold and authoritative. "You are ordered to pull over immediately. Failure to comply will result in the use of force."

Her jaw tightened. "Use all the force you want," she muttered under her breath. "I'm not stopping."

The transport car's AI displayed a route to the Council Chambers on the windshield. Geyer followed it instinctively, the path narrowing as she sped through tight corridors and sharp turns.

One of the patrol vehicles surged ahead, attempting to cut her off. Geyer gritted her teeth and swerved hard, narrowly avoiding a collision with a lamppost. Sparks flew as her car grazed the edge of a building, but she didn't slow down.

The pursuing car wasn't as lucky. It slammed into the lamppost with a deafening crash, sparks and smoke filling the air.

Her scroll vibrated in the passenger seat. Snatching it up, she navigated to her contacts while steering with one hand. Her breathing was ragged, but her voice was sharp and commanding as she dialed.

"This is Councillor Geyer," she said when the call connected. "I need you to tune in. Everything about Atlas, the SDC, and Nicolasburg: it's going live. Don't miss it."

She hung up and dialed another number. And another. Then another.

Ahead, the towering spires of the Council Chambers came into view, gleaming like a beacon in the pale morning light. The guards stationed at the entrance straightened as her car approached, their postures tense. But her ID was detected, the IFF identifying who she was. They relaxed...then they noticed the patrol vehicles chasing her.

"Councillor Geyer is under attack!" one of the guards shouted, raising his rifle.

The other soldiers snapped into action, their weapons trained on the pursuing cars.

The patrol vehicles screeched to a halt just as the first shots rang out. The guards opened fire with deadly precision, disabling the cars in a hail of bullets. Tires burst, glass shattered, and the vehicles skidded to a stop. The occupants scrambled for cover under the barrage.

Geyer slammed on her brakes, bringing her car to a screeching halt just steps from the grand entrance. Throwing the door open, she stumbled out, her scroll still clutched tightly in one hand.

"Councillor Geyer, are you all right?" one of the guards asked, rushing to her side.

She nodded, her breaths coming fast. "I'm fine," she said quickly. "Thank you for your help." She gestured toward the doors. "But I need to get inside. Now."

The guards exchanged uncertain glances but stepped aside, letting her through.

She sprinted up the marble steps, her resolve as sharp as the cold air biting at her skin. As she ascended, she raised her scroll and connected to a live news feed.

"This is Councillor Geyer," she announced, her voice calm but urgent. "I'm about to speak at the Council Chambers. What you're about to hear will change everything. Make sure the world is watching."

Ending the call, she pushed through the towering double doors of the Council Chambers. No session was planned for today, but bureaucrats and aides milled about, their day-to-day work interrupted by her dramatic entrance. The stared at her and gasped at her state. 

She did not care, aiming for the Central Chamber.

+++

The chandelier cast its light across the polished mahogany of the long conference table, its surface cluttered with projection scrolls, quarterly reports, and half-finished glasses of wine. The faint scent of cologne, steel, and old money hung in the air. At the head of the table, Jacques Schnee stood tall, his fingers drumming impatiently against his datapad.

"The military has fulfilled their side of the agreement," Jacques announced, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Now, we must fulfill ours."

"Unbelievable," one of the board members muttered under his breath. "We've operated independently for years, and now this."

Jacques's gaze snapped to the man, cold and unrelenting. "Would you prefer to be found guilty and imprisoned?"

The board member's frown deepened, but he said nothing more.

"That's what I thought," Jacques muttered, returning his attention to the datapad. With a few taps, figures and charts materialized in the air above the table.

"The military expects certain reforms," he said briskly, "and here they are."

The room was silent as the board leaned in, studying the bullet points that began to appear.

"First," Jacques continued, "we are closing the more dangerous mines. If they cannot be repaired, we're pulling out."

A murmur of dissent rippled through the room.

"The loss of revenue from this-" one began, but Jacques cut him off.

"We will be compensated," he said sharply, silencing the grumbles. "Next, the living conditions of the mines will be brought up to standards, and offending high level personnel moved out or-"

The heavy doors to the conference room burst open, slamming against the walls with a resounding crack that silenced the room. A young aide, visibly pale and out of breath, stumbled inside, clutching a scroll.

