Blaine Norris let out a yawn, and slumped against the wall outside the loading bay of the hospital at which he worked. He was a porter, spending his days getting vital supplies to wherever they were needed in the building. The hours were long and monotonous, but he could at least go home each day knowing that he had actually done something worth doing.

He stamped out his cigarette, and was about to head back inside, when a truck pulled up into one of the delivery bays. He would have just ignored it, were it not for the fact that he knew there were no scheduled deliveries until much later that morning.

So he stayed. True, it wasn't unusual enough for him to be overly suspicious, but it couldn't hurt to be sure.

He watched as the driver got out, and looked around. He watched as the man spotted him and began to walk over to him. And he watched as the man took out a scroll, and tapped a few times on the screen.

The driver looked...ordinary, entirely nondescript. If Blaine was honest, it would be hard to describe him to anyone else. The man could have been anyone.

"I have a delivery." The man said as he finished his approach, holding out the scroll expectantly for Blaine to inspect. "Are you able to sign for it?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I probably shouldn't, to be honest. Any ideas as to what it is you are delivering today?"

"I don't get paid to know what I'm delivering, sir. Only where I'm delivering it." The man explained with a small smile on his face. "And to whom. Can you sign? Or at least point me in the direction of someone that can?"

Letting out a sigh, Blaine strode forward to the back of the vehicle to look inside. "How big is it, the delivery?"

"Just a single large crate, Sir." The man replied. "...As you can tell, I have a schedule to keep to sir. It'd help me out a lot."

"Alright, alright." Blaine held his hands up. "But I ain't taking the heat for it. If anyone gets pissed, I'm sending them your way."

"I don't think that will be an issue, sir." The man smiled again. "Don't worry."

Snorting, Blaine strode into the loading bay to collect a pallet trolley to move the crate with. The delivery man assisted him with carefully moving it onto the pallet, before once again extending the scroll out to him. One final check over the document later, and Blaine signed at the bottom.

"Most appreciated, sir." The man nodded, and began to stroll away with an almost cheerful smile on his face. "I best be off. Goodbye."

He offered a cheerful wave, and clambered back into his truck. Blaine let out a sigh as the man drove away, and made to take the crate into the hospital's storage area. He passed a few of his colleagues on his way, but paid them little mind.

The storage area was more like a warehouse, although nothing here required refrigeration. Those things were, unsurprisingly, kept in the fridges. Blaine found a clear area, and went to find a crowbar. There were a number of them around, so it didn't take long for the man to find one. He privately admitted a faint twinge of curiosity as to the crate's contents. He doubted it was anything interesting, or even unusual.

He was wrong.

The sight of a strange mix of metal tubes and cables surrounding a metal drum was what greeted him in the crate. It beeped once, and Blaine blinked, and frowned.

"What the hell is th--"

Blaine Norris didn't even register the device as a bomb before it took his life. Nor could he have known that almost every hospital in the Kingdom had received similar devices..

..and had suffered similar fates.

___________________________________________

A few minutes prior….

I spoke with Ironwood for a few minutes more, catching up and discussing work related matters. He bemoaned the internal politics of the Board of Captains, and I in turn commiserated with him on the fact that both of us would be drowning in paperwork thanks to both the Paladin and Marcus Black.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

(Whilst in hindsight, we were right about the amount of paperwork, I doubt either of us quite realised what that paperwork would entail..)

"I had best take my place." Ironwood said eventually, as those around us began to form up. "It has been good to talk with you again, Archivist." He turned his gaze to Cinder, and offered a small, kind smile. "And you too, Miss Fall."

Cinder merely waved shyly at the Captain. I, on the other hand, saluted. As was proper. Ironwood returned said salute, and marched off to join the Airfleet contingent. We, in turn, took up our place with the rest of the Archival contingent. We had left the Archives, and moved to what appeared to be parade grounds.

"What did I tell you, Schwartz?" Glover's smug voice and smile greeted us. "Making connections. That's about all this nonsense will be good for in the short term."

"It was only Captain Ironwood, Sir." I fought back a smile, trying my best to keep a neutral expression. "We have worked together in the past."

"Did Jim want anything important?" Glover asked.

You can get away with calling him that? "Nothing that can't wait, Sir." I replied. "Information about an assassin he's tracking. We might not even have anything useful for Captain Ironwood's needs."

"I see." Glover shrugged. "Alright then, tell me about it later."

"..Who's Jim?" Both myself and Glover turned to face Cinder, who was looking up at us with wide, curious eyes. "We only saw Mister Ironwood."

"Jim is the shortened version of the name James, Cinder." Glover explained. "As that is Captain Ironwood's name...and I have his permission, I can call him such."

"Oh." Cinder tilted her head, and nodded. "Okay!"

"..How exactly did you get his permission to call him that?" I asked aloud.

"Poker." Glover replied in a completely serious tone. "I won it playing poker."

Before I could reply, a voice boomed across the grounds.

"Good morning to you all!"

Doctor Arthur Watts, Lieutenant of the Science Bureau, wore his signature smug smile on his face as he gained the attention of the crowd. He wore his military dress uniform, which included a Teal Beret. He was standing in front of something, presumably the Paladin, covered by a large canvas. A set of stairs had been set up beside it so the pilot could get in.

"The Paladin..." Watts began his declaration with a broad grin on his face. "..is the future of Atlesian military might. Why waste hundreds of thousands of lien outfitting dozens upon dozens soldiers and building Knights when a single Paladin Pilot can do the job in their places?"

The man gave a gesture, and the canvas was pulled away, revealing the mountain of metal beneath. Whilst most around me gasped and offered polite applause, I found myself a little...underwhelmed. It seemed practically identical to the Paladin of canon, save for one crucial difference. It had a visible cockpit. One of glass, likely the hardened glass that Watts himself created.

"Today, I shall be demonstrating this..miracle of metal and technology. And today, the rest of Remnant shall be reminded that it is we of Atlas that stand as the primary bulwark against the Grimm!"

With a bow, Watts made his way to the stairs and towards the Paladin Prototype. But unbeknownst and unseen by everyone, as he strode up to get into the machine, the Doctor took out his scroll from his pocket, and smiled to himself.

The demonstration began smoothly. It left the hangar without issue. It's armaments destroyed targets, and it strode across the grounds at surprising speed. It lifted up trucks, and dragged a Manta (a sort of Military transport) behind it without strain...

….And then the goliath of metal turned to face the crowd for the first time, and everything promptly went to shit. The light from the cockpit turned bright red, and a robotic voice boomed across the base:

"ERROR! ERROR! EXTERNAL OVERRIDE DETECTED!....ERR...ORIFLAMME PROTOCOLS ENGAGED: RECALIBRATING TARGETING ARRAYS: NEW TARGETS ACQUIRED: EXECUTING."