SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Top Bolt (New)

Top Bolt

And now they were attacking Beacon as well.

Ironwood kept his face impassive. So far — and that was a very big 'so far'; the night was unfortunately young, much as he might have wished it over and done with at this point — no attack on Vale itself, or on the defences screening the city, but first an attack on the Amity Arena in the air, and now a combined air and ground attack on Beacon. From what he could tell, beowolves and ursai had scaled the cliffs up from the Emerald Forest, with creeps digging upwards through the earth and nevermores and griffons supporting from the sky.

Not an unimaginable possibility, but at the same time one that had always seemed unlikely. It was a long climb up those steep cliffs out of the woods; if the grimm lost the advantage of surprise — and they likely would have lost it, if it weren't for all the other distractions of the night — then they would be sitting ducks clinging to that cliff-face, and even if they did manage to get up the cliffs and gain the flat ground, then they'd still be faced with all of the students and professors at the school, including Ozpin himself.

It was a great deal of risk for very little chance of success — in ordinary circumstances.

These were not ordinary circumstances.

Attention had been on the Amity Arena and the grimm that had already started the attack there, on the flying grimm that had already emerged out of the forest, not on the ground grimm that might yet come out of there. And a lot of students were up in the Amity Arena, pinned down by the grimm surrounding it.

Although not, perhaps, for much longer.

Ironwood frowned slightly. "Get me Colonel Harper on the line."

"Aye aye, sir," said des Voeux. "Patching you through now."

It did not take a moment for Colonel Harper's voice to emerge out of the speakers into the CIC. "General, sir. What can I do for you?"

"How's it looking out there, Harper?" Ironwood asked. Harper's voice did not seem ruffled or panicked in any way, which he took as a good sign until she told him otherwise. "How are the Valish?"

"The Valish seem a bit confused," Harper said, a light chuckle venturing into her voice. "Ever since that windbag came over the horn … I was expecting an attack, but I think they're more scared of us than I am of them. They've refused their line back, just like we have, and now we're sort of glaring at one another across the field."

"But they're not engaging?" Ironwood asked.

"No, sir," Harper replied. "Their lieutenant colonel sent a runner across with a handkerchief on a stick, asking if we could have a truce until it was settled whether we were actually at war or not. I told him that was fine by me, but he should expect me to keep an eye on him and his regardless."

"That's fine," Ironwood told her. "We didn't seek this fight, and though we'll defend ourselves, we won't seek to expand the fight either. Defend yourself, but don't escalate. If the Valish don't want to fight, then don't give them one. That's not why we're here."

"No, sir," Harper said again. "But speaking of why we're here, the grimm are looking a little restless."

"Are they attacking?" Ironwood asked.

"Not yet, sir," Harper said, "but they're going to, I'd bet anything on it. They're getting themselves worked up, growling and howling. You know how they get; they're trying to scare us before they charge."

Ironwood didn't ask if it was working. "Engage at your discretion, Harper, weapons free. Des Voeux, send that to Fourth Battalion as well; they may engage the grimm as they feel necessary."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, sir, but I'll hold back," Harper told him. "With everything else that's happening, I don't see the sense in provoking them to attack if we can keep them sitting there making noises for a little longer." She paused. "How bad is it, sir?"

"In Vale? I'm not sure," Ironwood admitted. "That's something the Valish will have to handle themselves; I'm not going to commit our troops to a fight in the city while they're also fighting grimm on the Green Line."

Not many of our troops, anyway; just a few of the best.

"As for Beacon," Ironwood went on, "we'll see."

"I'll let you get to it, sir," Harper said. "Good luck."

"You too, Harper," Ironwood said. "Ironwood out."

So. The grimm were not attacking the Green Line yet, but they would soon, if Harper was any judge, and Ironwood thought that she was in this instance.

