RWBY: Moon Reflection-Chapter 94: Forging Bonds

Crimson sat in General Ironwood's office, casually leaning back in his chair while Winter Schnee stood at attention, finishing her report. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of new revelations, yet Crimson's expression remained calm, his eyes reflecting an almost unnerving confidence.

"...Our investigation confirms Bram Thornmane's conspiracy," Winter said, her tone clipped and professional. "He partnered with Lieutenant Colonel Olive Harper to incite unrest and orchestrate Grimm attacks, aiming to undermine your leadership, General."

Ironwood frowned, his fingers steepled on his desk. "And their methods?"

Winter nodded, her expression grim. "The two of them utilized stolen technology from an abandoned Atlas fort. With the help of Mantle's most respected Union leader, Hanlon Fifestone, they developed orbs capable of storing and amplifying negative emotions. Fifestone's Semblance, Raw Emotion, allowed them to harvest negativity on a massive scale."

Crimson's eyebrow rose at that. "Hanlon Fifestone? The guy with the spotless reputation?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise. "Talk about bad luck. When I went to Essen, I didn't expect to find myself at the center of a conspiracy."

Winter continued without acknowledging his remark. "In addition, they supplied Atlas weapons and schematics to the mobster Amoncio Glass. The source of these weapons has been a mystery for some time, and the Ace Ops were investigating it, they suspected the mobsters were siphoning equipment from restricted military stockpiles."

Ironwood let out a slow exhale, leaning back in his chair. "This is far worse than I imagined," he admitted. His eyes met Crimson's. "You've done a great service to Atlas, Specialist. Your actions in Essen saved countless lives and prevented a disaster."

Crimson gave a small, nonchalant shrug. "Just doing my job."

Winter, however, seemed to linger on something else. She glanced at Crimson, her icy gaze searching. "Specialist Rose," she began hesitantly, "can you truly see inside people's bodies? The way you described it during the interrogation... is that accurate?"

Crimson nodded. "It's true. I see blood flow, organs, muscles, bones—everything. But before you ask," he added, noticing her shifting stance, "no, I don't see people naked. It doesn't work like that. And no, you're not the first person to suspect me of... that."

Winter's composure broke just slightly as her cheeks flushed a faint pink. Ironwood let out a rare laugh, the sound filling the room. "Winter Schnee, embarrassed? Now that's something I never thought I'd see," he said, his tone light but teasing.

Winter quickly regained her composure, though her expression was slightly more rigid than before.

The levity in the room was short-lived as Ironwood sighed, his gaze turning serious again. "Why is it," he began, almost to himself, "that people can't see beyond their personal ambitions? Our true enemy is grimm, yet we waste so much energy fighting one another. If only the world truly knew about Salem... maybe then we'd be united."

Crimson tilted his head, studying the general. "That's idealistic, General. But you're the leader of Atlas' military and its Huntsman Academy. That makes you the closest thing to a dictator. If you ever changed your mind—or worse, went insane—Atlas would be done for. Your influence runs too deep."

Winter frowned, turning sharply to Crimson. "Specialist Rose, your words are inappropriate," she snapped. "You should watch what you say."

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Ironwood raised a hand, stopping her. "No, he makes a valid point." He turned to Crimson, his gaze steady. "If something like that were to happen... what would you do, Specialist?"

Crimson's expression hardened, his voice unnervingly calm, each word measured and deliberate. "In honor of the good general sitting before me," he said, his tone steady but resolute, "I'd do whatever it takes to put down what you'd become."

Ironwood smiled faintly, though his eyes were solemn. "Then I'm counting on you to prevent the worst, should it ever come to that."

Winter blinked, visibly surprised by the exchange. She didn't comment, though her gaze shifted between the two men, trying to gauge their thoughts.

After a moment of silence, Crimson leaned forward, resting his elbows on Ironwood's desk. "Now, onto something more immediate. I have a request."

Ironwood raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I want Atlas to manufacture more of these orbs," Crimson said, gesturing to the one on the desk.

The request caught both Ironwood and Winter off guard. Ironwood straightened in his chair. "Why would you want more of those? They're dangerous."

Crimson smiled faintly. "Exactly. Dangerous to Grimm. I plan to use them to draw Grimm to myself and wipe them out. With your military's support, I want to see how long it would take to make the continent of Solitas Grimm-free."

The room fell silent. Winter's expression was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed her shock. Ironwood leaned back in his chair, the weight of Crimson's words settling over him.

"You're suggesting something no one's ever attempted," Ironwood said slowly. "The idea of cleaning Solitas of Grimm... it's ambitious, but..."

"But no one's ever had someone like me to make it possible," Crimson interjected confidently.

Winter looked to Ironwood, waiting for his response. The general stared at the orb for a long moment before finally nodding. "Very well. The manufacturing will be limited and kept top secret. These orbs will be provided to you and no one else."

Crimson's grin widened. "Fair enough. I'll be waiting, General."