"Mr. Schnee," the aide stammered, eyes darting nervously around the table before landing on Jacques. "You need to see this. Now."

Jacques's fingers froze mid-tap against his datapad as he slowly turned to face the intruder. His expression was a mask of icy irritation. "This had better be important," he said, voice low and dangerous.

"It…it is," the aide managed, hastily stepping forward and placing the tablet on the table. The screen flickered to life, displaying a live feed from the Atlesian News Network (ANN). The headline at the bottom of the screen read: "BREAKING: MILITARY SURROUNDS COUNCIL CHAMBERS".

Gasps and murmurs erupted from the board members. Jacques's eyes narrowed as he gestured sharply for silence. "Quiet," he commanded, leaning in to get a better look.

The screen showed a chaotic scene outside the grand spires of the Atlesian Council Chambers. Soldiers in full combat gear stood in tight formation at the building's perimeter, their weapons visible but not yet raised. Civilians and reporters crowded behind hastily erected barricades, their shouts and questions drowned out by the hum of military vehicles. The camera panned to a tense confrontation at the steps of the Council Chambers.

A Council guard stood at the top of the marble stairs, his rifle slung across his back but his posture unyielding. Opposite him, an Atlesian colonel in the crisp, sharp uniform of the military glared up at him, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"You are obstructing a military operation," the colonel was saying, his voice barely audible over the din of the scene. "Step aside, or I will be forced to take action."

The guard's reply was calm but firm. "With respect, Colonel, Councillor Geyer is sacrosanct within these walls. You know the law. She cannot be detained or arrested without a warrant issued by the Council itself. Do you have one?"

The colonel's jaw tightened. "We don't have time for bureaucratic formalities. Geyer is a threat to Atlas, and I will not let her reckless actions destabilize this kingdom."

The guard didn't flinch. "Without a warrant, you will not enter. And if you try," he added, shifting his weight slightly, "you'll be in breach of Atlesian law. I suggest you consider your next move carefully, Colonel."

The colonel's face darkened, his hand tightening on his sword. The Council Guards, in their thick tunics, long riding boots, and steel breastplates rallied. Before the confrontation could continue, the camera cut back to the ANN anchor, a composed woman with a sharp, professional air.

"Reports are coming in that Councillor Geyer has barricaded herself inside the Council Chambers," the anchor said, her tone grave. "Sources close to the situation claim that the Councillor is due to give a speech regarding something big. Experts feel that it must be something related to her investigation of the Schnee Dust Company. The military has yet to provide an official statement, but tensions are clearly escalating outside the chambers. We will continue to monitor this developing story."

The screen flickered back to the live feed, showing more soldiers arriving in bullheads. The tension in the conference room was palpable, the board members exchanging wide-eyed glances and hushed whispers.

"This… this is a disaster," one of them finally croaked. "If Geyer has evidence-"

"She can't have evidence," another interrupted, his voice trembling. "We've covered our tracks. Haven't we?"

Jacques's expression remained cold and calculating, though his fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly. His mind raced, piecing together the implications of what he was seeing. Slowly, he straightened, turning his gaze toward the aide.

"Get me a secure line to Field Marshal Ludenstahl," Jacques ordered, his voice cutting through the rising panic like a knife. "Now."

The aide hesitated, clearly reluctant. "Sir, with respect, I don't think-"

"Now," Jacques snapped, his tone brooking no argument. The aide nodded quickly and scrambled out of the room.

Jacques turned back to the board, his icy gaze silencing their murmurs. "This changes nothing," he declared, though there was a faint edge to his voice. "The military will handle Geyer. She's a loose cannon, and Ironwood knows better than anyone that chaos is the last thing Atlas can afford right now."

"But what if she releases more evidence?" one of the board members asked, his voice tinged with panic. "What if-"

"Enough." Jacques's tone was sharp, his icy blue eyes narrowing. "We've weathered worse storms than this. Geyer is just one woman. The military may hesitate now, but they'll act if she steps too far out of line. They'll have no choice."

The board fell silent, though their expressions remained uneasy. One of them leaned forward, his voice a whisper. "And if she doesn't step too far? What then?"

