When Sable and Auburn were finished, the warehouse was nearly silent. The aftermath of the firefight was everywhere—wreckage, bodies missing entire sections or limbs, and blood splattered across the floor, the walls, and even the crates that lined the shelves. Bullet holes and scorch marks from both gunfire and hard light shots marred the space.
The fire from the wrecked forklift still burned in the background as Sable stood behind a line of humans and faunus. These were the smugglers who had surrendered instead of returning fire until the very end. Now, they knelt with their heads down, hands laced behind their necks.
"You could've made this easier on yourselves if you'd just given up," Sable remarked through his helmet, the voice modulation system distorting his tone enough to hide his identity, though his words were still clear.
One of the smugglers clicked his tongue, muttering, "You Atlas bastards have some nerve, raiding us and slaughtering half of us..."
Sable's attention shifted to the man, his armor marked by the battle, but otherwise unarmed.
"We wouldn't have had to do this if you'd just surrendered or, better yet, hadn't set up a weapons smuggling operation at the edge of Mantle." He paused, cutting off his communications as Asher's voice came through his comms.
"Status?" Asher asked.
Sable took a brief breath before responding.
"The warehouse is secure, and all hostiles are neutralized. Auburn's down in the tunnels, checking where they lead and looking for any stragglers. Though they probably fled when they heard the gunfire. We've also got survivors—they surrendered during the firefight. What should we do with them?"
Back in the Atleasian Military Compound, deep underground beneath Atlas Academy, everyone in the mission operations center could see Sable's feed as he spoke.
Asher glanced at Winter, who gave him a nod. With that, Winter turned and walked toward the door. It slid open when she approached, and closed behind her as she left. Asher turned back to the screen.
"A platoon will be heading down to assist with the arrests and handle the smuggled weapons. Just stay where you are and don't let them out of your sight."
"Got it," Sable replied, just as Asher's next message came through, directed at Auburn.
"And you, Auburn? What's the status of the tunnel drilled into the floor of the warehouse?" There was a brief pause before Auburn's voice crackled through the comm.
"They drilled into the underground air vents running through the crater. Most likely for transportation."
Hearing that, Graz, who stood nearby, gestured with his hand and spoke up.
"So the same ones, Team 3, with Gray and Jade, are investigating?"
Liv nodded as she sat at one of the stations in the operations center.
"Makes sense. Even though they're on two different layers of the Crater, a weapons smuggling operation and a black market usually go hand in hand."
"Still doesn't tell us who supplied them with the weapons," Graz responded with a heavy sigh, his voice low.
Asher glanced at both of them, then spoke into his comm.
"Alright, Auburn, head back up and stay with Sable. Once the units for arrest and securing the warehouse arrive, move to your next point of interest. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," came the simultaneous reply from both Sable and Auburn.
With that, Asher switched channels to check in on Team 2, Cobalt, and Ochre. The two of them had been scouting a converted cargo container, but the number of people going in and out didn't make sense for its size.
"Cobalt, Ochre, what's your status?" Asher asked over comms. But after a few seconds, there was no response.
Narrowing his eyes, Asher spoke again.
"Team 2, what's your status? Respond." This time, after a few moments, Ochre's voice came through, though it sounded softer and more strained than usual.
"We… it was…" His words were broken, not even forming a proper sentence.
"I can't understand you, speak clearly," Asher ordered. But even then, Ochre seemed unable to get his thoughts together. That was when Cobalt's voice cut through, clear as always, though a little sharper than usual.
"He's in shock. When we entered the target structure, as expected, there was an underground tunnel. We encountered hostiles and had no choice but to neutralize them. We didn't have time to scan the area properly, so… there were casualties, sir." The mention of casualties made Liv sit up straighter.
"Casualties? Were there neutrals down there?" Asher asked, though it wasn't really a question. He could see Liv's gaze shift toward the screen as she gestured for him to bring up Team 2's live feed.
As soon as Graz saw it, he cursed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Ah, shit…"
"It was a trafficking den," Cobalt confirmed over the comms, his words matching what they were seeing on screen.
The camera showed a dark, underground chamber, about twenty meters in diameter. The dim orange light from the hanging ceiling lamps barely pierced the shadows. Even through the screen, one could almost feel the heat and humidity of the place—an airless environment with no ventilation.
The air clung to you, carrying the stench of dirty mattresses on the floor and the smell of a bucket in the corner that no one would dare empty.
And of course, the people who were being trafficked. A few were humans, but most were faunus—those with particularly desirable traits or rare animal features.
Almost all of them were either naked or wearing rags, looking like they hadn't been able to wash in weeks, maybe longer. Most had their hands bound, the only exceptions being those too weak to move, barely alive. Scattered across the ground around Cobalt and Ochre were bodies.
They were the traffickers. Weapons were still clutched in their hands, though against Insurgents, their firearms had been useless. They had been dispatched quickly. But what truly weighed on Cobalt and Ochre were the five bodies lying near the rocky wall to their right.
These were victims of the traffickers who'd been caught in the crossfire before Cobalt and Ochre could fully assess the situation. Judging by the size of the bullet holes in their bodies, it was clear the two of them weren't responsible—those wounds were too small.
