Everything was a mess. Ironwood looked at the report on his desk and couldn't help but grunt in annoyance. This mission was supposed to be quick in and quick out, not whatever hell this was. Setting aside the property damage, the count of civilian casualties alone was giving him a headache. Then there was the fact that they lost the culprit; he just knew the damned council would choke him with this fact until he resolved this mess or they found a better excuse.
He hated politics; he hated the fact that those old fools behind the council table were the ones deciding the lives of millions. Yet, what could he do? Overthrow them? He looked at his hands; it was a possibility, but it was the one he didn't want to consider. 'Focus on the matters ahead, James. Where the hell is my Semblance when it's needed most?'
He looked at Simon's file; even with their technical level, the best they could do was install mechanical joints inside his arm to help him regain the use of his hand. It would never be the same; there would be a scar to remind him of that, even if he still kept his flesh bits. He then looked at Elm's file; she was not in mortal danger, just unconscious for the last three days.
Both Winter and Robyn were fine, suffering only from severe depletion of aura; it was a common condition among Huntsmen and Huntresses after finishing a mission. A little bit of rest, and they would be fine to go.
What worried him most was the "proof," the original objective of this mission. They raided the warehouse they were heading to and searched every nook, yet didn't find what they were looking for, just as Simon said they wouldn't. 'Was the proof even real?'
Ironwood leaned back in his seat. He was tired, and he also had to worry about an assassin who could turn intangible. From Simon's words, he had already identified possible candidates who might be the assassin, but he needed to hear everyone's testimony to verify the full story. Yet, since Elm was still in a coma, the investigation had hit a dead end for now.
Not only did their fight cause the destruction of many cameras, rendering them useless, but all they had left were some snippets and nothing else. He should visit Simon, even if he didn't like the idea.
But first, he had a lot of paperwork to do; better to do it now, otherwise the council would use this chance to bury him with more paperwork so he wouldn't be sniffing around their scent.
'I could really use some competent people under my command.'
***
"The mind commands, and the flesh obeys," he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes and focusing his mind. The method was said to focus your mind, body, and spirit on one goal. At this current moment, that goal was complete recovery. When he closed his eyes and focused, he could feel it. He could hear the red blood cells flowing through his veins; he could feel his muscles tightening with every breath.
He had to admit that at the beginning, he thought the method was a ruse; he knew that the system wouldn't deceive him, he just questioned if it would work here—perhaps the laws of the world were different. This was common across countless worlds, if he took every fiction he knew as a different world, of course. But now, after feeling its effects firsthand, he had to admit [The "Hercules" Method] was magical; his broken ribs, which were said to take at least a week to heal even with aura, had already healed.
Still, it would take some time for him to regain complete control over his injured arm. He reopened his eyes, placing the book of [The "Hercules" Method] on a nearby table, and glanced at the camera in the corner of the hospital room. Then he looked at his muscles; others might not be able to tell yet, but he could—his muscles were getting bigger, slowly losing fat and turning it into something else.
With a smirk, he got up, doing some light stretches and warm-ups. At least on the surface; in fact, he was practicing the method. One thing he loved most about this method was that it didn't need to be flashy; he didn't need to do some superhuman level of training. No, he just needed to start the engine. He let his body, spirit, and mind find a natural equilibrium, then provided his body with enough fuel to catch up with the spirit and mind.
He was sure that to the people observing him, he looked ridiculous. After all, most of the moves in the method looked more like dance moves than real exercise. Okay, dancing was good for exercise too, but they probably preferred women to do that instead of a shirtless guy soaked in sweat. Just as he was sinking deeper into his own world, he heard a low hissing sound; the door was opening.
He stopped his exercise and looked at the entrance that was slowly sliding open. He hoped it was the nurse delivering his lunch; he needed to eat a lot so he could quickly go to the next stage of mastery. Sadly, to his disappointment, the person visiting him was General Ironwood.
"Well, look who finally decided to visit dear old me. I was actually expecting your visit sooner." Ironwood simply raised a brow at his current state before returning to his stoic expression. Simon quickly picked up a nearby towel and wiped his sweat before putting his shirt back on.