"We-"

Jacques and the board paused as the ANN anchor cried out. "We are receiving word that the Councillor is going to give a speech! We are now turning live into the Council Chambers and-"

+++

Councillor Geyer stood just outside the grand doors, her hand brushing the cold steel of the frame. Her breath was steady, her expression unreadable, but her mind raced. For a moment, the weight of her decision threatened to overwhelm her.

Is there no other way?

It was a late thing to ask herself, she had already stirred up the hornet's nest. But a cautious hesitant voice asked her, one final flicker of doubt. She had been raised to believe in Atlas's supremacy, its splendour, its glory. But a deep part of her could not believe it, could not stomach it, knowing the price of its supremacy. It did not come from some grand idea or philosophy, but simply from the gut feeling she carried that this was just not right. A part of her believed that maybe reform was possible. 

But after today...?

The military would let justice slide instead of pursuing it. The Atlas she knew, the shining beacon on the hill, was dead.

Her jaw tightened. There isn't another way. Not as long as Jacques Schnee and the SDC persist. Not as long as the military turns a blind eye to their crimes. This system is rotten to its core, and no amount of reform will cleanse it. Only fire will.

She straightened her coat and pushed the doors open.

What few councillors there were sat at their seats, their faces showing their confusion. As she was merely giving a speech, normal procedure was not necessary. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. All eyes turned to her and so were murmurs. They saw the ruffled look she wore and murmured. She did not bother to clean up.

The podium loomed ahead, a symbol of everything she had fought for and everything she now sought to destroy. She paused at the base of the steps, her hand resting briefly on the railing. This is it, she thought. When I leave this podium, there's no turning back. They'll call me a traitor. They'll call me reckless. But it won't matter. The truth will be out, and they won't be able to ignore it any longer.

Her fingers tightened on the railing as she climbed the stairs. The weight of her decision pressed down on her shoulders, but her resolve was unshaken. She reached the podium, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room.

The silence was absolute. The cameras zoomed into her.

Geyer took a deep breath. Then, she began.

"Citizens of Atlas," she said, her voice firm and commanding. "For years, I have stood in this chamber and fought for you. I have argued for reform, for justice, for accountability. But today, I know see, with clarity, that Atlas does not stand for such things."

Her gaze swept the room, her words sharp and deliberate. "As you know, I am in charge of the Investigative Tribunal following the aftermath of Nicholasburg. Through my investigation, I have been been met with resistance, excuses, and silence. But despite it, I have found sufficient evidence that proves the Schnee Dust Company's guilt. Follow the data as I have. Follow the records, follow the money, and you yourself will see it. I have planned to bring this into the next session of the Tribunal and what does the Atlesian Military decide to do?"

She levelled her gaze to what few military representatives there were who froze at the attention.

"I get visited by a high-ranking member of the Atlesian military, and told, in strict certain terms, that the Tribunal must declare the SDC not guilty! I am told to bury my evidence!"

Gasps rippled through the chamber like an electric current. The councillors exchanged uneasy glances, their murmurs rising in volume, but Geyer pressed on, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

"You heard me correctly," she said, her tone sharp and biting. "The military, the very institution sworn to protect this kingdom, has chosen to protect Jacques Schnee instead. They have chosen to shield the SDC and its atrocities because, in their words, 'Atlas cannot survive without the Schnee Dust Company.'"

She let the words hang in the air, her gaze fixed on the councillors and officials who sat frozen in their seats. Some looked away, their guilt plain on their faces. Others stared back at her, their expressions unreadable.

"But let me ask you this," she continued, her voice rising. "What kind of survival is that? A survival built on exploitation? On the suffering of children in the mines? On the backs of the Faunus workers who are treated as less than human? If this is the price of Atlas's so-called stability, then it is not worth paying."

The murmurs grew louder now, but Geyer refused to be drowned out.

"I have seen the footage from Nicholasburg," she said, her voice steady but filled with righteous anger. "I have seen the conditions in which these workers are forced to live and die. I have seen the documents that prove Jacques Schnee knew exactly what was happening and not only allowed it but profited from it. And I have seen the complicity of this Council, this military, this entire system, in allowing it to continue."