First Amity, then Beacon, and only then the lines in front of Vale. Ironwood began to see, or thought that he began to see, the essence of the plan of attack here; the grimm were carrying out an attack en echelon, where each element of the assault moves forward consecutively from one or both flanks, rolling inwards towards the centre or the other end of the battle line. As tactics went, it wasn't worthless; if it worked — if the lead element succeeded in its objectives — then it offered the opportunity to roll up the enemy line like a rug as each element stormed forward against an enemy that was also under pressure from its flank. However, if it didn't work, for every element of the attack that was repulsed, the chance of the next part of the attack succeeding dropped, and the attack dissolved into a series of disconnected assaults on sectors of the enemy line, each vulnerable to fire from their flanks and each too small to achieve a breakthrough.

That was a lesson the grimm were about to learn tonight. Their attack on Amity had failed, his airships were about to regain control of the skies around the arena, and when they did, he would be able to bring the students down from the Colosseum to reinforce Beacon; not to mention the fact that, as they hadn't yet begun their assault on the Green Line, they'd lost the chance to tie down his air assets.

"Order Champion Squadron to begin strafing the cliff face and base," Ironwood ordered. "Gold Squadron is to provide escort against airborne grimm." He couldn't risk airstrikes on Beacon itself — quite apart from the damage to the school, there were still civilians in the combat zone — but he could cut off the flow of reinforcements coming out of the Emerald Forest.

"Yes, sir."

"And get Professor Ozpin on the line," Ironwood added. It was possible that Ozpin would be too busy in the midst of the battle to take a call from him, and if that was the case, then Ironwood could hardly complain, but if he could get through — to Ozpin, or if not him, then he would try Glynda next — then it would help him understand the situation on the ground.

Where did Amber fit into all this? It was the lacuna in their understanding of the enemy, and a big one, considering that the whole point of all this was surely to obtain the Fall Maiden's power as the first of two steps to obtaining the Relic of Choice, either now or at some undefined future point, provided that Salem, having gotten the Fall Maiden under her thumb, could keep her that way, ensuring the succession of the powers through loyal servants.

It was the one thing that Cinder hadn't spilled to Ozpin and his students, or rather, she had, but through a fantastical story of Amber betraying them all and throwing her lot in with Salem, which Ozpin had dismissed out of hand. So, if not that, then what was the point of all this otherwise? Chaos within Vale, grimm outside of Vale, what did they hope to achieve by all this?

To kill or kidnap Amber was the obvious answer, although with Cinder still alive, then that might do them less good then it might have — unless the plan was to kill or kidnap Cinder in the confusion too. Take them both, kill them both, let the power transfer to someone else, a third party, known — Shadow, perhaps — or unknown, someone loyal to Salem and more reliable than Cinder Fall had been.

If that was the objective, then it might explain why the grimm attack was rolling out the way it was: start the attack at Amity to kill a lot of students on board the arena and weaken the defences; then strike at Beacon to get Amber; then, once that was done and it was time to retreat with Amber, launch the main assault to absorb the energies of the defenders and prevent an effective pursuit.

It would explain why the grimm were puffing out their chest as though they were about to assault but weren't actually attacking yet. If he was right, then they would not until Amber was taken.

If Amber wasn't taken … they might even withdraw; or they might assault anyway out of sheer frustration.

And, of course, he could be wrong; the trouble with assuming that you'd guessed the enemy's intentions was that if you'd misread them, then you could be badly caught out.

But there had to be some plan for Amber, surely. This couldn't just be about spreading chaos and devastation.

But Amber was Ozpin's concern. He couldn't ask about her, he couldn't take overt special measures to protect her. How would he explain it to his officers?

He would have to trust that Ozpin had it handled.

"James," Ozpin said, his voice coming through on the speaker. He sounded tired, weary; Ironwood wasn't sure that he'd ever heard him sound so tired before. It was a little disconcerting.

More than that, it was worrying.

"Ozpin," Ironwood said. "What's the situation down there?"

"The grimm are … in the school," Ozpin murmured. "I believe that the remaining students are trying to hold them back, very commendable of them, but I fear that they are insufficient in number."