With that, he stood, giving a casual wave before turning to leave. Winter and Ironwood watched him go, the room falling silent once more.

Ironwood exhaled heavily, rubbing his temple. "That man..."

"He's reckless," Winter muttered, though there was a hint of admiration in her voice.

Ironwood gave a small, humorless chuckle. "Maybe. But he might just be what we need."

______________________

Crimson exited Ironwood's office, his mind already moving ahead to the next task, when a familiar figure caught his eye. Standing down the hallway, leaning casually against the wall, was Raven Branwen. For a moment, Crimson paused, his gaze locking onto hers. She stood tall—without the walking cane she'd been reliant on since the battle at Haven.

His brow raised slightly, and after a beat, he stepped forward. "Well, well," he said with a faint smile, his tone carrying an air of approval. "Congratulations on the new prosthetics. I take it they're a good fit?"

Raven's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. "Much better than I expected," she admitted, swinging her leg, as if testing her balance. Her voice carried a hint of pride but also something softer, less guarded. "I feel... whole again, in a way."

"That's good to hear," Crimson replied sincerely. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "What brings you here?"

Raven hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her sharp features. "I was hoping we could talk," she said finally, her voice quieter. "If you've got the time."

Crimson regarded her for a moment, then nodded. "Lead the way."

Raven turned, gesturing for him to follow. She led him through the quiet halls of the Atlas base to her quarters—a modest room, sparsely decorated but with enough personal touches to hint at someone who was slowly trying to rebuild a sense of belonging. She moved to a small cabinet, pulling out a bottle and two glasses.

As she poured the drinks, Crimson raised a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I've got to ask," he said with mock seriousness, "what kind of aunt brings her underage nephew a drink?"

Raven smirked back, handing him a glass. "The kind of aunt," she replied dryly, "who has a nephew born after her but somehow older by almost 500 years."

Crimson couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head as he accepted the glass. "Fair point," he said, taking a sip.

They sat across from each other, the atmosphere unusually calm. For a while, neither spoke. It was Raven who finally broke the silence.

"I wanted to say... I'm sorry," she began, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Crimson looked up, surprised, but let her continue. "I know I haven't exactly been the best... anything. Not a good aunt. Not a good mother. Not a good person."

Crimson leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.

"I've seen you try to make amends," Raven continued, her crimson eyes meeting his. "You've apologized for things that weren't even your fault. You've fought to fix what others broke. So... I think it's only fair that I try to do the same."

He watched her carefully, noting the way her fingers tightened slightly around her glass. There was sincerity in her words, and perhaps even a hint of regret.

Raven took a deep breath before continuing. "When I left Yang... it wasn't because I didn't love her. It was because I was afraid. Afraid of the responsibility. Afraid of failing her. And I..." She hesitated. "I thought staying away would protect her, even if it hurt her."

Crimson's expression softened slightly, though he remained quiet.

"I was around more than you might think," Raven admitted. "I've been watching. That raven you've seen... that was me."

Crimson blinked, surprised. "Wait. That bird?" he asked, leaning forward. "I always thought it was too aware, too intelligent to be a normal raven. It was creepy, honestly. That's why I always stayed on guard."

Raven chuckled softly. "Funny. I thought the same about you when you were a child. You were too sharp, too aware. It was... unnerving." She gave him a wry smile. "I stopped coming around because, frankly, you scared me."

Crimson stared at her for a moment before breaking into a laugh. "You're telling me you were scared of a harmless child?"

"Harmless?" Raven snorted. "You were anything but harmless. And you're not much better now," she added with a smirk. "You were on guard against a bird, of all things."

"Fair enough," Crimson admitted, shaking his head with a small smile.

The conversation shifted after that, the tension easing. Raven leaned back, her expression turning serious again. "I suppose you've already figured this out, but... I was there when Summer left on her last mission."

Crimson's gaze sharpened "What can you tell me?"

Raven took a long sip of her drink before answering. "Summer... she went after Salem in her last mission... and Salem was not like anything else we've faced. Her immortality isn't just longevity. You can't kill her. You can destroy her body, tear her apart, but she always reforms. Always."

Crimson nodded slowly, processing the information. "So there's no end to her," he murmured. "No way to put her down for good."

"Yes, she was cursed by gods to roam the world for eternity. Even if the entire world perished she will remain" Raven explained

Crimson leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Thanks for telling me," he said finally. "It's... not what I wanted to hear, but it's better to know the truth."

Raven gave him a small, almost tentative smile. "You're welcome. And... I meant what I said. I want to try to do better. Yang, Qrow... they're warming up to me. I want to stand by their side this time."

Crimson studied her for a moment before nodding. "If you're sincere about this, you can make up for the past. Actions speak louder than words, and it looks like you're on the right path."

For a while, they sat in silence, sipping their drinks. It wasn't the most conventional form of bonding, but for them, it worked. For the first time in a long time, there was no hostility, no mistrust—just two people, connected by blood and shared history, finding a sense of understanding and connection.