She slammed her hand down on the podium, the sound echoing through the chamber and silencing the room once more.

"You can call yourselves leaders, but you are nothing more than enablers. You have allowed one man, one corporation, to hold an entire kingdom hostage. You have turned a blind eye to suffering because it was easier than confronting the truth. Well, no more."

Her gaze swept the room again, her eyes blazing. "I can no longer, in good conscience, serve a kingdom that prioritizes profits over people, that protects oligarchs while abandoning its citizens. As of this moment, I resign from my position as a Councillor of Atlas."

The declaration sent a shockwave through the room. Some councillors gasped audibly, while others sat stunned, their faces pale. Still, Geyer continued, her voice unwavering.

"But before I go," she said, reaching into her coat and pulling out her scroll, "I have one final act of service to perform. The people of Atlas deserve the truth. And the truth is on this device."

She held the scroll high, the screen glowing brightly. "On this scroll are the files, the footage, the evidence that proves everything I have said. The unsafe conditions. The use of extreme force! It is all here! And as of this moment, it is being uploaded to the CCTNet for the entire world to see!"

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a brief moment. Then, with a single, deliberate motion, she tapped the button. A notification flashed: "Files Uploaded: Disseminating to All Channels."

The silence in the chamber was deafening. For a moment, it seemed as though time itself had stopped. Then, chaos erupted.

Councillors shouted over one another, some demanding order, others scrambling to leave the room. The military representatives looked visibly shaken, their hands moving to their earpieces as they whispered hurried orders.

Geyer stepped back from the podium, her expression calm but resolute. She turned to face the room one last time. "Atlas can no longer hide from its sins," she said, her voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. "The people deserve justice. And if this kingdom must fall for them to have it, then so be it."

With that, she descended the steps, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. She didn't look back as she made her way to the doors, ignoring the shouts of councillors and the frantic movements of aides. And as she stepped down, she was met with a body slam against her that sent her to the ground.

She did not resist.

+++

The dim glow of neon signs filtered through the frost-streaked windows of the dingy bar, casting a sickly blue hue across the sticky countertops. A single ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, its faint hum barely masking the clinking of glasses and the low murmur of patrons drowning their sorrows in cheap liquor. Behind the bar, a bunny Faunus with tired eyes and drooping ears scrubbed at a glass that had already been cleaned three times over.

If she had a choice, she would be in management. She had the qualifications for it. But the Atlesian job market did not look kindly on people like her. It was always 'hiring internally' or some other reason. The pay she had was just enough to keep her tiny apartment heated and her stomach full. But it was better than going into five different interviews only to find out that they had picked another employee. 

Her ears twitched as a pair of officers at the far end of the bar barked for another round. They were laughing too loud, their voices cutting through her own thoughts. She forced a smile as she grabbed the bottle of whiskey, her fingers tightening around it for a moment before she poured.

"Keep it coming, bunny," one of them sneered, slapping the counter. "You're good for something at least."

She swallowed the retort that burned in her throat, nodded silently, and slid the glasses toward them. It wasn't worth it. It was never worth it.

Mira glanced at the dusty old television mounted in the corner of the bar. It was always playing something: the news, sports, propaganda reels about the glory of Atlas. Anything to fill the silence. But today, the usual monotony was broken.

"Breaking News," the anchor announced, her crisp voice cutting through the static. "We go live to the Atlesian Council Chambers, where Councillor Geyer is addressing the kingdom."

The room quieted slightly as curious eyes turned to the screen. Mira's ears perked up despite herself. Geyer was one of the few politicians who ever spoke out about the plight of Faunus workers. Mira didn't trust politicians, but Geyer's words had always carried a fire that was hard to ignore. And her fiery speech railing against the SDC after Nicolasburg? Now that was someone worthy of her respect.

The screen shifted to the Council Chambers, where Geyer stood at the podium, her voice sharp and commanding. Mira froze, her hands gripping the edge of the bar as the councillor appeared, her coat torn somewhat. It looked as if she had been attacked. 

"For years, I have stood in this chamber and fought for you," Geyer declared. "But today, I see with clarity that Atlas does not stand for justice."