"You believe?" Ironwood repeated. "Ozpin, where are you? Where's Glynda?"

"I sent Glynda away," Ozpin replied. "Councillor Emerald requested the support of the students in dealing with the crisis within Vale, so I sent Glynda with half the students willing to fight."

That explains how that all fits into this. "Have you called them back?"

"No," Ozpin said. "There are people in Vale in need of assistance."

"It sounds as though Beacon might be in need of assistance too," Ironwood pointed out. "Oz, where … who's in charge down there?"

He didn't like having to ask that, by any means, but it didn't exactly sound like Ozpin was in command of the situation on the ground, and it wasn't disloyalty for Ironwood to observe that fact.

"I'm not sure."

"Oz, they need a leader down there!" Ironwood declared, his voice rising. "I'm sure the students are doing their best, but this isn't a battle that they expected to fight." He paused. "I'm going to start dropping students down from Amity to support the defence." It was a risk, with the skies not yet completely clear, but there were few enough grimm around the arena that the people sheltering there should be safe, and the risk to the students was sufficiently low that it could be balanced against the risk of not trying to reinforce Beacon as soon as possible. "And with Vale in its current state, I think we need to start evacuating people from Beacon up to the Amity Arena; once the skies are clear, it can be our lifeboat. Their lifeboat."

There was a pause before Ozpin said, "That may not be popular, but it seems reasonable."

"Ozpin, I—" Ironwood halted, aware that he might be crossing the line into impertinence with what he was about to say — not something he often had to worry about — but ultimately, his sense that it needed saying nonetheless. "Ozpin, you need to get it together. The students need you, Vale might need you, and I need someone in authority in Vale I can rely on right now." He paused. "I know this can't be easy, but Beacon will still be here tomorrow, and it will need its headmaster too."

Another pause from Ozpin before his reply. "Will it, James? Will Beacon still be here tomorrow?"

"If we fight for it tonight, then yes, it will," Ironwood said. "I need to go, Oz, but reinforcements will be on their way soon. Ironwood out."

"With respect, sir," Fitzjames began.

"I advise you to think carefully before you finish that sentence, Major," Ironwood muttered.

"He sounds done," Fitzjames went on regardless. "He sounds as though the fight's gone out of him."

"This is his home, Major," Ironwood replied. "His kingdom, his school; this all hits harder for him than it does for us. Try to remember that, before you write Ozpin off. Des Voeux, get me Spitfire on the line."

"Yes, sir."

---

Two green beams leapt out of Spitfire's laser, firing over the top of her cockpit before leaping through the air to eviscerate a nevermore.

"Spitfire, this is Command," General Ironwood's voice came through her helmet and into Spitfire's ears. "Does the situation look as good to you as it does on the sensors?"

"Copy that, Command; we've almost got this wrapped up," Spitfire said. "And then we'll be ready to do it all again at a lower altitude."

"Hmm," General Ironwood murmured. "Do you think it's safe enough to start transferring the students down to Beacon? It sounds like they could use their help down there."

"Affirmative, sir; most of the grimm and the Valish have been taken care of, and we'll be wrapping up the rest before the transports get here," Spitfire said. "What about—?"

"Ten is down!" Blaze's voice blasted into Spitfire's ears. "Repeat, Ten is down!"

"Command, I'm going to have to call you back," Spitfire said, before switching to the squadron frequency. She could say on her instruments that Lightning Streak's indicator on the radar had disappeared, while Blaze's indicator was being trailed by two — the last two — red icons for Valish AF-14s. "Report!"

"Two Valish fighters managed to get in behind us," Blaze grunted. "And these two really know how to fly."

"Copy that; I'm on my way," Spitfire said. "Five, Six, try and get in behind the Valish; I'm going to come in above and in front. Two, hang back and cover me."

"Affirmative, Leader," said Silver Zoom.

"Copy that, Lead," Soarin' replied. "I'm en route. Hold on, Blaze."

