Ironwood lifted his 16 pound revolver, the size of a small animal, a monster of a gun, and aimed it through the smoke. 'Those damn bastards,' he screamed in his head. 'They took my soldiers, they took lives,' the barrel of the gun pierced through the smoke, the scene stolen from a horror film.

He sneered his white teeth, 'whoever's responsible won't live to see tomorrow.'

He could hear the slice of a weapon through the air and the scraping of metal on metal in front of him. As this smoke began to dissipate, the sillhoutte of a student took form ahead. He swung his mace into an Ursa, sending it flying away. His faint expression hinted that he had done it giddily, except he was unaware and at the mercy of two approaching infected Knights.

'End of the line!' James barked internally. He brought his firearm up.

Without wasting a breath, James aimed and fired through the darkness, blasting off the head of one of the Knights.

The student feigned away, from the explosive noise, but he wasn't done yet. He tilted his revolver to the right and blew off the the head of the other Knight aswell. Their metal skulls ripped open on the street.

James was furious. The students were supposed to be protected. Defended by his Knights. But no, they had turned. The surprised student ahead turned towards the shadow of a man behind the smokescreen.

As the smoke clears, the student's face grew a shocked expression. The General had survived the crash, his damaged uniform exposing the right half of his body to be cybernetic.

He reloaded his gun with two fresh rounds, as the Knights fell to the floor. His footsteps thudding as he entered the grim scene. There were six more infected Knights with their guns raised. Without hesitation, he emptied his chamber of bullets.

One by one, the Knights were ripped through. James continuted his dance of death, raining destruction in its wake. He eliminated a target to his left, spun the gun behind his back and took out another. A Knight tried to rush him straight ahead but he unleashed hell upon it, defeating it without a shift in momentum. Another thought it smart to jump him from behind while he was engaged. He saw this and brought his elbow up, directing the barrel behind him, and fired, bringing its motive to an end.

He swung his arm up, taking out another to his left with a flare igniting from the barrel. It was severed from the torso. James didn't so much as falter with his fluid movement against the onslaught of corruption.

A Knight attempted to rush his right while he was turned. James flicked the revolver out of his hand, the heavy firearm did the work for him and covered the distance to his right palm in the space of a milisecond. His bionic arm hammered the bot with the butt of the revolver, sending the robot flying into the open air, a dozen pieces of what it once was.

He knew these Atlesian Knights were resilient, he assisted in designing them after all, but he knew how best to remove them from duty.

All it took was the right material, enough of that material, and unnecessary ballistic firepower. All of which his revolver that he also designed, contained.

Once all of the Knights had been defeated and there were no apparent threats, James directed his eyesight to the three individuals who stood a few meters away. One was the student, the others were part of Ozpin's faculty and of Oz's personal faction.

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James waved attentively at Glenda Goodwitch who was wearing a modest uniform and Qrow Branwen with his drab grey suit, as well as the student clad in plate armor he recognized as the delinquent Cardin Winchester, trying to grab their attention.

"This area's secure! We need to--," James commanded, but was cut short by the change in Qrow's expression. It was unwelcoming. It was angry.

Qrow jutted his greatsword out, its blade unhinging in several spots as it grew in size. The massive blade curled inwards, recalibrating its form. He flung the blade behind him, its handle tripled in length and the form climaxed into one hell of a scythe. It was intimaditing enough to cause James to ready himself in the chance Qrow was going to rush him. Qrow swiveled his immense scythe at the ready, directing towards him.

And he charged at James Ironwood.

"Qrow! This isn't my doing!" James shouted at the now angered hunter, but was lowering his arms to his sides. He didn't want to engage in battle with Qrow. He was too skilled of a huntsman and their expertise were evenly matched at Ironwood's current state.

The huntsman continued to charge. He was fast even though his mammoth scythe was dragging across the pavement. The general hoped against it, but if needed, he would take him down too. If that meant him getting through.

James flips his gun in his hand and gets into a battle stance, preparing for Qrow's assualt. He carefully watched Qrow's movement, as he was anticipating a horizontal dash. Instead, however, Qrow jumped vertically, throwing off his perception of the moment.

He was leaping past James, who was turning around to follow his aerial arc, just in time to see an unnoticed large Griffon that had prowled by, lunging at the two of them.

It must have been following him since his crash, James established although he was more than equiped for the silent ambush. James turned his posture following Qrow's, to be at the ready when the Griffon struck.

But Qrow took care of it before James could swing at it with his revolver. With one solid lurch, his scythe cleaved straight through the beast. Slicing it in two. Its halves settling to the ground beside them.

Upon landing with a grunt, Qrow turns around and frowned at him. He addressed the general with no haste.

Qrow scoffed, "you idiot. I know you didn't do this." His peach eyes tore into him, as if they were searching for a meaning behind what was happening with his militia.

Ironwood relaxes and sighs, lowering his head and putting his hand to his forehead, while Glynda places her hand on his shoulder. He couldn't believe that he doubted his life long comrade. He was ashamed with himself for acting the way he did. He was too agitated to think clearly.

"So what now, General?" Qrow asked, his eyes sweeping the ground before landing on James.

James Ironwood, rested his arms behind his back and stood up tall, readjusting his feet, and gave them the synopsis he had collectively formulated.

"Someone's done the impossible and gained control of my machines. And that enormous Grimm seems to be fixated on the school." his eyes glancing upwards toward the dragon clinging to Beacon's main tower. He turned his head to Glynda. "Glynda, form up the local Huntsmen and establish a safe zone here in Vale. We need to evacuate Beacon." She nodded in agreement, her messy blond hair shifting. "Qrow, I'm leaving that to you and my men." I need him to gather anyone he could and protect them while they evacuate. "I still need to get to my ship."

As if on cue, a whistle began cutting across the sky, startling the three of them. They all turn to see its source: James Ironwood's ship slowly nosediving into the city not that far away from them. An explosion surged from the ship, causing more flames to leap about the vessel, making them recoil from its force.

Then ultimately, the airship collided into the abandoned buildings, inflaming the sky above it and demolishing the buildings it crashed into. The intense shockwave nearly knocking them to the earth since they were neighboring it. It took a few seconds for James to regain his bearings after that invisible beating. He was seeing the same response from his comrades beside him.

"Well, it won't be much of a walk." Qrow quipped. Mechanical whirring surrounding them from all corners brought the immediate back into attention.

The Atlesian Knights that were functioning still had kick in them, attempting one last time to harm the huntsmen before powering down, even though significant sections of their body's had been blasted into oblivion.