"I assume that means you are aware of why I am visiting you." Well, he wasn't exactly sure. There were multiple valid reasons to visit him that he could think of, but the most likely one was...
"You didn't find the evidence at the warehouse." James didn't look surprised, but Simon could feel the General's eyes getting colder. He could push his luck a little by giving him an "I told you so" look, but it wasn't time to start pushing just yet. "So, now you are questioning my credibility, right? You guys should have just heard me out and waited for me to recover. If it were that easy to find, I wouldn't be requesting to go there personally."
"That's what you are saying. But you are right, perhaps we weren't searching for it the right way. Then why don't you tell us how to find it? If it is really there, of course." Ironwood wasn't really asking him; it was more of a demand phrased as a question. Translated to less formal language, it would be: 'No shit, Sherlock, your so-called credibility is plummeting. You'd better show me the proof now, or else.'
Simon simply smirked and took a seat on his bed. Actually, it was a rather difficult situation he had put himself in. Indeed, as Ironwood said, there was no proof in the warehouse; it was in his system storage. He hadn't accounted for the possibility of Zycon in his original plan, so he wasn't exactly worried at the beginning of this whole ordeal. So, he decided to make a bet: in this world, if there are immortals, perhaps there is magic. He looked Ironwood dead in the eye and said, "You have no choice but to wait for me to recover."
"Why?" Ironwood's tone grew colder; it really didn't sound like a question.
"One word: Magic," Simon said with a confident smile. Of course, he wasn't betting his whole credibility on the chance of magic existing and the General in front of him knowing that it exists. If he didn't get the reaction he was looking for, he was going to say something like, 'A magician never reveals their secrets.'
Then he got it: the reaction he wanted. Ironwood's facial expression as a whole didn't change, but there were signs; his pupils shrank a little, and Simon could hear his muscles tensing. Usually, he would have missed these small details, but not after practicing [The "Hercules" Method]. The world really did have magic.
"So? Did my credibility hit rock bottom? Or did it go up?" Ironwood didn't answer, but the fact that he stopped questioning him further was the answer itself. Well, he was happy that he managed to take care of the trouble; if not, he had just dug deeper into this world's rabbit hole. Who was he kidding? Of course he did.
To be frank, he wasn't sure about this whole magic gambit after all; it was hard to tell if an aura counted as magic or not. To him, it felt magical enough to qualify as one, but the original memories never admitted it was. "Well, isn't that nice. By the way, how are Elm and the others doing?"
Ironwood didn't say a word at first; he was thinking about whether he should answer or not. Now he was almost sure Simon knew things he shouldn't, and it was enough proof to raise his threat level significantly—and even more reason to suspect he had a connection to Salem. He glanced at the camera. If he knocked Simon out now and dragged him away, could he trust that the people behind the monitor were the only ones watching this room?
No, more importantly, could he believe that Elm and the others wouldn't dig deeper for him? For now, watching him was a little too dangerous. Still, he was considering a few other possibilities to deal with Simon. 'A total blackout would be easy to stage. Losing a prisoner would be a paperwork nightmare and would probably wrap around my neck later, but... transporting him to Ozpin under the guise of a "prison break" could be better in the long run.'
Even if Elm and the others went after him, they would be chasing a wild goose here in Atlas. Just as Ironwood was starting to think this plan was viable, he heard the entrance to the room make a hissing sound as it slid open. He turned around and saw a nurse coming in, pushing a service cart with dozens of trays of food.
"Oh, lunchtime," Simon said with a smile. He then looked at Ironwood, who started walking towards the door. "Hmm? Leaving already? Don't you want to have lunch? I could spare some."
Hearing it, Ironwood stopped for a second and looked at the cart filled with food. "You are eating all that?" Simon simply nodded his head with a smile, extending his hand to get the first tray of food. He then stared at the nurse, who looked back at him with a tired expression.
"The doctor said aura awakening might have enhanced his metabolism. It is unusual, but he said it does happen sometimes." Ironwood nodded his head with a dazed look before finally leaving the room.
***
"...thank you, Lisa. As you have heard, the number of casualties during the High Noon incident has come to a formal conclusion. Twelve are confirmed dead, seven remain in critical condition, and..."