"I'm trying," Blaze growled.

Spitfire rolled her Sky Dart, turning upside down briefly, letting her look straight down on Blaze and her pursuers. Both Tomahawks had wings painted in distinctive colours: a vibrant, fiery red for the first; a cold, icy blue for their wingman. Both were keeping tight on Blaze's tail; machine gun fire leapt from the noses of their airships in short, controlled bursts.

As Spitfire completed her roll, sending the Sky Dart spiralling downwards as she began her descent, Blaze pulled up and to the left, rolling away from Amity Arena and starting a turn towards Vale.

The Valish hung onto her tail like limpets.

"He's got a lock on me!"

"Shake him, Nine!" Soarin' shouted.

"I'm trying!" Blaze snapped.

A missile fired from under the lead Tomahawk's wing, flames burning on its tail as it streaked through the air.

"Nine defending!" Blaze cried, as a stream of flares cascaded out of the rear of her airship, little flaming flashes like flakes of snow caught in a storm. They trailed out of the rear of Blaze's Sky Dart as she turned northwards, and the missile struck a flare in a vibrant explosion on Blaze's tail.

Spitfire dived downwards as Blaze pulled up sharply, executing an almost ninety degree turn that the older Tomahawk shouldn't have been able to match, but they matched it, both of them, keeping up with Blaze as she erupted into the sky.

Their machine gun fire, just missing Blaze, only just missed Spitfire too, the tracer rounds speeding past her cockpit and just missing her wings.

"Nine, clear the way," Spitfire said.

"Copy that, Lead," Blaze replied, shifting her Sky Dart down to pass beneath Spitfire.

Spitfire opened up with her own machine gun, firing a burst, then a second, then a third downwards towards the pursuing Valish.

The pair split up, one — red wings — breaking left, while blue wings broke to the right.

"Five, Six, break left," Spitfire commanded. "The one on the right is mine."

That was Soarin's right,and her left — the red winged pilot who had taken the lead against Blaze. He was now turning away, headed towards the Amity Arena and the damaged Resolution.

Missiles erupted from the damaged cruiser, where flames still raged on the port side, but obviously enough of the weapons were still working just fine. Six missiles, firing from launchers around the prow of the warship, burning through the dark leaving trails of smoke behind them.

The Valish pilot danced through them all, not even using his flares, just making his Tomahawk slip and slide through the air as the missiles chased after him like wolves going after a horse. But this horse was fast and knew what it was doing. The Valish pilot jinked up and down, left and right, making small movements that made the missiles twist and turn nevertheless, then they would abruptly change direction and leave the missiles eating their exhaust jets until they had to make wild, inefficient swings to keep up.

Have they had a custom job done on their airship, or are they just that good a pilot? Spitfire wondered, because she'd never see anyone move a Tomahawk quite like this.

Her own machine gun fire wasn't faring any better than the missiles at catching him; every time she thought she'd lined him up, he pulled a move to get out of her sights.

She was impressed and irritated in equal measure.

The Valish pilot opened up the throttle on their airship, increasing their speed dramatically as they turned hard, passing so close to the pursuing missiles that they could have stuck a hand out of the cockpit and touched them, before racing towards the Amity Arena.

The missiles could not turn so tight, but they turned regardless, following the Valish pilot towards the Colosseum.

Is he leading them towards the arena? Spitfire thought. It was a theoretical tactic for dealing with tight air defences where slow bombers couldn't get close — target the missiles at a fast fighter and let them lead the missiles in before pulling up hard and fast and letting the missiles slam into the target you always intended them to hit — but as far as she was aware, it had never been done.

And it had certainly never been done against a civilian target! For gods' sake! Even if Vale and Atlas were at war now, there were still rules about this kind of thing.

Spitfire gritted her teeth as she switched from machine gun to laser.

She targeted the first of Resolution's six missiles; they were much easier targets to acquire than the Valish pilot: they weren't trying to evade her, for one thing.