But despite that, they were still indirectly responsible for their deaths.
Liv, sitting nearby, rubbed her eyes as the realization hit her. Her expression tightened with pain, her grip on the table in front of her making her knuckles turn white. Her eyes stayed locked on one of the victims. The child couldn't have been older than eight, and now those once-bright green eyes had lost all their light.
A moment later, both Asher and Liv heard Graz mutter something under his breath.
"Trafficking their own kind like this... It's sick," he said.
Asher didn't look at him but responded, "Perhaps. But money's a hell of a motivator, especially in a place like the crater. When people are desperate enough, they'll throw away their morality—or at least set it aside. The chance for a better life can make people detach from their ethics."
His words were heavy with experience and knowledge, and Graz's eyes flickered toward the young boy in the room. Asher didn't return the gaze, instead focusing on Cobalt and Ochre.
"Cobalt, you and Ochre can start freeing the captives. I'll send another team down to help with the rescue. If Ochre's not mentally fit to handle the next objective by the time they arrive, just send him back with the rescue team. No point in risking one of you going it alone," Asher ordered.
There was a brief silence on the other end. Cobalt had expected Asher to tell them to push forward, not abandon the mission entirely.
But soon, Cobalt responded.
"Understood, sir." With that, Asher cut the comms and took a deep breath. He turned to look at Liv, who was deep in thought.
"What are we looking at?" Asher asked, his tone flat.
"Legally, I mean." Liv sighed and leaned back in her chair.
"If the review board leans conservative, they'll want someone to blame—to preserve the image of order and control. That means you, or worse, your team. But… If we frame it right—emphasize the nature of the location, highlight the original goal, and show that the traffickers initiated the conflict—you might be able to angle it as an unforeseen humanitarian crisis."
She paused, then continued.
"You'll still face an inquiry. But if you cooperate and I handle the statements, we should be fine, considering the authority we're operating under and the legal climate in the crater."
In the end, that's what it always came down to: authority. They were operating under Ironwood's directive, which meant even something like this wouldn't cause too many problems. Especially since there was no ID on the victims—they probably weren't even in the citizenship database.
"We can't let this slow us down, Liv," Asher said, his words straightforward as she narrowed her eyes.
"I know," she replied.
"But that doesn't mean we can't take steps to avoid a repeat." Asher didn't respond but gave a small nod in agreement.
With that, Asher refocused on the mission and contacted Team 3, Jade, and Gray.
"Have you two found any evidence of the black market yet?" Asher asked over comms, and he received an immediate response.
"Definitely. And it's bigger than we thought," Jade replied through her helmet.
"They've got vehicles moving through the vents, and there's an entire marketplace set up. The whole section of the air ventilation system has been transformed," Gray added. At that moment, the two of them could be seen moving through a utility channel running alongside the vents.
Originally, the channel was designed for external repairs in case of damage, but with the air vents offline for so long and the crater abandoned, it was now the perfect route to move unnoticed.
It was a tight fit—just enough space for a few people to walk side by side, or for the Insurgent Armor to move forward without scraping the walls. Both Jade and Gray were in stealth mode, their footsteps on the metal floor practically silent.
The channel was also dark, which explained why no one, even those running the black market, bothered to use these channels. Thanks to the sensory enhancements built into their Insurgent Armor and the small cracks in the walls that let in light from the air vents next to them, they could see well enough with night vision.
Through those same cracks, they glimpsed the activity in the air vents.
The main tunnel, where many of the vents on this level of the crater converged, was massive—big enough to serve as a highway. The faint rumbling of wheels on the ground and the hum of engines confirmed it was being used as such. Trucks hauling all sorts of goods drove up and down the right side of the tunnel.
On the left side, there was an open market. Stalls were lined up, with their owners dressed in dark cloaks to conceal their identities. The goods being sold were staggering—illegal items everywhere.
Unregistered firearms, powered by dust vials that were certainly not obtained legally.
Repurposed gear from fallen Huntsmen and Huntresses, the kind of weaponry that, even in pieces, was more advanced than what most people could ever get their hands on. Banned narcotics, scrapped and new Atlesian tech, including cybernetics and androids from who knows where.
And, of course, there were slaves, even though slavery had been globally outlawed after the Great War nearly a century ago.
"So, what should we do? Should we make a move?" Gray asked, his voice calm and steady. There was no hesitation in his suggestion. Places like this weren't designed to help people in the crater—they simply exploited them, much like some branches of the White Fang took advantage of people's desperation.
But Asher shook his head, replying, "No, not yet. This place is too big for the two of you to secure on your own. Keep investigating and gathering evidence for now. If you manage to capture any faces, take pictures. It'll help us track them down later. Contact me if anything changes."
"Got it," Gray responded, and the communication ended.
There was only one last group Asher needed to check on—Team 4, consisting of Indigo and Sterling.
"Indigo, Sterling, what's your status?" Asher asked, tapping into their live feed and enlarging it.
"We managed to get into the hospital by breaking through a sealed window in the back," Indigo said.