Winter turned off the TV and glanced at Robyn, who was sitting near the window, looking at the distant clouds. Their fight was officially named the "High Noon incident," and it had dominated the news for the last few days—a constant reminder of their failure. Though Winter was least affected, she was the one being criticized most because... well, she was Winter Schnee, the name everyone recognized most among their team.
Robyn had been like this since they woke up. Doctors said their recovery was going well, and both of them would be discharged from the hospital soon. Though she thought Robyn should remain here a little longer, at least they should get discharged together.
"I feel like a failure," Robyn said. Her voice was weak, but in the silent medical room, Winter heard it loud and clear.
"Don't get it wrong; it is common for missions to go wrong, especially if they involve unpredictable variables like Phaser." Phaser was Zycon's code name, at least the one assigned to him currently. Perhaps Winter had clashed with him for only a few seconds, but even during that short time, she could tell that the man was experienced and by no means a small fry. It was a genuine mystery how someone like him had never registered in the Atlas Criminal Records.
"I never said I was talking about the mission." Robyn looked in Winter's direction. There were still a few white patches here and there, but she mostly looked okay, at least physically. She was the one who suffered the least injury among them, which is why, while Winter was being forced to lie in her bed for at least a week, Robyn was already walking. "Look at me. People won't even believe it if I said I was there fighting with you guys." Indeed, compared to the degree of injury the rest of them suffered, Robyn's felt almost too light. But Winter didn't blame her, because she knew Robyn's role was ranged, which put her out of danger's way most of the time.
"You indeed fought with us, Robyn. Don't put yourself down like this." Robyn gritted her teeth upon hearing Winter's words.
"Fucking Simon Jenkins—the target we needed to protect, who was being protected by all of us—got hurt more than me." She took a step closer. "Admit it, Winter. During the fight, I was useless."
"Jenkins didn't have an aura, and he was the primary target from the beginning. It doesn't make sense to blame yourself for his injuries. If we were being technical about it, his ribs are broken mainly because of me. We actually did a decent job; for all that he suffered from the enemy was one shot to a limb."
"Right... the bullet wound that almost killed him. Besides, the rib thing was to save his life from the grenades that appeared right beside you guys. I barely reacted in time during that; I almost turned into paste." Winter shook her head. She understood what her friend was going through. The shock of almost dying, the weight of failure, and the guilt of being a survivor were all pushing on her at once. In fact, it was doing the same to Winter; the difference was that she was used to living under pressure like this from childhood, but not Robyn.
"Robyn, you have done great. I know you would have done great even if we had changed roles during the fight. But I wouldn't have done as well in your role."
"No... You would have. Even Simon would have been great, since all I did during the fight was take a hit for him and Elm once." She then looked at Winter; her eyes were cold. "I could never have done what you did." Robyn sounded broken, as if barely holding back her tears.
"I don't even know what my Semblance is, Winter... I could have never done what you did there; in fact, I could have never done what any of you did." With that, Robyn simply collapsed on her bed.
Winter knew she needed to lift Robyn's mood, so she decided to do something she never thought she would need to do... joke. "I mean, you could have definitely done what Jenkins did. All he did was—"
"Possibly beat the Phaser, or at least chase him away." Winter frowned upon hearing Robyn's words.
"We both know that's nonsense. He admitted when he woke up that Phaser had left the scene. Besides, how could someone who just awakened their aura beat someone like him?" The inspectors said that someone might have chased away Phaser, as there were clear signs that he had fled in a panic, as if running away. Some idiot decided to raise the possibility of Simon chasing him away because of the position he was found in, which we all dismissed immediately as impossible.
"We don't know for sure. We were all unconscious." Winter didn't want to hear that kind of nonsense again; it felt like a mockery of what Elm had accomplished by putting Simon there. Robyn sighed and didn't pursue this further.
'But he wasn't a normal soul.' Driven by curiosity, Robyn had searched for the feelings others felt when awakening the aura of another, and to her surprise, none of their descriptions matched what she experienced when unlocking Simon's aura. 'Whatever that feeling was... it was wrong, and it was dangerous.'
Perhaps she should get to the bottom of this.