Spitfire fired her laser six times; six beams of green energy lanced out from overhead to pierce the missiles like balloons, every one of them exploding to briefly light up the dark sky.

The Valish pilot waggled his wings at her.

Spitfire growled wordlessly, and it was only the fact that the Amity Arena was in front of both of them that stopped her from letting him have it with her laser right there and then. She switched to the twenty-mil cannons and tried to line up a shot.

He jinked upwards, and when she followed, he jinked downwards; did he prefer up and down to left and right? If she was going to get him, it was probably because she could predict what they were likely to do next. Where were they likely to go?

"Watch out, Six, break right! Break right!"

"Six, defending!"

"Five, Six," Spitfire said. "Do you need assistance?"

"Negative," Soarin' replied, although it sounded like he was breathing kind of hard. "We'll get him, Leader; he's just a slippery customer, that's all."

A male voice, middle-aged or thereabouts, came over Spitfire's comm. "You Atlesians fly around in the most state-of-the-art airships dropping bombs on people from twenty thousand feet, and you think that makes you the best. But I gotta say, I'm not really seeing it."

Spitfire scowled as she switched to the open channel, the same channel that her Valish opponent must be using. "Where's the rest of your squadron?"

The Valish pilot laughed. "Well, it's like the Vacuans say: those who fall behind get left behind. Or maybe they don't say that, maybe they just live it. Either way."

He fired two missiles, both of them streaking through the darkness towards the Amity Arena.

The Valish pilot turned away, turning left and up and swinging around to come down behind Spitfire if she was any judge. Spitfire didn't turn to follow. She switched back to her laser and targeted the first of his missiles.

She wasn't sure what state Resolution's point defence was in, and she wasn't going to take the risk.

She fired once, and the first missile exploded; she fired a second time, and the second missile went up in a fireball.

"You know there are Valish civilians on the arena, right?" Spitfire demanded. "Your people?"

"Not my people," the pilot said. "Useless wasters. Mouth breathers who think watching teenagers in stupid outfits fight for their amusement is the height of entertainment. Vale would have been much better off if you'd just let those missiles hit the target."

"Uh huh," Spitfire muttered. "And what does that make you?"

"I think that makes me," the Valish pilot said, "right up your tail."

The warning beep of a missile locked sounded as red lights flashed on Spitfire's HUD.

Spitfire jerked on the stick, making her Sky Dart twist in the air as, with her free hand, she slammed down the button on the side of the cockpit to release flares. She could feel the airship tremble a bit, hear the rolling thudding sound as the flares deployed, and in her mind's eye, she could see them streaming out of the back of the fighter.

The missile lock warning died. Spitfire wondered if he had any missiles left. He'd fired at least four.

She jinked and twisted, seeing the tracers of his gunfire fly past her, overhead or underneath or to the side. She rolled to the side, and he kept pace with her.

She considered flipping her airship a solid one hundred and eighty degrees in the air so that she was facing him nose to nose, but while that might work, it would also give him the opportunity to shoot back, so it wasn't ideal.

And it might not even work if he was quick enough; he could get out of her way, and she'd have restricted her own manoeuvrability.

Restricted…

A grin began to spread across Spitfire's face.

You want the kill, buddy? Come and get it!

She pulled up and opened up the throttle all the way to maximum, including tapping the booster a couple of times to push the speed to test pilot 'you shouldn't need to go this fast in the field, and we recommend you don't' speeds. She rose fast, she rose like fire consuming the tallest tree in the forest, she rose through darkness towards the moon.

"What's the hurry?" the Valish pilot asked as he rose after her. "You running away or just trying to make it to space?"

"Well, I have always wanted to go to the moon," Spitfire replied.

The Valish pilot laughed. His Tomahawk couldn't move as fast as Spitfire's Sky Dart, but he was able to execute the rise as nimbly as she did, and he was able to follow after her even if he did start to fall behind.