"You were right. Something's off with this place. With the amount of food and medicine they're handing out, there's nowhere near enough staff to run this place. We've checked both the first and second floors without being spotted, but we haven't found them yet." On the screen, Indigo and Sterling were crouched behind a corner in one of the hospital's abandoned hallways.
They used a shattered piece of glass from the broken window to glance down the hall without being seen. Two figures, dressed in simple uniforms, appeared in the reflection. They were carrying a box down a staircase. The two were wearing clean white uniforms, like medical staff, complete with gloves and masks.
It would have made sense if they were moving raw food, but from what Indigo and Sterling could tell, the boxes contained pre-packaged items.
"Right now, we're pretty sure they're keeping their supplies in the basement," Sterling said, his eyes fixed on the figures carrying the box as they vanished from view.
Once they were out of sight, the two moved quickly. Every step was calculated, silent, as they approached the staircase leading down. The space was tight, so they moved one after the other, the stone walls on either side eventually giving way to the basement's dim light.
As they moved through the basement, neither Indigo nor Sterling saw anything immediately out of the ordinary. It looked just like you'd expect—stacks of boxes, all filled with supplies for distribution to people outside the hospital.
"Seems pretty normal," Graz muttered from the mission center, watching the feed.
Indigo and Sterling continued to move through the stacks of boxes, opening a few to inspect their contents. Inside, they found medicine, canned goods that could either be eaten directly or cooked over a fire for a few minutes, and, of course, clean clothing.
As Indigo sifted through the clothes, checking to make sure nothing was hidden underneath, GAIA's voice suddenly echoed in her suit.
[Warning! Trace elements of Neuroleptic Pheromodulin-9 detected. Airborne concentration: 0.004 ppm.]
"What the hell?" Indigo muttered, her voice sharp, which drew Sterling's attention.
"What is it?" He asked as he walked over to her, though his systems soon detected the same warning.
"Neuro... what? What's that?" Sterling asked, confusion clear in his voice. Before Indigo could respond, Asher's voice cut through their earpieces.
"It's a drug," Asher said plainly, before continuing.
"Typically called Thrum, its full name is Neuroleptic Pheromodulin-9, or NPM-9. It's a Scented Dopaminergic Agent, or at least that's what Atlas Military called it. It was originally designed to help soldiers stay focused and calm them down. But when it leaked and hit the black market, it was reworked."
Asher didn't bother elaborating on how he knew all this, and he didn't need to. The amount of knowledge he had about Atlas—and world history in general—was beyond what most people could fathom.
"So what the hell is it doing here?" Indigo asked as she closed the box and began scanning the area, her eyes darting to the other supplies.
"If I had to guess... they're building a subliminal dependency," Asher replied.
"Once it was modified, Thrum became dangerously addictive. Just inhaling it builds a neurological association—the brain starts to crave the smell. And if it's consumed alongside the scent, eventually, they'll crave the drug itself." There was a heavy silence after Asher's assumption, both in the mission operations center and over the comms with Indigo and Sterling.
Finally, Indigo spoke, her tone raw and different from before.
"So... you're telling me they're..."
"Most likely," Asher cut in.
"They're building a subconscious addiction. After that, they'll work with actual dealers to target the people they've been handing out provisions to. If you had the food analyzed, it's probably laced as well." Another silence followed his words.
Indigo broke it with a question.
"It's them again, isn't it?" she said, and then elaborated, "The same ones helping the White Fang?"
Asher thought for a moment before nodding.
"Most likely. Once Thrum leaked, its production was shut down, and the formula was buried deep in Atlas Military's archives. No one should have access to it without high clearance or the right connections." The implications were clear: whether it was weapons smuggling, the black market, or drug distribution, it all pointed to this powerful group with deep pockets profiting from it.
With that realization sinking in, the next question came from Sterling, his usual upbeat tone gone, replaced by something more serious.
"Can we burn it?" Before Asher could respond, Graz cut in, his voice stern.
"Not a good idea. Drugs tend to act unpredictably when burned. It could cause the entire stock to go airborne."
"Then what the hell are we supposed to do!?" Indigo yelled through the comms, her anger and frustration spilling over, echoing through the mission operations center.
"Calm down, Indigo," Asher replied, his voice firm in a way she knew well.
Her teeth clenched, and she swallowed whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
Asher continued, "I'm not saying do nothing, but there are too many moving parts here to be reckless. Find the one in charge, the person running everything. If we can get them, we can trace this back to the group behind it all. They'll have a list of people they've targeted, the ones they've been giving out laced goods to. Get that list, and we can stop it before it's too late."
Asher paused, his gaze focused on the live feed.
"Can you do that, Indigo?" It was a simple question, but one that needed answering. As a Field Commander, Asher had no issues with Indigo's outbursts or her personality. But this was about whether she could set aside her emotions and do what needed to be done.
After a long pause, he got his answer.
"Yes, Commander."
"Good-" Asher replied, about to continue when suddenly Gray's voice blared across all communications, not just to the mission operations center, but to all the Insurgents.
"We've found them! The White Fang! We're tracking them now, but they're about to leave the air vents!"