The bar was silent now, all eyes glued to the screen. Mira felt her heart pounding as Geyer spoke of corruption, exploitation, and the crimes of the Schnee Dust Company. And the army covering for them. Gasps echoed, stares were levelled at the military men who were trying their best to sink into their uniforms.

"You're shitting me!" a patron cried. "After all the shit the SDC pull and Jacky Schnee gets covered!?" 

Mira's head turned to the patron and to her surprise, it was a human who yelled it. 

"But before I go," the Counciullor said, reaching into her coat and pulling out her scroll, "I have one final act of service to perform. The people of Atlas deserve the truth. And the truth is on this device."

"On this scroll are the files, the footage, the evidence that proves everything I have said. The unsafe conditions. The use of extreme force! It is all here! And as of this moment, it is being uploaded to the CCTNet for the entire world to see!"

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a brief moment. Then, with a single, deliberate motion, she tapped the button. 

The room erupted into chaos. Some patrons cheered, others cursed, and the officers at the end of the bar turned to leave. Mira barely heard them. Curiosity bubbled in her as she found the apparent files posted on a public forum. Her finger hovered over the screen. She shouldn't look. She didn't want to look. But curiosity burned too fiercely. With a deep breath, she tapped the notification.

Her scroll filled with a list of files: videos, documents, reports. She scrolled through them, her stomach churning as the titles flashed by. Her finger landed on one video. She tapped it.

The screen flickered to life, and she immediately regretted it.

An Atlesian cruiser loomed in the sky, its cannons firing mercilessly into a mining town below. Nicolasburg, she thought. Plumes of smoke and fire rose into the air as buildings crumbled under the assault. The camera panned down to the ground, where emaciated, dirty, terrified Faunus workers scrambled for cover.

Mira's breath hitched as she saw them. Their faces were gaunt, their clothes tattered. Children clung to their parents, their cries drowned out by the roar of cannons.

And then, amidst the chaos, she saw him.

A red-haired bull Faunus, his horns bared darted through the rubble. His movements were frantic but determined as he pulled people from collapsed buildings, shielding them with his own body as debris rained down. Blood streaked his face, but he didn't stop. 

Mira's hand trembled, and she nearly dropped the scroll. She couldn't watch anymore. She turned away, her stomach twisting in knots, but the image was burned into her mind.

"No…no…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her eyes darted back to the TV, desperate for anything to pull her away from what she had just seen. The broadcast was still live, but now the scene had shifted.

Geyer was on the ground outside the Council Chambers, her face pressed into the cold stone as Atlesian soldiers pinned her down. One of them had a rifle pointed directly at her head.

Mira's heart stopped.

The room erupted again, but she barely heard it. She stared at the screen, her chest heaving, her ears flattening against her head.

How could this be happening?

Anger bubbled up inside her, sharp and hot, mixing with the nausea and the fear. This wasn't justice. This wasn't stability. This was cruelty.

She looked down at her scroll again, the paused video still on the screen. The bull Faunus's face stared back at her, his eyes filled with desperation.

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She felt trapped, powerless, like she always did. But for the first time, something inside her cracked.

This isn't right.

Her gaze shifted back to the TV, where Geyer was being dragged away by soldiers. The councillor's words echoed in her mind: "If this kingdom must fall for justice to rise, then so be it!"

She stared at the glasses on the counter. 

Her reflection stared back. 

+++

A/N: There was a very good reason why the tapes weren't released and that is why. 

Now the truth is out. And the reactions are going to be spicy. 

Apologies for the lateness of this upload. I had to delay it, tihi. 

I think about the decision of the Atlesian military to shield Jacques in the name of stability and I remember fucking Boeing, lmao. https://www.npr.org/2025/05/23/nx-s1-5409364/boeing-justic-department-737-max-plane-crashes-charges-deal#:~:text=Hourly%20News-,DOJ%20confirms%20deal%20to%20drop%20Boeing%20prosecution%20over%20deadly%20crashes,from%20some%20victims%27%20family%20members.

Then there's the Diddy case and the ongoing Epstein bullshit.

Reality is truly stranger than fiction.