At first, Spitfire could still see his tracer rounds flying past her as she moved her Sky Dart a little this way or a little that to stay just ahead of his gun sights. Then she stopped noticing that, and he must have stopped shooting, even though she could see from her radar that he was still on her tail, even as her tail got further away from him.

She might be outracing him, but she wasn't losing him.

But he had stopped shooting, and that was all to the good, because manoeuvring wasn't easy at this speed, and certainly not going straight up.

Spitfire was being pushed backwards into her seat by the G-forces; the pressure was getting heavier the higher up she soared. She could feel it on her chest. She could feel it inside her helmet pushing down on her head from all directions. It was harder to breathe, and it was only getting even harder, harder and harder. The same weight that crushed her chest like a megoliath stepping on it was pushing down on her eyelids. As she gasped for breath, Spitfire could see darkness intruding on the edges of her vision.

How high can this airship go?

How high does he think that it can go?

It had to look real. He couldn't think that she was faking it. It had to be plausible to him, a pilot — and a good pilot, she would admit, even if he wasn't a good man — that either she, or her airship, would fail.

A klaxon began to sound in Spitfire's ears. A red warning flashed on her HUD, right before her eyes.

Warning: Approaching Altitude Tolerance

"Lead, this is Five, what are you doing?" Soarin' demanded. "Your airship can't handle that height, and neither can you. You need to come back down, now!"

Well, if Soarin' and the computer think it's real.

Spitfire began to move her hands towards the controls in front of her. It was … difficult. It felt as though Atlas itself had been tied to her arm, weighing it down, dragging it backwards. As her airship rose, as the warning blared at Spitfire and flashed before her darkening eye, to move her hand an inch felt like trying to push her Sky Dart up a hill.

Spitfire gritted her teeth, and made a growling, wincing noise as she forced her arm upwards a switch marked Outgoing Transmissions.

There were two options: On and Off.

Spitfire flipped the switch to off, then scowled as she moved her arm towards another switch, this one marked Engines

There were two options: On and Off.

Grunting with effort, Spitfire flipped the toggle to Off.

The engines died, although the rest of her systems did not, so Spifire was assailed with fresh warnings about the engines being off.

She liked her airship, but the number of times the computer felt the need to state the obvious could get a little much every now and then.

She knew the engines were off. She had just turned the engines off, and now, she could see the Sky Dart start to fall. It tumbled, nose over tail, before starting to plummet down through the night sky towards the ground.

And towards the pursuing Valish airship with the red wings.

If she kept on falling, she was going to slam right into him, and they'd both go up together in an incandescent fireball.

Not that he'd let that happen — he was too good of a pilot for that — but for now, he stayed on course, rising to meet her as she fell down to him.

After all, she wasn't going to hit him just yet, and while she didn't know what he looked like, Spitfire found that she could imagine the look on his face, the glee, the smirk, the triumph. All that effort to get away from him, and she'd ended up serving herself to him on a platter.

How he must be enjoying this.

Spitfire found that she was kind of enjoying this herself as her breathing began to ease off a little.

The missile lock warning was added to the cacophony of other warnings as the Valish pilot fired a missile, his last missile — as she dropped towards him she could see that clearly — burning through the darkness towards her.

Spitfire had both hands on the stick, the trembling in it travelling up hands and arms as the airship shook and shuddered as it fell.

She tried to look past the warnings to the targeting reticule on her HUD, watching it move past the Valish fighter, then just beneath it, then to the side, never quite landing on him as her airship descended.

She fell, and the missile rose. The missile lock warnings grew louder, and the flashing red lights made it even harder to see the targeting reticule.

But she was almost there. Almost there, she could feel it.

It narrowly missed him again.

Spitfire grimace. Come on, come on.

The reticule passed directly over him and Spitfire fired.

A green beam burst from her laser and pierced through the Valish Tomahawk like a spear through a grimm.

For a moment, the Valish airship seemed to hang there, suspended in the air with a hole blown clean through its fuselage.

Then it exploded, a fireball consuming it from the inside out.

Spitfire frantically flicked the switch to turn her engines back on. She felt them shake the whole fighter, heard them roar out behind her as she pulled up, yanking the stick to the right as she turned away from the fast-approaching missile. She thumped the countermeasures button with her fist to release another set of flares, carpeting the air behind her in the motes of fire.

The missile indicator ceased, as did all the other warnings as Spitfire guided her airship downwards.

A glance at her radar showed that the other Valish pilot had also been dealt with.

"Five, Six, congratulations," she said, turning transmissions back on and switching to the squadron channel. "Who got him?"

"Soarin'," Misty admitted cheerfully. "Though it wasn't as fancy as the way you got yours, Leader."

"Nobody try that at home," Spitfire said. She clenched and unclenched her hand as she switched to the command channel. "Command, this is Wonderbolt Leader; all Valish airships are down; the remaining grimm are being mopped up now. Recommend that Nova Squadron remains on standby in case the grimm return, but I think that you can start transporting students down to Beacon now; Amity should be safe."

"Understood, Spitfire, I'll dispatch transports," General Ironwood said. "Descend with them and engage the flying grimm while the students clear the ground. Don't engage ground targets; we have civilians in the combat zone."

"Copy that, sir," Spitfire replied. "Spitfire out." She switched back to the squadron channel. "Okay, Wonderbolts, transports will soon be arriving to carry the students down from the arena to Beacon to reinforce the defenders there. We will escort them down, and once they are landed safely, we will clear the skies just like we did here. We won the Battle of the Arena, people, but the Battle for Beacon starts now."

Comments

[Mastermind4892]

A couple of good Top Gun references!

Back to the Battle of Vale! Yahooo!

[AngelicTitan]

So now it’s the Battle of Beacon time, as things start to escalate in Vale proper instead of the skies. Wonder what Sonata and Tempest Plan really is, because things are going too smooth...

[Stet709]

Gutsy move by Spitfire there, but she just proved why she's the best.

"Not my people," the pilot said. "Useless wasters. Mouth breathers who think watching teenagers in stupid outfits fight for their amusement is the height of entertainment. Vale would have been much better off if you'd just let those missiles hit the target."

What an apathetic jerk...

Hang in there, Oz! Help's on the way!

[Luviere]

Two thing to say, actually three.
1. While i want to see more of the main characters like Rainbow or Pyrrha or Sunset, i have to say, Spitfire and her squadron, are pretty tight. I actually enjoy reading when they are involved. And, the aerial combat is well written.
2. Finally someone said something to Oz. Like, i never understood why he just sits in his office and not do anything. He should be very strong, what the hell is he doing in letting children fight for themselves when their school is attacked. And i know, he's probably lived for so long that to him this is just yet another day. But still, do something. Props to Ironwood for actually saying it. God i love Ironwood.
3. This was such a good chapter. Spitfire is actually a well written character and i do enjoy her, and i'm always happy when Ironwood is in a chapter, the man's a bawler. He got that dog in him. I can't wait for the actual Battle for Beacon to start. Also, what happened to Amber? When are we going to see her again? I am wondering if she will succeed in her betrayal or not.

[AdverseFlower95]

11844711
Well we know that so far no one has checked in on Ruby and Amber, and Amber has been freely operating ever since even before the battle began. Even with the grim and Valish forces performing so poorly, they are only distractions that have held Ozpin’s and Ironwood’s attention for a while now.

[Aemon Targaryen]

11844719
To be fair he's not in his right mind, literally.

I'm sad for the guy if anything, because he's gonna be remembered as a treacherous wretch because of Sonata's toxic influence.

[Stet709]

11849227
I mean, I get that, but you'd think that if this was a "vs. Atlas" thing, they'd care not to hit any potential Valish people. Then again, if they're going for the "Vale for the Valish" angle, then the Vytal festival with all four kingdoms coming together kind goes against that.